Chapter 9: You wait—I

For a moment, the onlookers couldn’t tell who was causing the trouble.

It felt as if Li Chen had just spoken the villain’s lines.

The second-generation heir was furious—he would normally have cursed Li Chen’s ancestors to the eighteenth generation and ordered his men to break Li Chen’s legs and throw him out.

But Li Chen wore a dragon-patterned robe with embroidered borders; his imperial lineage was undeniable, and many officials were present—he truly lacked the courage to curse him.

Yet to the second-generation heir, what did imperial lineage matter? Even royalty had its tiers.

Ordinary imperial clansmen had no power or wealth—mere ornaments with a title.

“If you’ve got guts, stay right here—we’ll see who wins!”

The second-generation heir had indeed felt, from that slap, that he was no match for Li Chen—he ordered his men to help him up and go fetch reinforcements.

Seeing him leave, Li Chen didn’t care—he wanted to see just how rotten this place was.

But those nearby grew frantic: striking the son of a court official until he bled? There was no way to settle this privately.

Even if the second-generation heir didn’t press charges, other officials would surely bring Li Chen down.

Lin Yue’e hurriedly informed Li Chen of the second-generation heir’s identity.

This second-generation heir was named Chen Jie, son of Chen Rong, Director of the Board of Rites’ Office of Ceremonial Regulations.

Chen Rong, Director of the Board of Rites’ Office of Ceremonial Regulations, oversaw auspicious rites, military ceremonies, academic affairs, and imperial examinations—he was a powerful figure in court with considerable authority and many disciples.

This was the foundation of Chen Jie’s arrogance.

Lin Yue’e had merely hoped Li Chen would block the situation—she never expected him to act without a word.

Chen Jie was Chen Rong’s only son, his sole heir, and Chen Rong was famously protective of him.

If Li Chen mishandled this today, he’d face at least ten years in prison.

But seeing Li Chen remain calm after hearing this, she assumed his backer must be powerful indeed.

One of Lin Yue’e’s female friends even quietly inquired about Li Chen’s background.

To her surprise, Li Chen replied: “I have no background.”

The crowd was utterly stunned: you have no background—and yet you dared strike Chen Jie?

We thought your father was some prince—now it seems this fellow might be some distant imperial relative.

Is this ignorance giving birth to fearlessness?

Many in the crowd now looked at Li Chen with pity.

For at that moment, Chen Jie had returned with reinforcements.

When Chen Rong, Director of the Board of Rites’ Office of Ceremonial Regulations, appeared, he naturally became the center of attention.

Many immediately rushed forward to greet him, eager to make themselves familiar in the eyes of this court official.

Chen Rong’s voice was low and resonant, radiating undeniable authority, his bureaucratic tone perfectly calibrated.

After greeting the crowd, he strode toward Li Chen.

Chen Rong slowly raised his hand and gently stroked his meticulously groomed beard.

Every motion exuded calm composure—as if he had long grown accustomed to such lofty living, as if such scenes were routine to him.

Beside him, Chen Jie’s expression was smug—he could already picture Li Chen groveling in moments.

You hit me like that just now—I’ll hit you back the same way!

“Who struck someone here? Step forward, official!”

Chen Rong barked sharply, his official authority unmistakable.

Just from those words, you could tell he was a seasoned bureaucrat.

He didn’t ask who hit his son—that would make him look like a father shielding his child.

Chen Rong focused on the key point: punishing the attacker as a superior official.

In the past, it was his son who beat others and caused trouble—he’d been in the wrong and had to forcibly protect him, forcing the other side to show him face.

Now his son had been beaten—rarely had he such a favorable position—he couldn’t let it slip.

Even if the attacker was imperial royalty, he held the moral high ground!

But what answered Chen Rong was a massive slap!

Thwack!

Chen Rong flew along the exact same path his son had just taken.

He was over sixty—this slap nearly killed him. The entire crowd was left speechless with shock.

Just moments ago, the imperial youth striking the second-generation heir was bad enough—perhaps only prison awaited.

But now, he had dared strike a court official—in front of so many?

If this escalated, he’d be lucky to avoid exile—or death.

Lin Yue’e rubbed her eyes—if she hadn’t misseen it, that slap had come from Li Chen.

She’d seen ruthless people who spoke little—but this one didn’t speak at all—he just struck.

Chen Rong, struck, was livid.

His son Chen Jie stared at him with an innocent gaze, as if to say: I told you I was hit like this—you didn’t believe me—now you see, this man doesn’t play by any rules.

Chen Rong spat blood, glaring furiously at Li Chen: “You think imperial lineage makes you superior? Do imperial heirs get to strike anyone they please?!”

Li Chen’s lips twitched slightly: “Can you say something else? I’ve heard that before.”

Chen Rong gritted his teeth: “Fine, fine, fine—you wait. Tomorrow at court, I will have the Minister impeach you!”

!

The crowd erupted—Chen Rong meant to take this to His Majesty; clearly, this wouldn’t end easily.

But these words amused Li Chen.

What? Impeach me?

Who dares accuse the Emperor?

“So now you realize your mistake? Too late!”

Seeing Li Chen silent, Chen Rong assumed he was afraid.

The atmosphere had reached its peak of tension—many officials were calming Chen Rong’s rage.

Other onlookers speculated whether Li Chen would spend the rest of his life in prison or be exiled to the frontier.

Lin Yue’e quietly tugged Li Chen’s sleeve: “Maybe we should run now.”

She’d already planned her escape—after all, Li Chen was her responsibility; she couldn’t abandon him.

They’d find a sect, change their identities, and vanish into seclusion.

She just wondered if it was still possible to flee.

Li Chen waved his hand calmly: “No need. I just wanted to strike until someone recognized me.”

Few understood—what did “strike until someone recognized me” mean?

Did beating someone lead to friendship?

No, that phrasing sounded odd.

He said “recognized him,” not “he recognized.”

It wasn’t their fault—they didn’t understand. Chen Rong was too low-ranking to attend court; only a few officials had ever seen Li Chen.

As the saying goes: strike the son, the father comes; strike the father, the grandfather comes. Li Chen meant to strike until someone big appeared.

As the crowd murmured, the big one finally arrived.

“Minister of Rites approaches!”

As the guards announced it, the Minister of Rites slowly entered the hall.

His face was stern and solemn, his gaze deep.

The crowd instinctively bowed in unison, movements precise and synchronized.

Their faces bore reverence and awe—this was a true high official; some would never see one in their lifetime.

Seeing his superior arrive, Chen Rong hurried to Minister Yan Hai and began his complaint—no trace remained of his earlier arrogance; he looked like a child wronged.

Yan Hai frowned slightly—who was this bold imperial youth, daring to strike his subordinate on his own turf?

If he didn’t punish this imperial youth severely, how could he maintain his standing in court?

When Yan Hai stepped before this audacious imperial youth, he immediately knelt to the ground.

“Minister Yan Hai pays homage to His Majesty!”

(End of Chapter)