Chapter 238

In the blink of an eye, the forty-seventh year of Tai Xing passed, and the calendar turned to the forty-eighth year of Tai Xing.

The old emperor remained in good health, and the Crown Prince's succession seemed distant. The imperial princes watched with hungry eyes—everyone still had a chance, so why not unite to overthrow the Crown Prince?

The palace atmosphere grew increasingly tense and suffocating; the people of Dongzhou suffered unspeakable horrors, with families destroyed left and right.

Jiang Tu had become a traitor despised by all.

In March, bandits from Mount Ju in Dongzhou launched a surprise attack on the local county, killing officials and rebelling. Seven days later, religious fanatics rose in revolt, sweeping across Dongzhou in an instant and storming the provincial capital without effort. The governor of Dongzhou hanged himself; only one of his sons escaped death.

After seizing the provincial capital, the fanatics opened the treasury and distributed relief to the people. Then they dragged the populace southward, advancing like a storm, killing scholars, landlords, wealthy households, and officials—anyone who did not believe in their faith, regardless of status, was slaughtered without mercy.

Landlords who had once hoped to buy safety with money now could no longer endure it. They poured out funds and grain, organized their tenants, local militias, and village defenders, armed with hoes, sickles, spears, swords, and clubs, and began organized resistance against the fanatics.

With money, grain, and troops, the local government regained the will to resist. The fanatics' advance met fierce obstruction.

At this time, the Embroidered Uniform Guard was active, but the imperial troops lingered nearby, waiting for orders from above. The higher command instructed them not to move against the fanatics, so the troops could only watch helplessly as the fanatics ravaged the region.

One after another, petitions from local officials flew into the capital, into the palace. They did not accuse the local troops of inaction, but instead denounced Jiang Tu and his henchmen as the instigators of the rebellion.

Officials in the capital also sprang into action, especially the censors of the Censorate, whose verbal assaults were unmatched. Without uttering a single vulgar word, they cursed Jiang Tu's ancestors back eighteen generations.

During court assembly, some emotionally charged officials spat directly in Jiang Tu's face.

Jiang Tu: …

He endured humiliation, letting the spittle dry on his face.

The greater his suffering today, the more the old emperor would pity him—and later compensate him doubly.

Thus, he stood silently, allowing court ministers to berate and insult him, never retorting, never striking back, playing the role of the perfect, meek man with flawless precision.

Qiu Defu, who stood beside the old emperor serving him, snorted in disdain, secretly cursing Jiang Tu for his wolfish ambition—pretending to be pitiful, one face in front, another behind. Now, before the old emperor, he played the humble servant; once the old emperor was gone, Jiang Tu would not hesitate to shout louder and strike harder than any minister.

The old emperor had been completely deceived by Jiang Tu.

The only person in the hall who remained utterly silent throughout was the group of noble families. Watching the chaotic court assembly, they sat like statues, not speaking a word, not even frowning.

Some passionate nobles wanted to rise and voice their opinions, but were silenced by glances from their peers: What's the point? Can this court possibly produce anything useful? Don't waste your breath. As long as there's war, the nobles are indispensable. As long as there's war, money and grain are indispensable. The outcome was already clear: the nobles had already won. So why provoke envy with empty words?

The Grand Elder leaned on his cane, granted special permission by the old emperor to sit while attending court.

Throughout, he sat in his chair, accompanying the two Chancellors in silent meditation.

Watching the chaos unfold and the old emperor remain silent, the Grand Elder asked Left Chancellor Li Liangcheng, "Has the Political Council no rules at all? At least show some dignity."

Li Liangcheng half-closed his eyes, an old man nearing eighty, looking as if he might drop into his coffin at any moment, his white beard hanging to his chest, trembling slightly with each breath. "Marquis, do you have any advice?"

"I have no brilliant advice, only a few humble suggestions."

Right Chancellor Wu Dashou, seated nearby, couldn't help but smirk at this witty remark.

"Then let's hear the Marquis's humble suggestions."

"It's obvious the Emperor will protect Jiang Tu at all costs. So first, cut off his claws to appease public outrage. Then, the Dongzhou rebellion will collapse in days."

"Marquis, your advice is excellent!" whispered Right Chancellor Wu Dashou.

The Grand Elder returned the smile, but inwardly sneered—this was obvious to everyone, yet no one dared speak up. Cowards all, only concerned with preserving their posts, unwilling to act, terrified of angering the old emperor.

He glanced at the old emperor seated on the dragon throne—his face grew ever more cruel and heartless, greedy and treacherous. A proper emperor, reduced to the likeness of a villain. If the ancestors of the Song family knew, their coffins would burst open.

The old emperor sharply sensed the Grand Elder's gaze, glanced over, his eyes cold and merciless, thick with murderous intent.

The Grand Elder, ever prudent, immediately lowered his head in submission. The old emperor then shifted his gaze to the loudest group of shouting ministers.

"People will die," thought the Grand Elder. Those who shouted the loudest today would surely be sent to the Heavenly Prison. Whether they live or die depends on how strong their patrons are. Poor fools, used as pawns, cannon fodder—such young lives wasted in prison.

The old ministers in court, like the old emperor, had grown ever more cruel and vicious.

The entire court session was nothing but shouting—no real business was resolved.

Finally, the old emperor swept his sleeve and left; the court dissolved.

The two Chancellors and ministers were summoned to the Taiji Palace for a smaller meeting. Only this small meeting solved problems; the grand court was eight times out of ten used merely for venting rage.

In less than two months, the rebellion had spread to three prefectures and twelve counties, with countless lives lost.

At last, the court issued orders to suppress the bandits.

The imperial troops, long eager for battle, surged forward like a flood, storming into the battlefield. The bloody grinding machine began to turn.

The Embroidered Uniform Guard delivered the old emperor's precise command: Kill! Kill them all! Even if the entire population of Dongzhou is wiped out, it doesn't matter. Take no prisoners. Leave none alive. But do it secretly—leave no evidence.

The order was transmitted solely through the Embroidered Uniform Guard, bypassing the court, the Political Council, and the official postal system—clearly meant to conceal the truth. The old emperor's rage demanded the entire Dongzhou be purged. He wanted no prisoners, only the annihilation of every rebel. Even those coerced into joining the rebellion, even the civilians dragged along, could not escape death's grasp.

Once the slaughter began, human lives became cheaper than livestock. Countless innocent souls perished beneath the soldiers' blades.

Paper cannot hide fire.

Even with the Embroidered Uniform Guard covering for them, the troops' indiscriminate massacre of civilians and rebels alike could not be concealed forever. Soon, the Embroidered Uniform Guard became the target of universal condemnation.

Yet everyone knew: without the old emperor's orders, the Embroidered Uniform Guard would never dare such a thing. As for the troops—words fail. Of course, accusations must be made; every general leading the troops, without exception, would be held accountable.

But right now, the critical question was: what was the old emperor's true stance?

A bold official, daring enough to defy all, stood before the old emperor and asked: "Your Majesty, have you gone mad?"