Chapter 477: He Is a Loyal Minister, But His Head Grows Rebel Bone

"Deposed Emperor!"

"Deposed Emperor!"

"Deposed Emperor!"

These radical young officials were no longer satisfied with merely forcing the old emperor to abdicate in favor of a worthy successor—they sought to depose him outright, stripping him of even the dignity of becoming Retired Emperor.

This act was utterly shocking, leaving everyone speechless.

The veteran ministers present had never seen or heard such an extreme scene. Depose the Emperor? How could they even conceive such a thing?

These two words—none of the veteran ministers had ever dared to think them, let alone utter them. Merely entertaining the thought was high treason, tantamount to being a traitorous rebel.

What they all contemplated was how to let the old emperor step down with dignity, how to ensure ministerial authority curbed imperial power, and how to achieve a smooth transition of the throne.

How bold of them!

And they shouted it aloud—turned it into a chant.

Qiu Defu was utterly terrified, his face ashen; the mighty cultivator nearly collapsed from weakness, had his adopted son not swiftly steadied him—otherwise he would have humiliated himself on the spot.

Leaning against his adopted son, he roared in fury: "Arrest them! Arrest them all! They're all traitorous rebels! What are the Embroidered Uniform Guards doing? Why aren't they acting? This is outright rebellion!"

"Deposed Emperor! Deposed Emperor! Deposed Emperor…"

The young officials pressed forward relentlessly.

"To save our dynasty, we must act today! My fellow patriots, join me in roaring this battle cry!" Zhao Mingqiao waved his hand—his charisma, his infectious energy, so theatrical and compelling—even the princes and imperial lords in attendance were swayed.

Internally, they wondered: if I step forward and declare, "I can shoulder the burden of the dynasty," would that make me emperor?

Though they thought this, none dared be the first to step forward.

The first to eat the crab held great temptation—but also immense risk.

Look at the senior ministers nearby—all watching coldly. Without their participation, Zhao Mingqiao and his rabble could never hope to seize the throne. The princes and imperial lords were not so naive.

So…

Let the brothers (or elder brothers) take the first bite of the crab. They only needed to watch the wind, then strike at the most critical moment.

"Zhao Mingqiao, you incited these madmen to storm the palace—what do you intend?"

"You dare shout 'Deposed Emperor'—are you plotting rebellion?"

"I shall grant your wish right now—have him locked up for a few days to cool his head."

Li Liangcheng and others finally moved, instantly slapping on the heaviest labels, drawing clear lines. Whether they secretly agreed with Zhao Mingqiao or not, they must publicly condemn him—this was utterly disgraceful!

How would this chaos end?

Zhao Mingqiao had no sense of propriety, no grasp of restraint. How could he shout "Deposed Emperor"?

Absurd!

Zhao Mingqiao laughed heartily, utterly fearless.

His expression seemed to welcome the storm to grow fiercer.

The fiercer the storm, the greater the gain.

He roared in excitement: "Today, the Taiji Palace is not the Emperor's domain—it is mine! Zhao Mingqiao's stage!"

History will record this moment in grand detail.

Zhao Mingqiao is destined to be a name etched in history.

Praise or blame—it doesn't matter. We fear nothing!

He roared: "Gentlemen, as I stand here, I have already prepared to die. Whoever wishes to kill me—my head is right here. Take it. If I regret this, I do not deserve to live."

Gentlemen, our dynasty stands on the brink of annihilation. My life or death matters little—but do you not care whether the dynasty survives?

Your wealth, your careers, your families' glory—all depend on the dynasty. If the dynasty falls, how will you protect your riches, your descendants' futures, your lineage's continuity? Do you intend to become traitorous ministers, selling out the dynasty to preserve your privilege?

And you, princes and imperial lords—what will become of you? We ministers may survive as traitors—but what can you rely on? Your names are inscribed in the imperial genealogy. You cannot even hide your identities, let alone flee. Yet still, you refuse to step forward? You refuse to shoulder the dynasty's burden? Do you truly expect a comatose old man to remain on that throne and shield you all?

Words that strike at the heart!

Purely heart-striking!

The ministers were forced to bear the stigma of traitors.

The princes and imperial lords bore the stigma of cowards!

Everyone was a coward—except Zhao Mingqiao and his followers, who became the heroes, laughing freely.

The atmosphere in the hall was deeply strange.

Some resisted, like cornered beasts, desperately seeking escape.

Some fell silent, thinking.

Some weighed their options.

Some wavered.

Some tried to exploit the chaos for gain.

A thousand faces, a thousand minds.

One thing was certain: Zhao Mingqiao's words had struck every person present.

Whether the dynasty truly stood on the brink of collapse? That need not be debated now. No one could claim the realm was peaceful and prosperous.

Don't forget—the north and south are both at war, both suppressing rebels.

The rebel Guo Dachun showed no sign of defeat.

In the south, Prince Chu's power grew stronger. He had spent years cultivating his domain, earning a reputation as a virtuous prince. The people's hearts were with him.

Meanwhile, the court had raised taxes on the southern regions for years, stirring furious public resentment.

Compare the two: even if Prince Chu cannot conquer the whole realm, carving out a portion as a feudal lord is certain. A breakaway kingdom, severing the empire's richest territory—think how glorious that would be.

The court, however, would suffer terribly.

Lose the tax heartland, yet still expand the army—imagine the crushing tax burden on the people within the court's remaining lands. Fire and rebellion would erupt everywhere—quell one uprising in the east, and another ignites in the west.

Left unchecked, Prince Chu would win by default. The Great Ming would destroy itself.

From both perspectives, Zhao Mingqiao's words were not alarmist—they were precise, grounded, foresighted. He was a true loyal minister!

But he also shouted "Deposed Emperor"—and that was fatal.

This loyal minister had rebellion growing from his skull.

One hundred and forty jin in weight—thirteen-nine jin of it was rebel bone.

Unacceptable!

Headache!

Li Liangcheng felt his temples throb violently, as if blood surged straight into his skull.

"Zhao Mingqiao, if you have something to say, come down. Let us find a quiet place and speak calmly. There is always a solution. Shouting here, stirring panic, inciting ignorant fools to follow your madness—what decorum is this? This is the palace, not your backyard, not your place to throw tantrums. As a minister, you must maintain basic dignity. For the sake of this old man's face, show some restraint."

Li Liangcheng wisely yielded, softening his tone—first, gain control of the situation. Face or no face, as long as he could contain the chaos, what did a little dignity matter?

Was he not the Grand Secretary? Did he not deserve respect? Would anyone dare withhold it from him?