Chapter 937: If You Don

Chen Guanlou placed his luggage on the desk, “They asked me to bring this—please, my lord, examine it.”

The Marquis of Pingjiang was clearly stunned by the news that the old matriarch had been poisoned and was near death. He did not rush to open the luggage, but asked, “Do you know who did it?”

“There are several suspects, but no evidence.”

“Several suspects?” The Marquis of Pingjiang sneered. “Who else but the Emperor?”

Not necessarily! It could be the Marquis's enemies who sent someone—no one can say for sure.

“Impossible!” The Marquis of Pingjiang spoke with finality. “At this moment, whoever rushed to poison the old matriarch—there can be no other source but the palace.”

“But it’s said Xie Gechen already persuaded the Emperor to focus on dealing with the Prince of Chu and temporarily set aside northwest military affairs.”

“I trust Xie Gechen, but I do not trust the Emperor. The Emperor has never kept his word, nor ever will. Circumstances change daily—he flips his decisions on a whim. Hasn’t this happened before?”

The Marquis of Pingjiang was furious, filled with bitter rage!

He exhausted himself defending the Great Ming’s realm.

Yet the Emperor pulls his legs from behind—simply because he fears the Marquis’s achievements overshadow his own, and has no higher title or rank to bestow!

Absurd!

He won’t let go of the northwest, yet refuses to grant high office or noble titles—only dangles a few coins and treasures. What good is that? Once you hold power, how can you lack wealth? Merely rewarding with gold and silver is not just stingy—it’s utterly graceless.

The late Emperor played this game; now the Jian Shi Emperor plays the same. Worse—he poisoned the old matriarch. Even the late Emperor, a man of ruthless dominance, never sank so low as to harm her.

The Jian Shi Emperor has shattered all limits—the limits of what a sovereign ought to do.

Shameless!

The Marquis of Pingjiang’s face turned icy. At this moment, he had clearly lost all loyalty and trust toward the imperial house.

Beside him, Chen Guanlou felt the collapse of faith—the bond between lord and subject had snapped. No thunder, no storm. On the surface, all remained calm.

Yet beneath the surface, a great storm was brewing!

Chen Guanlou felt he ought to say something. He hesitated a moment. “I’ve seen the city gate troops.”

The Marquis of Pingjiang raised his eyebrows slightly and nodded. “Go back and tell the Young Master: don’t investigate the Embroidered Uniform Guard. The poison likely has nothing to do with them. It was almost certainly the city gate troops. There are spies from the city gate troops in the Hou Fu—likely embedded for decades, generation after generation. Hmph…”

Chen Guanlou stared in shock.

He had merely mentioned the city gate troops in passing, as a reminder to be cautious.

He never expected the Marquis to deduce it was the city gate troops who poisoned her.

This…

Was it wild speculation—or did he have real grounds?

“Are you certain, my lord?”

The Marquis of Pingjiang sneered. “Even if it wasn’t them, in my eyes, it must have been the city gate troops. Do you know why?”

Chen Guanlou asked bluntly: “My lord—are you planning to rebel?”

“Rebel? Hahahaha…” The Marquis laughed. “Do you think now is a good time to rebel?”

“Not ideal. But with proper planning, you could carve out the northwest.”

Chen Guanlou had seriously considered this. With the troops and resources under the Marquis’s command, he couldn’t say for certain about conquering the realm—but holding the northwest? That was certainly possible.

As for dominating the entire realm, that would depend on timing, terrain, and fortune.

If you run into someone like Xiu Ge—some destined prodigy—there’s nothing you can do, right?

In short, fortune is a kind of strength.

Those with good luck find everything goes smoothly.

Those with bad luck—even with four deuces and two jokers—can still lose everything, down to their last pair of pants.

“But the northwest is drought-stricken, lacking sufficient resources. Even if you carve out a domain, the population you can support is limited. Holding such a barren land, you might barely survive for one or two generations. After that, death is inevitable—unless my son and I, over two generations, exhaust ourselves to grow strong enough to break out of the northwest and march south! It’s hard!”

The Marquis of Pingjiang sighed deeply.

Had he never considered carving out his own domain? Anyone holding tens of thousands of troops would inevitably entertain such thoughts.

Chen Guanlou nodded, agreeing with his assessment.

If you cannot break free within one or two generations, seize richer lands, and expand—just holding the northwest is pointless. Resources and population limit all development.

“If you don’t rebel, then you must take the imperial court route,” Chen Guanlou suggested.

“How? Tell me.”

“The current Emperor is unfit. Then find a more obedient one.” Chen Guanlou said.

The Marquis of Pingjiang raised his eyebrows. “You’ve got guts—saying such things so openly. Replacing the Emperor isn’t impossible, but it’s extremely difficult—and far from guaranteed.”

“Does rebellion guarantee success? Or will the Hou Fu just stand there and take blows without fighting back? Even if the Hou Fu must be the Emperor’s dog, when beaten, it should still bark.”

“Insolent!” The Marquis of Pingjiang snapped—but his expression showed no anger. He was merely offended by Chen Guanlou comparing the Hou Fu to a dog.

Chen Guanlou knew his words were crude. He cleared his throat. “Today they poisoned the old matriarch. Tomorrow they could poison anyone else in the Hou Fu. You can’t guard against thieves forever. We must do something—to make the Emperor know that even he cannot act recklessly! A minister is a minister—a man, not the imperial family’s dog.”

“True!” The Marquis of Pingjiang strongly agreed. “We must do something. What do you think I should do?”

“That depends on how many resources you have and how far you’re willing to go. If it were me, I’d send a force to the imperial mausoleum—shock and frighten the Emperor. The Emperor may have no shame, but he can’t ignore his reputation. If the imperial mausoleum is desecrated, how can he face the people? He’d be nailed to the pillar of shame.”

“Desecrate the imperial mausoleum?”

The Marquis of Pingjiang seemed to be seriously considering the plan.

Seeing this, Chen Guanlou hurried to clarify, distancing himself: “I was just speaking off the cuff, my lord. You’re not actually thinking of doing it, are you?”

The Marquis of Pingjiang smiled faintly. “In my eyes, there’s no such thing as ‘just speaking off the cuff.’ You’ll lead the mission to desecrate the imperial mausoleum.”

Chen Guanlou waved his hands frantically. What nonsense!

To make him carry out such a task? Only a madman would accept this burning hot potato.

Seeing his reaction, the Marquis of Pingjiang laughed heartily. “Relax—I was only joking. Don’t panic. Go rest now. Tomorrow morning, join me for breakfast. I’ll give you instructions then.”

Chen Guanlou nodded and vanished into the night, heading into the city to find lodging.