Chapter 861

The Marquis’s mansion, Jia Cong’s courtyard.

Dusk hung low; the evening glow burned crimson, shattered like fish scales, smoky as blood, densely blanketing the western sky with an eerie radiance.

Since entering the city, Jia Cong had heard military dispatches galloping noisily through the streets—he sensed trouble in the northern front, and his heart grew uneasy.

After spending long hours chatting with Daiyu in the inner courtyard, the pressure in his chest finally eased. When dusk fell, the two went to Yingchun’s courtyard for dinner, then exchanged idle words afterward.

When he returned alone to his courtyard, night had fallen; the winding corridors and eaves were lit one by one with red silk lanterns, their glow blazing like coiling dragons.

The lantern light cast graceful, swaying shadows over the garden’s flowers, trees, and rockeries, adding further elegance and quiet serenity to the inner courtyard beneath the night.

Jia Cong walked along the garden path, leaving behind the warm laughter and sweet voices of his sisters; his mind returned to calmness, unmoved by the night scenery.

Just as he reached the courtyard gate, he saw Qingwen approaching from the direction of the second gate, stepping lightly and gracefully along the pebble path.

Jia Cong smiled and said, “Why are you coming from the gate? What were you busy with?”

Qingwen replied, “Third Master, just now the head housekeeper sent word to the inner courtyard, but it was worded oddly—the gatekeeper’s old woman feared she’d misheard, so she specifically sent me over.”

Earlier today, Second Master ordered the steward to send servants out to gather news across the city; they’ve all returned, saying no major rumors have spread on the streets.

But the Zhengan Prefecture and the Five City Military Command have dispatched many yamen runners and soldiers to patrol the streets, with troops guarding many major roads—it looks different from usual.

Since it’s still the New Year, few shops were open to begin with, and now many have shut down; the streets are far emptier than before.

Also, many soldiers have emerged from the northern camp, a dense throng; they arrived at the northern city entrance and immediately split off toward all the city gates—the commotion was considerable.

Third Master, the city feels so strange tonight—is something happening? Otherwise, why would you have sent people out to gather news?

Qingwen’s voice was bright and pleasing, her words quick and fluent, but Jia Cong listened without truly hearing, his mind churning with thoughts.

His guess was correct: the two batches of military dispatch riders brought extraordinary news—otherwise, the city wouldn’t be in such upheaval.

Now that night has fallen, the Zhengan Prefecture and the Five City Military Command have suddenly deployed yamen runners and soldiers, even guarding key roads—this is a covert curfew order.

The northern camp Qingwen mentioned is the Shenzhou Five Armies’ main camp, just a few li from the imperial palace, housing nearly one hundred thousand elite troops.

To mobilize the Five Armies at night and urgently reinforce the Nine Gates means today’s urgent military report must involve the remnants of the Mongols advancing south.

Otherwise, the court wouldn’t have strengthened the capital’s defenses overnight—whether issuing a preliminary curfew or mobilizing the Five Armies, only His Majesty’s decree could authorize it.

Jia Cong looked up at the sky; the night had grown heavier—something major was truly about to happen…

“Qingwen, tell the old women to send word to the outer courtyard: have the steward assign extra patrols tonight, and seal all gates and doors tightly.”

“Double the guards at the corner gates—if anything happens, immediately send word to the inner courtyard, and have the steward notify the Western Mansion—handle everything under the same protocol.”

Seeing Jia Cong’s grave expression, Qingwen felt uneasy but dared not ask further; she hurried off to the second gate to deliver the message.

Only moments later, servants from both the Eastern and Western Jia mansions moved about; the inner courtyard gates were locked, the outer courtyard’s four gates sealed—only the eastern and western corner gates remained open.

When Ping’er and Wu’er returned to the Eastern Mansion, the small connecting gate between the two mansions was also locked from both sides…

…

Shenzhou’s northern city, Zhao Prince’s Mansion.

In the prince’s study, two massive phoenix-worshipping bronze candelabras stood on either side of a large rosewood desk.

Each candelabra held dozens of thick white candles, their light brilliant, illuminating the study as brightly as daylight.

On the desk lay a map of the Nine Frontiers; the young Zhao Prince, his expression stern, studied it intently.

In hand, a small vermilion brush marked the map with annotations and brief notes, as if actively simulating the northern campaign.

Today’s two batches of urgent military dispatches entering the capital had stirred unrest among the common folk.

Jia Cong noticed them; Li Zhongmao, as the Crown Prince, though somewhat sidelined now, still had ample eyes and ears in the city—he couldn’t possibly have missed it.

Jia Cong deeply understood military strategy and could deduce the northern front’s direction from the dispatches; Li Zhongmao’s martial acumen matched Jia Cong’s—he could deduce it too.

He was among the princes the most gifted in military affairs; upon sensing the Mongol remnants’ troop movements, he had already begun studying the imperial edict, already assuming the posture of a commander preparing for battle.

Since the Great Wei Army scandal in Jinling, Li Zhongmao had been tainted by Zhang Kangnian’s downfall; suspicion had arisen between father and son, and his military rank and authority had been drastically stripped by his father.

Once the favored Crown Prince, he had gradually slipped into marginalization; this sudden psychological blow forced Li Zhongmao to grow wary.

Though he possessed the advantages of being the eldest legitimate son, born of the Empress, with distinguished battlefield achievements and widespread courtly support, he remained dazzling among the princes.

Merely being tangentially implicated in the Jinling Wei Army scandal wouldn’t cause him to lose imperial favor entirely and fall beyond recovery.

Moreover, Zhang Kangnian was dead; no concrete evidence tied him to Zhang’s actions. As Crown Prince, he couldn’t be deposed without proof.

Yet even so, his father’s suspicions lingered, leading to cold treatment; if prolonged, this would severely damage his prestige.

Officials inside and outside court were all opportunists; once he lost popular support, he would be finished.

After all, his father had more than just one son…

Zhao Prince Li Zhongmao was noble by birth, raised in glory, brilliant in both civil and military arts, outstanding among all princes, his life smooth and unbroken.

Officials inside and outside court all subtly implied he was destined to ascend the throne.

Though taught by the Empress to show no outward ambition, deep within, he had long taken this as his unquestionable right.

Years of privilege, constant praise, and universal expectation had become a bone-deep psychological certainty; to lose it now would be unbearable.

The hidden gloom in his heart made him restless, gradually breeding a bitter, hardened resolve; for the past half-year, Li Zhongmao had agonized over how to reverse his current decline.

As Zhao Prince’s mother, Empress Jingde stood firmly by her son, but having spent half a lifetime with Emperor Jiazhao, she knew his nature well.

Thus, she carefully navigated restoring father-son bonds, fearing any move might deepen the emperor’s suspicions.

Even when selecting a new princess consort after the late Zhao Princess’s death, she acted with caution and fairness, strictly following Emperor Jiazhao’s wishes, leaving no room for gossip.

She also approved of Zhao Prince using his birthday banquet to mend relations with court officials and noble families, restoring his dwindling public standing.

The Empress even gifted him the palace’s treasured coral tree, a rare artifact, as a birthday present to enhance the banquet’s splendor.

Yet these subtle actions amounted to little more than silent nourishment—they could not reverse the tide.

…

Ever since the morning court revealed the Mongol occupation of the military supply depot, Zhao Prince Li Zhongmao had seen opportunity.

He was publicly recognized as a born general; years stationed on the northwestern frontier had earned him widespread fame.

Even in his twenties, he personally led a hundred thousand troops into Tibet, confronting the six-tens-of-thousands-strong Chahan army of the remnants of Yuan.

At Yuhezhou, he slew the Chahan prince, beheaded two thousand, captured fifteen Chahan nobles, and killed over forty thousand enemies—his renown shook the northwest.

His battlefield achievements surpassed Jia Cong’s pacification of the Jurchens; his command experience far outstripped Jia Cong’s, still in his teens.

Among the young generals of Da Zhou, Zhao Prince Li Zhongmao was unquestionably the foremost—no one in court or among the people would deny it.

Originally, Li Zhongmao had won supreme honor among imperial clansmen through his military exploits.

Now, to wash away the shadow, the best path remained military glory.

Moreover, whether in imperial lineage or military command, he was equal to any great general of Da Zhou.

Thus, when the military supply depot scandal broke at court, he refused to let this divine opportunity slip away.

Not only did he petition the throne for battle that very day, but after court, he closed his doors for his eighth birthday banquet, feigning withdrawal to attend to state affairs, making a show of solemnity.

For these past few days, apart from visiting the Empress in the palace, he remained indoors, never stepping out.

Each day in his study, he meticulously studied the maps, carefully simulating battle scenarios, his determination to lead the campaign against the Mongols burning fiercely.

…

As he concentrated fully on the map, someone suddenly knocked on the study door—it was the prince’s chief secretary, Feng Xishan.

It was already dusk; Li Zhongmao was slightly surprised by Feng’s appearance at this hour.

He said, “Chief Secretary Feng, have you heard any news from the incoming military dispatches?”

Feng Xishan’s expression was grave: “We’ve received word from the Five Armies Command: the Tumang tribe’s Prince Badu breached Xuanfu Garrison on the fifth; the entire garrison was annihilated.”

“An Da Han has led his forces southward, captured Hongshu Settlement; at their current pace, they’ll reach Shenzhou within days.”

Upon hearing this, Li Zhongmao showed no trace of worry; his eyes blazed with fiery intensity, radiating scorching battle-lust.

He said, “He dares! Da Zhou has stood firm for a hundred years—not the weak Song dynasty. Troops meet troops, earth meets water—let them come, we’ll fight!”

Feng Xishan, seeing the prince’s unusual expression, was inwardly startled: “Your Highness, there’s more—word has just come from the palace.”

“Before dusk, His Majesty received the Ministry of War’s report: Xuanfu Garrison had fallen, the Mongols massacred the city, over forty thousand soldiers and civilians perished. Overcome with rage and grief, he vomited blood and collapsed.”

Li Zhongmao’s face turned deathly pale; his eyes flashed with urgency: “How could this happen? Is His Majesty alright?”

Feng Xishan lowered his gaze: “No word yet on His Majesty’s condition, but the Director of the Imperial Medical Bureau, Li Chengming, has been urgently summoned to treat him.”

“Marquis Jingjing Shi Ding carries His Majesty’s token and the Ministry of War’s tiger tally, entering the Five Armies to mobilize elite troops and reinforce the Nine Gates.”

“Along the roads, yamen runners and soldiers from Zhengan Prefecture and the Five Armies Command are everywhere; many areas of the northern and eastern cities are already under partial curfew.”

Li Zhongmao’s expression shifted between dark and light; he paced the study, his steps growing heavier, the atmosphere thick with eerie tension.

“Chief Secretary Feng, this situation is odd. Even if the northern front is urgent, why mobilize troops overnight?”

“Marquis Jingjing Shi Ding is His Majesty’s trusted general—he’s never been lightly deployed. For him to mobilize troops overnight and reinforce the Nine Gates… this is highly unusual.”

“Could there be something… unspeakable within the palace…?”

Feng Xishan remained impassive: “Your Highness, as a son, your concern is natural.”

“His Majesty is a diligent and enlightened ruler, exhausting himself for the state; rumors have long circulated that his health has been slightly frail.”

“But in my view, even if His Majesty’s constitution has weakened, he wouldn’t collapse from sudden news alone—such an outcome is unlikely. This requires verification.”

…