Chapter 667: Three Years

Time flew by.

Before he knew it, it was the third year of Longchang.

In the Qinzheng Hall, where the Emperor conducted his duties.

“Your Majesty, the prices of rice and cloth among the common people…”

The newly appointed eunuch director, Zhang Eunuch, bowed his head humbly, kneeling before a plain-faced middle-aged man who was reporting to the Emperor seated behind the imperial desk.

Since ascending the throne, Emperor Longchang had followed the precedents of his predecessor, leaving the court as still as stagnant water.

And within this stagnant pool, three years passed, until ministers and the realm gradually accepted the reality of the new Emperor’s reign.

This was no small feat—it signaled the consolidation of imperial authority.

Yet to say the new Emperor had done nothing would be untrue; for instance, he promoted Zhao Hu into the Imperial Guard.

He also established the “Buliang Ren” after the Xiuyi Wei, assigning the Xiuyi Wei to investigate officials while entrusting the Buliang Ren with gathering intelligence from the streets and among the common folk.

The man now kneeling was the commander of the Buliang Ren—the Buliang Shuai.

As colleagues, they naturally despised each other.

“Enough…”

Fang Xing finished reviewing a memorial, looking slightly weary, then turned to Zhang Eunuch: “What has happened in the inner palace?”

Hearing this, the Buliang Shuai immediately kowtowed: “Your servant takes his leave!”

Zhang Eunuch watched the Buliang Shuai’s retreating back with deep regret.

This newly appointed Buliang Shuai was deeply calculating, yet outwardly appeared to be a simple, broad-browed, earnest fellow who knew when to advance and when to retreat—extremely hard to deal with.

“Your Majesty,” Zhang Eunuch said, “three days ago, Imperial Consort Yu visited the Chaotian Temple to burn incense… recently, Prince Kang intends to submit a petition requesting that Imperial Consort Yu leave the palace to reunite with her son.”

Zhang Eunuch said.

Imperial Consort Yu was Prince Kang’s biological mother.

Since Fang Xing’s ascension, Prince Kang had always been respectful, and the Great Qian had no tradition of princely fiefs.

To Fang Xing, granting princes fiefs amounted to tacitly permitting them to tyrannize the regions in exchange for court stability.

It was essentially trading away the people’s interests—highly unprofitable.

Keeping princely families in the capital carried risks, but none of them were major concerns to him.

This body was sustained by internal energy, and with the entire realm supporting one man, living to a hundred without illness or disaster was no problem.

Accidents were even less likely—this gave him considerable peace of mind.

“Prince Kang has been obedient since my ascension. Very well… if he petitions, grant it.”

Fang Xing waved his hand.

But Prince Tai and his mother, Imperial Consort Shu, had once been somewhat restless and were suspected of secretly investigating the late Emperor’s death—likely planning something.

Fang Xing swiftly dealt with them: first, Imperial Consort Shu, like other consorts, was demoted to the rank of Imperial Consort, stripped of much of her former status; the many enemies she had made while serving as Imperial Consort needed no action from Fang Xing—once her power fell, they all rushed to push her down.

Moreover, since the Crown Princess was elevated to Empress, she now held full authority over the inner palace; a new emperor brings new ministers, and the former Imperial Consort’s faction had rapidly faded—now utterly insignificant.

And if Prince Tai petitioned to bring his mother out of the palace to care for her, he would certainly refuse.

‘This princely mother… feels a bit like a hostage.’

‘Ancient politics seems full of subtle tricks…’

‘But it’s none of my concern… I’m just here to farm the Primordial Spiritual Treasure.’

Fang Xing looked at Zhang Eunuch: “What else?”

“Your Majesty…”

Zhang Eunuch’s face glistened with cold sweat as he handed up a register.

Fang Xing opened it, paused in surprise, then smiled: “This year’s candidates for the imperial harem truly conceal dragons and tigers…”

As long as he was Emperor, he would inevitably become the focal point of conflict.

And any slight move would harm someone’s interests.

This first imperial selection after three years saw all factions take the stage—hidden among them were countless calculations, schemes, and intrigues…

‘If I select a dozen or so, the harem will get lively… no, it’s already lively enough.’

Fang Xing had sharp hearing and keen sight, and extensive experience—he was practically the supreme master of toxic medicine.

Earlier, when he wandered through the palace, he sensed countless vengeful spirits in every hall.

Consorts poisoning and framing each other—while not daily fare, they were far from rare.

Even the most enlightened founding emperor could not avoid them.

After all, this world had no demons—everyone was mortal, with limited energy, inevitably leaving gaps.

Sometimes, Fang Xing felt this world resembled a grand, shoddy theater troupe.

‘Hmm, perhaps I shouldn’t overrate the founding Emperor—back then, even without supernatural power, could I have broken the deadlock?’

‘Worst case: launch a rebellion, kill the Emperor, blame it on Prince Tai… no one in the capital would believe it, but across the realm? Who knows? With good propaganda, how would outsiders know the truth? I’m the Crown Prince—why would I rebel?’

‘Then, chaos erupts across the land—I start over, rebuilding the empire? With my accumulated knowledge, I can smelt steel, produce fertilizer… and crucially, I hold the righteous claim of the Crown Prince—I can calmly recruit defectors; as long as defeated foes acknowledge Prince Tai’s regicide, I accept them. In less than three years, I could still pacify the realm—though more people would die…’

‘And pursuing such a tyrannical path might be manageable in youth and middle age, but in old age, others would inevitably grow fearful—perhaps even his wife would drift away; if someone sowed discord, father-son fratricide would become more likely…’

‘Actually… that sounds intriguing… the Crown Prince regicide scenario? Alongside a suspected patricide, sweeping up a massive mess?’

‘Nah, I’ll stick to being the warrior who achieves no glorious fame…’ Fang Xing looked at Zhang Eunuch: “For this selection, you must prepare in advance—watch the Empress, the consorts, even the candidates… I don’t want to see chaos in the harem—abortifacients flying everywhere, eunuchs and maids framing imperial consorts…”

Thud! Thud!

Zhang Eunuch instantly went weak-kneed, banging his head on the floor until blood welled on his forehead: “Your Majesty, such things are utterly impossible!”

Abortifacients? The palace physicians had strict rules—every treatment required witnesses, multiple pulse records—how could such poison enter the palace?

As for maids and eunuchs framing consorts? Plotting to murder imperial heirs? Would they really want their nine clans exterminated?

Even orphaned death-servants—how many could be trained? How high could they climb?

Zhang Eunuch sensed the Emperor’s words carried deeper meaning—his back was drenched in cold sweat, nearly enough to make him return home and prepare poison.

“Oh? If none, then good…”

Fang Xing nodded. In this mortal world, as long as procedures were properly established, most problems could be resolved.

Whether the harem was chaotic or not ultimately depended on the Emperor.

As long as the Emperor did not favor one woman alone and remained unaffected by emotion, the harem could never descend into chaos.

As for the bizarre case of an Emperor smothering his only son out of excessive love, leading to the throne passing to a nephew—that fell outside normal consideration.

!

‘Or… I could simply have only one Empress, and no other women—also acceptable…’

‘Either total devotion, or total indifference—any middle ground invites chaos.’

Fang Xing shook his head, deciding to leave harem affairs to the Empress, merely keeping a light watch.

The power of ancient righteous legitimacy was unimaginable.

Frankly speaking, even if the Empress couldn’t defeat a consort directly, she could completely purge every servant around her.

With such overwhelming advantage, defeat was nearly impossible.

“To be a wise ruler is actually simple—even letting go can be an advantage…”

“Is it posterity’s judgment that binds me?”

Fang Xing pondered—even the most brilliant emperors, who outlived their own descendants, still faced problems among their successors.

Such was the tragedy of short-lived beings.

He dismissed Zhang Eunuch and resumed his duties.

Suddenly, a memorial caught his eye.

“Yuan Zhao is preparing to retire and return home?”

Fang Xing felt a pang of emotion.

This former commoner-turned-Chancellor, who had helped the founding Emperor conquer the realm, had worked tirelessly—but he was indeed very old.

Especially since three years ago, when the founding Emperor Wu, who had embodied his ideals, suddenly died of heart failure, it had drained the old man’s spirit.

He had stayed on only out of loyalty to the new Emperor.

Now that all affairs had settled into routine, it was natural for him to retire.

‘He’s clever—he was the top strategist of his time. Now he withdraws while the tide is high: first, his health is truly failing; second, staying longer invites danger.’

Fang Xing shook his head.

The Chancellor of the Grand Secretariat was the head of all officials—anyone who took the post would gather disciples and followers, gradually forming factions.

And even more problematic!

After all, the literati who had followed Fang Xing since his days as Crown Prince were all eyeing the Chancellor’s seat.

If he didn’t leave now, he’d surely face attacks from all sides.

‘And for officials, the most important thing is their bond with the Emperor…’

‘Yuan Zhao had ties with the late Emperor, but little connection with me… if he doesn’t wish to be executed for treason along with his nine clans, he should retire.’

Fang Xing smiled and immediately approved with his vermilion brush: “Approved.”

Of course, the retirement of a Grand Secretariat Chancellor would not be so simple—he must receive a promotion in honorary rank and a gold gift, preserving mutual dignity.

‘I hope this man, upon returning home, doesn’t become like Ming’s Xu GeLao—suddenly owning hundreds of thousands of acres of prime farmland… otherwise…’

…

Yuan Mansion.

This was an imperial gift, reportedly converted from a former dynasty’s princely residence; though many unauthorized elements had been removed, the courtyards remained deep and vast.

At this moment, Yuan Zhao, dressed in casual robes, was playing with a parrot.

Compared to three years ago, he looked older, but his spirit was still good.

“Father…”

A middle-aged man came up behind Yuan Zhao: “Once that memorial was submitted, there’s no turning back.”

“Heh, I’m old now. If I cling to power any longer, the young ones will hate me.”

Yuan Zhao held a handful of birdseed, then added with relief: “Besides… our Emperor, though he shows no outward sign, is a formidable figure. I can rest easy now.”

“A formidable figure?”

The middle-aged man said nothing.

“Do you think anyone could have done what the Emperor has done these past three years—avoiding grand moves, governing through non-action, letting anyone take charge?”

Yuan Zhao smiled and shook his head: “Young men must guard against anger. Our Emperor spent many years as Crown Prince, and after ascending the throne, he held back that fury—that alone is extraordinary. Now the Imperial Guard is gradually submitting, the Emperor’s position is unshakable— isn’t that clear proof? You must tell my family descendants to avoid the Princes; otherwise, disaster is near…”

(End of Chapter)