Chapter 669: The Supreme

“Chengqian?!”

“Inherit Daqian—or inherit Heaven and Earth?”

In a secret chamber of a prince’s mansion.

One prince smashed every brush, ink, paper, and inkstone within reach in fury.

If outsiders had seen this, they would have been utterly astonished.

Was this prince, always known for his gentleness, truly like this?

This prince was the eldest son of the Eighth Prince, who had once been popular among ministers and widely supported, with rumors even suggesting he might be named Crown Prince.

But Heaven denied him years—he died young.

In fact, nearly all of the Emperor’s top twenty sons had died of old age or illness.

Yet the old Emperor still lived, surpassing the lifespans of emperors from the previous dynasty and even the one before that—a remarkable anomaly.

At this moment, apart from a few younger princes born in the last two or three decades, most of the imperial grandsons had begun to harbor ambitions for the throne.

For these men, the Emperor naming the Ninety-Ninth Prince “Chengqian” was a crushing blow.

Isn’t this clearly signaling his intent to name him Crown Prince?

In the Daqian Dynasty, anyone bearing the name Chengqian who fails to inherit the throne will surely die—no ruler who ascends can let him live!

Yet he did not know this was merely Fang Xing deliberately making things harder for them…

Still, Fang Xing did have some thought of naming a Crown Prince.

After all, his luck was terrible—among his sons and grandsons, the card draws were almost all blanks, with not a single standout SSR.

But Lady Gouyu possessed extraordinary nature, and with himself, he should be able to produce a true dragon-phoenix caliber heir.

He was already eighty-seven; if he could hold on another ten or twenty years, Li Chengqian would come of age, receive his crown… then be named Crown Prince, ascend the throne—perfect.

Along the way… this terrifying undercurrent would provide the finest pressure and stage for that female Daoist Lady.

Her true character must now be revealed clearly.

…

The Imperial City.

Outside the Cold Palace.

Jing Jie stood rigidly on guard, clad in armor.

“Jie” means weed.

He once owned a few mu of good farmland, but after a natural disaster, his father fell ill, the family went bankrupt, and the land was sold off.

Then came a locust plague; his entire family became refugees and died on the road to escape famine—only ten years ago!

Although many civil officials under Fang Xing’s rule praised the “Longchang Governance,” beneath the sunlight, dark corners still persisted.

But since the scale was small and famine refugees mostly died en route without rebelling, they weren’t even worth a single line in the historical records.

Jing Jie had survived to this day only because he met a benefactor.

His whole family starved to death, but he himself, on the brink of death, encountered a “benefactor.”

Not only that—the benefactor taught him martial arts, forged his household registration in the capital, and secretly arranged his marriage and children…

He didn’t know how many other death-servants like him existed, but in the end, through sheer willingness to die and knack for maneuvering, he was selected into the Imperial Guard, transferred to palace security, and assigned to guard the Cold Palace.

Palace guard duty was of utmost importance—only sons of reputable families with entire households registered in the capital were chosen.

Then, if anything went wrong, they’d simply erase the household records like a matching game, ensuring no one dared act out.

Only after joining the palace guard did Jing Jie learn what his benefactor wanted him to do.

But it didn’t matter—he would have been dead long ago without the benefactor.

Now he had eaten, enjoyed, and even fathered a son, secretly sent away.

The official household records had nothing to do with him—even if executed for nine clans, he had nothing to fear!

Moreover, his real son was in the benefactor’s hands—that was his weakness, and even if ordered to assassinate the Emperor, he had to obey!

Yet competition for positions within the palace was fierce.

Those stationed at the Qinzhen Hall were almost all sons of noble military families; commoners had no chance.

Men like him, with clean backgrounds, were still stuck guarding the Cold Palace, rarely seeing the Emperor once a year.

Besides, when the Emperor traveled, wasn’t he always surrounded by a massive entourage?

What use was one man?

Until recently, with the birth of Prince Chengqian, his benefactor seemed to have gained significant covert support and finally activated him as a hidden asset.

Crack!

A whip cracked through the air.

Jing Jie snapped to attention.

The imperial procession was coming—the ceremonial whip cleared the way!

Indeed, not long after, the Emperor’s procession appeared—maids and eunuchs lined the sides, escorted by fierce, vigorous guards.

“Your Majesty!”

Jing Jie immediately knelt by the roadside, palms sweating with tension.

This was the Emperor—the legendary incarnation of the Heavenly Lord on Earth!

‘How many people, how many hidden agents had been sacrificed… for this one chance encounter?’

‘Where is my opportunity?’

Jing Jie held his breath, silently waiting.

…

Meanwhile.

Fang Xing, seated in the imperial carriage, was also waiting.

“Human stupidity is limitless—my foolish sons and grandsons… upon hearing the name Li Chengqian, the entire capital is cheering and wailing…”

“This is the first layer: the imperial consorts, desperate for their sons’ and grandsons’ futures, will inevitably be swayed by whispers—creating the foundation for collusion between inside and outside.”

“Moreover, I’ve steadfastly promoted mathematics in the imperial examinations for decades—isn’t that a heavy blow to Confucianism? Even to the Confucian religion? At the very least, it’s fractured the civil officials…”

“Too bad—I’ve held power for sixty years; my prestige is already established. A military coup or ministers forcing me to abdicate? Pure nonsense! Those who hoped to outlive me? I’ve outlived them all…”

“Now, it’s only a matter of the white rainbow piercing the sun—a single, decisive strike…”

At that moment.

Crash!

One of the sedan bearers suddenly turned pale, spat blood, and collapsed.

Whoosh!

The golden-yellow sedan tilted sharply to one side.

“Protect the Emperor!”

Several guards rushed forward to replace the fallen bearers.

But just then, the blood-smeared young eunuch’s face twisted into a cruel grin—he pulled a dagger from his robe and stabbed the nearest guard.

“Assassin!”

!

A piercing scream erupted; chaos erupted all around.

“Protect the Emperor! Protect the Emperor!”

Jing Jie took a deep breath and stepped forward, watching as the imperial carriage rolled over—out stepped the Emperor, white-haired and bearded, face glowing with health, exuding an aura of celestial grace.

“Protect the Emperor.”

Amid the chaos, he moved within three feet of the Emperor.

His martial instructor had once said: within three feet, every man is your enemy!

“Stop!”

One imperial guard, seeing Jing Jie still approaching, instantly changed expression and slashed at him with his sword.

Anyone trying to sneak close to the Emperor during chaos deserved to be cut down without mercy.

Clang!

Jing Jie shifted slightly, letting the blade strike his own arm armor, then drew his own long knife and drove it into the guard’s vital point.

Without this level of martial skill, how could a man with a clean background ever have reached palace guard duty?

“Kill!”

Seeing the Emperor right before him, Jing Jie lunged forward.

“Audacious!”

Several Grand Palace masters struck simultaneously—blades and swords pierced Jing Jie’s body.

Yet he spat blood, grinning fiercely, and hurled his long knife from his hand—aimed straight at the ancient, eighty-year-old Emperor!

Whoosh!

But at that moment, Fang Xing’s movements were impossibly agile—he sidestepped the flying knife, then lifted his right foot lightly, like a shadowless kick, sending a maid flying.

Crash!

A dagger clattered to the ground, glinting blue in the sunlight.

“That maid… was also an assassin?”

“It was the one who screamed ‘assassin’ just now.”

“We arrived too late to protect the Emperor—please forgive us, Your Majesty.”

Swish!

A row of armored soldiers arrived, forming a tight circle around Fang Xing; a middle-aged general hurriedly knelt—this man was Zhao Hu’s grandson, Zhao Xu.

“According to palace regulations, arriving within ten breaths of an alarm is not late—what crime have you committed?”

Fang Xing waved his hand and said, “As for today’s incident, investigate the palace maid and the guards thoroughly—let it end here…”

Zhao Xu was taken aback; he hadn’t expected the Emperor to be so… calm?

He did not know this was intentional on Fang Xing’s part.

“The older one grows, the more prone to folly—this is born of fear!”

“Especially for an Emperor, this creature: the dread of aging, the burden of a decaying body… should an assassination threat arise now, he will erupt in rage.”

“And in that rage, he loses reason, exposing greater flaws for ambitious men to exploit…”

“Today’s assassination—neither the guards nor the maid may even be allied; even if investigated, it might be a divine trap…”

“And it’s a chain scheme—if no solid leads emerge, suspicion will inevitably turn to those closest to him…”

“To make your enemy suffer, simply become the very thing they dread most.”

A faint cold smile appeared on Fang Xing’s lips.

He decided: he would live to one hundred and twenty, and then pass the throne to Li Chengqian!

This boy had solid foundations; if nurtured from childhood and instilled with certain ideals, he would deliver a great surprise to those who came after.

After all, though Fang Xing had firmly held power as Emperor, he had always focused on the big picture and left the small matters aside, leaving him time to rest and enjoy.

This was because he was not a native Emperor—he did not crave power as intensely.

But what of a young Emperor raised from childhood in imperial education?

He would surely expand power without restraint, seize control, expand again, seize again…

Yes, Fang Xing’s ideal template for Li Chengqian’s future rule was a fusion of Qin Shi Huang and Hongwu—guaranteed to make the bureaucrats wish their former Emperor would rise from the grave.

“When you wish to open a window, if many oppose, better to first tear off the roof…”

Fang Xing gazed into the distance, as if gazing at the future, a hint of anticipation stirring in his heart.

…

In the seventy-fifth year of Longchang, Li Chengqian, aged fifteen, was named Crown Prince.

In the eightieth year of Longchang, Emperor Longchang withdrew from governance, abdicated the throne, assumed the title of Retired Emperor, and ordered Gou Yu, now elevated to Empress Dowager, to oversee state affairs; the following year was declared the first year of Pingding.

Li Chengqian was already an adult and capable of ruling personally, yet this bizarre arrangement of an Empress Dowager regency mimicked the practice of a curtain-listening regime.

This was, of course, Fang Xing’s deliberate design, plunging court and realm into chaos.

Fortunately, the Empress Dowager now revealed astonishing skill—she could both endure and cooperate with the Emperor while systematically eliminating dissenters.

By the fifth year of Pingding, the Empress Dowager died of illness, and the court fell quiet once more.

In the twentieth year of Pingding, the Retired Emperor passed away; officials wept in mourning, the Emperor wept bitterly, and his posthumous title was “Wen,” becoming Emperor Wen of the Second Generation.

During Emperor Wen’s reign, light taxes and minimal corvée won the people’s hearts, ushering in the Longchang Golden Age; he lived to one hundred and twenty-seven, the longest-lived monarch in history. Rumors spread that he had achieved immortality, inspiring later emperors with envy and prompting many to seek traces of Emperor Wen’s legacy…

(End of Chapter)