Chapter 375: The False Song's Prolonged Reign

The other side of the light curtain.

"Mirror-image Bian Liang" Imperial City, side hall of the Fu Ning Hall.

The furnishings here are far from the standards of the emperor's sleeping quarters.

Though not shabby, it exudes a chill of deliberate neglect.

The air is thick with a strong medicinal smell, overpowering the incense.

Stripped of his imperial title and honored in name only as the 'De Zhao Emperor,' but effectively under house arrest, Zhao Kuangyin leans against the bed.

He is covered with a brocade quilt, his face swollen, his eye bags deep; the once mighty aura has been worn away by illness and resentment.

Only in those eyes, occasionally opened, does a defiant, unwilling spirit remain, like a trapped beast.

An elderly eunuch carefully brings over a medicine bowl.

"Everyone, it's time to take the medicine."

Zhao Kuangyin doesn't even look, and sweeps his arm violently.

"Get out!"

The medicine bowl is knocked over, spilling black liquid that stains the carpet, shards of porcelain scattering everywhere.

"I... I am not sick!"

He hoarsely growls, his chest heaving violently, triggering a heart-rending cough.

"Let Zhao Guangyi come see me! Let him come!"

The elderly eunuch kneels in terror, trembling, afraid to speak.

Zhao Kuangyin pants heavily, his gaze fixed tightly on the closed hall doors.

He knows he cannot leave.

Since that night's palace coup, restrained by the Iron Crow Army's mysterious power and Zhao Guangyi's allies inside and out, he has fallen from the supreme Nine-Five honor to a prisoner deep within the palace.

The so-called 'abdication' is merely a fig leaf.

The so-called 'quiet recuperation' is eternal imprisonment.

He hates.

He hates the Iron Crow Army for betraying trust and treating him as a disposable pawn.

He hates even more his own younger brother, who could commit such shameless fratricide and usurpation!

This realm was won by Zhao Kuangyin's own sword and spear, with the Iron Crow Army's support!

Now, however, he has done the work for someone else's wedding.

"Chen Wen... Chen Wen..."

In the boundless hatred, he occasionally recalls the name that truly defeated him and began his downfall.

If Chen Wen had not risen unexpectedly, breaking the original balance, why would he have rushed for success, and why would the Iron Crow Army have deemed him worthless and turned to support Zhao Guangyi?

A distorted hatred, blaming all misfortune on Chen Wen, sustains his lingering vitality.

Meanwhile, not far away, inside the Hall of Supreme Reverence.

Zhao Guangyi on the throne is equally gloomy.

His yellowish-red dragon robe seems not yet fully settled into his body.

Between his brows lingers an unshakable gloom and ferocity, replacing the steadiness and introversion he had as Prince Jin.

Although he has sidelined his elder brother and holds great power, he feels no ease at all.

Instead, he feels as if sitting on the rim of a volcano that could erupt at any moment, anxious and vigilant.

His elder brother's nominal title remains, like a thorn lodged in his heart.

Those officials who once followed his elder brother, those commanders who hold military power—who can guarantee they harbor no disloyalty?

On the imperial desk, there are no piles of people's livelihood memorials; only a thin list, sealed tight with wax.

The list contains few names, just over ten.

Yet each name represents a bond of incense with his elder brother Zhao Kuangyin, a latent force entrenched in the army or court.

The hall's candlelight flickers, stretching Zhao Guangyi's shadow long and short on the cold gold‑brick floor, like a specter.

He does not immediately vermilion‑mark it, but repeatedly rubs the first name on the list with his fingertip—Wang Yansheng.

A stalwart general who long followed his elder brother, rough‑tempered, well respected in the army, who once doubted the legitimacy of his regency.

Kill, or not kill?

Killing would quickly intimidate the officers in the army who still harbor old loyalties.

But it might also provoke sympathy like a rabbit's death foxing grief, or even spark rebellion.

Not killing, however, is like a bone stuck in the throat.

"Your Majesty."

A low, hoarse voice sounds from the corner of the vast hall.

The Iron Crow Army liaison, codename 'Gray Falcon,' appears silently from the shadows.

Zhao Guangyi does not lift his eyelids.

"Speak."

"Gray Falcon's" voice is devoid of inflection.

"Northern news: the Chen dynasty crown prince has finished his northern frontier inspection and returned to Bian Liang."

"Chen Wen's health seems to be fluctuating, yet he still firmly controls the government."

"His Ministry of Works' promotion of the 'Vortex Machine' has been quite effective."

Zhao Guangyi's hand gripping the list whitens slightly at the knuckles.

Again, Chen Wen!

That name, like a nightmare.

His everything—power, even the meaning of his existence—seemed to be built upon the foundation of opposing, even hating, that person.

"I know."

His voice was ice-cold.

"How is the new policy implementation going?"

"The resistance is not small."

"Hui Sun spoke bluntly."

"Local officials, due to the previous……changes, are panicked, many seeking to preserve themselves through prudence."

"The national treasury, due to war and natural disasters, remains empty."

"The Chen Dynasty's Vortex Machine—its core principle is not something we can easily imitate."

Zhao Guangyi's complexion grew even darker.

How could he not know?

What his elder brother left behind was a mess, having suffered the defeat at Xiong Prefecture and internal turmoil, and moreover his vitality was greatly wounded.

"Iron Crow Army……Master, do you have any new reinforcements?"

"The master has suffered great loss and is still recovering."

"Hui Sun fell silent for a moment."

"The next phase of the 'Clearing Agreement' still requires the right timing."

"The master reminded His Majesty, stabilizing the interior is fundamental."

Zhao Guangyi felt a wave of disappointment.

He dared not show resentment, deeply aware that he could not do without the Iron Crow Army's support.

"After Hui Sun withdrew, the hall fell dead silent once again."

Zhao Guangyi again turned his gaze to the list, his eyes shifting.

Finally, he took up the vermilion brush and fiercely drew a striking red cross over Wang Yansheng's name.

"Kill!"

"In extraordinary times, extraordinary measures must be taken."

He must, with the utmost speed and the harshest means, exterminate all potential threats.

"Only by completely controlling this 'Great Song' does he have the capital to accomplish that bone-deep hatred, to fulfill the 'mission' bestowed by the Iron Crow Army."

"Come here!"

Zhao Guangyi shouted in a low voice.

The eunuch entered in response.

"Convey my decree: Palace Front Service Chief Commander Wang Yansheng, arrogant due to merit, secretly harboring ulterior motives, is to be immediately dismissed and handed over to the Dali Temple Prison for strict interrogation!"

"His partisans are to be jointly investigated by the Huangcheng Office!"

The decree issued, it was destined to be another storm of blood.

Zhao Guangyi leaned on the throne, feeling a thrill of holding power over life and death, but more so, fatigue and loneliness.

This position was cold and hard.

He closed his eyes, yet in his mind appeared the resentful gaze of his elder brother from the side hall.

He suddenly opened his eyes, dispelling the illusion.

The road had already been chosen.

There was no room for turning back.

The sky outside the hall grew ever darker.

It seemed to foretell that above the False Song Imperial Court, a thicker blood-colored hue was gathering.