Chapter 505: Benevolence, Righteousness, and Propriety

Your Majesty summons me?

Right Chancellor Feng Yuning's thoughts froze. He did not know why—clearly everything was under his control, clearly every matter and every thing was within his grasp. Even when Qin Wang launched his sudden attack, he could still retreat layer by layer according to his own arrangements.

In the end, he earned a reputation for departing with ease, going boating on the lake.

Everything was arranged, everything was under control.

But you, you—!

His sleeves flipped, his palm gripped tight. In his heart was a sense of irritation—everything had been prepared, yet someone had smashed it apart. This irritation came from that trusted chief steward, came from his own nephew, came from every inch of land within the Chancellor's residence.

Those people who in days past would come at his call and go at his beck, who rode horses and led yellow hounds along—now they had become a force clamping down on him, like flesh and blood on his own body daring to rebel against him.

This irritation came from Qin Wang, who had suddenly torn apart this age of chaos.

It came from Emperor Chen's summons at this critical moment.

These people, these people!

Why won't they each act as chess pieces? These so-called bold heroes, these outstanding figures, these common folk, these running dogs—why does each and every one of them have their own ideas? Why won't they obey?!

Such is the human heart. At this moment, Feng Yuning felt a desire to resist, but he raised his head and saw the gentle, serene gaze in the eyes of the Director of Ceremonies eunuch. The latter stepped forward half a pace and said in a low voice: "Rebel forces have besieged our Ducheng. Your Majesty is somewhat worried about the affairs of state."

"He truly needs the help of all those high ministers, loyal officials and righteous men."

"At present, General Zhao, my lord Liu, Vice Minister Wu, are all already here…"

Feng Yuning's taut heart and mind eased.

He instinctively chose the possibility he hoped for in his heart—namely, that when faced with the capital being besieged and war-fires burning on all four borders, that Emperor had finally lost his composure, finally begun to feel fear.

These monarchs, in ordinary days putting on displays of so-called lofty aspirations, so-called matchless valor—but history records often show that before their kingdoms fell, they were worse than ordinary people, let alone comparable to great Confucian scholars who possessed vast, righteous spirit.

It was all just an act.

Probably at this moment, he was terrified out of his wits.

So he needed these loyal and upright gentlemen to cluster around him. Feng Yuning's heart settled. He had read widely and knew that in every dynasty of antiquity there were such matters—even so-called emperors, at such a time, are afraid.

All the ministers of court could flee, could surrender, and even after surrendering still enjoy wealth and honor; so-called noble houses, with their money and lands, if they knew how to pick the right side and support it, could also have a future—such was the way of these thousand-year great families.

Even those who bowed their heads into the dust, those mud-legged folk with hands and feet in the soil, could survive.

But only the monarch—

Could absolutely not surrender and live on in shame.

Let alone a man like Emperor Chen?

Yet he is still a coward. Your Majesty, Your Majesty, go on ahead to the Yellow Springs alone. We ministers will borrow your death to gain a firm footing in the new era, and win wealth and honor as well. When the time comes, in the netherworld below, this minister will burn a few incense sticks for you.

So he settled his heart. With a sweep of his sleeve he calmed his nephew, pointed at the two corpses lying dead, and said: "These two slaves, feeding on the state's salary, yet colluded from within and without, intending to pass information to that Qin Wang."

"This old man's heart was anxious and furious. Having learned of this beforehand, I dealt with the two of them according to family law, and was just about to take them to the government office to turn myself in. Moreover, with the great army pressing on the city and the state tottering on the brink—even if Your Majesty had not come to summon me, this old man would have gone all the same."

The Director of Ceremonies eunuch said mildly: "Qin Wang?"

Feng Yuning's thoughts congealed slightly.

He sensed, from that yin-soft, neither-man-nor-woman person, a breath he could not name yet made his heart palpitate. So, without changing his expression, he showed grief and fury on his face, and sighed:

"After all, it is still a title personally bestowed by His Majesty the Red Emperor."

"National enmity and family hatred are here before us. What can we people do about it?"

The Director of Ceremonies eunuch said: "The Right Chancellor's loyalty moves heaven and earth; this servant knows it well. Your Majesty's heart is anxious and hopes to see all of you at once. Please, quickly follow this servant into the palace."

"Very well."

Feng Yuning's heart settled all the more, and his doubts faded. He instructed his household, then pointed at the two corpses he had beaten to death, and scolded: "These traitors who sell the country are truly detestable. What this old man instructed earlier—have you all remembered it clearly?"

His nephew said deferentially: "Yes!"

"Everything will be carried out exactly as Uncle instructed. It will be handled properly, and not the slightest slip will occur again."

His heart eased. He understood his uncle's meaning: he was to go and deal with Emperor Chen, while matters here concerned life and death and must be done well. He respectfully watched the Director of Ceremonies eunuch lead Right Chancellor Feng Yuning out.

When Feng Yuning went out, his sleeves swayed slightly.

Jiangzhou city, contrary to all custom, was quiet, yet clamorous.

There were no common folk on the roads. From outside one could hear the dull, muffled sounds of blades and swords. On the broad avenue, in days past there would always be crowds coming and going, and sedan-chairs were not permitted to proceed. When he went out he had to sit in a sedan-chair, with three chairs in front and behind.

Ahead, household-born retainers trained in martial arts would clear the way.

Still there were young noble sons, still there were scholars who had studied hard for twenty years and come here. Like moths to a flame, they squeezed out from the crowd, stubbornly withstood the violent shoving of the retainers, and still had to press close to the sedan-chair.

To stuff in land deeds, bank notes, to stuff in verses they had wrung out of their bitter thoughts at great pains.

Inside the sedan-chair was an engraved and ornamented silver brazier.

They would stuff brocade-written essays into it, light a fire to warm themselves—quite the elegant amusement.

But today, looking out, not a single person, and none of those gorgeous sedan-chairs of days past. Only now did Feng Yuning suddenly realize—

The streets of Jiangzhou city—were they always this broad?

Broad and empty.

In days past the retainers always complained that the Chancellor's residence's front gate was too bustling, with people coming and going, and that the fine stone-paved ground at the entrance could never be swept clean. Now with no people ahead, the ground was spotless, pale, empty, like transparent ice.

When the wind blew past, there was somehow a desolate, bleak feeling.

Feng Yuning gazed, lost in thought.

The Director of Ceremonies eunuch said with a smile: "My lord, please."

Feng Yuning turned around and saw the two white stone lions before the Chancellor's residence. Inside the great gate, his family looked at him. Feng Yuning turned back, nodded to the Director of Ceremonies eunuch, and said: "Many thanks, my lord, for leading the way."

……………………

The carriage set off and moved forward.

Feng Yuning sat in the sedan-chair with his eyes closed, organizing his thoughts, also thinking about what he should do afterward. Gradually, as his thinking became clearer, his spirit settled.

Several decades of ups and downs in the officialdom, he had gone through many emperors.

He had also witnessed Regent Chen Fubi's valor.

The current Chen Huang, a mere ruler of a doomed state—could he possibly surpass the spirit and bearing of his forefathers? Could it be that Chen Dingye and Chen Fubi, that pair of brothers, possessed such mettle and cunning?

There was absolutely no such possibility.

The Prime Minister's residence was actually quite a distance from the imperial palace. On ordinary days, when court convened early, he could still close his eyes inside the sedan chair and rest a little, doze for a moment, and by the time he woke, he had just arrived.

But this time, the road seemed so short, the time so fast.

He had already arrived.

He stepped out of the sedan chair, saw that many other sedan chairs had already stopped around him, and the great gates of the imperial palace ahead stood open. There was no particular arrangement, so he tidied his attire, using the motion of smoothing his clothes to steady his heart.

He then followed the Master of Ceremonies eunuch forward, into the great hall, and faintly heard the man who had come, Vice Minister Wu, thundering: "Your Majesty!!! Now, the nation stands at a moment of crisis. You give no thought to the affairs of state, you summon us ministers here—is it truly only for such an absurd matter?!"

"Your Majesty, where are the sage's teachings!"

"Your Majesty, where is the face of the forefathers of past generations? The Old Ancestor is leading troops in bitter battle outside, spear in hand, yet here you are, committing such absurdities. Will this not bring shame upon the ancestors? Will it not rouse the wrath of Wu Di?"

"Your conduct is absurd in the extreme—simply, simply unfit to be a ruler!!!"

That furious shout, righteous and stern, could be said to carry a vast, righteous aura rushing forth.

The weight of those words was also extremely heavy—so heavy that the Right Prime Minister Feng Yuning's brow lifted slightly, then lowered again. He knew this old Vice Minister was a man of true talent and ability. Back in his younger days, the Chen Kingdom was at peace.

But the noble houses ran rampant. In the Juan Sect records submitted, there were far too many omissions of households and fraudulent entries of the elderly and young. Those unregistered able-bodied men were all in the service of these great and small noble houses—such matters had been commonplace through every dynasty.

This Vice Minister Wu had ordered a fresh survey of the household registers: if even one person was found to be false, the official in charge would be dismissed. He also permitted the common folk to lodge reports—anyone who reported an unregistered man would have the reported household bear his taxes and corvée in his stead.

It cut to the heart of human nature, and the effect was tremendous.

That year, the commanderies' tallies reported 243,000 able-bodied men, and newly attached households numbering 641,500 persons.

Thus he earned great favor.

Setting aside other matters, just looking at this one point, it dealt a heavy blow to the noble houses' custom of hoarding servants and retainers at that time. Many common folk who had been bound under the control of the noble houses—whose life and death were in their masters' hands—were once again recorded in the registers of the Chen Kingdom.

Because this Vice Minister Wu, in his youth, had himself been such a person, forgotten by the nation and the world, living only under the noble houses, his life and death subject to his master's will—for he himself had not even been recorded in the nation's Juan Sect.

While he lived, the state would not protect him.

When he died, it would be as if a weed had been plucked—no one above would know. So he studied with bitter diligence, stealing learning by the pretext of sweeping rooms for his master, and at last burst forth in brilliance. In his youth, he had sworn to break the noble houses' grip on the population.

Like a knight-errant drawing his sword to slay a fierce tiger prowling the road.

But later, things changed somewhat.

This Vice Minister, perhaps because of his origins, was especially skilled at divining the faintest wishes of his sovereign.

Whomever the sovereign wished punished, he would twist the law to forge a case against them.

Whomever the sovereign wished released, he would attach himself to the lighter statutes and thereby set them free.

Thereafter, all cases great and small were handed to Vice Minister Wu. The Ministry of Punishments and the Court of Judicial Review dared not contend with him; they had to defer to his every move before deciding. He possessed great talent, was skilled at clever argument, his words flowing like a river—weighty or light, all came from his mouth, his analysis clear and sharp, and none of his contemporaries could refute him.

"Just a petty fellow who curries favor with his superiors, nothing more."

"But knowing Wu Yun's temperament, at a time like this, instead of catering to the Emperor's wishes, he speaks such words. Judging from this, I'm afraid he too has already prepared to flee?"

"And yet, so it is."

Feng Yuning saw it clearly.

He was merely curious—any outburst made on pretext must have its pretext. What exactly was so absurd that it drove this Vice Minister Wu Yun to such 'righteous indignation'?

Only after going up did he discover it was even more absurd than he had expected.

In the solemn, majestic great hall, tables had been set out, laden with all manner of hot dishes and cold plates, fruit platters, and fine wine. This was actually a palace banquet. While enemy forces had already attacked to the foot of the imperial city, while the founding Emperor's own grandson had donned armor in person and fought fiercely at the front, the descendant Emperor had actually set a feast and invited his ministers.

And what was more, it was held in the very great hall where loyal ministers and famed generals had once held court.

Even though every dynasty had its share of absurd rulers.

Yet Feng Yuning, who had read through all the green histories, had never seen one so absurd.

"Has the Right Prime Minister arrived?"

Chen Dingye spoke. Feng Yuning bowed and saw the monarch seated cross-legged at the highest seat, wearing a loose robe with an open collar, his gaze calm, holding that white-bone pipa, his white hair only loosely gathered and falling down his back.

Feng Yuning bowed with full respect and said: "Your Majesty."

Chen Dingye smiled and said: "Since the Right Prime Minister has come, please take your seat. Once the rest of the lords arrive, the banquet shall begin."

Feng Yuning looked at the table, momentarily filled with doubt.

He was beginning to suspect Chen Dingye had gone mad under the crushing weight of national ruin, death, and eternal infamy.

But the lords had already taken their seats. Beneath that immense, indescribable pressure of the times, Feng Yuning chose not to step forward at this moment to rebuke the Chen Huang, and simply took his seat.

Chen Dingye tuned the strings of his pipa, and the civil and military officials sat below.

Oppression—an indescribable sense of oppression.

Such oppression was no longer merely the pressure brought by words, but a surging momentum crashing down. No one spoke—only the sound of breathing, and the simple notes of an instrument.

Those gathered here were the very pillars of the Chen Kingdom, the great civil and military officials, the cornerstones of the nation. Feng Yuning, on the contrary, settled his heart. If he had been led to some hidden chamber, then he would have been seized with unspeakable dread.

As it was, this was safe.

But beneath such pressure, these civil and military officials were utterly unlike their usual selves, stripped of their customary poise and cultivation. One after another, they sat uneasily, unable to keep still, with people ceaselessly speaking of the fate of the realm, the peril of the nation.

How could they possibly sit here?!

Suddenly an old general struck the table in fury and roared: "Your Majesty, the rise and fall of the nation, the changes of the world, rest upon your shoulders, upon the shoulders of all you lords. And now, the Divine General fights and slays outside, the enemy has already reached the walls."

"At such a time, you give no thought to protecting home and country, yet you summon us all here. Are you not afraid that men of later ages will curse us? Through all eternity, the historian's brush is a blade—who has it ever spared?"

"If you mean to continue playing here, then please, go ahead!"

"This old general cannot keep you company."

He raged, his face bearing an expression of grief and fury, of bitter disappointment. He rose sharply, offered a salute, and strode toward the outside—but at that very moment, he heard the singing whir of weapons.

At the great hall's entrance, the guards of the Imperial Guard on either side stepped forward, two long spears crossed to bar the way before the hall, armored, their expressions resolute and solemn. The old general, however, burst into great laughter, gripped his war-spear in both hands, and roared:

"Very well, Your Majesty!"

"You mean to kill me?!"

He lunged forward with a sudden shove, pushing aside the two Imperial Guard soldiers, then reached out and seized his clothing, wrenching it sharply to both sides to bare his upper body. His torso was covered in blade and sword scars, many of the wounds layered one atop another.

A chilling, bloody aura surged toward them.

The old general laughed loudly: "I fear no death! I enlisted at fifteen, and now, sixty-five years later, I've crawled back from countless battlefields—my life has long since been buried with the generations of our fallen sovereigns!"

"Come, kill me!"

He continued to roar with laughter:

"Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant!"

"Hahahaha! A general who cannot defend his homeland, who does not die on the battlefield, but perishes in this palace—what a fitting end! It will earn me eternal fame! It will ensure my name echoes through the ages!!!"

These words effectively tore off the mask, directly accusing Chen Dingye of being a tyrant. The civil and military ministers were stunned, their gazes locking, frozen for a moment.

Each felt disbelief, a flicker of bewilderment.

They had all merely been putting on a show, pretending outrage, feigning devotion to the state.

I never thought you'd actually go through with it.

You're serious?

In an instant, the grand hall, which had just been noisy and chaotic, as if everyone were desperate to prove their loyalty and lay bare their faithful hearts, fell silent. Feng Yuning rose and said: "General Zhao, your concern for the state is noble—but surely you don't mean to defy the Emperor so utterly?"

"Hmm, perhaps the imperial kitchen delivered the dishes too late."

"There was wine and fruit, but no main course. General Zhao, you must have grown anxious."

He was an old acquaintance of General Zhao, offering him a way out. General Zhao fell silent, adjusted his robes, and returned to his seat.

Chen Dingye set down the pipa and said: "You are all right—it is indeed my fault. There is no main course to eat, no music or dance to entertain you. Then let us serve the main course."

He tapped the dragon throne lightly.

Warriors had already entered, carrying vast rolls of white paper—Juan Sect documents, piled like snowdrifts across the hall, imposing and spectacular. The civil and military ministers were all bewildered.

Chen Dingye said: "This is today's main course."

"My lords, do these not look familiar?"

He lounged lazily, one hand propping his chin, his gaze flat and mocking as he looked down upon the assembled ministers: "These are the letters—your correspondence with the outer realms, smuggling our Chen's secrets to foreign lands, pleading for surrender to Li Guanyi."

"How could you forget?"

In an instant, the atmosphere turned deadly cold, as if plunged into an ice tomb. The ministers' faces paled. Outside, footsteps echoed, along with the clinking of armor plates.

The Jinwu Guard and Palace Guards, fully armored and arrayed in formation, stood outside the hall under the command of the Jinwu Guard Commander—spears and heavy shields raised, deadly and pointed inward. Panic and terror turned every official pale.

The martial aura of soldiers surged.

Heavily armored troops, spears and powerful crossbows, in this confined space, amplified their threat tenfold—even General Zhao, a Sixth-Tier Wu Gong master, could not possibly break through the outer ranks led by that fierce Fifth-Tier general clad in Wearing Heavy armor.

Feng Yuning's hands trembled.

Her mind went blank.

He actually did this…

He dared do this.

He—he's insane?!

Emperor Chen swept his sleeve and smiled: "My loyal ministers, my lords, do not be dazed. Why fear? I do not intend to kill you. But now, at this point, these matters must be spoken plainly."

"Chen has reached this state because of my fault."

"Not yours."

"The civil officials, the military generals—all are good ministers, all are loyal subjects. Not a single traitor among you!"

"Lift your heads."

The civil and military ministers slowly raised their heads. Chen Dingye said: "You may all leave alive. Chen's lineage has already lost Li Wanli—poisoned at this banquet."

"We cannot afford a second."

"But…"

Feng Yuning gasped, her face ashen. Chen Dingye reached out—a pale, strong hand—pressed against the sword lying horizontally beside the throne, and slowly drew it. The blade's low hum was piercing.

He flicked his wrist.

The sword spun and plunged downward, its blade buried upright in the floor, emitting a shrill wail.

Chen Dingye's eyes were flat, mocking:

"Only one of you may leave alive."

The hall fell into absolute silence. General Zhao clenched his fists. The Vice Minister turned pale. The civil and military ministers—all those who had recited the classics, who were teachers and leaders—stared at the sword.

They stared at that sword.

Only one may leave alive—that means…

General Zhao roared: "What are you saying? Where is benevolence, righteousness, propriety, wisdom? Even as Emperor, you have no right to speak thus!" He lunged forward, charging toward the throne, aiming to drag the Emperor down—when suddenly, a sword's cry rang out.

The sword buried in the floor shot upward, piercing straight through General Zhao's chest.

General Zhao's body stiffened.

Emperor Chen raised his hand, pressed it against General Zhao's face, and slowly, calmly, pushed him down to the ground. Then he looked up and said: "What are you all waiting for?"

"Or shall I decide for you who lives?"

A chilling, deadly wail echoed.

The Jinwu Guard soldiers stepped forward, crossbows raised, coldly aimed at the hall. After the suffocating silence, one of the usually refined, scholarly ministers let out a scream, grabbed a stool, and hurled it forward.

It struck another minister on the head, shattering his hairpin, scattering his topknot. Crimson blood mingled with white hair, dripping onto the white jade tiles, accompanied by heavy gasps, screams. The attacker wept:

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Brother Liu."

"I didn't mean to—I was forced!"

"You!!! I saved you once—how could you…?"

"How hateful! How hateful!"

He suddenly lunged, tackling his friend in silk robes, jabbing a finger forward—driving it straight into the Imperial Censor's eye, then hooking and yanking it out with brutal force.

A scream exploded outward, and the Imperial Censor and the Physician examined the officials, eyes sharp enough to catch a single hair in autumn.

Just like that, it was pulled out!

But the one who had struck was, in the next instant, beaten to the ground; wood splinters pierced through beneath his jade crown, stabbing out through his mouth, blood gushing forth, his scream drowned.

In but a single instant, the taut atmosphere utterly collapsed. The ministers who, before the crowd, had always been dignified, august, unyielding, every one of them saintly in bearing—here, in this great hall, began to slaughter one another.

When the officials butchered each other and all grace was swept into the dust—

A hollow, cold voice rang out.

Chen Dingye plucked a pipa fashioned from the thighbone of a Tujue envoy; the sound was grim and abyssal, sending a chill through to the marrow. When the piece was done, Chen Dingye casually picked up the wine cup resting beside him and raised it.

The Director of Ceremonies respectfully poured wine for the sovereign.

The wine gleamed the color of amber light.

Chen Dingye gently swirled the wine cup, his gaze looking down upon the Golden Chime Hall—where gentlemen tore at each other, great scholars gnawed and bit, blood streaming, staining this place that once held the heaviest dignity. The corner of his mouth curved slightly upward, his eyes indifferent.

This is the other face of this realm.

Benevolence, righteousness, morality.

Hahahaha—nonsense.

Blood, desire, the will to live, the refusal to die—let others die, that I alone survive.

Tearing off the masks, trampling the moral order, the grace of former days now no more than blood-filth beneath one's feet. Chen Dingye held his wine, lifted it calmly, and toward this screaming, finger-severing, blood-soaked palace—toward this realm seen through a blood-twisted lens—raised his cup with composure, his eyes indifferent, and after a moment murmured low:

"Such a realm as this."

"And yet…"

"Truly beautiful."

?? Begging for monthly tickets, friends~