Chapter 551: The Emperor

Jiang Su is not here today.

Qin Yulong is not here.

Jiang Yuan suddenly felt his body and mind refreshed and light.

As for Yuwen Lie, though he holds office in the court, he claims illness and refuses to campaign; even though Jiang Yuan knows this man is arrogant and disrespectful, he also understands that Yuwen Lie will not appear in public during this period.

Aside from Wei Yiwén, there is truly no one with sufficient authority to block him; at first, Jiang Yuan could still feign the demeanor of a sage to appease the ministers and officials.

One day he rose late, his heart panicked, his steps slightly hurried.

He merely thought to himself.

Today, the Grand Tutor will surely rebuke me!

Passing through the palace gardens, he saw the autumn scenery, sunlight falling, and suddenly had an epiphany—he stopped walking, then muttered: “Now Jiang Su is gone, Yuwen Lie has shut his doors, and only that old rascal Wei Yiwén dares to scold me.”

“I am the Son of Heaven—how can a Son of Heaven humble himself, toiling daily?”

“There is no such logic!”

Thus he turned and strolled into the courtyard, laughing and playing with his beauties and concubines, the whole day passing unnoticed; Wei Yiwén, who had been deeply anxious—after all, that Qin Emperor was truly difficult to deal with, his aura and methods rivaling those of a founding sovereign, worthy of the greatest of his age.

Such a man had come to raid the borders and seized the initiative.

His strategy was precisely the same one once used against this Qin King—a straightforward, open ploy, and even a martial god like Jiang Su, who dominated the battlefield, would still suffer losses against such a tactic.

No other reason—

If you do not block the Qin King, he will march straight in.

When the land is seized.

If you block the Qin King, it means the martial god Jiang Su, strongest in martial prowess and highest in court prestige, is effectively traded away; and if problems arise in court, Jiang Su, holding the front line, cannot reach them.

Only when this strategy, originally devised for the Qilin Army—a force with only one core—fell upon himself did he finally understand what pain truly meant.

Today, battle reports arrived layer upon layer from the front, along with matters requiring handling.

Wei Yiwén and the ministers waited outside for hours, yet the emperor did not appear; this great scholar and chancellor grew angry, seizing a eunuch: “Where is His Majesty?!”

The eunuch replied: “I don’t know…”

Wei Yiwén finally exploded—he shoved the eunuch aside and strode out of the palace; using Confucian qi-reading arts, he saw the emperor in a pavilion by the water, playing with beauties, the ruler of half the realm covering his eyes with a thin silk scarf wrapped around a woman’s waist, only reaching out to embrace.

Even Wei Yiwén, seasoned through decades of court intrigue, turned pale with cold fury.

“Hahaha, where are you going, where are you going!”

“Good beauty, so obedient, waiting here for me!”

Jiang Yuan laughed loudly, flinging his arms out to embrace the figure before him, then yanked the thin veil from his eyes and roared: “Hahaha, beauty, such a beauty—why don’t you speak… you…”

His smile froze.

Seeing the solemn, icy-faced elder before him, he felt a flicker of fear, stepped back a few paces, and said: “...Oh, it’s the Chancellor.”

Wei Yiwén’s gaze swept the surroundings; the women who had been laughing and playing with the emperor all turned pale with fear, bowed, and retreated; Jiang Yuan felt a dull boredom; Wei Yiwén’s face grew cold: “Why isn’t His Majesty speaking?!”

The old minister lamented bitterly: “Your Majesty, the safety of the realm hangs by a thread, shifting in an instant—you neglect state affairs and waste your time on women of powder and rouge—how can you abandon the nation for a single woman?!”

Jiang Yuan’s face showed deference, but his heart remained displeased.

Thus he secretly hated Wei Yiwén.

Later, he spoke to the Grand Master of Ceremonies Guo Yanjun: “I am the Son of Heaven, ruler of the world—how can I be insulted by this old rascal?!”

Guo Yanjun agreed, adding that the court was filled with loyal ministers and capable generals who ought to serve the state and ease the emperor’s burdens; he advised the emperor to hold court only once every five days, handling only the miscellaneous affairs:

“Do not emulate the late emperor—endure pointless toil.”

Jiang Yuan seemed amused, idly tossing a fruit over.

Guo Yanjun knelt on the ground, cradling the fruit, and cried out: “Thank Your Majesty for the Sacred Fruit!”

Jiang Yuan asked: “Why is it called a Sacred Fruit?”

Guo Yanjun replied: “Your Majesty is a Sage, the Son of Heaven—wherever you tread, gods protect and demons dare not approach; you are naturally a Sage. Whatever you touch carries the auspicious aura of the Sage-Emperor’s celestial dragon. To a lowly subject like me, it is naturally a Sacred Fruit.”

Jiang Yuan’s sharp mind knew Guo Yanjun was merely flattering him.

But he was naturally proud; now the ruler of a nation, master of half the realm, he felt all under heaven lay in his grasp—he merely scoffed “sycophant” and paid it no mind.

At first, Jiang Yuan pretended to be virtuous and disciplined, strictly governing himself; but now that he held the throne, and the Qin Emperor Li Guanyi was firmly held back by Grand Tutor Jiang Su, though he still worried Jiang Su, being elderly, might not be the Qin Emperor’s match.

So initially, he resolved not to slacken.

He aimed to build achievements rivaling those of his ancestors.

To be etched in history.

But with no one watching over him, the Qin King’s threat receding, and Guo Yanjun’s enticement—“Rest today, don’t waste your years with pointless toil”—his inner defenses gradually eroded.

At first, he did not hold court every five days.

But he found daily court sessions unbearably dull, and though Li Guanyi’s military strength was formidable, he could never break through Jiang Su’s lines; the realm was vast, nominally holding two hundred thousand troops, yet actual battles involved only thousands or tens of thousands.

The great Ying state faced no logistical strain supporting such scale of warfare.

Frontline affairs entrusted to Jiang Su meant he could rest easy.

Slowly, he began holding court every three days, then five, then seven or eight; Wei Yiwén turned white with rage but still endured; Jiang Yuan initially only played with women in court.

But he soon grew bored of all this.

Before, he had been a prince of the realm—fine music, exquisite food, beauties from all quarters—he had always enjoyed them; if, as emperor, he still only enjoyed these things, then what was the point of ascending the throne?!

That year, the second year of Daye—September.

The Qin Emperor Li Guanyi and the Ying Grand Tutor Jiang Su clashed at the border.

They fought several times, no clear victor.

Li Guanyi withdrew and avoided battle, frequently shifting positions, while taking the Qilin Army’s scout general, Nangong Wumeng, across the land to unearth buried treasures within Ying territory.

Nangong Wumeng mocked: “Are you mad for gold?!”

“How could I be…”

At the end of September, Nangong Wumeng took a stroll and accidentally entered a valley; he saw rich mineral deposits, and the Qilin Army, right under Jiang Su’s nose, began mining—mining Ying’s minerals, transporting them back to forge arrows, then fighting the Ying people again.

Even Jiang Su’s composure stirred with quiet fury.

To fight—the Qin King would not be defeated.

Emperor Jiang Yuan summoned the Minister of Speech Yang Da and the Grand Master of Works Wen Kai to construct palaces, conscripting two million laborers monthly, stretching from the Zao Stream in the south to the Luo River in the north; he ordered rare timber and strange stones from south of the Great River and north of the Five Ridges to be shipped for palace construction; he also sought rare trees, exotic herbs, precious birds, and strange beasts to fill his gardens.

Jiang Yuan still expanded his habits slowly.

He naturally wished to ride out and display his might.

But his mind remained clear—he knew he could not do such a thing, so he mobilized laborers, using the now-idle logistical manpower, to excavate palaces, intending to gather all the wonders of the world within the imperial palace.

When Wei Yiwén rebuked him, Jiang Yuan merely said:

“I am only building imperial pavilions—no extravagance. Has there ever been a ruler who did not construct palaces?!”

“Even the late emperor built many palaces—he even built the Star-Touching Tower for his mother. If the late emperor could do it, why can’t I?!”

“Now that I am the Son of Heaven of the great Ying state, the people’s Son of Heaven, am I not entitled to enjoy myself?!”

“Must I obey your orders?!”

“Then, Chancellor Wei, why don’t you take the throne yourself?!”

“What talk of self-restraint? Has any ruler in history failed to build palaces and wonders to display imperial dignity and national grandeur?!”

Wei Yiwén’s hands trembled with rage.

The old minister blurted out: “The Qin Emperor!”

The moment the words left his mouth, Wei Yiwén realized his mistake—for Jiang Yuan, the words “Qin Emperor” were a taboo, and merely uttering them caused violent emotional upheaval.

To Wei Yiwén’s surprise, Jiang Yuan’s expression grew calm.

His eyes fixed on Wei Yiwén:

“Chancellor Wei seems to hold that rogue emperor in high regard.”

“If so, why don’t you go south to the Jiangnan region and join that rogue emperor’s service?!”

Wei Yiwén’s back soaked with sweat; he fell silent for a long while, then said:

But he knew that once he spoke those words, he could no longer stand in the position of an elder minister to advise; he sighed and said, “Yet, Your Majesty’s palaces and gardens are truly too vast and excessively luxurious.”

But he knew that with that one remark, he had lost his standing as an elder minister; he sighed, then added: “Yet, Your Majesty’s palaces and gardens are far too vast, far too luxurious.”

“They consume too much manpower, burden the people, waste the state’s wealth.”

Jiang Yuan was astonished: “Burden the people, waste wealth?!”

He laughed, the handsome emperor brushing his sleeve lightly:

“Chancellor, don’t you know autumn harvest is over?”

“Spring plowing hasn’t begun—how can these months be called burdening the people?”

These six words were like a sharp sword, causing Wei Yi’s body to freeze—he seemed to glimpse, within those six words, the true nature of this new emperor, long famed for virtue.

These six words struck like a blade—Wei Yiwén froze; in them, he glimpsed the true nature of this new emperor, long famed for virtue.

Wei Yiwén began to feel uneasy.

After Wei Yiwén departed, the Secretary of the Inner Court Yu Shiji said:

“Chancellor Wei once held the Breaker General in high esteem—now we see, the Breaker General was precisely the Qin Emperor’s childhood confidant and chief strategist!”

This casual remark made Jiang Yuan dislike Wei Yiwén even more.

In September, he began constructing palaces.

Gradually, they grew larger—ordinary wonders no longer satisfied him.

In the third year of Daye—early third year of the Qin Emperor’s reign—the Qin Emperor seemed determined to fight Jiang Su to the death; even during festivals, this emperor-on-horseback refused to return home, standing in the freezing winter snow, clad in a black cloak, pointing at Jiang Su and cursing.

When tired, he would bite into a slightly blackened roasted bun.

Li Guanyi’s lips twitched.

The silver-haired girl watched him quietly, extended a finger toward the steamed bun, her face expressionless, and said, “There’s honey.”

Li Guanyi grinned, seeing the little qilin lying on the ground nearby, clutching its belly, limbs splayed out—obviously, it had been through something.

Li Guanyi ate the Yaoguang-made roasted bun without changing expression.

“Delicious!”

The silver-haired girl’s eyes slightly curved.

Then she lifted another enormous bundle, opened it, revealing stacked buns piled like a small mountain. She stood there, face blank, her slight frame swaying gently.

Li Guanyi had lived with her for ten years.

He knew this meant Yaoguang was in high spirits.

But seeing so many roasted buns, the Emperor of Qin and the qilin’s hearts sank.

The silver-haired girl raised her hand and rolled up her left sleeve.

Then she reached for her right sleeve.

But as she did, the left sleeve slipped back down.

She tried this three times. Li Guanyi gave the qilin a look; the little qilin scrambled up. Li Guanyi said, “Let me roll them up for you.”

The silver-haired girl blinked, extending her arm.

Li Guanyi was much taller; he bent slightly, folded her sleeve several times, secured it, then neatly folded the other sleeve. At the camp gate, a certain purple-eyed strategist’s mouth twitched, then drooped.

Yaoguang, white hair!

You’re too deceitful!

The silver-haired girl thought for a moment, then reached out and took Li Guanyi’s arm.

Her clear, calm eyes regarded Bujun flatly.

She thought again.

Following the tropes of martial arts romances, she lifted her chin slightly.

Bujun: “…………”

A fragrant aroma drifted through the air—the qilin had seized the chance to roast all the buns with its qilin fire; their skins turned golden-brown, slightly cracked, crisp on the outside, soft within—a single roasted bun offering three textures.

Yaoguang had successfully coaxed from the qilin an extraordinarily unique culinary skill.

The qilin’s potential was immense.

For instance, if the little qilin knew it would be fed Yaoguang’s handmade roasted buns until full, it could whip up three dishes and one soup overnight.

All different!

It was winter, just before the New Year. Li Guanyi had sent falcons to bring meat supplies from behind. Everyone went out to gather stones, then built marching stoves on open ground between camps, set up large pots, smashed the ice on the river’s surface, and drew water.

They chopped large chunks of meat and boiled them with various root vegetables.

Steam rose thickly; the pot emitted a rich, mouthwatering aroma.

The Emperor of Qin and soldiers, captains, all ate together, holding spears, leaning on them as they sang loudly of the Great Wind. The entire army clapped in rhythm, shouting in unison. The final chorus echoed through the winter air; all laughed heartily, brimming with warmth.

Though these soldiers felt regret that they could not return home for the New Year,

the Emperor of Qin was right here, right ahead, eating meat with them, staying with them—so no one was dissatisfied.

If the Emperor of Qin remained here, what complaint could they have?!

Leading by example—nothing more.

Meanwhile,

Emperor Jiang Yuan built the Western Garden, two hundred li in circumference; within it, a sea spanned more than ten li; artificial mountains named Fangzhang, Penglai, and Yingzhou rose over a hundred feet above the water, with terraces, pavilions, and palaces scattered across them, arranged as if by divine hands.

To the north flowed the Dragon-Scale Canal, winding its way into the sea.

Along this waterway, sixteen courtyards were built, each with gates facing the canal, each presided over by a fourth-rank lady; halls, pavilions, and towers were extravagantly ornate. Since it was winter and leaves had fallen, silk and brocade were cut into artificial flowers and leaves, tied to branches; when faded, they were immediately replaced with fresh ones, keeping the garden perpetually in spring.

All sixteen courtyards’ beauties bared their garments, hoping to attract the Emperor’s favor.

A scene of utter luxury and debauchery.

But soon, Jiang Yuan grew weary of such games. Seeing his uncle’s wife was beautiful, he found an excuse to strip the uncle of his rank and reduce him to commoner status.

He then sent a eunuch with a golden box, personally sealed with his own stamp, to present it to the lady.

The lady, upon seeing it, was terrified, assuming it contained poison, and dared not open it.

After repeated urging from the eunuch, she finally opened it—and found inside several heart-shaped knots. Such items were popular in the palace; everyone knew their meaning. The palace maids sighed in relief and exclaimed:

“We’re spared death!”

The lady opened her mouth, collapsed, and refused to thank or accept the Emperor’s gift.

The palace attendants forced her, pressing her down to kowtow in gratitude.

That night, the Emperor entered her chamber.

The next day, the lady threw herself into a well.

Jiang Yuan didn’t care. He donned splendid robes, rode a fine steed, and passed through his opulent garden, feeling utterly exhilarated. He said to Guo Yanjun beside him: “Now I finally understand—the grandeur and exhilaration of being a monarch!”

“No one dares defy me. No one dares say no to me.”

“This is the greatest pleasure—far surpassing all luxury and indulgence!”

He had no real attachment to that lady.

Jiang Yuan was merely addicted to the sensation of wielding tyrannical power—crushing social norms, imposing his authority and violence upon others, trampling their dignity.

Is this what it means to be an emperor?

Li Guanyi, are you addicted to this feeling too?!

The Imperial Censor Guo Yanjun suddenly said, as if casually: “I hear General Qin Yulong’s wife, Lady Xue, is the second daughter of Xue Daoyong. And Xue Daoyong’s granddaughter, Xue Shuangtao, was childhood friends with that thief-emperor.”

“She holds great prestige in the army.”

“Famous generals like Yue Qianfeng and Yue Pengwu all respect her. They believe that even if Li Guanyi has gained fame and stolen the throne, Xue Shuangtao will still become the thief-emperor’s empress.”

Jiang Yuan replied indifferently: “So what?”

“Come now, think about it.”

Guo Yanjun leaned forward, smiling slyly: “If the Emperor of Qin marries Xue Shuangtao, then Emperor Li Guanyi must call that Lady Xue ‘aunt.’ Hey, Qin Yulong isn’t here right now…”

Jiang Yuan realized.

His heart flared with heat.

He loved the thrill of wielding power capriciously, shattering order, fulfilling himself through domination—but he still had sense enough to know what he could not do. With generals guarding the frontier, such an act now would be catastrophic.

So he said: “Say no more.”

“General Qin Yulong defends the nation. How dare you do something that undermines our own walls!”

Guo Yanjun immediately knelt: “Your Majesty, a sage and virtuous sovereign! Compared to you, I am but a petty man—when I look up, I see only your radiant light.”

“Your Majesty, a true sage!”

Jiang Yuan’s earlier anger faded into a weary smile: “You know how to speak.”

That day, Guo Yanjun’s mind stirred. He realized the Emperor had some interest in Lady Xue, so he conspired with a group to bring her to the palace to meet the monarch.

When the Emperor’s heart stirred, he would surely find great satisfaction.

If the Emperor was pleased, Guo Yanjun would gain rank and wealth.

As for Qin Yulong’s rage?

He dismissed it.

Ha! Just an eighth-tier divine general. What’s the point of the title? In this vast world, without an army or state support, an eighth-tier general is merely an eighth-tier warrior.

Guo Yanjun led a group to the Qin residence, accompanied by imperial guards. He appeared frantic, claiming the Emperor had ordered it: “We’ve heard General Qin Yulong has suffered disaster on the front. Lady Xue, please come quickly!”

Lady Xue Peijun’s face changed instantly, but as Xue Daoyong’s daughter, she said:

“Do you have any military intelligence? Let me see it.”

Guo Yanjun froze.

He hadn’t expected her to remain calm under such news. But he quickly spun a lie: “The intelligence is in the palace. I serve alongside General Qin Yulong—how could I lie to you?!”

“Lady, please come!”

Lady Xue Peijun’s mind raced—she knew something was wrong. As the man reached for her, she drew her dagger and slashed once—cutting through his sleeve and arm, blood spurting. She stepped back: “Corrupt minister, traitor!”

“My husband fights for the nation—what are you trying to do?!”

“Do you wish to sow discord between monarch and general?!”

Guo Yanjun’s eyes held no concept of the realm.

He chuckled: “The realm? Grandeur? I don’t care about such things anymore—I’ve heard too much. I’ve risen quickly only because I know one truth: this realm belongs to the Emperor.”

“When the Emperor is pleased, I rise. When he’s displeased, I get nothing.”

“I don’t care about your so-called generals—I only want the Emperor pleased. Lady, come!”

“Please dress beautifully for him. Better still, speak in southern dialects, with Jiangnan tones…” He reached for her arm—but then froze. His right arm felt numb, cold.

His vision exploded with blood.

He saw his own arm fly up, then fall.

His little finger twitched.

Guo Yanjun couldn’t react, only stared blankly—then comprehension struck. His face twisted in agony as he clutched his severed arm, screaming in unbearable pain.

The other imperial guards lay dead in pools of blood.

Lady Xue Peijun held her dagger, staring at the scene, stunned.

The air grew heavy; wind stirred.

A chilling, lethal aura swept through, shattering the stillness.

A cold, metallic hum rang out.

The long spear touched the ground as the cold, composed divine general, dressed in ordinary robes, walked slowly through the gates of the Qin Mansion; his black boots stepped through pools of blood and crossed the white path ahead, passing by the emperor’s close minister Guo Yanjun without so much as a glance.

Guo Yanjun’s eyes turned red: “You—you dare?!”

“You dare hurt me, you dare…”

The heavy spear tore through the air with a sharp cry, piercing straight through Guo Yanjun’s throat.

His wrist moved.

His neck was ripped apart; blood splattered onto the ground, not a drop staining his robe’s sleeves.

A low growl of a Bai Hu echoed.

The divine general’s expression remained cold and indifferent, not even glancing once.

Yuwen Lie.

??Jiang Yuan’s actions and conduct are modeled after the Records of the Grand Historian—Sui Annals IV to VI.

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