Chapter 462: Prime Minister, are you questioning me?

Emperor Ning chuckled, looking at Prime Minister Zhang below, and said, "Prime Minister, are you questioning me?"

When the sovereign is angered, corpses float for a thousand li.

Not to mention Prime Minister Zhang, everyone in the court fell to their knees, pleading, "Your Majesty, please quell your anger."

Attendant Xi also tremblingly knelt to one side, staring at Prime Minister Zhang with eyes full of hatred; just a few days of peace—can we stop causing trouble?

The Princess Consort is not in the capital; he can't suppress His Majesty's fury.

"Your Majesty, even if I were to crash to my death in this hall, I must seek justice for the people. The people are displaced and cannot live in peace; Your Majesty, this is our officials' fault!"

That Prime Minister Zhang, his hair already mixed with a few white strands, his face lined with wrinkles, he looked down with tears, as if his heart were broken for the people.

"Yo!"

"Old Devil Zhang, when did you become such a crybaby?"

"I really don't know, but displacing the people is how you use it, and letting them live in peace is how you use it."

"Is this what I taught you?"

A warm, resonant voice came from outside the hall; the person entered wearing black robes, but what caught the eye was a head of flower‑white hair. He was thin, yet not feeble‑looking, nor emaciated.

"Sir."

Seeing the visitor, Prime Minister Zhang's heart startled, and he hastily performed the salute due to a teacher.

Kang Mengxian looked at him and said, "No, I should be the one to salute—call me Prime Minister Zhang!"

The two characters 'Prime Minister' carried no extra stress, yet in everyone's ears they sounded emphasized.

You should know, Kang Mengxian previously held the post of Prime Minister before he voluntarily left the court.

The person whom many pushed into the position of Chancellor is Prime Minister Zhang.

His former disciple, also someone he had painstakingly nurtured, little did he expect…

The world is fickle; all people are merely pawns!

"I, a commoner, bow before Your Majesty—may you live ten thousand, ten thousand, myriad years!" Kang Mengxian knelt on the ground, his ceremony flawless.

Emperor Ning looked at that familiar figure, that lifelong honest old man, and quickly called out, "Xi Zi, have a seat brought for Mr. Kang."

Not a commoner, but a teacher.

He deserves the courtesy due to a teacher.

"Understood." Attendant Xi immediately had someone bring a chair over and place it in the hall, at the foremost position.

Seeing all this, Prime Minister Zhang's eyes flashed with a hint of greed and anger.

For all these years of his diligent service, the emperor has never granted him a seat—let alone a former premier who voluntarily left court; what right does he have to sit ahead of me?

Kang Mengxian, however, waved his hand and said, "Your Majesty, my health is fine; I have no need for a bestowed seat—it would be improper."

He is now merely a commoner; how could he sit at the head of the officials in the hall?

This would be improper; His Majesty would be criticized for it.

Absolutely not!

Emperor Ning regarded that upright, unyielding former Prime Minister, a stubborn old man whose words and deeds are always consistent.

Even this emperor of his often suffers setbacks.

But…

He even somewhat misses those days when the Prime Minister and he could cooperate, when they could discuss state affairs together.

The Prime Minister was selfless, serving the state and the people, his sleeves clean as wind.

But now, the whole court leaves him feeling like a lone tree unable to bear the weight.

"Today I have come to bring Your Majesty the Ten Thousand People's Book." Kang Mengxian smiled, then pointed to his two sons, each holding one end, and slowly unfolded it before everyone.

That sheet of paper was very long, covered in brush‑written names of everyone, with handprints pressed beside each name.

Black and red became the main theme of the paper.

"The Ten Thousand People's Book?" Emperor Ning sprang up from the dragon throne, descended the dais, and crossed the gulf that subjects could not cross.

"Yes, these are from the western border's ten cities; the people's petition, completed with the help of the city lords, is the Ten Thousand People's Book."

"In total, the document lists thirteen thousand eight hundred sixty‑nine people."

"Except for children under five, everyone who is aware, everyone who knows of the war, voluntarily stepped forward and wrote the Ten Thousand People's Book."

"The ten cities together have a total population of fifteen thousand seventy‑four."

Each number, spoken from Kang Mengxian's mouth, made every neutral official's eyes fill with tears—this is the feeling.

The Prime Minister—he has returned.

And the members of the Protector Emperor Faction all wore looks of shock.

As for the other factions with ulterior motives, each showed a panicked expression.

One court, a thousand faces, a thousand different states of mind.

"Good, good—it was not in vain that my army held the gates, not in vain that my people paid taxes and bought grain and fodder." Emperor Ning gazed at the Ten Thousand People's Book, at each character, at each bright‑red handprint.

"Prime Minister Zhang, this is you petitioning for the people; this is the people displaced; this is the people homeless." At that moment a person stepped forward—one who, since Prime Minister Kang left the court, had become neutral, working solely for the people.

They take part in no disputes, only doing concrete deeds for the people.

"The people's petition, yet you urge surrender—does your conscience not feel guilty?"

That person stared straight at Prime Minister Zhang, looking at his somewhat dark‑ened face, then turned to His Majesty and said, "Your Majesty, may this humble official observe the Ten Thousand People's Book?"

"Of course." Emperor Ning shouted.

He then returned to the dragon throne; the surge of his emotions was something he had not felt in years.

The officials one by one gathered around the Ten Thousand People's Book, walking past, carefully examining each name and each handprint.

Today's morning audience was extraordinarily long.

"Prime Minister Zhang, won't you take a look?" At that moment, Kang Lian laughed heartily, a warm smile spreading; though dressed in court robes, one could sense his refined elegance.

I'm old as an old minister, so I won't go join the bustle.

Chancellor Zhang smiled, though his smile was a bit stiff, but now he cannot allow himself to be presumptuous.

Even though he is a chancellor, below one and above ten thousand, Da Ning holds teacher‑student rites in highest regard; even though Kang Mengxian is now merely a commoner, he remains the chancellor of a state.

But at any time, Kang Mengxian remains his teacher.

Kang Mengxian may dispense with this student, but as a student one can never forsake one's teacher, or else all scholars will despise one.

"Is it that you won't go, or that you dare not?" Kang Yi asked with a chuckle, "These past few days, the chancellor wasn't like that—his spirits were high, petitioning for the people."

"Why don't you look at the people's wishes today?"

These days, to stall for time, he's had enough of petty annoyances; his wife is still in Xi Fang leading troops in battle, and her fate remains unknown.

This old fogey, in the court, chatters on endlessly.

If it weren't for the Kang Clan, he would have burst long ago.

"What nonsense are you speaking? How could Sir Zhang not know the people's wishes? It's merely a mistaken idea." Kang Lian did not smile; it was merely that gentle blade, the most deadly.