Chapter 268: The Tyrant of Da Feng, the Loyal Suffer

In the Chongzheng Hall, the atmosphere was heavy as lead.

Emperor Fei Hou sat on the dragon throne, his face dark, his gaze sharp as blades, sweeping over the assembled ministers.

Behind him hung a massive dragon robe embroidery, depicting nine golden dragons, majestic and fearsome. Before him stood a group of trembling officials, each bowing their heads, afraid to meet his eyes, terrified of drawing his wrath.

Fei Hou, the self-proclaimed emperor of Da Feng, kicked over the dragon desk, sending scrolls, imperial brushes, and the imperial seal scattering across the floor. He glared at the eunuch: "You say Jiang Mingyu is attacking me?"

For the past few days, Fei Hou had been drunk in the joy of Jiang Mingyu's supposed destruction, skipping court for three days to indulge in pleasure. Had the eunuch not rushed to summon him, he would still be lost in his revelry. He had believed Jiang Mingyu was dead at Fang Hang's hands—yet this archenemy still had tricks left, leading over a hundred thousand troops straight to the gates of the capital.

Hearing the eunuch's brief account, Fei Hou flew into a rage, roaring: "That beast Fang Hang—I'll flay you alive! When Jiang Mingyu dies, I'll scatter your ashes to the wind!"

His heart swelled with fury and fear: Jiang Mingyu's army had breached the border passes and now advanced toward the capital, yet none of his generals could stand against him.

His trusted minister Ruan Chen, commanding three hundred thousand elite troops, had marched out last year—and was annihilated, dying on the battlefield.

His favored general, leading two hundred thousand iron cavalry, had launched an offensive this spring—and was crushed in a single blow by Jiang Mingyu, with only a few thousand survivors returning.

His Da Feng dynasty, built over two decades and once proud of its formidable military and stable governance, now crumbled under the assault of a rebellious youth, retreating step by step, teetering on collapse.

In his heart, beyond fury and fear, lay a sliver of resentment and confusion. He did not understand why Jiang Mingyu had grown so powerful, why so many rallied to him, why he marched forward unimpeded, crushing all opposition.

He did not understand why he had grown so weak, why he lost so much support, why he had steadily declined, every step fraught with dread.

He did not understand whether the cause lay in his own sins—whether he had done something so vile it angered heaven and earth, turned the people against him, and enraged the gods.

He did not understand whether he could still turn things around, whether he could still save his empire, whether he could still save his life. He could not fathom it—he could only vent his fury and fear.

The eunuch hurriedly pleaded: "Your Majesty, Jiang Mingyu has broken through Taojiang. His army is moments from reaching the capital's gates. We must act swiftly, or Da Feng's empire will fall."

Fei Hou snapped back to reality, nodding: "Yes—first, repel Jiang Mingyu. If he enters the city, I'm finished." He scanned the ministers and barked: "Who will face Jiang Mingyu? Who has a plan to defeat him?"

A minister with white beard stepped forward: "Your Majesty, Jiang Mingyu's momentum is unstoppable. Direct confrontation is folly. Holding the city is the best strategy."

"The capital has one hundred fifty thousand troops. Grain reserves will last a year. Jiang Mingyu comes from afar—his supplies will run thin. If we hold firm and wear him down, he will retreat on his own. Then Your Majesty can sally forth and crush him decisively."

This man was Grand Tutor Ceng Ce, his former teacher, who had taught him to read and write, to observe rites and laws, to govern and secure the realm.

Ceng Ce was his strategist, his conscience, who had advised him, corrected his errors, and urged him to reform. But Ceng Ce was also his thorn, his ache, his root of ruin.

Because Ceng Ce dared to speak truth, dared to oppose, dared to criticize.

Because Ceng Ce refused to flatter, refused to comply, refused to fawn.

Because Ceng Ce upheld principle, upheld justice, upheld conscience. He had warned Fei Hou: do not trust flatterers, do not slaughter innocents, do not indulge in pleasure.

He had warned Fei Hou: respect the people, cherish your ministers, restrain yourself.

He had warned Fei Hou: reform corrupt policies, open your mind, adapt to the times.

But Fei Hou did not listen. He did not believe. He did not change. He saw Ceng Ce as challenging his authority, questioning his wisdom, undermining his dignity.

He saw Ceng Ce as obstructing his progress, spoiling his joy, harming his interests. He saw Ceng Ce as his enemy, his adversary, his opponent. He hated Ceng Ce. He feared Ceng Ce. He wanted him dead. He found his chance.

Fei Hou opened his mouth to rage—then remembered he had kicked over the desk. He sneered: "To hide behind city walls and let others butcher us—what becomes of Da Feng's honor and majesty?"

Ceng Ce did not retreat. He bowed solemnly: "Your Majesty, this is the best course. Please reconsider!" Then he kowtowed deeply.

Other ministers echoed: "Grand Tutor is right! Hold the capital—Jiang Mingyu will retreat!"

But Fei Hou refused to listen. He refused to believe Jiang Mingyu was so powerful. He refused to believe his own troops were so weak. He refused to believe his empire was so fragile. He thought Ceng Ce was spreading heresy, sowing discord, colluding with rebels. He thought Ceng Ce had taken Jiang Mingyu's bribes, planned to betray him, to sell him out.

So he screamed like a madman, issued a death order, and unleashed his fury.

"Ceng Ce, you have repeatedly spread heresy—you deserve death ten times over!"

"I know you've taken Jiang Mingyu's bribes and have decided to become his inside man!"

"When Jiang Mingyu's troops reach the gates, you'll open them and let his army flood in—won't you?"

He leapt to his feet.

"As an official of Da Feng, you betray your own state—you're worse than an animal!"

"Guards! Drag this traitor out and execute him publicly!"

"Let those with ill intent see what happens to those who collude with rebels! What are you waiting for? Take him away!"

The guards moved instantly, seizing Ceng Ce and dragging him out. He offered no resistance, no plea, no compromise. He only shouted, only pleaded faithfully, only spoke for Da Feng, for Fei Hou, for their shared ideal.

"Your Majesty, my death is nothing—but I grieve for Da Feng's glorious empire, now falling into the hands of rebels…"

"Your Majesty, I am no rebel, no traitor—I only wish to ease your burdens, offer counsel, serve you…"

"Your Majesty, you are Da Feng's sovereign, the father of the people, the enlightened ruler of the realm—you must not listen to slander, nor mislead the state, nor bring about your own ruin…"

"Your Majesty, you still have time, you still have chance, you still have hope—if you send envoys to negotiate with Jiang Mingyu, you may yet preserve Da Feng's foundation, your empire, your people…"

"Your Majesty, understand this: Da Feng is not your private property. You cannot sacrifice Da Feng's interests for your own selfish desires. You cannot trade Da Feng's future for momentary satisfaction. You cannot bring about Da Feng's destruction to satisfy your rage…"

"Your Majesty, awaken! Awaken, I beg you…"

Ceng Ce's voice faded, vanished, ceased. His words pierced Fei Hou's heart, shattered his pride, ruptured his illusions, broke his fate.

Yet Fei Hou's face grew even darker. In his eyes flickered a glimmer of regret, of pain, of fear, of despair.

He knew Ceng Ce spoke truth. He knew Ceng Ce acted for his good. He knew Ceng Ce was his most loyal minister, his closest friend.

He knew he had erred—terribly, absurdly, tragically, dreadfully.

But he would not admit it. He would not change. He would not yield. He would not reconcile.

He had walked onto a path with no return. He was trapped in a dead end. He had lost everything. He could not undo it.