Chapter 304: 207. Chapter 201: Cattle and Sheep in the Slaughterhouse, a Dog in Desperation Jumps Over the Wall

207. Chapter 201: Cattle and Sheep in the Slaughterhouse, a Dog in Desperation Jumps Over the Wall

Gloom hangs heavy for ten thousand li; stench and filth fill the heavens.

…

Only two days had passed since the Holy Mother Empress Dowager's birthday, and Beijing should still have been awash in festive joy—but heaven's winds are fickle, and without warning, dark clouds blotted out the sky above the capital.

Snow fell in bitter winds; the heavens grew dim, and Beijing's sky, heedless of propriety, freely painted the air with tension.

The weather alone was bad enough—but all manner of people and affairs seemed deliberately conspiring to fuel this atmosphere of dread.

Rumors spread through the streets; official documents from every ministry were posted constantly; garrisons along the capital's borders shifted repeatedly.

Within Shuntian Prefecture, checkpoints sprang up out of nowhere; embroidered uniform guards and red-helmeted troops scrutinized and interrogated civilians with predatory eyes, leaving the populace in panic.

One after another, officials from the Ministry of War, the Five Military Directorates, the Five City Military Commissions, and the Twenty-Four Imperial Offices were either killed or arrested; officials could no longer sleep at night.

Envoys arrived in succession, faces grim, galloping out of the capital, leaving trails of snow and dust in their wake.

Within a single day.

Following the seasonal custom of the approaching New Year, Chen Jingbang, newly installed as Minister of War, sent urgent letters overnight to the viceroys and provincial governors along the nine borders, demanding each fulfill their duties.

The Ministry of Rites and the Imperial Clan Office rebuked the imperial clansmen for their licentiousness and lawlessness, ordering all regional princes to confine themselves to their mansions for one month to cultivate virtue.

Moreover, because Li Xiang, a man from Xiangfu in Henan, had initiated the White Lotus Sect, inciting the distant and near alike, fabricating heretical texts, and plotting to rally followers to seize the Central Plains, Grand Secretary Shen Shixing, rarely enraged, flew into a fury, jointly signing with the Ministry of Personnel a stern edict commanding all provincial three-bureau offices to learn from this and prevent small evils before they grow—under no circumstances to slacken.

Even so, the situation showed not the slightest sign of calming.

Another cloud of dust galloped down the long street, heading out of the city.

"The envoys today won't stop—this is the how many?"

"The Grand Secretariat and all ministries are as frantic as ants on a hot pan; they must do something. Rebuking all officials might well be a way to calm the people's hearts."

Two middle-aged men, dressed in fine attire and bearing the bearing of officials, stood side by side atop Beijing's city wall, gazing down at the direction the envoys had ridden, their brows furrowed as they chatted.

"But judging by the format of this envoy's document, it seems to be an imperial edict?"

"Yes, it's the emperor's personal letter to Chen Dong, Viceroy of Xuan-Da. The exact content is unknown—it wasn't copied by the Ministry of War's Scrutiny Office."

"Huh, this isn't just suspicion of the Ministry of War—it's suspicion of the Scrutiny Office too… The Scrutiny Office has little connection to Minister Shi, so why this extreme caution?"

"Sigh, even the Minister of War himself conspired to rebel—how could the Scrutiny Office possibly be innocent? When they cite negligence as grounds, even Director Jia has no grounds to retort."

Speaking of Shi Mao, both men wore expressions of disgust.

Two days ago, on the day of Yiyou in the eleventh month of the seventh year of Wanli.

That day was the Holy Mother Empress Dowager's birthday—and also the day an event no one anticipated occurred.

After receiving congratulatory tributes with his mother, the emperor hosted a banquet for soldiers and civilians at Longzong Gate, when a certain monk named Bu Mang, a thorny barbarian, concealed a poisoned blade and suddenly leapt up to assassinate the monarch!

Had the emperor not been agile enough to dodge in time, disaster would surely have struck!

Utterly horrifying!

The act was carried out by a barbarian, but clearly it was not so simple.

Merely asking who permitted such a treacherous barbarian to approach the throne is a colossal question.

Not to mention how he smuggled in the blade past body searches, or how he secured a seat close enough to the emperor—these mysteries ran even deeper.

As expected.

Before court officials could even begin speculating, the shocking news followed: Minister of War Shi Mao had conspired to rebel and fled in fear of punishment.

Before anyone could react, all the directors and clerks of the Ministry of War, and all the censors of the Scrutiny Office, were immediately suspended by the Grand Secretariat, forbidden to enter their offices until the case was resolved.

Though undoubtedly innocent, no one dared treat this lightly.

Thus, these directors and clerks of the Ministry of War could only scurry about, seeking information and cultivating connections, lest they become blind and deaf to the world.

"Even being watched is a blessing. I heard the Junior Minister of War was taken away by Grand Censor Wen Chun last night and has not returned—he's likely dead."

The Junior Minister of War refers to the Vice Minister; the two men were speaking of Luo Fengxiang, not the newly appointed Chen Jingbang.

"Shi Mao… Luo Fengxiang… I wonder whether this is real, or whether the emperor is using this as an excuse."

The barbarian's assassination was one thing—but who truly did it remains uncertain. How could such a massive case suddenly drag out a Minister of War overnight?

Regardless of others' thoughts, he strongly suspected the emperor was seizing the opportunity to target Shi Mao—even if later proven innocent, he'd still be swept away along with the rest.

"Hey—is that Shen Li?"

One of them looked down toward the city gate's document-checking post.

"It does look like him. Isn't he in mourning? Why is he entering the capital?"

The other man followed his gaze, puzzled.

"You don't know? Last year, after his three-year mourning for his father ended, the emperor appointed him as Vice Minister of War and Provincial Governor. The decree had just been sent out when his mother died. Now that the hundred-day mourning period has passed, the emperor has invoked the precedent of 'military necessity overrides mourning.'"

"Tsk, again exploiting loopholes—the emperor corrupts ritual law; will he have no heirs?"

"Cough… Your words are biased. Whether invoking 'military necessity' or halving mourning periods as per the Astronomical Bureau's rules, these are ancestral precedents. Why not use this suspension to review mathematics and take the exam for an Astronomical Bureau doctorate?"

The word "also" had its reason: last time, the emperor ordered senior officials of third-rank offices to study, and though the Scrutiny Office held low rank, its power earned it two slots—so the logic had shifted.

"Forget it, I won't argue with you. So according to you, Shen Li's return to the capital means he's taking over Luo Fengxiang's post as Left Vice Minister of War?"

Shen Li's seniority was certainly sufficient.

But having him as one's superior was no blessing—he was worse than Chen Jingbang.

"No, according to the edicts copied by the Six Boards, he's been appointed as Assistant Censor-in-Chief to oversee land surveying. As for Left Vice Minister of War, Luo Fengxiang hasn't necessarily fallen yet—too soon to speak of succession."

"That's self-deception. With the emperor and Grand Secretariat determined to implicate him, if Luo Fengxiang doesn't fall, he'll drown."

"Sigh, in the end, it's all because Shen Shixing is a useless officeholder. This should have ended with the barbarian—why let the emperor drag the Minister of War into it, making everyone stink?"

"Isn't that true? And Wang Xijue of the Ministry of Personnel—he's jumping around like a eunuch, even more eager than them. He must be mad from his daughter's death. How can such a man still sit in the position of Minister of Personnel?"

"Hmph, Wang Chonggu won't escape either. Without his approval, Shen Shixing couldn't even hold the brush to draft edicts. Wang Chonggu doesn't even protect his own clan—how can anyone dare rely on him in the future?"

"Who are these men now sitting in the Wenhua Hall?"

Rebellion was common in the Great Ming: Prince Ning Zhu Chenhao raised a hundred thousand troops, declared himself emperor, changed the era name to Shunde—exactly sixty years ago; the Renyin Palace Incident, when the Jiajing Emperor was nearly strangled—thirty-seven years ago; Shi Shangzhao's rebellion, gathering over seventy thousand men, capturing cities and lands—only twenty-six years ago; most recently, in the second year of Longqing, two thousand soldiers in Xuanfu mutinied over pay—just eleven years ago. In a feudal dynasty, no emperor escapes at least one rebellion in his reign.

But rebellion was mostly sparked by immoral imperial clansmen, deluded commoners, temporary laborers acting on impulse, or hot-headed soldiers.

A civil official rebelling? That was too shocking to believe!

How many years had passed since anyone heard of a civil official rebelling? Even if it had happened, it was never called "rebellion"—at most, ten or eight crimes were listed, and the man was beheaded.

If one must cite precedents, one must go back to Hu Weiyong—if the Coup of the Restoration doesn't count.

What was Hu Weiyong's case like? Tens of thousands implicated, countless dead or wounded—over half were scholars!

How could the emperor and the Grand Secretariat bear to replay this?

If Shen Shixing and Wang Xijue had even a shred of conscience, they should have stopped the matter at the barbarian, covered it up. As for Shi Mao, they could have simply listed ten crimes for the emperor's anger—why let it spiral into this uproar? Don't they fear alarming the people?

The Jiajing Emperor survived countless near-death experiences—and yet he never casually accused civil officials of rebellion.

The only conclusion: the courtiers in the Wenhua Hall have grown more crooked by the day!

As they spoke,

A cloud of dust approached from afar, heading toward Beijing.

Both men instinctively turned their gaze—yet before they could even pause their conversation about the gate below, the troop thundered past, their arrogant personal guards leading the way as the central figure galloped into the city.

Without speaking, both men furrowed their brows in disgust, watching the troop enter.

"These military officers, emboldened by the emperor's favor, have grown arrogant again in recent years—fearing power but not virtue!"

Galloping into the city was sheer insolence!

The moral decay of recent years has worsened.

When military officers report to the Ministry of War, even if they don't perform the full three kneelings and nine prostrations, at least they should kneel and bow.

But lately? These commanders and regional generals, wielding the emperor's imperial tally, claim that officials of third rank or higher need not kneel to outsiders—and now they dare stand arrogantly in the Ministry's hall!

And Gu Huan—mere noble by birth—constantly stands upright during Wenhua Hall deliberations, defending military officers. He's an eyesore. I wonder when he'll die.

"Look at the insignia carried by the escort—could that be Qi Jiguang? No wonder he's so arrogant—he's brought three thousand southern troops with him this time. Whoever angers him might find the city guards insufficient to stop him."

One of them sneered continuously, his tone laced with contempt and mockery.

True, these outside officials likely lost their composure upon hearing of the assassination attempt and rushed to see the emperor—but no matter the reason, arrogance was arrogance.

Besides, the emperor's safety was not their concern to manage.

"Yu Dayou was equally brazen in Fujian, killing and destroying families at will—yet when he returned to the capital, he kept his head down, bringing only two attendants. But Qi Jiguang? Three thousand southern troops… Hmph, he's too big for his britches."

"Who lets the emperor rely on him? On the night Shi Mao fell, it's said the capital garrisons and Five Military Directorates stirred. With Gu Huan near death, the emperor probably intends to hand the capital garrisons to Qi Jiguang."

"Troop movements… I've heard rumors too, but they're likely exaggerated."

Moving troops wasn't so simple.

Not only did the emperor and Grand Secretariat need to approve, but the Grand Eunuch of the Imperial Horse Supervision had to issue the imperial decree and fire token to the Ministry of War, which then transferred authority to the Five Military Directorates.

This entire chain of procedures—even Shi Mao couldn't have pulled it off.

"I don't know, but I heard rumors in the Scrutiny Office that someone forged fire tokens."

"Forged fire tokens!? How could anyone be so mad?"

"Hah, not uncommon. Six years ago, the Prince of Kunming was executed by slow slicing for doing exactly that. Too bad we're suspended now—everything we hear is muddled, hard to judge truth from falsehood."

"Fake? Could there be such a grand scheme?"

"Hard to say. The emperor's recent tour coincided with the suspicious death of the Director of the Imperial Horse Temple, and Wang Chonggu had a furious quarrel with Shi Mao. I suspect they're connected."

"Sigh, forget it. I don't know whether it's true or false—I only know the emperor intends to seize full control of the capital garrisons."

The speaker's gaze was complex, tinged with deep apprehension.

"Rebellion? If neither side rebels, how can it be called rebellion? Who's the rebel? It's never clear."

With those words, both men sighed in unison.

They exchanged glances, filled with endless dread for the dark future of the Ministry of War and the Scrutiny Office.

…

"Director of the Imperial Secretariat Sun Hai? Even the Inner Court is involved!?"

Shen Shixing took the case file handed to him by Grand Censor Wen Chun, his expression grim, and exclaimed in shock.

Wen Chun nodded and spoke bluntly: "In the case of Daxing County's encroachment on the imperial estates, the Director of the Firewood Office, Yao Zhong, was backed by this man."

"Upon hearing the Emperor had executed Yao Zhong and intended to pursue further, this man, fearing the Emperor's wrath, took advantage of Shi Mao's vulnerability and negligently relaxed the body search before the barbarians met the Emperor."

Here he paused, then continued: "At present, this is merely speculation by the Censorate based on confessions from a few suspects—there is no solid evidence. But he seems to have sensed the wind blowing. I fear delays will bring disaster. Should we arrest him or not?"

Whether it conforms to protocol is a matter for later.

The two had served together as Left and Right Vice Ministers of Personnel, maintained close ties, enjoyed good private relations, and now one held the Grand Secretariat while the other commanded the Censorate—by imperial custom, when the Chief Grand Secretary was a southerner, a northerner must lead the Censorate to maintain balance, a testament to its stature.

Thus, their conversations rarely held back.

Shen Shixing slowly rose from his chair and paced back and forth in the Grand Secretariat's duty room, clearly troubled by the matter's ties to the Inner Court.

Only after crushing the case file in his hands did Shen Shixing grit his teeth fiercely: "Arrest him! No matter who it is! If the investigation leads to him, arrest him!"

"Take my note first to apprehend him—don't let him slip away like Shi Mao. I'll retroactively submit the draft edict and secure the Emperor's approval later!"

Wen Chun nodded and turned to leave the Grand Secretariat.

"Wait."

Wen Chun turned back to find Shen Shixing calling out to him.

"Also arrest Zhao Yongxian, Right Military Advisor of the Capital Garrison!" Shen Shixing blurted out without preamble.

Wen Chun frowned.

He was puzzled and asked: "Is Zhao Yongxian also involved?"

Shen Shixing's expression darkened and brightened uncertainly.

After a long silence, he turned his head away awkwardly, facing Wen Chun with his profile, his expression unreadable: "Possibly."

Even if not, at this point, one must prioritize the greater good and consider the Emperor's feelings.

During the Zhang Juzheng mourning controversy, Zhao Yongxian publicly endorsed but secretly conspired—truly hypocritical.

The Emperor originally planned to send him to Zhejiang after the New Year to put him to use against the Japanese pirates. Now, given this incident and signs of troop movements, he must be imprisoned without delay.

It is undignified, but since entering the Grand Secretariat, Shen Shixing has had many moments requiring sacrifice—this one more won't hurt; it's merely a small exercise of power.

From Shen Shixing's reaction, Wen Chun clearly sensed the complex calculations.

After a moment of silence, he slowly nodded.

Seeing Wen Chun's reluctant assent, Shen Shixing forced a strained, awkward smile and said: "Jingwen, we've served together for years—you know me. I act solely for the public good."

"Possibly" is another term for "perhaps," or "perhaps not"—a label that sounds terrible when spoken aloud.

Even if his motives differ, it remains a moral stain.

Wen Chun glanced at Shen Shixing and saw his hands half-extended in awkwardness; he subtly drew his own hands behind his back.

He looked at Shen Shixing's embarrassed face and said directly: "Rumo, no need to explain—I understand. You fear repeating the Jiajing Emperor's story, so you sacrifice your hands for the greater good. I am not Chen Wude; I won't stand idle and speak without consequence."

Hearing this, Shen Shixing's embarrassed expression shifted several times, finally dissolving into exhaustion and resignation.

Who isn't afraid of the Jiajing story?

They never saw the Jiajing Emperor as he was at the start of his reign, but they've heard enough—land surveys, clearing imperial estates, opening the seas, suppressing pirates—by Hai Rui's standards, he was no fool.

Yet after the Renyin Palace Incident, he ceased attending court, pursued immortality, and lost his humanity.

Now, what Shen Shixing fears most is not a Minister's rebellion or a forged fire token from the Five Military Commissions—he fears most that the Emperor, provoked, might suddenly emulate his ancestor.

After the Jiajing Emperor escaped the fire, the physician who treated him died suddenly; officials implicated were vaguely promoted, and the Jiajing Emperor long suspected them.

The current Emperor's suspicions are no lighter than Jiajing's; as he grows older, his suspicions grow stronger.

At such a moment, if the Grand Secretariat does not take a decisive stance to reassure the Emperor and clarify its position, how can Shen Shixing rest easy?

He sighed deeply: "Alas, the Emperor has been away for only a month, yet I allowed such schemes to brew beneath my nose—this is a grave sin beyond pardon."

"When it's time to dirty one's hands, how can one cling to one's feathers?"

Hearing this, Wen Chun shook his head.

He thought for a moment and offered comfort: "No one could have foreseen Shi Mao's utter madness, Rumo. Don't blame yourself so harshly."

Shi Mao is old, preaching eternal health and awaiting a natural death—who could have guessed he had another plan?

Shen Shixing pursed his lips, fell silent for a moment, then still blamed himself: "When the Emperor sent word back, and Grand Secretary Wang informed me he intended to investigate the Ministry of War's horse pastures, I should have nipped it in the bud, wary of desperate men."

Wen Chun didn't know how to respond.

The two stared at each other in silence; after a moment, Wen Chun simply bowed and took his leave.

This time, Shen Shixing made no effort to stop him.

After Wen Chun left, the Grand Secretariat's duty room sank back into silence.

Shen Shixing sat again in his master chair and resumed drafting memorials, meticulously, without pause.

…

In stark contrast to Shen Shixing's struggling Grand Secretariat stood the quiet yet bustling Ministry of War.

Quiet, because all the Directors and Secretaries were suspended pending investigation—the office had suddenly lost half its staff.

Bustling, naturally, because as the epicenter of Shi Mao's rebellion case, it drew countless eyes and figures.

Just now, Wang Chonggu and the sole remaining Ministry official, Chen Jingbang, were engaged in heated discussion in the main hall.

"In the fourth year of Wanli, 36,200 taels from the Imperial Horse Treasury were sent to Ningxia for trade; 20,000 taels allocated to Liaozhen for rewards for enemy scalps; 12,000 taels authorized to Datong for next year's trade capital; 9,600 taels dispatched to Miyun to purchase carts and mules; 80,082 taels assigned to the Xuan-Da military command for official horse purchases…"

"In the fifth year of Wanli…"

Wang Chonggu recited each item clearly.

Chen Jingbang cross-referenced each with official documents.

Only after finishing the seventh year of Wanli did Wang Chonggu stop, and Vice Minister Chen Jingbang set down the file, deeply moved: "Encroachment on pastureland, embezzlement of horse funds—since Wanli's first year, millions of taels have been devoured by these men. Truly, great parasites upon the state!"

Wang Chonggu said nothing in reply.

During his tenure as Viceroy of Xuan-Da, he'd heard whispers—though he himself had legitimate income, most of his colleagues did not.

For instance, fellow Shanxi men like Shi Mao and Luo Fengxiang.

Previously, he could ignore the rumors, pretend ignorance—but now the Emperor forced his hand, and he could only choose the righteous path.

The matter had gone too far to retreat, yet Wang Chonggu still felt conflicted and unwilling to comment further.

He ignored Chen Jingbang's remark and continued: "The list of suspects is extensive; only a portion has been confirmed: Minister of War Shi Mao, Vice Minister Luo Fengxiang, Director of the Imperial Horse Bureau Wu Shangxian, Director of Pasture Affairs under the Ministry of Revenue Gao Shi, Acting Director of the Ministry's Secretariat Miao Boren, Deputy Commander of the Shaanxi Regional Military Commission Tang Yao, and Regional Commander Zhang Wei of Liaodong's Central Army…"

The number of suspects was not large—though, relatively speaking, it was far less than the salt scandal.

But merely hearing the names, Chen Jingbang understood.

He murmured: "Shi Mao… he must have sensed he was being investigated."

Otherwise, he wouldn't have fled so swiftly.

Even before leaving, he struck a brutal blow.

Wang Chonggu gave no answer: "Perhaps."

Seeing the Grand Secretary unwilling to elaborate, Chen Jingbang pressed on: "And the horses? Were none purchased?"

Wang Chonggu slowly shook his head: "Of course not. Had no horses been bought, they couldn't have concealed this from provincial governors, border inspectors, censors, and imperial envoys for so many years."

"Horses were bought—but immediately resold."

Chen Jingbang was stunned: "Sold to whom?"

Wang Chonggu looked at Chen Jingbang, expressionless: "Who else? The Mongols, the Jurchens, and in recent years, the White Lotus sect of Baisheng."

The Grand Secretary spoke casually, having seen it all.

Chen Jingbang's face flushed crimson.

He leapt to his feet, eyes blazing, voice trembling: "Aiding the enemy! This is treason!"

The horse system was meant to weaken enemies—who could have imagined such a buyback scheme?

As for price, no need to say—it was contraband, sold below market value to barbarians.

Are court officials now sitting with barbarians to divide the imperial treasury?

How outrageous!

The Minister of War colluding with the enemy—has this ever happened?

The Gengxu Crisis, the Shizhou Uprising, the Jizhou Rebellion—each claimed tens of thousands of civilian lives, leaving the land soaked in blood. Do these men have no sense of Han-barbarian distinction?

Willingly guiding the barbarians—do they long for the Jurchens' stolen wives and concubines, or itch to shave their heads and change their clothes?

Wang Chonggu's expression was complex: sorrow, frustration, and above all, profound regret.

He sighed: "Not everyone can distinguish friend from foe as clearly as you and I."

After a long silence.

Chen Jingbang finally calmed.

He sat back slowly: "No wonder—no wonder Shi Mao, as Minister of War, dared commit such acts. Now I understand."

"Ha. When the Emperor returns, his first act will be to execute them all."

The Emperor's recent tour of Shuntian saw many executions—truly terrifying many.

No wonder Shi Mao panicked and acted desperately.

At that moment,

A commotion came from outside the ministry, especially noticeable in the now-quiet office.

Both men looked up.

A man strode in with thunder and wind, entering the ministry's main hall straight from the gate.

"Your servant Qi Jiguang, here by imperial order to return the credentials and present myself to His Majesty. I pay my respects to Grand Secretary Wang and Vice Minister."

Chen Jingbang and Wang Chonggu exchanged a glance.

The latter smiled in response and gestured lightly to assist him up.

The former nodded reluctantly, a flicker of displeasure rising in his heart.

Qi Jiguang was said to be exceedingly courteous; every time he came to the Ministry of War, he kowtowed deeply—how could it be that today he encountered Chen Jingbang, who so plainly disregarded protocol?

But now a major crisis had arisen, and the Ministry of War was overwhelmed with affairs; he had no time to quarrel with these military officers, so he waved dismissively: "General Qi has traveled far to the capital, weary from the road—rest well today, and report to the throne with Left Commander Yu Dayou the day after tomorrow."

With that, he summoned the chief clerk to escort Qi Jiguang out for official business—this was the current state of civil-military relations: no return bow, not even a glance deemed worthy.

Wang Chonggu caught the faint edge of displeasure in his tone, glanced at Chen Jingbang, but said nothing—after all, Chen Jingbang was the proper superior of the Ministry of War.

Upon hearing this, Qi Jiguang would not wait until the day after tomorrow; he hurriedly said: "Junior Minister, I beg to be admitted to the palace immediately!"

Only then did Chen Jingbang look up and truly examine Qi Jiguang.

He naturally understood the mindset of these external officials: they were merely anxious because the Emperor had been targeted.

There was nothing wrong with that concern—but the attitude annoyed him.

Chen Jingbang frowned slightly and rebuked: "Some matters are not for military officers to meddle in. You need only know the Emperor is unharmed."

Qi Jiguang, reprimanded, flushed crimson.

In the past, he would have withdrawn at the first sign of resistance—but now he had no choice but to press on, pleading: "Junior Minister, I—"

Before he could finish, Chen Jingbang's expression turned impatient.

He waved his hand: "The Emperor is at Senior Grand Secretary Gao Yi's residence today—not in the palace. You cannot see him."

No sooner had the words left his mouth than Qi Jiguang's face turned ashen; he blurted out: "Only moments after an assassination attempt on the throne, how can the Emperor leave the palace?!"

Without even bidding farewell, he rose and strode out—clearly heading straight for Gao Yi's residence to petition the Emperor.

Chen Jingbang watched Qi Jiguang's retreating back and let out a cold, unhidden snort: "Unlearned in propriety!"

Wang Chonggu, standing beside him, offered a quiet defense: "It is precisely because he is so loyal that he is fit to command the Capital Garrison. You need not be so harsh, Gongwang."

Chen Jingbang gave Wang Chonggu a perfunctory bow—just enough to spare him face.

Qi Jiguang, of course, paid no heed; he strode out of the Ministry of War with long, determined strides, even neglecting to call his personal guards, leaping onto his horse and galloping straight toward Gao Yi's residence.

…

Meanwhile, at the residence of Grand Secretary Gao Yi.

Contrary to public expectation, the Emperor—who should have been enraged, demanding vengeance, or trembling in fear after the assassination attempt—was now calmly playing chess with his teacher Gao Yi in the courtyard, seated at a table with chessboard laid out.

"Didn't I already send word through the Senior Grand Secretary? I said I'd visit Lord Lü and you once I'd finished my tour."

Zhu Yijun moved his pawn forward one step.

The imperial secretary set aside the court diary and took up another scroll, scribbling quietly.

If one drew near, one would see he was recording the game: "His Majesty honored his teacher, inviting Senior Grand Secretary Gao to take the red pieces. Gao moved his cannon from two to six; His Majesty advanced his horse from eight to seven, lightning-fast; Gao moved his horse from two to three; His Majesty moved his chariot from nine to eight without hesitation; Gao advanced his pawn from three to one; His Majesty advanced his pawn from three to one, evenly matched; Gao moved his minister from seven to five; His Majesty advanced his horse from two to three, swords flashing."

Zhu Yijun let the secretary write his unofficial chronicle—he couldn't lift the board himself, so he had no fear of being recorded.

After his stroke, Gao Yi could no longer walk and played chess seated in his wheelchair.

His mind had recovered well, still clear, though his speech remained slightly slurred: "The current situation does not suit a ruler seeking peace. You should return to the palace at once."

"Rook one to two."

When Gao Yi served as Deputy Grand Secretary, many in court had accused the Emperor of feigning deference, using Gao Yi's voice for his own ends.

Now? Gao Yi was a broken man—and yet the Emperor's favor remained unchanged. What greater proof could there be?

Perhaps the greatest achievement of his life was teaching such a student.

Precisely because the Emperor was a good ruler, he could not bear to see the Emperor waste his energy on him.

Zhu Yijun shook his head: "No need. Earlier, I had just returned to the capital and was caught unprepared. Now all matters are arranged—nothing of consequence remains."

"By the way, the winter is bitterly cold—I've sent two palace attendants to care for you for a month, until spring."

"Elephant three to five."

His teacher had no concubines, no children—only two elderly servants. Every winter since his stroke, the palace had to send attendants to care for him.

Gao Yi did not refuse this time—he had refused too often in the past two years.

He fixed the Emperor with a grave look: "Do not be careless. This assassination attempt was no impulsive act. The Ministry of War arranged a banquet for foreign envoys; someone from the Directorate of Ceremonial provided cover; even the Five Military Directorates forged imperial fire tokens to mobilize garrisons. Every detail suggests careful planning."

As he spoke, he casually moved his horse from eight to nine.

Zhu Yijun seemed unaware: "Cannon eight to four."

"I understand. This is the backlash from the Southern Altar sacrifice and the land survey and household registration purge—all coinciding. As for who exactly is involved… I will find them one by one."

He knew full well how grave the situation was.

But what ruler doesn't face rebellion during his reign?

One grows accustomed. No need to panic.

Gao Yi's hand paused on his chess piece. He warned: "Others I can overlook—but the man in the Five Military Directorates who forged the imperial fire token: kill him, even if mistaken."

Forging a fire token was no trivial matter, especially when the messenger was an officer of the Five Military Directorates—who could tell who was guilty?

The danger was obvious.

And the fact that the mid-level officers sent to deliver the order then killed themselves—such discipline was horrifying.

Zhu Yijun nodded slightly: "We'll see which noble house it is. Shi Mao probably was sent out by the same hand. My first execution of three clans will likely begin here."

Gao Yi fell into thought.

A servant nearby, accustomed to the routine, extended a cloth to wipe the old master's lips.

Only then did Gao Yi snap back, forcing his expression to steady: "Do you have suspicions?"

As he spoke, he casually advanced his cannon from eight to seven.

Zhu Yijun nodded: "I left the palace today precisely to verify something. After visiting you, I will pay a personal visit to question him."

"Rook one to two."

Among the nobles, fools abound—but few have the audacity to forge imperial fire tokens.

And since they're currently serving in the Five Military Directorates, a quick check will reveal the likely culprits.

Hearing this, Gao Yi sighed.

Managing affairs day and night was no empty phrase—each trip outside the palace brought three or five crises bundled together.

After barely surviving an assassination attempt, who else could be called a wise ruler?

At this thought, Gao Yi suddenly added: "Your Majesty turns eighteen next year. You should increase your visits to the concubines."

This was merely a false alarm—but it terrified many.

The Emperor still has no heir!

As his teacher, even if he were near death, he must speak the necessary words.

The imperial secretary nearby jotted down: "Senior Grand Secretary Gao advanced his pawn from seven to one."

Zhu Yijun's expression remained calm; he nodded: "You are right, Master. I understand. I visited a concubine last night."

"Horse three to four."

There was no need to hide it—this should be said openly to reassure his ministers. After an assassination attempt, ministers must show their loyalty; the Emperor must show his resolve.

Hearing this, Gao Yi finally relaxed.

He thought a moment, then added: "Your Majesty, now is the time of the land survey. The matter of Shi Mao should not be dragged too far. Shen Shixing must be reminded to exercise restraint."

As he spoke, he casually advanced his pawn from seven to one.

Zhu Yijun listened, his dark eyes revealing a subtle, unreadable expression. He replied softly: "Master, rest assured—I will stop at the right point."

He did not explain where that point lay, only naturally moved his piece: Horse four to five.

Gao Yi raised his hand to respond—then froze.

After long contemplation, he finally saw the position. He looked up helplessly at the Emperor: "Your Majesty truly stopped at the right point. I surrender."

The imperial secretary Wang Yingxuan also understood the board. He exclaimed in astonishment: "Your Majesty won in nine moves—truly divine strategy!"

Zhu Yijun smiled but said nothing.

At that moment—

Abruptly, the sound of weapons erupted without warning.

Shouts of battle grew louder outside the residence, accompanied by chants of: "Eternal Mother of the Void, True Homeland!"

Jiang Keqian, Deputy Commander of the Embroidered Uniform Guard, rushed in; the clash of arms outside flashed past the doorway.

Gao Yi's expression changed instantly; he nearly rose from his wheelchair: "Quick! Take the Emperor out the back gate!"

Wang Yingxuan, belatedly realizing the danger, disregarded propriety and grabbed the Emperor's arm, dragging him to flee.

But the Emperor merely frowned, shook off Wang Yingxuan, rose, and walked toward Jiang Keqian, sneering: "Who's panicking now?"

Jiang Keqian's face showed no panic; he bowed: "Hard to tell clearly—but it appears to be Liu Shiyan."

Zhu Yijun sneered: "Marquis Chengyi Liu Shiyan. Of course it's him… He's well-informed. He must have known I was coming to confront him."

This game is borrowed from the 2016 Feishen Cup match between Wang Tianyi and Wang Yang.