Chapter 305

Gloomy clouds stretched for ten thousand li, thick and heavy; stench and filth filled the imperial court.

…

The Holy Mother Empress Dowager's birthday had only passed two days ago; the capital should still be brimming with festive joy, yet heaven's winds were capricious—dark, obscuring clouds had suddenly engulfed the capital without warning.

Snow fell in biting winds; the sky grew dim, and the capital's heavens, heedless of decorum, freely painted an atmosphere of tension.

The sky was bad enough, but all manner of personnel and affairs seemed deliberately aiding this tide of tension.

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

Within Shuntian Prefecture, checkpoints sprang up out of nowhere; Embroidered Uniform Guards and Red-Helmeted Guards patrolled with hostile vigilance, interrogating and searching, plunging the populace into panic.

One after another, officials from the Ministry of War, the Five Military Commissions, the Five City Military Commands, and the Twenty-Four Imperial Offices were either killed or arrested; officials lived in dread.

One envoy after another, faces grim, galloped out of the capital, kicking up clouds of snow and dust along the capital's borders.

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 Court of Imperial Clan Affairs rebuked the imperial princes for their licentious behavior, ordering them to confine themselves to their mansions for one month to cultivate virtue.

Moreover, because Li Xiang of Xiangfu in Henan had initiated the White Lotus Sect, inciting the distant and near, 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 ordering all provincial Three Departments 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, exiting the city.

"The envoys today won't stop, will they? This is the how many?"

"The Grand Secretariat and all ministries are frantic as ants on a hot pan—they must do something. Rebuking all officials may well be a way to stabilize public sentiment."

Two middle-aged men, dressed in fine attire and bearing the air of officials, stood side by side atop the city wall, gazing down at the direction the envoys had galloped, their brows furrowed in worry.

"But judging by the format of the documents carried by this envoy, it seems to be an imperial decree?"

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

"Hmph, this isn't just suspicion of the Ministry of War—it's suspicion of the Bureau of Military Correspondence too… But the Bureau has little connection with Minister Shi, so why this extreme caution?"

Sigh, if the Minister of War is plotting rebellion, how could the Bureau of Military Correspondence possibly remain uninvolved? 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 birthday tributes with his mother, the emperor was hosting a banquet for soldiers and civilians at Longzong Gate when a monk named Bu Mang, a barbarian from Jima, concealed a poisoned blade and suddenly leapt up to assassinate the emperor!

Had the emperor not been agile enough to dodge in time, a great disaster would have ensued!

Utterly horrifying!

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

Merely who permitted such a treacherous barbarian to approach the throne was 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 matters were even more obscure.

As expected.

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

Before anyone could react, all the Directors and Secretaries of the Ministry of War, and all the Censors of the Bureau of Military Correspondence, were immediately suspended by the Grand Secretariat—none could enter the ministry until the case was resolved.

Though undoubtedly innocent, no one dared treat this lightly.

Thus, these Directors and Secretaries of the Ministry of War could only roam about, seeking information and cultivating connections, lest they become blind and deaf to events.

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

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

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

The barbarian's assassination was one thing, but who truly orchestrated it remains uncertain—how could such a massive case suddenly implicate the 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.

"Huh? Is that Shen Li?"

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

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

The other man also looked down, puzzled.

"You don't know, Renjia? 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 propriety; will he have no heirs?"

"Cough… Renjia, your words are biased. Whether 'military necessity overrides mourning' or the Imperial Astronomical Bureau reducing mourning periods by half—these are ancestral precedents. Why not use this suspension to review mathematics and take the exam for an adjunct post as an Astronomical Bureau Doctor?"

The word "also" had its reason: last time the emperor ordered senior officials of third-rank offices to study, the Bureau of Military Correspondence, though low in rank, held great power and received two slots—so the tone of this argument had shifted.

"Forget it, I won't argue with you. If what you say is true, then 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—talking of succession is premature."

"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 bureaucrat. This should have ended with the barbarian—why did the emperor drag the Minister of War into it? Now everyone is stained!"

"Isn't that true? And Wang Xijue of the Ministry of Personnel—he's been jumping around like a eunuch, even more eager than them. He's probably lost his mind from his daughter's death. How can such a man remain in the post of Minister of Personnel?"

"Hmph, Wang Chonggu won't escape either. Without his approval, Shen Shixing can't even hold the brush to draft edicts. Wang Chonggu won't even protect his own faction—who will dare to cling to 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 an army of one hundred thousand, declared himself emperor, changed the era name to Shunde—exactly sixty years ago; the Jia Yin Palace Incident, when the Jiajing Emperor was nearly strangled—thirty-seven years ago; Shi Shangzhao's rebellion, gathering over seventy thousand, capturing cities and lands—only twenty-six years ago; the most recent was the rebellion of two thousand soldiers in Xuanfu during Longqing's second year—only eleven years ago. In a feudal dynasty, no emperor escapes at least one rebellion in his reign.

But rebellion, though frequent, mostly arose from immoral imperial clansmen, deluded commoners, temporary laborers acting on their own, or hot-headed soldiers.

A civil official rebelling? That was too shocking!

How many years had passed since anyone heard of a civil official rebelling? Even if it had happened, they'd never use that term—instead, they'd list ten crimes, eight crimes, and execute him.

If you must cite precedents, you'd have to go back to Hu Weiyong—if you don't count the Coup of Tumen.

What was the Hu Weiyong case? 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 fabricated ten crimes to satisfy the emperor's anger—why let it escalate into this uproar? Don't they fear alarming the people?

The Jiajing Emperor narrowly escaped death countless times, yet he never casually accused civil officials of rebellion.

All one can say is 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 the capital.

Both men instinctively turned their gaze, but before they could even pause their conversation about the gate below, the troop thundered past—front guards brazenly clearing the way, escorting their leader as he galloped into the city.

Both men simultaneously frowned, gazing with revulsion at the troop that had just entered.

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

Galloping into the city was sheer audacity!

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? Those commanders and regional generals, wielding imperial orders, claim that officials of third rank or higher need not kneel to outsiders—and now they dare stand upright in the Ministry of War!

And Gu Huan—that mere noble—stands arrogantly during Wenhua Hall deliberations, championing military officers. He's an eyesore. I wonder when he'll die.

"Look at the banners carried by the front guards—it's Qi Jiguang, isn't it? No wonder he's so arrogant—he 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 brimming with contempt and sarcasm.

Though he understood these outside officials had lost their composure upon hearing of the assassination attempt and rushed to see the emperor, no matter the reason, arrogance was arrogance.

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

"Yu Dayou was equally brazen in Fujian, killing and destroying families at will, yet when he returned to the capital to report, he kept his head down, bringing only two attendants. But Qi Jiguang? Three thousand southern troops… Hmph, he doesn't fear overextending himself."

"Who lets the emperor rely on him? On the night Shi Mao fell, it's said the capital garrisons and the Five Military Commissions stirred. And with Gu Huan near death, the emperor likely intends to place the capital garrisons under Qi Jiguang's command."

"Garrison movements… I've heard rumors these past two days, but they're mostly hearsay."

Mobilizing garrisons isn't simple.

Not only must the emperor and Grand Secretariat approve, but the Grand Eunuch of the Imperial Stable must issue the imperial decree and fire token to the Ministry of War, which then transfers it to the Five Military Commissions.

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

"I don't know, but I heard rumors in the Bureau of Military Correspondence about forged fire tokens."

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

"Hah, not unusual. Didn't the Prince of Guizhou get executed by lingchi six years ago for doing the same? Too bad we're suspended now—everything we hear is muddled, hard to discern 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 Bureau, and Wang Chonggu had a furious quarrel with Shi Mao. I suspect they're connected."

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

The speaker's gaze was complex, especially wary.

"Rebellion? If neither side rebels, how can it be called rebellion? Who rebels and who doesn't—it's never clear."

With those words, both men sighed simultaneously.

They exchanged glances, filled with endless dread for the dark future of the Ministry of War and the Bureau of Military Correspondence.

…

"Eunuch Sun Hai of the Directorate of Palace Affairs? The Inner Court is also involved!?"

Shen Shixing frowned as he took the case file handed to him by Censor-in-Chief Wen Chun, exclaiming in shock.

Wen Chun nodded and spoke bluntly: "The case of Daye County seizing the imperial estate—Yao Zhong, the eunuch supervisor of the Xixin Si, is behind this man."

"Upon hearing the Emperor had executed Yao Zhong and intended to pursue further, this man, fearing the Emperor's wrath, allowed Shi Maohua to exploit the opening—he 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— 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; they had always been close, with strong private ties. Moreover, one now headed the Grand Secretariat, the other presided over 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, the matter involved the inner court and was troublesome.

Only after crushing the case file in his hands did Shen Shixing grit his teeth fiercely: "Arrest him! Whoever it is! If the trail leads to him, arrest him!"

"Take my note first to seize him—don't let him slip away like Shi Maohua. I'll make up the draft edict and 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.

"Arrest Zhao Yongxian, Right Assistant Regional Commander of the Capital Garrison!" Shen Shixing blurted out without context.

Wen Chun frowned.

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

Upon hearing this, 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 openly approved but secretly coordinated behind the scenes—clearly 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.

This is certainly dishonorable, but since Shen Shixing entered the Grand Secretariat, there have been too many moments demanding the greater good—this one more won't matter; 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 word for "perhaps," or "maybe not"—this label, once spoken, will always sound bad.

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 Shizong story; that's why you're willing to soil your hands for the greater good. I'm not Chen Wude—I won't stand idle and speak without consequence."

Upon hearing this, Shen Shixing's embarrassed expression shifted several times, finally dissolving into exhaustion and reflection.

Who isn't afraid of the Shizong story?

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

Yet after the Renyin Palace Incident, he ceased attending court, sought 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 Directorates—he fears most that the Emperor, provoked, might suddenly emulate his ancestor.

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

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

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

He sighed deeply: "Alas, the Emperor has been on tour for only a month, yet I allowed such a plot to brew beneath my very eyes—I am truly guilty beyond pardon."

"When it's time to soil your hands, how can you cling to your feathers?"

Upon hearing this, Wen Chun shook his head.

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

Shi Maohua is old enough to be waiting for a natural death—how could anyone 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 Wang Gelao informed me he intended to investigate the Ministry of War's horse pastures, I should have nipped it in the bud—watched for desperate men to lash out."

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 detain 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 Maohua's treason case, it naturally drew too many eyes and figures.

At this moment, Wang Chonggu and the sole remaining Ministry of War official, Chen Jingbang, were engaged in heated discussion in the main hall.

"In the fourth year of Wanli, 36,200 taels of horse funds from the Ministry of Imperial Horses were sent to Ningxia for trade; 20,000 taels allocated to Liaozhen for rewarding severed heads; 12,000 taels granted to Datong for next year's trade capital; 9,600 taels delivered to Miyun for purchasing carts and mules; 80,062 taels of official horse funds dispatched to the Xuan-Da military command…"

"In the fifth year of Wanli…"

Wang Chonggu recited each item aloud.

Chen Jingbang cross-referenced each with official documents.

Only after finishing the seventh year of Wanli did Wang Chonggu stop; Chen Jingbang, having laid down the file, sighed deeply: "Seizing pastureland, embezzling horse funds—since Wanli's first year, millions of taels have been entirely devoured by these men. Truly, great vermin of the state!"

Upon hearing this, Wang Chonggu said nothing.

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

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

Previously, he could ignore the rumors, pretend not to hear—but now the Emperor forced his hand; he could only choose the righteous path.

The matter had reached this point—there was no turning back. Yet Wang Chonggu still felt conflicted and unwilling to comment further.

He ignored Chen Jingbang's remark and continued: "The number of implicated individuals is vast; only a portion has been confirmed so far: Minister of War Shi Maohua, Vice Minister Luo Fengxiang, Director of the Yuanma Temple Wu Shangxian, Director of Pasture Affairs under the Ministry of Revenue Gao Shi, Acting Director of the Ministry of War 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 implicated was not large—though, relatively speaking, it was far less than the salt administration scandal.

But merely hearing the names, Chen Jingbang understood.

He murmured: "Shi Maohua… must have sensed he was being investigated?"

Otherwise, he wouldn't have fled so swiftly.

Even before leaving, he struck a deadly blow.

Wang Chonggu gave no reply: "Perhaps."

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

Wang Chonggu slowly shook his head: "Of course not. If no horses were bought, how could they have concealed this from provincial governors, border inspectors, censors, and imperial spies for so many years?"

"Horses were purchased—but immediately resold."

Chen Jingbang stared in shock: "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, well-traveled and experienced, spoke casually.

But Chen Jingbang's face flushed crimson.

He slammed his fist on the table, leapt to his feet, eyes wide with disbelief, voice trembling: "Aiding the enemy! This is treason!"

The horse system was meant to weaken the enemy—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's money!?

How outrageous!

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

The Gengxu Chaos, the Shizhou Uprising, the Jizhou Disturbance—each claimed over a hundred thousand 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 Jin's rape and adultery, or itch to shave their heads and change their clothing?

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

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

After a long silence.

Chen Jingbang finally calmed.

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

"Ha—the Emperor's return to the capital, his first act will be to execute this lot."

The Emperor's tour of Shuntian has already claimed many lives—truly, it has terrified many.

No wonder Shi Maohua panicked and lashed out.

At that moment,

A commotion arose outside the ministry, especially noticeable in the now-quiet Ministry of War.

Both men looked up.

A man strode in, radiating thunder and wind, entering the main hall straight from the ministry gates.

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

Chen Jingbang and Wang Chonggu exchanged glances.

The latter smiled and made a slight, formal gesture of deference.

The former nodded reluctantly, a hint of displeasure rising within him.

Qi Jiguang is renowned for his strict propriety; every time he visits the Ministry of War, he bows deeply—how is it that today he encounters Chen Jingbang, who shows such a lack of decorum?

But now that a major crisis has arisen and the Ministry is 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 journey—rest well today, and report to court the day after tomorrow alongside Left Commander Yu Dayou."

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 sensed the faint irritation in his tone, glanced at Chen Jingbang, but said nothing—after all, Chen was the legitimate superior of the Ministry of War.

Upon hearing this, Qi Jiguang refused to wait until the day after tomorrow: "Junior Minister, I beg to be granted immediate audience with His Majesty!"

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

He understood perfectly well the mindset of these frontier officials—it was merely panic after the imperial assassination attempt.

There was nothing wrong with their concern, but their attitude left him displeased.

Chen Jingbang frowned slightly and rebuked: "Some matters are beyond the purview of military officers—you need only know the Emperor is unharmed."

Qi Jiguang, reprimanded, flushed crimson.

In the past, he would have withdrawn in deference, but now he had no choice but to press forward, pleading: "Junior Minister, I—"

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

He waved his hand: "His Majesty is visiting Senior Grand Secretary Gao today—he is not in the palace; you cannot see him."

No sooner had the words left his mouth than Qi Jiguang's face turned ashen: "After an assassination attempt on His Majesty, how can the Emperor leave the palace!?"

Without even bidding farewell, he rose and stormed 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: "Utterly lacking in propriety!"

Wang Chonggu, standing nearby, offered a quiet defense: "Such unwavering loyalty is precisely what's needed to command the Capital Garrison—no need to be so harsh, Gongwang."

Chen Jingbang gave Wang Chonggu a perfunctory bow, merely acknowledging the gesture.

Meanwhile, Qi Jiguang, oblivious to all, strode out of the Ministry of War without even calling his guards, leapt onto his horse, and galloped 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 either furiously demanding vengeance or trembling in fear after the assassination attempt—was now calmly playing chess with his teacher, Gao Yi, in the courtyard.

"Didn't I already send word through the Senior Grand Secretary that I'd visit Lord Lu and you after finishing the inspection tour?"

Zhu Yijun moved his pawn forward.

The accompanying secretary set aside the imperial diary and picked up another ledger, scribbling quietly.

If one leaned closer, one would see he was recording the game: The Emperor, showing deep respect for his teacher, allowed Master Gao Nan Yu to play red. Master Gao moved his cannon from two to six; the Emperor responded with knight from eight to seven, lightning-fast; Master Gao advanced knight from two to three; the Emperor moved rook from nine to eight without hesitation; Master Gao pushed pawn from three to one; the Emperor countered with pawn from three to one, evenly matched; Master Gao moved bishop from seven to five; the Emperor advanced knight from two to three, like flashing blades.

Zhu Yijun let the secretary write his own version of history—he had no intention of picking up the board, so he didn't care who recorded it.

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

His mental faculties had recovered well enough to remain lucid, though his speech was slightly slurred: "Given the current situation, Your Majesty does not appear to be the sort who can afford to retreat into tranquility—you should return to the palace promptly."

"Rook from one to two."

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

Now? Gao Yi, a mere invalid, still receives imperial favor undiminished—what greater proof could there be?

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

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

Zhu Yijun shook his head: "No need to worry—it was merely a surprise upon returning to the capital; everything has now been arranged, and there are no major issues."

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

"Bishop from three to five."

His teacher had no wife or 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 many times already.

Instead, he looked at the Emperor with grave seriousness: "Do not be careless. This assassination attempt involved the Ministry of War hosting foreign envoys, eunuchs from the Directorate of Ceremonial providing cover, and even the Five Military Directorates forging imperial fire tokens to mobilize troops—each detail suggests this was no spontaneous act."

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

Zhu Yijun appeared unmoved: "Cannon from eight to four."

"I understand—it's the backlash from the Southern Altar sacrifice and the land survey and household registration reforms, all converging. As for who exactly is involved… I will uncover them one by one."

He was fully aware of the gravity of the situation.

But what emperor hasn't faced rebellion during his reign?

One grows accustomed to it—no need to overreact.

Gao Yi paused, holding his piece: "Other matters aside, whoever forged the imperial fire tokens in the Five Military Directorates—better to kill ten innocent than let one guilty escape."

Forging fire tokens was no trivial matter, especially when the messengers were officers of the Five Military Directorates—who could tell who was loyal?

The danger was self-evident.

Coupled with the fact that the mid-level officers sent to deliver orders then committed suicide—such organizational discipline was horrifying.

Zhu Yijun nodded slightly: "We'll see which noble family it is—Shi Maohua was likely sent out by the same hand. My first execution of three clans may well begin here."

Gao Yi fell into thought.

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

Only then did Gao Yi snap back to awareness and straightened his expression: "Does Your Majesty have a suspect in mind?"

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 from one to two."

Among the nobility, fools abound, but those with the audacity to forge fire tokens are few.

Add to that the fact that the suspects must be serving in the Five Military Directorates—after a quick review, the list will narrow considerably.

Hearing this, Gao Yi sighed.

Managing the empire truly wasn't just words—each trip outside the palace often meant juggling three or five crises at once.

After barely surviving an assassination attempt, who else but a true sage ruler could remain so composed?

Thinking of this, Gao Yi suddenly added: "Your Majesty will be eighteen next year—you should increase the frequency of your conjugal visits."

Though this was merely a scare, it had terrified many.

The Emperor still has no heir!

As his tutor, even if he were near death, he must speak plainly.

The secretary nearby jotted down: "Master Gao Nan Yu advances pawn from seven to one."

Zhu Yijun responded calmly and nodded: "Master is right—I understand. I was with a consort last night."

"Knight from three to four."

There was no need to hide it—he should announce it to reassure his ministers: after an assassination attempt, ministers must show their loyalty, and the Emperor must show his resolve.

Hearing this, Gao Yi finally relaxed.

He thought for a moment, then added: "Your Majesty, now is the time of the land survey—do not let Shi Maohua's case spiral out of control; make sure Shen Shixing observes restraint."

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

Zhu Yijun's gaze darkened slightly, and he replied softly: "Rest assured, Master—I will stop at the right point."

He did not explain who that point was, but moved his knight from four to five as if it were natural.

Gao Yi raised his piece to respond, then froze.

After a long moment of analysis, he finally saw the position and looked up helplessly at the Emperor: "Your Majesty truly stopped at the right point—I resign."

The secretary Wang Yingxuan also understood the board and exclaimed in astonishment: "Your Majesty won in nine moves—truly a master of strategy!"

Zhu Yijun smiled without speaking.

At that moment—

Suddenly, the sound of clashing weapons erupted without warning.

Shouts grew louder outside the mansion, accompanied by chants of "Wusheng Laomu, Zhenkong Jiayuan!"

Jiang Keqian, Deputy Commander of the Embroidered Uniform Guard, rushed in, the scene of clashing blades flashing past the doorway.

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

Wang Yingxuan, belatedly realizing the danger, disregarded protocol and grabbed the Emperor's arm, trying to drag him away.

But the Emperor merely frowned, shook off Wang Yingxuan, stood, and walked toward Jiang Keqian, sneering: "Who's desperate enough to make a last stand?"

Jiang Keqian's face remained calm; he bowed: "Hard to tell, but it's likely Liu Shiyuan."

Zhu Yijun sneered: "Liu Shiyuan, the Marquis of Chengyi—so it's him… He's well-informed—he must have known I was coming to confront him."

This game is from the 2016 Feishen Cup match between Wang Tianyi and Wang Yang, used with permission