The Sovereign

The next day, light snow fell over Di'an. The palace envoys arrived at the Prime Minister's Manor around noon, presenting imperial decrees and ceremonial invitations to attend the new emperor's coronation to Great Yan's Prince of Han. Of course, alongside these, the attendant also conveyed a few private words from the Crown Prince to the Prince of Han. After tomorrow would mark the dawn of a new era. The imperial faction and the Chancellor's faction could no longer remain estranged as they once were; extensive cooperation would gradually unfold through collaboration between the new sovereign and the Prince of Han—spanning court politics, the military front, and economic exchanges. This was a placation, yet also a signal that the imperial clan was ready to present a united front to the outside world. Li Zhaoyuan had largely consolidated the authority left behind by the late emperor and was preparing to shift the strategic focus toward the war against the Sect Alliance. Whether sincere or feigned was hard to say, but given Li Zhaoyuan's caliber, he could certainly see the big picture clearly; only certain details might remain open to debate. Regarding this, Xu Yuan voiced little opinion before the palace attendant, smiling and agreeing readily before casually sending him off to attend to other matters. Palace City, Jinluan Hall. Having dismissed the final group of ministers kept behind for secret deliberations, dusk had already fallen. Li Zhaoyuan was in no hurry to rise and depart. Seated behind the low desk before the golden steps, he surveyed this timeless hall, gazing upon the dragon throne where his imperial father had once sat. Inexplicably, he felt a sudden sense of emptiness toward everything he had experienced over these past days. The so-called imperial statecraft was nothing more than maintaining stability from the center, reining in and knocking heads back and forth, carving up everyone's interests under various pretexts, and then using those very interests to win over factions, thereby achieving the sovereign's aims. Yet even that was not entirely correct. For the vast majority of emperors were nothing but good-for-nothings, possessing no real purpose whatsoever. Their sole objective was likely how to indulge in pleasure while clinging to the supreme throne. Feigning profundity and putting on airs of lonely majesty was nothing more than pretending heaven was inscrutable so that none could fathom its wrath. Thinking thus, Li Zhaoyuan looked down with lifeless eyes until the sun had completely sunk into the west and the lights of myriad homes lit up one by one. "Senior Attendant." Li Zhaoyuan spoke softly amidst his contemplation, summoning forth the purple-robed eunuch standing in the shadows. Watching the man stride briskly to kneel and kowtow below the golden steps, he rested his chin in his hand, thought for a moment, and murmured: "After tomorrow, the court's focus will shift to the war against the Sect Alliance. The Chancellor's Manor has borne the brunt of the offensive against the Sect Alliance for the past two months; our inaction during this period has surely bred much discontent within their ranks. "To bridge this divide, our imperial clan will take over the vanguard of their offensive. We have already drawn up specific strategic plans and distributed them to the military officials at court. With our mediation, they have raised no objections, but there must be someone to set an example. The No-Return Army under your command is our direct lineage; in this regard, we cannot show undue favoritism for now. We need you to fight some tough battles and gnaw on some hard bones." "Understood," the purple-robed eunuch answered without the slightest hesitation. Li Zhaoyuan rose to his feet and walked toward the hall's exterior. "There is also the matter of military discipline that we have continually emphasized. In the Northern Border campaign, we personally commanded and held the line, so the generals whose hearts were won dared not murmur. Now that we can no longer blindly lead expeditions in person, you must never compromise what we laid down back then. Though commoners are humble, their united strength is not to be trifled with. Ordinary folk cannot distinguish who the heavenly soldiers are; they only know who can grant them peace and protection. "Reforming the imperial court's armed forces must also be placed on the agenda. The existing conscription system and military framework can scarcely sustain the protracted war ahead, and their discipline still clings to the old era. Yet this cannot be rushed. In the coming days, we will draw up an outline of detailed guidelines and advance them gradually in the future." At this point, Li Zhaoyuan paused in his steps within the hall, pondering briefly before continuing: "Aside from that is finance and taxation. Waging war is waging silver. The current fiscal and taxation systems of the court and the provinces certainly cannot adapt to wartime needs. Yet we know little of this, nor have we had the time to study it; it must be entrusted to professionals. Go at once and summon the officials from the Ministry of Revenue to the Eastern Palace. We wish to see them." Having initially consolidated authority, Li Zhaoyuan began taking steps to reform a series of court systems. The old apparatus established by the late emperor had served well, but it was ultimately a product of peaceful times and ill-suited to such an era of turmoil. Two months into the war, its flaws had not yet begun to fully show, yet a ruler must always look three steps ahead with every step taken. Having arranged everything, by the time he stepped out of Jinluan Hall, the courtyards swept clean by attendants were once again covered in three inches of snow. His purple-robed senior attendant had already gone ahead outside the palace to summon the Ministry of Revenue officials. Li Zhaoyuan walked through the towering Palace City alone in the snow, his lowered, sword-sharp eyes dark with deep contemplation, leaving behind a solitary trail of footprints. Great Yan was simply too vast. Formulating and issuing any policy or decree carried repercussions that resonated throughout the entire empire. After tomorrow, Great Yan's fourteen provinces and hundreds of millions of common folk would rest upon his shoulders, so every move he made demanded utmost circumspection. Thinking thus, Li Zhaoyuan, having reached the front of the Eastern Palace, suddenly looked down from the high vantage of Nine Dragons Mountain toward the domain known as the Chancellor's Manor. There, bright lights blazed as always. "...Then again, it is not resting entirely on our shoulders alone." Staring at it for several breaths, he let out a soft sigh and paced slowly into the Eastern Palace to await the ministers summoned for deliberation. The fifth day of the second month, the forty-eighth year of Jiajing—the eve of the Great Yan new emperor's coronation. It was destined to be a sleepless night. Officials under the Ministry of Rites scurried through streets and alleys, gradually taking down the white mourning banners hanging across the city to prepare for the new sovereign's grand coronation ceremony on the morrow. The brothels, taverns, and gambling dens that had been shuttered were not yet open, but many loyal subjects gathered in private estates to raise their cups to the new emperor. Yet where ordinary folk could not see, countless elites of the Imperial Guard stood vigilant guard against every conceivable disturbance, while countless eyes hidden in the shadows gleamed with excitement and anticipation. By the time the summoned Ministry of Revenue officials departed the Eastern Palace, late night had arrived. Amidst the flurry of snow falling from the ink-black sky, standing before the doors of the Eastern Palace, a rare trace of a smile flickered across Li Zhaoyuan's dark, quiet eyes. The governance of the Jiajing era inaugurated by the late emperor and Chancellor Xu had bequeathed a vast fortune to successors like them—a fortune consisting not only of a tremendous material foundation, but also of these court officials. Incompetent good-for-nothings and hereditary nobles had been marginalized throughout that sweeping, enduring revival of governance; the vast majority of ministers remaining in the court were technocrats possessed of genuine talent and practical knowledge. Watching these ministers disappear around the corner of the vermilion palace walls, having concluded his final day of administrative duties as Crown Prince on the eve of his coronation, Li Zhaoyuan began wandering aimlessly through the snow-clad Palace City. After today, the loves and grievances of the previous generation would dissipate like fleeting smoke within this profound Palace City. He wanted to take one last look at them, yet as he walked, his thoughts inevitably drifted back to those intricate affairs of state. Even though the court's future strategic tone had already been finalized by his hand, and even though everything was proceeding according to his designs, there remained a massive variable that felt like a bone stuck in his throat. The Chancellor's Manor. Everything he planned was fundamentally the legacy left behind by his imperial father. Although relations between the throne and the Chancellor had made headway, dealing with the Chancellor's Manor remained a tremendous problem. Li Zhaoyuan intended to carry on the previous generation's plan: in this war against the Sect Alliance, gradually incorporate the entire Prime Minister's Manor into the imperial court's apparatus, strengthening ties to elevate military combat strength, and then engage in high-level maneuvering and power struggles after the war to avoid a second civil war. Presumably Xu Changtian had acquiesced to this approach as well. After all, it was his concessions over the past month that made a preliminary integration of the imperial and Chancellor factions possible. Using the Black Scale Army as a medium, he would gradually ennoble and appoint the Xu family's shadowy inner ministers as officials of Great Yan through peerages and high posts. The momentum of the new sovereign he would wield upon ascending the throne ought to be the first window of opportunity. The attendant dispatched to the Prime Minister's Manor at noon had also conveyed his will: for tomorrow's coronation ceremony, Xu Changtian, as the Prince of Han, could bring two aides in his retinue. At that time, Li Zhaoyuan could bestow a noble title or two to preserve stability, but when it came to official bureaucratic posts, he had to tread cautiously. For they represented administrative power. Though in the face of raw force, the power represented by these posts might seem incidental, without rules and order, nothing could take shape. So long as future cooperation between the throne and the Chancellor was destined to unfold within the framework of the imperial court, holding the court's moral high ground would allow him to maintain a tight grip on administrative power. Through the issuance of official decrees, he could unravel things thread by thread, slowly paring away the manor's power like boiling a frog in tepid water. Of course, even with righteousness on his side, securing tangible gains ultimately hinged upon the battlefield. Rewarding merit through military exploits against the Sect Alliance was the only way to convince the Chancellor's faction, which was why restructuring the imperial armies had to be placed on the agenda as soon as possible. Rustle, rustle... Pondering the future, Li Zhaoyuan had unconsciously wandered into Jinluan Hall. The sun had set, leaving no light; the muted hall was cloaked in shadows, as deep and yawning as a beast waiting to devour a man whole. Pausing for a moment in the center of the hall, the rustle of footsteps resumed. The hem of his python robe brushed past the golden steps as Li Zhaoyuan walked before the supreme dragon throne. For a long while, his dark pupils scrutinized this seat representing ultimate authority, before he silently sat down at the crest of the golden steps beside it. The open doors allowed him to look down upon the lights of ten thousand homes below, down upon hundreds of millions of living souls. A thrill intrinsic to power gradually welled in his chest. Yet when Li Zhaoyuan withdrew his outward gaze and glanced across the Crown Prince's low desk before the golden steps, he suddenly froze. He remembered the good-for-nothings he had contemplated this evening while sitting behind that desk, and realized that he was seemingly cut from the very same cloth. His imperial father had been an emperor with a vision and ideals, dedicating his life to them in some measure. And though Li Zhaoyuan had inherited that ambition, at root, it was still all for the power in his hands and the supreme dragon throne beside him. At this thought, Li Zhaoyuan smiled faintly—a smile steeped in pathos. From the day his imperial father passed away, he had claimed he would find the future he truly sought, yet even today, he had ultimately found nothing... After all, his entire world had already passed away. All he possessed was the power in his grip; what future was there left to seek? All he could do, perhaps, was guard this power until he died of old age. Li Zhaoyuan rose indifferently, passed around the drapery behind the dragon throne, and strolled toward the corridor pavilion through which the emperor entered court. The Palace City was divided into inner and outer realms with Jinluan Hall as the boundary. According to ritual propriety, he was required to pass tomorrow's grand ceremony before setting foot in this sanctuary exclusive to the sovereign. Yet before real power, ritual propriety was of no consequence. Following the month-long mourning period, the late emperor's surviving concubines and noble consorts had essentially vacated their former quarters. The loves, grudges, and meticulous palace intrigues played out across these jade pavilions over decades had turned to dust with his imperial father's passing. Even Weiyang Palace atop the mountain peak had likely been wiped clean of any trace that his father had ever been there. Snowy nights always stirred troubled emotions, particularly on the eve of a coronation. Li Zhaoyuan visited the Cold Palace where he and his imperial mother had huddled for seven years, seeking to uncover some shadow of the past, but the interior had completely transformed. Every trace he and his mother had left within had long since been superseded by others. Naturally. With Empress Dowager Mu around, the Cold Palace was never short of occupants. Amidst the howling wind and swirling snow, Li Zhaoyuan turned and headed straight for Yongning Hall, the palace bestowed by his imperial father after his imperial mother had gained honor through him. The furnishings within this palace remained exactly as before; the imperial clan had preserved everything in accordance with his decrees, yet Li Zhaoyuan felt only an alien detachment. He had never been here while his imperial mother was alive. Nor could he have ever come here while she lived. Li Zhaoyuan could not picture how his imperial mother had lived within this palace. "In the end, can we not even remember the departed through their belongings?" As the wind and snow thickened with the deepening night, Li Zhaoyuan visited the side courtyard where he had lived as a child, visited the court academies where princes studied and cultivated, and visited Empress Dowager Mu's Kunning Palace. He tried to find the shadow of his past in these places, only to discover that all had changed beyond recognition; the people were gone and the world had moved on. Every anchor to his past had ceased to exist. After wandering back and forth, Li Zhaoyuan finally arrived at the summit of Nine Dragons Mountain, before that grand Weiyang Palace. His ultimate refuge now seemed to lie only here. Yet just as this thought crossed his mind, the sharp hearing granted by his cultivation allowed him to distinctly catch a footstep from within that towering hall. Someone was inside. Who? The coronation ceremony had not yet been held; who dared step foot into Weiyang Palace ahead of him?! "Step." "Step." "Step." The wind and snow grew fiercer, yet the footsteps grew only clearer, as if treading directly upon his heart. At last, a figure clad in blood-red robes stepped out from the darkness of Weiyang Palace, coming to a halt atop the imperial stairs. Unbound long hair drifted with the wind, and a pair of bewitching blood-red pupils gleamed brilliantly in the dark night. Xu Yuan stood high upon the mountain summit, looking down upon this prince who had crawled out of hell and was about to reach the pinnacle. Wild wind and chaotic snow whipped against the hems of their robes. At this moment, a torrent of revelations flashed through Li Zhaoyuan's mind. Endless emotions surged and roared against his chest. And then, everything and anything! All of it! shattered all his depth and composure, reducing them to a hysterical, guttural roar: "Xu Changtian!!!!!!!!!"