Zhang Yuanqing gazed into the Imperial Preceptor's gleaming golden eyes and called out loudly, "In this hour of peril, We pray for the Imperial Preceptor's protection—for the sake of the Southern Dynasty, and for the common people!"
His voice was resonant, cutting through the din and clearly reaching the ears of every official and commoner present.
Pair after pair of eyes turned toward the Imperial Preceptor.
Mingling in the crowd, Xie Lingxi called out in a crisp, clear voice, "We implore the Imperial Preceptor, for the people and for the court, to protect His Majesty!"
She did not know why Brother Yuanshi was entering the dragon's den alone, but she knew she only needed to cooperate with him unconditionally.
Equally unconditional in their cooperation were Wang Beiwang, Brother Red Chicken, Xiao Yuan, and the Palace Master of Halting Slaughter.
Led by the teammates actively setting the tempo, the commoners began chiming in, begging the Imperial Preceptor to protect the fatuous ruler they normally ground their teeth in hatred over whenever his name was mentioned.
The Imperial Preceptor remained silent for a long time before slowly uttering, "Very well!"
Transforming into a streak of golden light, he vanished into the tower.
The corners of Zhang Yuanqing's lips curled up. Looking toward Zheng Wenhan, he smiled and said, "Chancellor Zheng, We shall handle government affairs in Tianji Tower. As for screening the Imperial City Division for spies, We leave that to you. If you fail to root out the spies colluding with the Northern Dynasty within three days, bring your head to answer for it!"
He was signaling to Zheng Wenhan that this was a stalling tactic.
The conflict between both sides was irreconcilable, a fight to the death. However, rebellion was still an ultimate taboo. With the sacrificial ceremony having failed, Zheng Wenhan would surely choose to play the long game and strike again only after thorough preparations, unless forced into a corner.
Zhang Yuanqing's choice not to purge the Imperial City Division and not to expose his treason was giving Zheng Wenhan a graceful way out, preventing him from resorting to immediate rebellion.
Zheng Wenhan understood this clearly, but he had no choice but to take the way out.
Before the eyes of the public, he suppressed his emotions, cupped his hands, and said, "This minister understands."
***
Tianji Tower, eighth-floor apex.
Inside the alchemy chamber, Zhang Yuanqing leaned against the railing and looked out. The commoners were like ants, like trickling streams, flowing along the various streets as they dispersed in different directions.
On the square outside Tianji Tower, two hundred city defense soldiers and two hundred Imperial City Division guards stood in formation.
The former was under the Yang family's control, while the latter belonged to the Zheng family.
Farther away, on the main thoroughfare leading to the imperial palace, lavish carriages were rolling toward Tianji Tower. Some carried officials from the Grand Secretariat, while others transported palace eunuchs.
The former were summoned because the Emperor had decreed that he would handle state affairs in Tianji Tower, requiring the Grand Secretariat officials to assist him here.
The latter were there to attend upon His Majesty.
Zhang Yuanqing withdrew his gaze and walked toward the exit of the alchemy chamber.
"Your Majesty, please stay your steps." The middle-aged Daoist guarding the door stopped him, speaking expressionlessly. "The Imperial Preceptor has ordered that you may only rest in this room. You may not step outside or wander through Tianji Tower."
Zhang Yuanqing appraised the middle-aged Daoist. His face was fair and clean-shaven, his eyes bright and deep, his spirit full and vigor abundant—his cultivation was clearly substantial.
"I wish to see the Imperial Preceptor," he said.
"The Imperial Preceptor is contemplating the heavenly art and will see no one." The middle-aged Daoist stared straight ahead, his attitude completely unaffected by Zhang's imperial identity.
*Arrogant! Every single Daoist in Tianji Tower looks down on the Emperor and scoffs at imperial authority!* Zhang Yuanqing curled his lip inward, smiling faintly as he said, "If I strike and kill you right now, do you think the Imperial Preceptor will stop me? Will he avenge you? Or do you think I can't kill you?"
As the final word left his mouth, he unleashed a Mental Strike. His voice turned into a piercing screech, driving into the mind like needle-sharp steel spikes.
The middle-aged Daoist's vision went dark. Veins bulged across his forehead and his face twitched violently, but no blood leaked from his nostrils.
*Level 6? Holy crap, if we really fought, it's not even certain who would win!* Zhang Yuanqing was inwardly startled, though on the surface he remained calm, maintaining a relaxed, smiling posture.
After a dozen seconds, the middle-aged Daoist recovered from the psychic damage. A glint of wariness and surprise surfaced in his gaze toward the fatuous ruler. He said flatly, "Since Your Majesty wishes to see the Imperial Preceptor, I shall announce your request."
Opening his mouth, he exhaled a wisp of Yin Qi. A spirit servant clad in white drifted away into the air.
Zhang Yuanqing turned back into the alchemy chamber, sat cross-legged on a prayer mat, and directed a spirit servant to bring over a low table, a bucket of water, and charcoal from the corner. He began heating water to brew tea.
Just as bubbles began forming at the bottom of the kettle, a streak of golden light passed through the wall and entered the chamber, condensing into an old Daoist with an ethereal, transcendent bearing.
"You came quickly. The water hasn't even boiled yet." Zhang Yuanqing scooped a ladle of water from the bucket and rinsed the tea utensils.
His gaze remained fixed on his task, not glancing at his guest once, even though seated across the low table was a Dominator.
"Is Your Majesty not afraid that this humble Daoist might kill you?" The Imperial Preceptor's expression was indifferent, his tone distant and detached, like an enlightened immortal who had attained the realm of absolute emotional detachment.
Zhang Yuanqing used bamboo tongs to lift a teacup, shaking off the excess water. "If you could kill me, you would have done so years ago. Why bother expending so much effort? In the past, I only knew you had reservations and couldn't personally take my life. Today, I understand why."
"Understand what?" the Imperial Preceptor asked blandly.
"We are the sovereign of a nation, protected by Dragon Qi. Slaying Us would trigger your Five Decays of Heaven and Man," Zhang Yuanqing said calmly, sounding as if he were casually chatting with an elder. "That is why you had to rely on the Zheng family and Lady Ya to kill Me."
The Imperial Preceptor's expression remained cold. "I can still have the Zheng family kill you. There are countless ways to end your life without raising my own hand. Entering Tianji Tower does not mean you are safe."
Unfazed, Zhang Yuanqing stared into the Imperial Preceptor's eyes and smiled.
"You've already missed your best chance to kill me. As I am now, two or three ordinary Level 6s are nothing to me. Downstairs, there are also the soldiers of the city defense army and the Imperial City Division.
"Furthermore, you dare not let me die in Tianji Tower. Doing so would make the people question, blame, and lose faith in you, thereby causing the Dragon Qi upon you to weaken or even dissipate."
Hearing this, the Imperial Preceptor's eyes flashed with sharp brilliance. His long hair and wide sleeves billowed without wind, and his aura turned intensely domineering.
"How do you know this?" His voice became grand and deep, no longer distant and airy.
Zhang Yuanqing smiled. "The Imperial Preceptor calculates every secret of heaven. Why ask me?"
Moving into Tianji Tower was a brilliant move to turn the tables. Everyone knew the Imperial Preceptor's power bordered on divine creation; if the Emperor died inside Tianji Tower, the blame would fall squarely on the Imperial Preceptor.
The most dangerous place was the safest place. This was the breakthrough Zhang Yuanqing had spent all night pondering before figuring it out.
Entering Tianji Tower ensured his own safety, allowing him to find ways to weaken Zheng Wenhan's power, build up his own strength, and prepare for the final showdown.
The transcendent Imperial Preceptor remained impassive, his emotions impossible to read.
At that moment, the water in the kettle reached a boil.
As if oblivious to the Imperial Preceptor's shift in demeanor, Zhang Yuanqing lifted the kettle and unhurriedly brewed the tea. Though he was no tea connoisseur, having spent plenty of time dealing with the rich and powerful, he had seen it done enough to pick up the art of brewing tea with grace.
He took a sip of the scalding tea.
"Good tea. It seems austere here, yet the tea leaves found in any random alchemy chamber surpass what We have in Our palace. One after another, aside from having fewer women than Us, you all enjoy far finer things than Us, yet each of you schemes to overthrow the Southern Dynasty."
"The Southern Dynasty's fortunes are spent," the Imperial Preceptor said.
Zhang Yuanqing sneered.
"So you truly do wish to destroy the Southern Dynasty. That so-called support for the Zheng family was merely sweet talk to dupe people, yet Zheng Wenhan believed it blindly. To think he was a Grand Secretary who weathered decades of political storms, only to be blinded by lust for power and lose his wits.
"The world claims the Imperial Preceptor loves the people like his own children, yet they do not know it was he who bewitched the monarch into sensual indulgence and dual cultivation arts. The world claims the Imperial Preceptor possesses a bodhisattva's heart, healing the sick and saving the world, yet they do not know he has been gnawing away at the Southern Dynasty's national destiny bit by bit, plotting to cast tens of millions of people into warfare and purgatory.
"Imperial Preceptor, why on earth are you doing this?"
"It is the will of Heaven!" The Imperial Preceptor's tone returned to detached serenity.
Zhang Yuanqing scoffed, "Actually, it's not hard to guess. At your realm, wealth, beauty, and worldly desires can no longer sway your eyes. The only thing you could possibly desire is world-shaking cultivation and the supreme realm.
"The Daoists in Tianji Tower say you are in seclusion, having reached a critical juncture. Let me guess: you intend to use the Northern Dynasty's southern invasion as an opportunity to destroy the Southern Dynasty. That way, you can strip the last remnants of the national destiny from the Zhao clan and use it as a stepping stone to reach a higher realm. Am I right?"
"Indeed!" The Imperial Preceptor nodded.
Zhang Yuanqing bowed his head on the spot. "Could the Imperial Preceptor impart this secret technique to Us?"
"I cannot!" the Imperial Preceptor refused.
"Old bastard, you don't know what's good for you." Zhang Yuanqing's expression turned hostile on the spot as he snorted coldly, "I have long heard that the Imperial Preceptor calculates every secret of heaven, knowing astronomy above and geography below. Then We shall take the realm as the board and all living beings as the pieces to play a match of chess with you."
The Imperial Preceptor chuckled. "Intriguing."
He made an inviting gesture. "Pray make your move, Your Majesty."
Zhang Yuanqing smiled. "Our first move is called 'Killing Heshen'!"
***
The Grand Secretariat, Hongtu Hall.
Incense smoke curled lazily into the air. Six Grand Secretaries sat before their desks.
Zheng Wenhan picked up his teacup, gently scraping the rim with the lid before sipping unhurriedly.
The five Grand Secretaries, including Yang Zheng, waited in silence.
Setting down his teacup, Zheng Wenhan said, "I disagree."
The memorial before him listed sixteen corrupt officials. The person impeaching them was the Censor-in-Chief of the Censorate, one of Yang Zheng's trusted confidants.
Before the other five Grand Secretaries could speak, Zheng Wenhan continued measuredly, "The defenders at the front lines are fighting with all their might and require a stable rear. Most of the officials on this list occupy vital positions; now is not the time to touch them. Besides, whether they truly engaged in corruption still requires verification.
"This Chancellor suggests settling scores after the crisis has passed."
More than half of those impeached were Zheng Wenhan's men.
Yang Zheng argued vigorously: "It is precisely because these are extraordinary times that we must purge these parasites and vermin! How can heavy power be entrusted to such festering tumors?"
Zheng Wenhan said flatly, "There is no need to discuss this further."
"They can be suspended pending investigation."
"Out of the question!"
Yang Zheng and Zheng Wenhan engaged in a fierce debate, while the other four Grand Secretaries mediated and bickered—one remained neutral, two favored Zheng Wenhan, and one stood firmly with the Yang faction.
In the Southern Dynasty, political power flowed downward from the Emperor to the Grand Secretariat, and then to the Six Ministries.
Among them, the Grand Secretariat was composed of six Grand Secretaries. Zheng Wenhan and Yang Zheng simultaneously held the positions of Right Chancellor and Left Chancellor.
Indeed, in the Southern Dynasty's political system, both the Grand Secretariat and the Chancellor positions coexisted.
Although the Grand Secretariat held great authority, it was suppressed by imperial power. The Chancellors, however, were different; prime ministerial authority could directly threaten imperial rule.
Consequently, conflicts between the Emperor and the Grand Secretariat were rampant. In the Southern Dynasty's more than five-hundred-year history, instances of chancellor authority hollowing out imperial power were far from rare.
Zhao Shun's power had long been usurped by the Grand Secretariat; he functioned more as a mascot presiding over the imperial palace.
At this moment, the one contending with Zheng Wenhan was Left Chancellor Yang Zheng, not imperial authority.
From noon until dusk, both sides contended without resolution, exhausted in mind and spirit, and parted on bad terms.
***
Tianji Tower.
A ray of blood-red evening sun cut across the observation terrace, shining into the alchemy chamber.
The Imperial Preceptor, condensed from a wisp of divine sense, sat cross-legged before the table and said indifferently, "Your Majesty has neglected state affairs for years. What makes you think a single imperial decree could bring the Grand Secretariat to heel? Seeking to punish corrupt officials to win over the people's hearts is a foolish move."
Zhang Yuanqing remained silent for a few seconds. After thinking it over, he said, "We have another move. We will tell you tomorrow."
***
Late at night.
Sun Miaomiao accessed the guild storage, pulled out Little Red Riding Hood, and placed it onto her head. Dissolving into starlight, she departed the Yang manor.
With a clear destination in mind, she arrived at a rice shop and slipped into the granary, where the bins were brimming with grains of rice.
"Tsk, tsk. The refugees outside the city are gnawing on tree bark, yet the grain merchants have mounds of rice piled high." She opened Little Red Riding Hood's internal storage space and vacuumed up an entire warehouse's worth of grain.
Then, turning into starlight, she departed.
Throughout the night, she moved in and out of the major rice shops, merchants' storehouses, and the homes of court officials, sweeping away their grain.
Chapter 871