Chapter Sixty-Three: Upheavals in the Imperial Court

Several more days passed. In the resplendent golden hall, the ministers exchanged uneasy glances, not daring to breathe too loudly. None could fathom why the emperor had suddenly moved the morning court session forward, yet he himself had not appeared even as the sun climbed high in the sky! At the side of the dragon throne, however, stood a man in black, his face expressionless, his gaze drifting coolly over the assembled officials—less the look of a watchman than that of a spectator at a play.

“What’s going on with His Majesty? He brought court forward, yet it’s already well into the morning and still he hasn’t arrived!” one minister whispered to the companion beside him, his tone full of complaint.

“I wish I knew! Who can guess what the emperor is thinking these days?” his neighbor replied, equally impatient.

“At the very least, the chief steward should come out and announce something, tell us what’s happening! Just how much longer must we wait?”

Grumbling broke out in waves, and the hall that had moments before been silent as a tomb now seethed with the clamor of a marketplace. The man by the dragon throne watched their unsteady composure with cold amusement, a sneer barely concealed on his lips.

“The emperor arrives!” The eunuch’s shrill announcement pierced the air, silencing the hall in an instant. The ministers hurried to their positions, looking up as a figure bathed in radiant light descended upon the dragon throne.

Ji Muyu seated himself unhurriedly, casting a raised brow at his “loyal subjects,” a silent, mocking laugh in his heart.

Seeing this, the prime minister exchanged glances with several others, then together they called out, “Long live the Emperor! Long live, long live!” The ministers knelt in proper form, offering their formal greetings—no matter the discontent or frustration boiling within, outwardly all was as it should be.

Yet Ji Muyu let the silence stretch. The prime minister, growing anxious, looked up at the emperor, only to find him seated as if nothing were amiss, his languid gaze now strangely unsettling.

Suddenly, the man in black vanished from the side of the throne. After a moment, he reappeared, bending close to whisper something in Ji Muyu’s ear. As he listened, the emperor’s lips curved into a captivating smile that, to the ministers, seemed especially sinister—more chilling than any frown.

“Ha! Excellent!” Ji Muyu’s laughter rang out, abrupt and jarring in the silent hall, making the ministers bristle as if a cold wind had blown across their backs. Some stole uneasy glances at the emperor.

“Lin!” Ji Muyu’s face darkened suddenly, his voice sharp as a blade.

The man in black—Lin—bowed to the emperor. “Yes, Your Majesty.” Turning to the doors, he called, “Enter!”

Anxious, the ministers watched as the great doors swung open and a troop of imperial guards flooded in, swords at their sides, faces cold as ice. In a moment, the ministers were surrounded.

The prime minister glanced around, suppressing his panic, and turned to the emperor. “Your servant begs to know the reason for this, Your Majesty?”

“Oh? Is the prime minister questioning me?” Ji Muyu replied, answering the question with another.

“I would not dare!” The prime minister’s tone was full of unwillingness, yet in the imperial presence, he could only submit. “But I cannot help but be puzzled, Your Majesty!”

Ji Muyu laughed at his words. “Puzzled? Are you sure it’s not dissatisfaction? Defiance?”

At this, the prime minister broke out in a cold sweat. The ministers who had looked to him for leadership drew sharp breaths, their courage instantly evaporating—they dared not move.

Ji Muyu regarded their fear without the slightest ripple, as though all unfolded just as he intended. The ministers were as pieces on his chessboard, moving as he willed.

“I do not know why Your Majesty says this of me,” the prime minister replied, regaining his composure. Nearly half the court fixed their gaze on him, while the rest maintained their calm, betraying no fear.

“Don’t know? Lin, why don’t you tell our esteemed prime minister what he has done?” Ji Muyu gestured, and Lin stepped forward.

“The prime minister has colluded with other officials and raised troops outside the capital. His intentions are clear—treason.”

“I have not!” The prime minister recoiled in shock—what else could he say? The ministers who had pinned their hopes on him now collapsed to the floor in terror, none daring to help them up.

Ji Muyu did not spare a glance for the fallen man. The prime minister looked in disdain at his trembling allies—such weaklings, he thought, were hardly fit to share great ambitions.

“So, our prime minister won’t shed tears until he sees the coffin, is that it, Lin?” Ji Muyu’s voice was soft and chilling.

“It is so,” Lin replied without emotion.

While the emperor and his confidant exchanged words as if there were no one else present, the prime minister’s heart raced—if he was not mistaken, the emperor must already have the evidence and meant to destroy him utterly. There would be no escape this time…

“Lin, it seems the prime minister wishes to see the proof. Be sure he and the rest get a good look,” Ji Muyu said sweetly, his smile unreadable.

“Yes.” With consummate agility, Lin dropped to the floor. In a moment, each minister held a document in their hands.

The prime minister scanned it quickly. When he finished, his legs shook uncontrollably, and his co-conspirators were already kneeling, crying out, “Your Majesty, have mercy!”

The prime minister too fell to his knees, bowing his head in supplication, hiding the flicker of calculation in his eyes.

“Lin, strip the prime minister of his martial skills at once,” Ji Muyu ordered, unmoved by the man's tears.

As the emperor finished speaking, the kneeling prime minister sprang up, launching a desperate attack. Lin met him, and the two began to fight. The ministers watched in astonishment—none had known the prime minister was a master of martial arts.

On the court floor, the prime minister and Lin clashed fiercely. Yet Lin remained unscathed, his movements effortless, while the prime minister’s urgency grew ever more obvious.

“Lin, you needn’t indulge the prime minister any longer,” Ji Muyu said casually.

Lin’s right hand formed a claw, seizing the prime minister by the head. In a moment, the prime minister was thrown to the ground. Silence reigned; all were deeply shaken.

“Lin, handle the rest. I’ll return to the Pavilion of Drifting Rain,” Ji Muyu said, departing at once and leaving all matters in Lin’s hands.