An ordinary carriage passed through the city gates, sped toward the Inner City, and gradually approached the Meridian Gate.
Inside the carriage, Ning Zhiwei was dressed in snow-white mourning attire, her hair bound by a white jade crown. Her expression was ice-cold as her slender hand took a pill to sustain her vital energy.
Shaoyao said with tears in her eyes, "Miss, why don't you let me go? How can you endure such suffering?"
Frost covered Ning Zhiwei's beautiful face. "You aren't qualified."
Only a member of the Ning family stepping forward could achieve the maximum effect; she was duty-bound.
For the Ning family, to save those innocent female relatives, she would have no regrets even if there was only a slim chance of survival.
"Don't worry, I've made full preparations."
She looked indifferently at Ning Xiaolong across from her. Her phoenix eyes carried a natural majesty without anger. "Act exactly according to my arrangements. You must not disobey orders."
"Yes." This time, Ning Xiaolong was truly submissive. This master was decisive and exceptionally intelligent.
He stepped off the carriage first, turning and blending into the crowd.
His task was to hide among the commoners with his brothers, guiding public opinion at the critical moment to seize the moral high ground.
The carriage traveled for a while. Suddenly, Shaoyao looked back repeatedly. "Miss, the carriage behind has been following us. It's a bit strange."
Ning Zhiwei leaned out to look. The carriage had a mark—the character "Rong"? Which family in the capital was named Rong?
Suddenly, a person came to mind: Rong Jing, the Minister of the Dali Temple. He was a legendary figure, the only Six-Term Top Scholar in the history of the Great Qi Dynasty, a glory with no predecessors and no successors.
He entered the court and the Dali Temple at sixteen, solving numerous mysterious cases. At a young age, he became the Minister of the Dali Temple, ranking among the Nine Ministers, deeply trusted by the Emperor.
This man had experienced great ups and downs. How brilliant his first half of life was, was how… his second half was.
The palace gates were towering, the courtyards deep. Seeing an unmarked carriage approach, the guards before the Meridian Gate pointed their spears at it and shouted, "Stop! Stop immediately!"
The carriage slowly came to a halt. The curtain was lifted, and a slender, pale arm reached out.
A young girl in mourning clothes stepped down. Her face was pale and sickly, her slender figure looking as if it would collapse in a gust of wind.
The guards froze for a moment. She seemed to be in ordinary plain clothes, but the white jade crown binding her hair was of pure and delicate quality, clearly no common item. The girl’s face was beautiful and ethereal, her aura extraordinary. "Who are you?"
Ning Zhiwei was oblivious to them. She walked step by step toward the Dengwen Drum and picked up the drumstick hanging to the side. Seeing this, the guards broke into a cold sweat. It was over; something big was about to happen.
What should they do?
A man jumped down from the carriage behind. The tall, slender young man quickly intercepted Ning Zhiwei. "Wait. Do you know the consequences of sounding the Dengwen Drum?"
The man's face was as handsome as polished jade. His peach blossom eyes were slightly upturned, giving him a natural air of elegance even without a smile. His nose was straight, his thin lips slightly pursed, and his sword-like eyebrows were heroic, carrying a natural sense of detachment.
If one thought he was easy to get along with, they would be gravely mistaken. He was notoriously difficult to deal with; when it came to cases, he showed no mercy. From imperial relatives down to the common rabble, everyone avoided him by three feet.
Ning Zhiwei was startled. It really was Rong Jing! Why was he here during court hours? Was he out on a case?
"I know. I must first endure thirty strokes of the rod. As a weak woman, I surely won't survive. But since ancient times, who can escape death? To die for loyalty, for the state, and for the monarch—that is a worthy death."
She spoke with righteous indignation. Rong Jing was deeply shaken. "Miss, do not be in a hurry. Listen to me."
"I am Rong Jing, the Minister of the Dali Temple. If you have any grievances, tell them to me. I will surely do my utmost to help you." The man's tone was gentle, and a trace of a smile appeared on his usually indifferent face, trying his best to soothe the young girl before him.
He was trying to stop her from taking a path to certain death.
Yes, a path to death. Under the Dengwen Drum, no one could escape punishment.
Ning Zhiwei pursed her lips slightly. This man… was truly a contradiction.
She never knew Rong Jing had such a bright and upright side. In her past life, the Rong Jing she knew had already blackened and fallen into darkness, becoming a monster everyone feared, pointed at by thousands, leaving behind a reputation of infamy.
Rong Jing only thought she didn't believe him. He took out an official seal from his robes and said softly:
"This is my official seal. You need not worry. Investigating and handling cases is my duty. I once made a grand vow that I would use my own strength to wipe out all injustices in the world."
What a great vow. Unfortunately, what exactly did he go through back then?
Then again, with an incompetent and muddle-headed monarch, a decadent imperial family, and power struggles turning the court into a foul mess of chaos, who could remain untainted? Who could withdraw unscathed?
Ning Zhiwei cupped her hands, her expression complex.
"I thank Lord Rong for his kind intentions, but this matter is too great. It involves thousands upon thousands of commoners. You cannot carry it alone."
She appreciated his kindness, but only by making the matter huge, sensational, and known to the whole world would the Ning family have a glimmer of hope.
She raised the drumstick, and her slender hands swung down heavily.
Where the Path lies, though thousands oppose me, I shall go. [Note 1]
Rong Jing's expression changed drastically at the sound. He instinctively reached out to stop her but paused in mid-air, letting out a silent sigh.
Dong, dong, dong. Strike after strike, the sound traveled ten miles, echoing throughout the entire capital.
All the citizens of the capital stopped what they were doing, listening to the drumbeat in shock and uncertainty.
Ah, this was not the funeral toll for the death of an emperor or empress, but the legendary Dengwen Drum.
The Dengwen Drum had sounded again after thirty years!
The sky over the capital was about to change!
A catastrophe of blood was approaching. They just didn't know whose head it would fall on this time.
Soon, the citizens of the capital flooded in from all directions like a tide.
Just to witness this moment.
Rong Jing stared fixedly at that slender figure, a flash of confusion in his peach blossom eyes.
Clearly weak and sickly, yet possessing extraordinary courage and an unyielding soul.
Who was she? What did she truly want?
By the time the thirtieth strike landed, the Emperor arrived in grand fashion with the Jinyiwei. As soon as the Jinyiwei appeared—wearing uniform Flying Fish Robes and carrying Xiuchun Blades—the scene instantly became solemn and grim.
The princes came, the civil and military officials came, and the citizens of the capital came too. It was a sea of people. The sound of discussion buzzed—excitement, tension, unease, and even a faint hint of thrill and anticipation.
The monarch's face was indifferent, showing no emotion, as he quietly looked at the girl in plain clothes.
However, the faces of the civil and military officials were not so pleasant. The Minister of Rites shouted loudly, "Who are you? How dare you strike the Dengwen Drum?"
The one stirring up the winds and clouds of the capital was actually a delicate, weak young girl?! Was this a mistake?!
"I, Ning Zhiwei of the Great General's Manor, plead for justice for the Ning clan…" The girl's clear voice rang through the field.
Ning Zhiwei? She was Ning Zhiwei? Xiao Linfeng, the Commander of the Jinyiwei, snapped his head up, a flicker of confusion crossing his icy eyes.
They were total strangers. How could she know his greatest secret?
No, she couldn't die!
This event was later known by future generations as the "First Dance of the Empress." She gained the hearts of the people and great prestige, stepping onto the stage of history from then on. The magnificent legend of the iron-blooded Empress thus began…