Is this going too far? Scholars from another world really have seen very little of the world.
Having achieved his purpose, Nan Rongchen released that section of his sleeve and added, “I believe Elder Brother King Su will certainly not let the new sovereign and the people down.”
The system’s punishment showed no mercy, to the extent that in a daze he felt as if the patch of sleeve on his palm still carried warmth and had even pulled at him slightly.
Amidst a chaos of cries for “Summon the imperial physician” and “Protect His Majesty,” two voices rang out: “Elder Brother, this younger brother will certainly thoroughly investigate this matter. Lin Yue can only ever have one king, and that is you.”
Without thinking, one knew that these pretty words were spoken by Nangong Chengyu, disciplined and measured, leaving not the slightest opening for criticism.
Yet it was merely lip service. Though Nangong Chengyu knelt on the ground, his hands did not forget to take advantage of his predicament to coerce him, gripping his wrist so hard it ached.
In his past life, he truly must have been blind to consider this younger brother of his mediocre and spineless.
The throne had been given to him. How the protagonist Nangong Chengyu chose to accept it was none of his business. Leaving aside such covert threats, even if he were killed, he couldn’t be bothered to invent a reason for abdicating.
Let this court full of loyal ministers and virtuous lords fight it out to their heart’s content.
“Prince Xiang, is this trick of a thief crying stop thief also learned among the common folk?”
“Ah-Chen, Elder Brother will take you back.”
These two sharp, cloying lines came from Nangong Xian.
These two—one hiding his true self deep away, the other acting with unhinged frenzy, both of them legitimate members of the royal family—were a perfect match to tear into each other.
Nan Rongchen made no further move, allowing Nangong Xian to brush aside Nangong Chengyu’s hand, and taking advantage of the gap while the two vied with each other, he shook out his sleeves and rose to his feet.
[Warning! Continuing to violate rules will force a system sleep mode.]
Hearing this, Nan Rongchen’s urge to sit back and watch the show subsided by more than half, and he said indifferently, “If you still want Gu to complete that task, then listen to Gu. In less than a quarter of an hour, the outcome will be clear.”
The system let out two crackling sounds, as if deep in thought, before replying: [Please Host complete the task as soon as possible.]
Nan Rongchen beckoned to the Grand Eunuch. “Since no definitive conclusion can be reached from this contention, let the King’s Sword decide. Gao Zhong, fetch the King’s Sword.”
Gao Zhong knelt on the ground, cold sweat nearly soaking his entire robe. This morning audience had already left his head dangling by a thread, and before he could catch his breath, his heart leaped right back into his throat.
Even though he had served by the late emperor’s side for decades, for a moment he could not fathom what the current king intended to judge with the King’s Sword, yet he could only steady his breathing to the utmost and comply, “Yes, Your Majesty.”
When His Majesty was Crown Prince, he already possessed formidable methods and carried the aura of battlefield slaughter. Fortunately, in the year since his ascension, there had been no sign of him becoming a tyrant.
Yet looking at the situation, blood was bound to be shed today.
After presenting the King’s Sword, he naturally retreated to one side to avoid getting blood on himself. What could an eunuch like him do now anyway? At most, he could hint to the court historian to record today’s events.
Nan Rongchen fondled the patterns on the sword hilt, drew the blade cleanly, and just as Gao Zhong was about to get up and retreat, he shifted his strength slightly, using the back of the sword to knock Gao Zhong’s hat off his head and shear away a lock of his graying hair.
Gao Zhong was a grand eunuch from the late emperor’s reign who had retired early in the second year of the new reign, until, at the time of Nan Rongchen’s subjugation, he had rushed in from parts unknown to testify that Nan Rongchen had patricided and regicided.
Seeing Gao Zhong trembling on the ground, Nan Rongchen spoke in a gentle voice, “Eunuch Gao need not be nervous. Gu is merely testing the sharpness of the blade.”
Hearing this, Gao Zhong looked terrified and begged forgiveness for displaying unseemly agitation before the throne. Nan Rongchen cooperatively continued to comfort him: “Eunuch Gao served the late emperor for many years and has done Gu a great service today. Now it is time to return home to enjoy your twilight years in peace. How could Gu possibly blame you? Someone, escort Eunuch Gao down to rest.”
Within those two sentences, cold sweat broke out across Gao Zhong’s forehead once more, and he had a persistent hunch that the king’s words about doing a great service carried a hidden meaning, but for now he could only muddledly accept it, “This slave thanks Your Majesty.”
Killing just anyone would only dirty the King’s Sword. Nan Rongchen gave a slight flick of his hand to signal his withdrawal. “The realm has been divided into three for long. For Lin Yue to contend for supremacy over the world is the general trend of the times.”
The ministers of the imperial court had yet to recover from the sovereign abdicating the throne right in the middle of court, only to hear this grand ambition from their king once more. Temporarily setting aside the ulterior motives in their hearts, they chanted in unison, “Your Majesty is benevolent and wise, and the great enterprise is within reach.”
Whether that great enterprise would actually succeed remained to be seen, but seeing that their king had contracted a capricious temper, their future prospects were likely perilous.
Nangong Chengyu stepped back from the imperial dais, resuming his usual poised and elegant demeanor. “The affair of the Yue tribe is bogged down by provisions. His Majesty has been consumed by anxiety over this matter, and this younger brother is willing to share Your Majesty’s worries, securing the provisions within seven days.”
Seeing Prince Xiang jump out to take the task of grain procurement upon himself, the old foxes in court likely reached a conclusion. This farce today was mostly a trap set by the king and Prince Xiang, aimed squarely at securing provisions.
On second thought, it made sense. Although His Majesty was young, his mind was unfathomable. To enact a pretend abdication right in court meant he certainly had his reasons.
The king had once taken a vow that until the great enterprise was achieved, he would not take a wife or have children, fulfilling that promise to this day with no offspring of his own. Seeing as unifying the realm would take who knows how many years, the factions of Prince Xiang and Prince Su in the court had begun dusting off old habits, endlessly fighting among themselves.
Regardless of the reason, the imperial decree of the king passing the throne to Prince Xiang was known to the whole court. Such an opportunity could not be openly used, nor could it be let go.
Xu Zetan, the Junior Vice Minister of Works, stepped forward and spoke, “Your ministers thank Your Majesty and Prince Xiang on behalf of all the generals and the people at the frontier…”
Before he could finish his pleasantries, and before he could hint at the king’s trust in Prince Xiang and his intention to pass the throne, he was interrupted by a cynical voice: “Minister Xu must be aging and muddle-headed. Where did you see that His Majesty was consumed by anxiety? Or is it that Minister Xu also knows his own son strong-armed virtuous women and beat commoners to death in the prefecture, and is therefore in such a rush to contend for power on behalf of Prince Xiang so as to cover for your son? As for a father’s love, this prince understands it too, but one should still distinguish clearly between public and private matters.”
Upon hearing these words, Xu Zetan turned pale, the court tablet in his hands nearly snapping in half. Aside from cursing his own unfilial wretch of a son, he truly could not understand how he had offended Prince Su to deserve this god of plague stooping to say so much just to refute him. After pondering for a long time, he could only squeeze out two sentences: “Your Highness has misunderstood. Your Highness, please mind your words.”
“Minister Xu should first advise Prince Xiang to mind his words. Failing to secure provisions is the crime of deceiving the sovereign, and forcibly requisitioning grain is an even greater crime of ruining the state.”
As for the grain, whether to go to war, or what the outcome would be, Nangong Xian cared not at all. Even whose hands the realm fell into made no difference to him. He purely enjoyed watching a good show.
Today’s drama was going along swimmingly when Prince Xiang just had to stick his smiling face out to be an eyesore. Since he had disturbed his mood, nobody should have an easy time of it.
Nangong Chengyu happened to lack all sense of reading the room and was exceptionally long-winded. “Thank you for your concern, Elder Brother Prince Su. This subject will certainly not fail His Majesty’s trust.”
Trust you? Do you deserve it? Nangong Xian let out a cold sneer. While still standing upon the imperial dais, he cast an unmasked sideways glance toward the person on the imperial throne. Under the beaded tassels, that pair of glazed eyes was stained with moisture, and even the eye rims looked a bit red. Was Nan Rongchen actually crying?
It wasn’t surprising. In his childhood, Nan Rongchen had once cried for half a day over a dead rabbit, and that beast’s grave was probably still in the corner of the study wall.
True or false, crying right at court was cowardly enough to cause the royal family to lose all face, yet it was ultimately much more pleasing to the eye than that hypocritical, dignified facade of his usual days.
Troublesome. He stepped half a step forward and spoke, “Your Majesty, state affairs can wait for another day. You should preserve your health first.”
Nan Rongchen’s chest pain grew even more intense, eight parts due to that half-witted system using this to intimidate him.
Moisture was also spreading in his eyes. Piercing pain was hard to endure, yet he wasn’t one to cry from pain, but he couldn’t help the connection of flesh and blood. He simply couldn’t control it.
This pair of eyes had been this useless in his past life, and starting over again, they truly hadn’t improved at all.
Previously, he hadn’t taken it to heart, so those who belittled him were simply beaten into submission. Only now did he belatedly understand: being cowardly and afraid of pain, clinging to life and fearing death, shedding easy tears at the slightest injury—only such a villain could set off the dashing heroic bearing of the protagonist.
Having figured out this crux, he chuckled softly, extending three fingers to trace the sword’s edge delicately. Ignoring the previous dispute, he picked up the second half of what he had been saying: “However, Gu believes that none of you are loyal ministers.”
Another dead silence fell upon the hall. Zhou Yanzhi, standing at the very front, wore a slightly stern expression as he leaned on his dragon-headed cane and stood up. “Your Majesty, is there some upheaval in the court?”
“Lord Zhou need not worry. The court is naturally at peace,” Nan Rongchen made a motion as if sheathing his sword. “It is simply that Gu has pondered it over and over, and no longer wishes to wade into this muddy water.”
He had practiced swordsmanship for many years. With a slight exertion of strength in his wrist, the cold, gleaming sword blade pierced cleanly into flesh and blood. The pain intensified, but no matter—a once-and-for-all matter was well worth it.
In his past life, he had been shot by Xiao Yuanqing’s arrow, lost the King’s Sword, survived half a month in wretchedness, only to bite his wrist and commit suicide in prison. He had died far too unglamorously.
Starting over, he could not possibly let himself be forced into sleep mode by the system again, reduced to someone else’s fish on the chopping board.
A sword straight through the heart, he pulled the King’s Sword out without a shred of mercy, thoroughly cutting off his own vitality, and leaned back against the imperial throne amidst the clattering sound of the King’s Sword dropping to the floor.
“Your Majesty!”
“Someone, fetch the imperial physician quickly!”
“Someone, protect His Majesty!”
The wailing cries of the full court of officials grew louder than the last, as if Nan Rongchen calling them not loyal ministers had deeply wronged them.
The system also kept on beeping incessantly. Nan Rongchen casually remarked, “What difference does it make whether a villain dies early or late?”
The system clearly was not comforted, reporting several more rule-breaking comments:
[Oh no, Wife, no! Why think of it like this? A fake death escape would have been fine too!]
[Damn group of old fogies, if you have the ability go suck up to the protagonist, what kind of skill is it to hound Nan Rongchen to death!]
[It’s fine, I’ll go read fanfiction myself.]
As a person is about to die, the words of some scholars in another world sounded quite agreeable. Viewed this way, this trip to this lifetime hadn’t been in vain. He had gained an extra portion of end-of-life care.
Crimson blood entered his vision. Nangong Xian dashed to Nan Rongchen’s side in two strides, kicked the sword away in a panic, and pulled the other into his arms. After softly calling out twice and receiving no response, he used a blood-stained hand to lightly pinch that snow-white, jade-like neck. “Nan Rongchen, what kind of trick are you playing again? This time I won’t let you off! I want to…”
Before he could finish what he wanted, he was grabbed by the robe and yanked aside by Nangong Chengyu. “If you don’t want His Majesty to die, stop acting like a madman here.”
“Lord Shiming, please treat His Majesty’s wounds.”
“Whether he lives or dies, what business is it of mine?” Nangong Xian shook off the sleeve, his gaze still glued to Nan Rongchen like a poisonous snake, though he unusually reined in his rebellious streak and did not step forward again.
Shiming inherited the oracle of the Wu god, and was naturally unmatched at divination and asking the deities, while also being well-versed in medical arts, having once saved the people of several cities afflicted by plague.
Rumors thus spread widely among the common folk that Shiming possessed divine medicine from the Wu god capable of bringing the dead back to life.
As a materialist who had transmigrated from the twenty-first century, Nangong Chengyu naturally did not believe these things, but he knew the subsequent plot. Whether he was a modern-day Hua Tuo or playing a god-fearing ghost, Shiming could indeed save someone on the verge of death.
Shiming knelt on one knee beside the imperial dais to take Nan Rongchen’s pulse. The sovereign above ten thousand people was currently as pale as a porcelain figurine. When his touch brushed against that cream-like wrist, he unconsciously lightened his pressure.
He had originally come to present a divination under the Empress Dowager’s secret decree, only to be a step late and accidentally embroiled in this kind of affair where one careless move meant losing one’s head.
At this moment, the pulse beneath his fingers was gradually fading, while the blood color at the sovereign’s lips and heart instead grew increasingly intense and vivid, as if capable of bewitching people’s minds. To be buried alongside His Majesty would also be a stroke of fortune in life.
A secular monarch was hardly worthy of him dying for his sake. Once the pulse beneath his fingers vanished entirely, he stood up and spoke in a calm tone, “Your Highness, this sword severely damaged the heart meridian. This subject is powerless to save him.”
Nangong Chengyu’s eyes grew dark and unfathomable. “Shiming, think carefully before you answer.”
“This subject carries the mandate of the Wu god and has come to present a new divination.” Shiming looked straight at Nangong Chengyu, speaking with unshakeable confidence. “Who could have expected His Majesty to unfortunately perish? This subject hopes Prince Xiang will not lose his composure.”
Nangong Chengyu’s gaze gradually turned gloomy. Cannon fodder—he hadn’t seen few of them before. At first they were all this confident, until they were blinded by the glare of his protagonist halo that they finally turned honest. “Come to think of it, this prince doesn’t even know Shiming’s given name or surname, and presumably neither do the people of the world. Seen that way, this job of yours could be done by anyone. It’s about time to change to someone obedient.”
Everyone said Prince Xiang was overly lenient, devoid of ambition for power, and merely a puppet propped up forcibly by the Liang family.
So it turned out to be a scam. Prince Xiang was planning to use his death to stage a melodrama of deep fraternal love.
Shiming’s expression remained unchanged. “An obedient one may not necessarily be loyal. This subject has strengths that the Empress Dowager and His Majesty value.”
Even if the king were to pass away, anyone with discerning eyes could see that the Liang family behind Prince Xiang fell far short of the Empress Dowager’s influence.
“Useless trash.” Nangong Xian didn’t bother listening to the two of them bicker and speak in riddles any longer. With a cold sneer, he turned to look at the imperial physicians who had just rushed over, a couple of smiles suddenly touching the corners of his lips as if he had already calmed down. “If you can cure His Majesty, glory shall be granted to your entire clan. If you cannot cure him, your whole household shall be buried with His Majesty.”
The full court of ministers along with a row of imperial physicians knelt on the hall trembling, though anyone with clear eyes and ears could see that the two princes were merely putting on an act at this moment. There was no such thing as deep fraternal affection in the imperial family. Once the show ended, the chaos would only begin.
The factions of Prince Su and Prince Xiang exchanged glances, tacitly pulling apart a distance while simultaneously looking toward Zhou Yanzhi.
The whole court knew that Grand Tutor Zhou had been entrusted by the late emperor. Though occupying a high position, he never formed cliques, remained loyal to the sovereign and patriotic, and stood as the foremost among the clear stream of the court.
Only with Grand Tutor Zhou’s support could the throne be occupied with proper justification and authority.
Concerned with their own skin and lives, they were deep in thought and failed to notice a white robe slipping evenly across the tops of their heads, stepping lightly and quite ostentatiously onto the imperial dais.
“Rest assured, he won’t die.”