Chapter 306: Seeking Guidance from the Grand Tutor

This matter made the Holy Emperor ponder repeatedly in her heart.

Perhaps Ah Shang was still the same Ah Shang as before. Perhaps three years among the Northern Di had not changed her—was that so?

If that were indeed the case, then it only proved how firm and steadfast Ah Shang’s nature was, beyond comparison to ordinary people.

Thus, if Ah Shang had not changed, and now refused to acknowledge her, could it merely be the petulance of a child in anger?

From childhood to adulthood, Ah Shang had seldom had the chance to truly be a child. If she was merely sulking with her, then the Holy Emperor was willing to give all her patience—to wait until her child’s anger faded, and she returned to her side.

They were mother and daughter—each the other’s only blood kin in this world. They were never meant to be opposed, but to stand united against the world.

In Ganlu Hall, a soft voice of announcement drew the Holy Emperor back from her thoughts as she held her vermilion brush within the imperial study.

Yu Zeng entered with two palace attendants and bowed before her.

The Holy Emperor gently set her brush down. The irrelevant attendants on both sides bowed silently and withdrew.

The Directorate of the Inner Palace always served only the Emperor. Matters great and small—from the inner courtyards of officials’ mansions to the rumors among the common folk—all passed through its network of eyes and ears, layer by layer, until they reached the throne.

One of the attendants accompanying Yu Zeng presented a report on recent news circulating among the officials and nobility of the capital, focusing on the unrest and shifting sentiment caused by the turmoil among the aristocratic clans of the Central Plains.

The Holy Emperor lowered her gaze as she read. Her expression remained calm and unmoved.

The upheaval was inevitable—this was a battle that wounded a thousand enemies but harmed herself by eight hundred.

Even so, she was still the one who had won.

What mattered now was to suppress the range of this turbulence as much as possible.

The attendant continued, “...and there is one more matter of note. Now that all the aristocratic clans are restless, many have joined hands with the Wang and Lu families to condemn the Cui clan for failing to properly discipline their younger generation. They are pressing the Cui clan for an explanation.”

The “son” in question, of course, referred to Cui Jing.

News of Cui Jing personally leading troops to breach the gates of the Zheng clan’s mansion in Xingyang had long spread far and wide, drawing furious denunciation from countless clans.

Previously, though the aristocratic clans had harbored discontent toward this scion of the Cui family who commanded the Xuanzhe Army, that discontent was half feigned and half genuine.

Outwardly, they scorned him as a claw of the female sovereign—but privately, they never ceased their efforts to win him over.

They all understood that Cui Jing was a sharp blade. If that blade could serve them, though it might not sound honorable, it would at least be a good blade to wield.

But the affair of the Zheng clan made them see clearly that this blade not only refused to fight for them—it had turned against them!

The Zheng family was his maternal kin, and even against them he could raise his hand. Such a person truly cast away both conscience and honor!

In other words, if he could be ruthless even toward his own blood, how could he possibly show mercy to them in the future?

“What of the law of the state?” they cried. “Family ethics come first! Such a man’s actions are a disgrace to the world!”

Their fury turned toward the Cui clan, demanding that the family give an accounting.

“In their eyes,” said the Holy Emperor with a faint smile, “Cui Jing should have led the Xuanzhe Army in rebellion at Xingyang and slain Li Xian. Only then would he not have shamed the aristocratic clans. Alas, Cui Jing is not as foolish as they.”

No—perhaps not foolish, merely differently placed.

Each man cared only for his own survival and interest. Faced with life and death, they had no choice. But Cui Jing did have a choice.

Regrettably, he did not choose to stand with them—at least, not on the surface. And the world, by and large, judges only what it can see.

“This is the private affair of the aristocratic clans, and also the domestic matter of the Cui family,” said the Holy Emperor. “I shall not intervene for now.”

How it would unfold later, she would watch and decide based on the Cui clan’s response.

The second attendant then reported on the current sentiments among the people.

Among all the talk, the most popular tale was that of Chang Suining and Zheng Chao praying for blessings that miraculously came true.

Yu Zeng stood silently to the side, listening to the many embellished versions of the story without showing expression.

He dared not look directly at the Holy Emperor’s face, but inwardly pondered her reaction.

At last, the attendant concluded, “Many say that General Ningyuan is the reincarnation of a heavenly war star—an auspicious omen for the Da Sheng Dynasty.”

Yu Zeng waited quietly for her response.

The Holy Emperor smiled faintly. “An auspicious sign,” she said. “Indeed, I think so as well.”

If others were called “the reincarnation of a war star,” it might merely be hollow praise.

But for Ah Shang—it was truth.

Her child was born under a martial star, destined to aid her in securing and stabilizing the empire.

The Holy Emperor raised a hand, signaling the attendants to withdraw.

Yu Zeng then reported on the movements of certain court officials the Emperor had previously instructed him to watch.

“Continue to observe,” she ordered. “If there is any unusual behavior or secret dealings, report to me at once.”

He obeyed.

As the turmoil grew, suspicion had spread everywhere in the Emperor’s heart.

After reading a secret memorial, her weary voice softened slightly. “I recall, Ah Shang was fond of wine, was she not?”

The question came suddenly. Yu Zeng hesitated briefly before answering respectfully, “Yes, Your Majesty. Her Highness most loved the ‘Wind’s Delight Brew.’”

The Holy Emperor smiled. “You remember her preferences well.”

That was proof he had kept his former master in mind for all these years.

Yu Zeng lowered his gaze. “This slave once received Her Highness’s praise for brewing that wine, so the memory stayed clear.”

“So it was your own brew,” she said thoughtfully. “Do you still make it?”

“Your Majesty, it has been many years since I last brewed it.”

“When you have leisure, make a few jars for me,” said the Holy Emperor softly, her gaze drifting toward the glass Boshan incense burner. “A hundred days to ferment new wine—by summer, it should be ready to taste.”

Yu Zeng bowed deeply, not daring to hesitate.

She gave no reason for the order—an Emperor never needed to explain herself, least of all for such a trivial matter.

When Yu Zeng departed, the Holy Emperor’s eyes followed the flash of purple robes disappearing beyond the red-lacquered threshold.

He was cautious, capable, and discreet—never forming factions, a man of rare reliability.

Moreover, she favored him because of his unwavering loyalty to Ah Shang. Though outwardly cold, he was deeply attached to old ties—such men were rarely swayed by profit or fear.

She had raised him to the highest rank a eunuch could attain. No matter what rewards others promised, he could not easily be tempted.

And if profit could not move him, then there was his weakness.

He was not alone in the world. In his youth, his family had fallen into poverty and famine; his sisters died of hunger, leaving only him and his younger brother. Their parents, in despair, had sold him into the palace.

Later, Ah Shang, learning of this, had found his surviving kin and brought them to the capital for care.

His father was dead, but his mother and younger brother remained.

Years had passed. His brother had since married and now served in the Capital Patrol Office under the Ministry of War—merely a seventh-rank commander, not high in position, but content with his lot. Yu Zeng, too, was not greedy for more.

In short, all of Yu Zeng’s weaknesses lay under imperial watch.

That was why she could trust him with her affairs. She had doubted many—but rarely him. Yet today’s times were not as before...

Behind the screen, two shadowed figures appeared and knelt, awaiting orders.

“From now on, watch his every move closely. Let there be no negligence.”

The shadows vanished. Palace attendants reentered to serve.

Several were new faces—the frequent replacement of attendants in Ganlu Hall over recent months had left everyone in constant tension, terrified of making even the slightest mistake that might spark the Emperor’s suspicion.

The Holy Emperor sensed their unease.

Yes—she was a suspicious ruler. But anyone sitting on this throne would become the same.

At times, she mocked herself for being “without anyone to use.”

But truthfully, in the beginning, she had capable people—until, after several years on the throne, she purged them all.

Those who had great power or armies had disdained her—some openly defiant, others harboring secret treachery.

She had to eliminate them.

And so she did—again and again, even now.

She had killed both the deserving and the undeserving. Her lack of people to rely on stemmed from her lack of people she could trust.

She had tried to elevate her kin. They were mostly mediocre, but unlike the powerful who might turn against her, they at least shared her interests and would obey.

She never regretted any of the killings. Without them, she would never have remained on the throne.

If life were a game of leaves, then from the beginning, she had been dealt the worst hand of all. Yet despite that, she had ruled for more than ten years—proof that she was a true sovereign, one chosen by Heaven’s will.

In recent years, when the world grew unstable, she had asked the Heavenly Mirror Master whether her imperial destiny was nearing its end.

The master had replied that he dared not speak of such a heavenly secret.

So she stopped asking.

Since her enthronement, she had worked tirelessly, never once slackened. Though crises had come again and again, she remained the ruler of Da Sheng.

This unrest too—she would quell it.

Once she pacified the aristocratic clans and gathered all power under her grasp, she would finally usher in her true era of prosperity.

Thin smoke drifted from the Boshan incense burner as a palace maid entered with the Emperor’s scheduled medicine.

——

The matter of the aristocratic clans was soon settled.

Relief efforts for the disaster were arranged. The Holy Emperor appointed the Deputy Minister of Revenue as Imperial Envoy—both to distribute aid and to oversee the confiscation of the Zheng clan’s property with Li Xian.

Leaving Ganlu Hall, Wei Shuyi quietly sighed in relief.

His recent diligence and self-assigned tasks had given him ample reason to remain in the capital, sparing him from this “honor” that so many sought in vain.

Disaster relief involved vast sums of grain and silver; in such times, only a trustworthy official could be sent. The Deputy Minister, surnamed Zhan, once a Censor, was upright and frugal—stingy even—and a disciple of Grand Tutor Zhu. None could be more suitable.

Moreover, the Emperor assigned eunuch attendants to accompany them for supervision.

After consulting with Prime Minister Ma Xingzhou, the Holy Emperor further selected over ten clerks from the Ministries of Revenue, Rites, and Personnel—all of them newly appointed jinshi from this year’s examinations.

Though they had just been placed in the ministries, they were now ordered to accompany the envoy for practical experience.

It was a rare move, but the Holy Emperor considered it the most direct way to temper them. She needed not mere scholars of elegant prose, but capable men who could fill the vacancies in her administration.

Among them were the new top scholar Song Xian and Tan Li.

Relief was as urgent as fire—there was no time to delay. They were to depart the next morning.

Wei Shuyi, tasked with conveying the orders, returned with Deputy Minister Zhan to the Six Ministries.

After all arrangements were made, Deputy Minister Zhan went to bid farewell to Grand Tutor Zhu, who was preparing to return home for the day.

Song Xian and the others also lined up to pay respects to the old tutor. As the chief examiner of their imperial examinations, he was half their mentor—though Grand Tutor Zhu himself never liked to admit it, often frowning in distaste at the mention.

“Go,” he said, gazing at these fresh green shoots before him. “Be cautious in all things. Do not be careless. And above all, do not be foolish.”

It was blunt advice, but honest. The young officials bowed solemnly, thinking wryly that the old tutor had indeed spent his entire life at war with the word “fool.”

Grand Tutor Zhu squinted his dim eyes and counted heads.

“Twelve...” he muttered, then turned to Deputy Minister Zhan. “Remember, no matter what, bring all twelve of them back—whole and unbroken.”

Their talent might be mediocre, but they were his chosen seedlings—he would not have them all die on their first outing.

The journey would not be peaceful.

They would face refugees, local powers, and remnants of aristocratic clans still seeking revenge in secret.

Ordinarily, such novices would not be dragged into this. But alas, they were the first batch—the first crop always bore the hardest fate.

Grand Tutor Zhu sighed inwardly, while the eager “seedlings” looked full of zeal.

They knew nothing of how perilous the world was—Deputy Minister Zhan fretted to himself.

He had served as Imperial Envoy before, but never had he been burdened with twelve toddling “infants.”

Ah, leading twelve fledglings... anyone would despair.

Sensing his distress, Wei Shuyi felt both sympathy and deeper relief that he had escaped the task.

It wasn’t that he didn’t wish to see her—he simply hadn’t yet decided how to face the strange truth, and the “she” hidden behind it.

Deputy Minister Zhan went to brief his little flock, while Wei Shuyi followed Grand Tutor Zhu out of the Ministry of Rites.

After a while, Grand Tutor Zhu glanced at the handsome youth beside him. “Does the Deputy Minister have something to say?”

“Indeed,” Wei Shuyi smiled faintly. “As expected, nothing escapes Grand Tutor’s eyes.”

The old tutor was curt. “If you have business, speak. My sedan chair is waiting ahead.”

He had finally managed to leave on time for once—he would not waste the chance.

Not a moment longer than necessary did he wish to give to that cursed Ministry of Rites.

“Yes,” said Wei Shuyi respectfully. “There are a few matters I wish to seek the Grand Tutor’s guidance on.”

A few?

Not just one?

Grand Tutor Zhu’s eyes twitched.

Such greed—to rob an old man of his rare hour of freedom—was it not an act of cruelty?

(End of Chapter 306)

 Chapter 305: She Would Become the Embodiment of Legend

The punishment and slaughter of the Aristocratic clans had stirred a commotion among the noble families and the court, a turmoil no less intense than the floods ravaging the land.

Yet among the common folk, what spread most widely was not the tragedy of the Aristocratic clans, but the tale of General Ningyuan and Master Zheng of the Zheng family praying for rain in Xingyang and receiving Heaven’s response.

First, such stories of divine manifestation possessed an innate allure — mysterious and miraculous. From eighty-year-old elders to five-year-old children, from secluded noblewomen to beggars knocking bowls along the streets, everyone could gossip about it. There was no threshold to enter such talk.

Furthermore, compared to the perilous topic of the Aristocratic clans’ political struggles — which might bring disaster upon one’s head — stories of divine blessing were far safer. In these turbulent times, when rebellions and wars spread everywhere, the court had dispatched ruthless enforcers to suppress rumors harmful to the Holy Emperor. A careless word could bring catastrophe.

Those great clans were far removed from the lives of commoners; their affairs were merely thrilling tales to hear and forget. If people truly wished to speak their fill, better to gossip about a miracle that could be discussed with their heads still safely upon their shoulders.

And a successful prayer meant divine approval — those who brought about such miracles were often seen as embodiments of auspicious omens.

Turning calamity into blessing was like a holy totem of hope emerging from mud. Thus, the Xingyang miracle quickly became the hottest topic across the land, the favorite tale of storytellers in every teahouse.

“...The culprit was sacrificed before the people. General Ningyuan and Master Zheng knelt on the altar for three days and nights without taking a single grain of rice…”

“By the third day, as the floodwaters of the Huang River were about to overflow, the cries in and outside Xingyang filled the heavens—how tragic it was…”

“General Ningyuan wished to evacuate the people, but the townsfolk of Xingyang refused to leave. They swore to live and die with the two of them!”

“Moved to tears, the townsfolk sewed two ‘Umbrellas of Ten Thousand People’ and offered them as gifts… And guess what happened next?”

Meeting the crowd’s eager eyes, the storyteller struck the wooden clapper with flair and raised his voice:

“The moment the Umbrellas of Ten Thousand People were opened, the dark clouds scattered! Golden light streamed from the heavens, and the rain ceased at once!”

The audience gasped in astonishment, murmurs of awe rippling through the hall.

Then the storyteller struck the clapper again, leaping to his feet, voice even louder:

“But that was not the most wondrous part!”

“It’s said that at the banks of the overflowing Huang River, a mighty dragon appeared. With a roar that split the sky, it opened its jaws wide and swallowed the raging floodwaters whole—then soared into the clouds!”

The teahouse erupted. Faces lit with disbelief, wonder, or scorn — some rolled their eyes outright, muttering that the storyteller was full of nonsense. A dragon? Who could believe such drivel?

But the round of applause and cheers answered the question — apparently, everyone but them did!

A few skeptics’ eye-rolls were not enough to quell the feverish excitement.

“No wonder my wife says General Ningyuan is the reincarnation of a heavenly star! I didn’t believe her before, but now—!”

The speaker slapped his thigh with conviction, reflecting with sudden seriousness.

Who could blame him? A girl of merely sixteen or seventeen years — one who could defeat bandits and settle a region, then pray for rain and halt a flood — how could she be an ordinary mortal?

Another listener eagerly asked the storyteller what the dragon had looked like. The storyteller described it vividly, as though he himself had crouched in the river mud and seen it with his own eyes.

Stories were half truth, half embellishment; exaggeration was the lifeblood of performance.

Besides, the script had been delivered to him the previous day by a young lady through her maid — and she claimed to have reliable sources.

“Well said! A reward!”

From the second floor came the clear voice of a young woman. Several silver ingots were soon carried down and placed on the storyteller’s table.

He bowed repeatedly in thanks as more copper coins and bits of silver followed.

“Sister Wu’s script is marvelous!”

In a refined private booth by the railing, Yao Xia whispered excitedly, her eyes bright.

The other young ladies nodded in agreement, still flushed with the lingering thrill of the performance.

Wu Chunbai looked down at the crowd and smiled faintly.

“It is not that my script is good. This affair itself was destined to cause such a stir.”

“Both are splendid — the story and the script alike!”

“By the way, Ah Xia, tell us again — what else did your distant cousin write about Young Miss Chang in her letter?”

The girls chattered merrily among themselves.

Not far away, in another booth, sat Yao Yi in plain robes. Before him were a pot of tea, two plates of pastries, and a dish of pine nuts.

The Commandant leisurely peeled a nut between his fingers, occasionally glancing at his niece.

This niece of his could never hide her doings. He already knew that the popular stories spreading through the capital these days all came from that young lady of the Wu family.

Did these girls truly understand what they were doing?

Books were not available to everyone; if one wished to reach the common people, only dramas, songs, or folktales — things easy to recite and remember — could spread widely and deeply.

And her deeds, one after another, under the eager pens of these girls, were transforming from events… into legends.

Once deeds became legend, she would cease to be a mere mortal — she would become the embodiment of a myth itself.

Did these girls understand what that meant?

And did she understand?

How could she not? She had once claimed to have been guided by a celestial immortal who came to save the world!

Recalling their parting at Dayun Temple last year — and that astonishing word “Uncle” that had nearly stopped his heart — Yao Yi felt as though sitting on pins and needles. An uneasy, perilous thought crept through his mind.

Listening to the voices below, all speaking of her, he felt alternating chills and heat sweep through his body. Every pore seemed to open and close in turn, as though something vast were breathing through him.

A voice in his mind whispered—

Could there truly be such a thing as Heaven’s will?

He murmured the words aloud without realizing.

“What did you say, Master?” asked his attendant, bending close amid the noise.

“Settle the bill.” Yao Yi slapped the pile of pine nuts on the table and rose with an unsettled mind. “We’re going home.”

The servant answered promptly, dropped a few bits of silver on the table, and seeing that his master had peeled a whole pile of pine nuts without eating a single one, stuffed them all into his own mouth with satisfaction before following along.

The tale told in the teahouse quickly spread.

The common folk passed it on by word of mouth, while the other storytellers across the city’s teahouses felt a growing sense of crisis—only one day had passed, and now even a dragon had appeared!

All right then, if that’s how it is, let’s play!

Someone immediately began scribbling furiously:

“…Just as the Ten Thousand People Umbrella opened, flocks of birds circled above the altar. The dark clouds suddenly transformed into colorful auspicious clouds, and faintly—those clouds even took the shape of an immortal…”

Driven by competition, the storytelling trade of the capital city suddenly exploded with countless bizarre yet captivating versions of the tale.

And speaking of crisis—lately, Wei Miaoqing was feeling some as well.

A month ago, Yao Xia suddenly produced a “distant cousin” who claimed to serve under General Ningyuan. This supposed relative would often send her letters describing Chang Suining’s latest news.

At first, Wei Miaoqing had doubted the authenticity of it. But after several letters, it did seem that such a person truly existed.

Because of this, Yao Xia’s standing among them had risen sharply—she was now adored and sought after. For someone like Wei Miaoqing, who had been accustomed to being the center of attention since childhood, this stirred up a deep jealousy.

She began to recall fondly those days when her elder brother, acting under imperial command, went south to pacify Li Yi’s rebellion—how all their sisters had gathered around her in admiration back then.

Driven by vanity, Wei Miaoqing, who had long relied on her brother’s status, once again turned her gaze upon him.

“…This time, the Central Plains has suffered such severe flooding. Surely the Holy Emperor will dispatch an Imperial Envoy to provide relief and comfort the victims, will she not? Why doesn’t Elder Brother volunteer to go?”

These past few days, seeing her brother offer incense twice daily, praying for the safety of Young Miss Chang, Wei Miaoqing was certain her brother had long fallen hopelessly in love. She lowered her voice and added, “That way, Brother could take the chance to see Young Miss Chang in person.”

“……” Wei Shuyi suddenly felt uneasy.

As she looked at her exceedingly handsome brother, a thought flashed through Wei Miaoqing’s mind: “Young Miss Chang has been battling, rescuing flood victims, and praying for rain to cease—how exhausting! If she could just see my brother’s beautiful face, it would surely be a pleasant relief…”

“……” Wei Shuyi smiled faintly, though his tone was dry. “There’s no need to tell me everything that crosses your mind.”

Wei Miaoqing hastily covered her mouth. She wasn’t stupid—she hadn’t meant to speak so bluntly. Who knew how it had slipped out?

Looking at his sister—so much like their mother in both face and temperament—Wei Shuyi could only feel a deeper melancholy about her future as the possible Crown Princess.

Just then, the troublesome sister furrowed her brow and said, “But wait—the Grand General Cui is still in Xingyang. With him there, how could Brother’s looks possibly stand out?”

Wei Shuyi felt an invisible arrow pierce straight into his chest. Keeping a perfectly composed and gentle smile, he rose, untied the embroidered pouch at his waist, and handed it to her. “Matters of court are not your plaything. You need not concern yourself.”

Instinctively, Wei Miaoqing took it and opened it—inside were dozens of glittering gold beans. She asked in surprise, “Why are you giving me this, Brother?”

Wei Shuyi was already turning to leave. Without looking back, he said mildly, “When you have time, go to the Huichun Hall and get a few prescriptions suited to your condition.”

“……!” Wei Miaoqing stomped her foot, teeth clenched in frustration.

——

Just as Wei Shuyi had said, disaster relief was no trifling matter. And since this flood coincided with the punishment of the aristocratic clans, the matter allowed not the slightest misstep.

The next morning in court, when reports about the flood damage and the proposed sums for relief funds were read aloud, many officials felt as though a great stone had dropped into their chests.

The Central Plains had always been the empire’s grain storehouse, but with the harvest ruined by floods this year, the summer yield was lost. Moreover, the court would have to divert additional funds for disaster relief—a double loss, and a massive one.

With wars erupting across the land and armies requiring vast supplies, the national treasury was nearly empty. It was impossible to produce such a large sum for relief.

Yet to forgo disaster relief was out of the question. The Central Plains and Luoyang were unlike other regions; the court could not afford to let famine lead to riots or rebellion.

Fortunately—or so some thought—there was still one “source” to fill the coffers: the confiscated estates of the Central Plains’ aristocratic clans, a fat piece of meat, especially that of the Zheng family.

At this point, the court hall appeared markedly emptier. Many seats once held by officials of aristocratic birth stood vacant. When the nests of the Central Plains clans were purged, their members in government had also been cleansed. Most now awaited their final judgment in prison.

Now that “the evidence was conclusive” and all seemed settled on the surface, it was time for the sovereign to deliver the final verdict.

Though none spoke openly, most courtiers knew that the severity of the punishment would surely change due to the Zheng clan’s “extraordinary response.”

As the leading aristocratic clan of the Central Plains, the Zhengs had slain their own family head, Zheng Ji, the source of all calamity, and voluntarily surrendered all property and collected books, showing not the slightest resistance—all to preserve the lives of the innocent members of their clan. Such humility was unlike anything expected of the aristocracy.

Furthermore, the former clan head Zheng Chao, who had slain Zheng Ji, had now earned merit through his prayers and flood relief at Xingyang—and had even received from the people a “Umbrella of the People.”

Answered prayers symbolized Heaven’s will; the Umbrella of the People represented the hearts of the people. With both Heaven and the people behind him, the court had to tread carefully in deciding Zheng Chao’s fate—and that of his family.

Moreover, several scholars from the Central Plains who held official titles jointly submitted a memorial to the throne, attesting to Zheng Chao’s virtue and fairness, imploring the Holy Emperor for mercy.

The man who presented the petition was Song Xian, the newly appointed Zhuangyuan (top scholar) personally chosen by the sovereign.

Song Xian, himself a native of the Central Plains, claimed he had once, by chance, received scholarly instruction from Zheng Chao, who had lived in the Thatched Hall. Thus, he considered Zheng Chao half a teacher to him. A student could not remain silent when his teacher was in peril; his petition was both plea and tribute.

That a Zhuangyuan born of humble origins, together with other common-born scholars, would plead for a man of aristocratic descent—this was rare indeed, a gesture that transcended the ancient divide between noble and commoner.

As officials in the hall spoke of the matter, Grand Tutor Zhu listened in silence, feeling an unexpected sense of satisfaction. Perhaps this was the very sign of a new age for the realm’s literary and moral traditions—one in which all scholars, regardless of birth, would stand as equals.

Moreover, he could not help but think that Zheng Chao’s many wise actions at Xingyang… bore the hand of his most vexing student.

Meanwhile, several memorials were submitted impeaching Li Xian. Zheng Chao’s actions had triggered a chain of ripples—many now decried Li Xian’s brutal purge of the aristocratic clans in Luoyang, accusing him of executions, torture, and even using innocent scholars as sacrifices to Heaven.

The Holy Emperor listened to the impassioned accusations, and finally said, “Li Xian’s actions indeed went too far.”

Had all the aristocratic clans been slaughtered in one sweep, so be it—but Zheng Chao’s case had changed the tide of public opinion. With pressure mounting, the Holy Emperor’s stance had to shift as well. She already had a plan for what to do next.

Her goal, however, had been achieved. This change merely turned the fate of the Central Plains clans from total destruction to decline—saving a few lives. Their books were confiscated, estates seized, and they were reduced to commoners. From now on, the Central Plains would have no aristocratic clans left.

Thus, her grand design remained unbroken.

She thought, the one who had fanned the wind behind Zheng Chao must have understood this too—clever and clear-minded enough to know where her boundaries lay.

She meant her Ah Shang.

Ah Shang was still too soft-hearted.

 Chapter 304: Heaven Does Not Abandon Heluo

Chang Suining descended from the altar and stood upon the stone steps below. Though she stood alone, her silent presence seemed to shield Zheng Chao, who was still upon the altar behind her. Facing Li Xian, she spoke in her usual calm tone:

“I have been engaged in disaster relief near Xingyang these past days. Hasn’t that subordinate of yours, the one called Guo Fu, ever mentioned it to you, General Li?”

The “Guo Fu” in her words was the unlucky fellow she had encountered during the pursuit of Yuan Miao—she had once inspected his waist token herself.

Li Xian replied evenly, his expression unreadable, though courteous:

“I have heard some mention of it, yet I did not expect to meet the General of Ningyuan here in Xingyang City.”

Chang Suining’s voice was unruffled as well:

“I heard that the elder of the Zheng family was holding a grain donation and prayer ceremony in the city, so I came to join in the bustle.”

Li Xian smiled faintly and met her gaze:

“Then it truly is quite the coincidence. May I ask, General of Ningyuan—do you intend to hinder me in carrying out my duty?”

The matter of her men intercepting his and taking away the prisoners of war had yet to be settled.

Chang Suining replied:

“Of course not. I merely wish to remind General Li that according to the rites and laws of the Da Sheng Dynasty, any official or government-sanctioned ceremony of offering and prayer must not be disturbed. To do so is considered an act that disrupts the nation’s fortune—and if the offense is grave, it is punishable by death.”

Li Xian’s brows twitched slightly, and he gave a short laugh, glancing at the bloodstained altar:

“This—counts as a prayer ceremony?”

Chang Suining turned her head, unperturbed:

“And why not? Has there not been a precedent for it in Luoyang City?”

The mocking smile on Li Xian’s lips froze a little.

“I was unaware that this prayer was one initiated by the Xingyang authorities—”

Just then, the magistrate of Xingyang and other officials, having heard of the commotion, hurried to the scene. Li Xian turned to the magistrate for confirmation.

The Xingyang magistrate verified that the ceremony had indeed been permitted under his authority, stamped with the seal of the Prefectural Office.

It was true—he had approved it. Yet he had never imagined that the Zheng family would slaughter their own atop the altar!

By law, a murderer ought to be arrested. Yet in Xingyang, the Zheng clan’s ancestral code outweighed the law—such matters were to be handled first within the clan.

But now the Zheng family had been branded as collaborators of the rebel Xu, and the slain head of the Zheng clan was deemed the main conspirator. That, of course, put it beyond his jurisdiction entirely.

And to make matters worse—this General Li Xian had arrived suddenly, unannounced, intending to strike the Zheng clan by surprise. Had he informed the magistrate beforehand, the man would never have approved the ceremony…

Then again—perhaps he still might have. After all, one could not easily refuse a donation of ten thousand shi of grain.

The magistrate of Xingyang possessed a certain courage born of greed.

The bellies of the starving could not wait. A single day’s delay could spark riots. He dared not hope that, once the Zheng estate was confiscated, this General Li Xian would promptly distribute the seized grain to the famished. The man’s ruthless conduct these past days was well known—slaughtering clans, seizing wealth under the guise of justice.

Whereas the General of Ningyuan—she had spent these days in the vicinity of Xingyang rescuing victims and soothing the displaced. At the very onset of the floods, it was she, together with Hu Lin of Bian Prefecture, who had warned them to make preparations in advance.

The magistrate’s heart weighed its own scales. At last he spoke:

“Since the prayer ceremony has begun, to interrupt it midway would be deemed an offense of irreverence toward the spirits…”

The rites were called rites because ceremony came before all else—especially now, in times of calamity.

Li Xian had no wish to invite ill fortune. He only asked,

“Then when, may I ask, will this prayer ceremony conclude?”

The magistrate looked troubled.

“Master Zheng is most sincere in his devotion. He intends to continue praying until the rain ceases…”

Do not ask further—Luoyang City had set this precedent.

Li Xian sneered inwardly.

Meanwhile, among the people gathered around the altar, a ripple of unrest began to stir. They could not hear what Li Xian and the others were discussing—only that the soldiers he brought had drawn their blades and surrounded the altar, intent on seizing Zheng Chao.

Among the front ranks stood many scholars. When they had first heard of the fate of the aristocrats in Luoyang, they had felt a surge of vindication—it seemed justice at last, that poor scholars might finally rise.

Yet as the court’s slaughter of noble clans widened, fear and unease began to grow among them. They started to question themselves: was such mass killing of Aristocratic families truly a cause for rejoicing?

Many of those slain were innocent—scholars unknowing of politics, even women and children of the noble clans.

Now, in this moment, that vague unease took form before their eyes. The truth stood stark—the elder of the Zheng family, the revered Thatched Hall Master himself, was no villain.

To kill the innocent—was wrong!

Not all men of the clans were greedy or corrupt; not all deserved to be wiped out!

Master Zheng must not be taken away like this—to be humiliated and butchered as those Luoyang scholars had been!

From within the crowd, someone’s voice rang out first:

“Master Zheng has acted with righteousness, punishing his kin for treachery! His virtue and loyalty are known to all of Xingyang. He could never be a conspirator of the Xu rebels! We beg the Imperial Commissioner to investigate according to the law!”

The scholar bit hard upon the words “investigate according to the law.”

At once, countless voices joined in chorus.

“Not only that! Master Zheng rendered great merit in the flood prevention of the Huang River! Were it not for him, the waters would have drowned all of Xingyang long ago!”

The speaker was Ah Che, hidden among the crowd—his voice alone carried.

The townsfolk of Xingyang were astonished.

Many scholars’ eyes reddened in shock.

So—Master Zheng had not only taught them his knowledge in secret, but had also risked his life to tame the floodwaters!

How many deeds of kindness had he done that they had never known?

Master Zheng was a great rock they were but the fledglings he had fed with selfless care—only now did they realize the depth of his benevolence.

Emotion surged through the masses. They looked upon the soldiers’ drawn blades with growing defiance.

Some scholars began to think—if the aristocrats’ existence was unjust, what of these men now wielding such cruelty? If men like these were to replace the noble clans entirely, would justice truly be restored?

If the very foundation of scholarship and ritual were to be wiped from the world, where then would the integrity of scholars survive?

The noble clans had their sins—but they did not deserve annihilation!

Perceiving the shift in mood, Li Xian sneered inwardly twice.

These ignorant fools—so easily roused by a few words. They were born to crawl beneath others’ feet, like ants.

And there was no need to clash with such ants. Zheng Chao—merely a man desperate to save his own skin—could not escape him forever.

Li Xian gave no further orders to seize Zheng Chao. Instead, he commanded his men to guard the altar until the prayer ended:

“The rest of you, come with me—to the Zheng estate!”

The magistrate and his subordinates hastily stepped aside, hearts filled with dread. They knew—today, Xingyang was destined to become the next Luoyang.

Li Xian cast a sidelong glance at Chang Suining, who stood watching the “spectacle,” and said with a faint smile:

“Will the General of Ningyuan accompany me?”

He suspected that this whole affair—the prayer, the timing—had something to do with her. His words were a probe.

But Chang Suining simply shook her head with mild indifference.

“I would not dare to disturb General Li in his duty.”

Li Xian smiled faintly and nodded, then turned his horse as though to depart.

In truth, while he had been negotiating here, he had already dispatched three thousand troops along another route to the Zheng estate—opening the way for today’s operation.

He had never intended for a single member of the Zheng clan to escape from Xingyang alive.

The previous night, he had personally sharpened his sword. The Zheng clan—foremost among the Central Plains’ noble families, the maternal kin of Cui Jing—was indeed lofty enough to merit his special attention.

Yet just as Li Xian led his men around the altar, the crowd ahead suddenly parted. From the opposite direction came a disciplined and imposing troop, cutting off his path.

Li Xian pulled his reins tight, frowning swiftly—Cui Jing?

The troop drew near. The young man at its head spoke calmly from horseback:

“Yesterday, upon receiving Zheng Chao’s report accusing the Zheng family head of colluding with Xu Zhengye, and upon confirming it with solid proof, I have now placed the entire Zheng household under control. All who resisted have been executed.”

“What?”

Li Xian thought he had misheard.

So—it was Cui Jing himself who had taken troops to suppress and seize the Zheng family?

On his way to Xingyang, he had already learned that Cui Jing was nearby. He had assumed the man would avoid involvement, lest he be accused of favoritism—perhaps even stand against the court for the Zheng clan’s sake. If that had happened, Li Xian would have found it rather interesting.

But instead—this man had preempted him, taking control of the Zheng family before he could act.

He understood now. The offering of grain, the prayers for rain, the public execution of Zheng Ji to stir the people’s hearts… and the Zheng clan’s supposed act of suicidal resistance that never came—

Ha! So that was the truth.

Cui Jing’s expression remained calm.

“In addition, the Zheng clan has voluntarily offered up all the books in their secret archives, pleading that the Holy Emperor be informed of their repentance and show mercy—not to absolve their crimes, but only to spare the innocent among them.”

Li Xian’s eyes swept toward three soldiers of the Xuanzhe Army beside Cui Jing. Each held a chest in his arms—inside lay the keys to the Zheng family’s three great secret libraries.

Countless scholars among the crowd turned to look. Those three chests contained treasures beyond measure—the greatest cultural trove in all Heluo.

Li Xian slowly drew back his gaze, fixing it on Cui Jing.

“With Grand General Cui personally demonstrating loyalty above kinship, this case has progressed with remarkable speed.”

Cui Jing replied evenly:

“I act under Imperial decree. Having received a report, I could not ignore it for the sake of private ties. Should any within the Zheng clan bear suspicion of conspiracy, General Li may, of course, take them for questioning in accordance with the law.”

Li Xian sneered inwardly.

Now that the entire Zheng clan was under Cui Jing’s control, anyone he wished to seize would still have to pass under Cui Jing’s watchful eyes. He did not doubt that Cui Jing would not dare to protect the guilty—but to kill only those whose deaths were inevitable—what meaning was there in that?

His sword had been honed for the destruction of the entire Zheng clan.

This trip, truly, had ended in disappointment.

Suppressing the irritation within his chest, Li Xian raised his hand on the reins and said with false admiration:

“For Grand General Cui to act with such impartiality—Li shall surely report to the Holy Emperor the noble act of a man who sacrifices righteousness over kinship.”

Every word he uttered revolved around those four characters—“righteousness above kinship.”

It was, perhaps, the only interesting event of the day.

He knew perfectly well that Cui Jing’s act, though outwardly a suppression, was in truth a rescue of the Zheng clan. A benevolent deception, perhaps—but the world would not see it that way. Least of all the noble clans.

Soon, all would hear that it was Cui Jing who had personally led his troops to break the gates of the Zheng estate and offer up the family’s hidden archives to the court.

Thinking this, Li Xian laughed softly again, saluted Cui Jing with clasped hands, and ordered Zheng Ji’s corpse to be taken away. Then he spurred his horse and led his men toward the Zheng estate.

Around them, the townsfolk’s gazes turned to the striking young commander, whispering among themselves, their expressions mixed and uneasy.

Cui Jing sat astride his horse, fingers still faintly stained with blood—proof, it seemed, of his “righteousness above kinship.”

His gaze passed over the fearful and confused stares, looking only toward the altar above.

Chang Suining smiled at him.

The tension in Cui Jing’s brow quietly loosened.

As Chang Suining prepared to step down from the altar, a bloodstained hand suddenly caught at the hem of her robe.

She turned—and saw Zheng Chao, limp and trembling, his face twisted between tears and a bitter smile.

“Please, General of Ningyuan… stay and pray with me.”

Who could understand the turmoil in his heart? He had taken a life for the first time—his own cousin’s—and now the great Zheng clan would crumble and vanish. Heaven itself seemed to have collapsed upon him, yet he must still remain to pray for forgiveness.

He was now both sinner and traitor of his clan. What if, while he prayed, someone tried to assassinate him? Surely it was best to have a warrior at his side—a protector like the famed General of Ningyuan, said to be born beneath a star of command.

And perhaps Heaven, for her sake, might even stop the rain sooner.

Zheng Chao’s thoughts swirled wildly between grief and absurd hope. He wanted to cry, yet also to laugh. He felt a strange release, as though the chains of fate had broken—though sorrow still lingered for the fall of his family. Still, he knew—amid this ruin, they had at least won the smallest mercy Heaven could grant.

Moved by his earnest plea, Chang Suining could not refuse. She remained with him upon the altar to continue the prayers.

The ceremonial altar was draped with a canopy embroidered with scriptures. Those praying for blessings could sit cross-legged beneath it and recite sutras—but when the rain grew heavy, the canopy was useless, unable to keep much of it out.

Zheng Chao, wholly intent on atoning for the sins of the Zheng clan, did not sit cross-legged like a monk. Instead, he knelt upon the altar, confessing the clan’s wrongs before both mortals and gods.

Several scholars who had once received his guidance at the Thatched Hall, and thus attained their scholarly titles, gathered around the altar and refused to leave, praying together with him.

Li Xian’s trusted army came and went through the Zheng household, which was tightly guarded by Xuanzhe’s soldiers, taking away those clan members who were far from innocent. The questioning and punishment of the Zheng clan of Xingyang thus proceeded—neither calm nor chaotic, but eerily tranquil.

After Li Xian departed for Xingyang, the supervision of detained aristocratic clans in and around Luoyang was handed over to Cui Jing’s men. From then on, no more wrongful killings occurred.

The rain hastened the fall of night. Ah Dian took the umbrella from Cui Jing’s hand, climbed the altar, and held it over the nearly soaked-through Chang Suining.

When Chang Suining looked up at her, Ah Dian said with aggrieved yet resolute eyes, “If the Buddha must blame someone, let Him blame me. I insisted on holding the umbrella for you!”

Chang Suining smiled. “Don’t worry. The Buddha wouldn’t fuss over a child.”

She turned her head and gazed through the rain curtain toward the direction of the Huang River.

Zheng Chao, too, had been looking that way all along. He was counting the days—or rather, the hours.

In the darkness, cries of the townspeople began to rise.

Listening to those cries, Ah Dian, still sitting cross-legged like Chang Suining, held the umbrella with one hand and wiped her tears with the other.

That night, the people of Xingyang stayed up sewing two “Umbrellas of the People.” One was for the Thatched Hall Master who had gone to the Huang River to offer grain and prayers; the other was for General Ningyuan, who had slain the rebel Xu and spent days aiding the flood victims at Xingyang.

At dawn, a child of five or six climbed the altar carrying the two umbrellas. Handing one to Ah Dian, the little boy then went to the side of Zheng Chao, whose hair had come undone and whose face was pale with exhaustion.

“Master Zheng, I’ll hold the umbrella for you! Everyone says the Buddha won’t blame a child!”

The boy’s tender voice rang out as he clumsily opened the umbrella.

At that very moment, as the umbrella opened, Chang Suining looked up through the colorful tassels hanging from its edge toward the horizon.

She didn’t know if she was seeing things—but the dark clouds were scattering, and soon, a dazzling beam of light broke through from the east.

“…The sun!”

“This umbrella’s amazing—it made the sun come out!” Ah Dian cried out in delight, jumping with excitement.

Soon, countless voices of joy surged from all directions.

Chang Suining blinked; her pupils were brightened by the light.

So it wasn’t an illusion.

Zheng Chao, his lips pale, collapsed backward, all strength leaving his body. Tears welled at the corners of his reddened eyes. Staring up at the ever-brightening sky, he murmured, “Heaven has not abandoned He Luo… Heaven has not abandoned He Luo…”

…

The skies cleared across the Central Plains, and messages from all regions soon reached the capital.

(End of this chapter)

 Chapter 303: Divine Retribution

Zheng Ji swiftly arrived at the altar in the city and saw Zheng Chao kneeling atop it, reciting the many sins of the Zheng clan in repentance before Heaven.

He first ordered his servants to seize Zheng Chao’s young attendant, then ascended the altar himself. Facing the mass of disaster-stricken commoners crowded below, he could see even more people streaming toward the site from afar.

Most of those gathered were victims of the flood. After more than half a month of inundation, they were homeless and starving, their faces haggard and unkempt.

As they lifted their heads toward the man standing high above them—his robe and hair neat, his long sleeves flowing—they were struck by a sudden realization: those who truly suffered from this calamity did not seem to include these noble clansmen.

The man’s tone remained calm, yet carried the innate superiority of one accustomed to command, as though merely deigning to speak to them was already an act of condescension.

“I am Zheng Ji, the head of the Zheng clan. Ever since my elder brother was deposed as clan head, he has harbored resentment and spoken irrationally. His words today are the ravings of a madman—none of you need take them seriously.”

He cared little whether the commoners believed him or not; it was enough merely to provide an explanation—one that branded Zheng Chao as insane and thereby nullified his words.

He approached his kneeling brother, lowering his gaze. “Brother, matters of the clan are many. Cease this nonsense and return home with me.”

Saying so, he extended a pristine hand.

Zheng Chao looked at that hand—so clean and pale. Having spent days repairing the dikes alongside Cui Jing, he had long forgotten the sight of such unblemished skin.

But that purity and refinement were only surface deep, much like the so-called noble clansmen who adorned themselves in gentility.

Zheng Chao gazed at that hand and asked, “Jianzhi, do you still remember what we were most often taught in our childhood studies?”

Zheng Ji said nothing. In truth, he had long disdained to answer him.

“It was the Way of the Gentleman,” Zheng Chao said. Grasping Zheng Ji’s hand, he used it to slowly rise, then released it. “From youth, we were taught the highest principles of a true gentleman.”

“Your courtesy name, Jianzhi—taken from jianji, ‘to benefit all’—do you recall its meaning? To bring blessing to all living beings, to let all under Heaven partake in well-being—that is jianji.” As Zheng Chao spoke, he turned his gaze to the crowd of commoners below. “I always believed that once we grew up, we would indeed use what we had learned to bring benefit to the world.”

“But when I came of age, they suddenly changed their tune!” His voice trembled with bitter laughter. “The Way of the Gentleman was cast aside—only self-interest remained! When I spoke to them again of righteousness, they called me mad!”

“Why is that? What kind of world permits such reasoning?” His voice rose higher, his expression fierce and pained, his eyes bloodshot. “These so-called noble clans are but robes of false virtue! They believe themselves pure and lofty, severing the road to the heavens, while those humble commoners and poor scholars below are, in their eyes, no better than insects, as filthy as mud, as ignorant as beasts!”

Zheng Ji remained unmoved by his anguish. He merely took out a handkerchief and wiped a speck of dirt from his fingers, his lips curving into a mocking smile. “Brother, such naïve words—better saved for home.”

Zheng Chao took several steps back. “Such a clan of nobility does not deserve to exist!”

He raised a trembling hand and pointed directly at Zheng Ji. “Were it not for you, it would not perish in this manner. It was you who colluded with Xu Zhengye, your arrogance and blind ambition that have doomed not only the Zhengs, but all noble families of Zhongyuan! The innocent clansmen should not die for your crimes!”

Zheng Ji’s expression finally shifted.

The murmurs among the crowd grew louder. His eyes darkened, and he spoke in a low, chilling tone. “No, the Zheng clan has not lost—nor has it reached its end.”

Zheng Chao’s voice was hoarse, full of sorrow and fury. “What counts as defeat to you? Must you see every member of the Zheng clan die before your eyes, until none remain, before you will admit it?”

Even now, his cousin sought to gamble with the lives of their innocent kin for one final act of defiance.

Zheng Ji looked him in the eyes, and in a voice only the two could hear, said coldly, “And what of you, Brother? Do you truly believe that mere almsgiving and prayers can save the Zheng clan?”

Zheng Chao met his gaze. “No. That alone is far from enough. There are still two more things that must be done—and one of them, I must do myself.”

Zheng Ji frowned instinctively and was just about to speak when—without warning—Zheng Chao raised his hand. A gleam of steel flashed.

“Pchh—”

The dagger plunged straight into Zheng Ji’s chest.

“Ling’an told me—first lure you here, then make you lower your guard, and finally strike with certainty…” Zheng Chao’s voice quavered, but his eyes were resolute.

“You…” Zheng Ji’s face contorted, his eyes wide in disbelief. His complexion turned deathly pale. He struggled to lift his hand, gripping Zheng Chao’s wrist in an effort to push him away.

But Zheng Chao clasped the dagger with both hands and drove it deeper. The force of it made Zheng Ji stagger backward.

“Thud!”

Zheng Ji collapsed. Zheng Chao fell upon him, still clutching the dagger, tears streaming down his face. “Jianzhi… You never thought I’d kill you, did you? Even I never thought I would!”

He pulled the blade free and plunged it down again.

Below the altar, screams erupted.

Zheng Ji had been standing with his back to the crowd; only now did the people see what had transpired.

Several of Zheng Ji’s followers cried out in horror. “Zheng Chao, you dare murder the clan head?!”

They tried to rush up the altar, but were blocked by hidden guards whose faces were unfamiliar.

“The madman plotted this all along!” the Zheng clansmen shouted. “Fetch the patriarch at once!”

The scene descended into chaos. Even the monks seated on the altar chanting sutras turned pale and rose in alarm—only to find their path blocked by a girl with a sword.

“Masters, there is no need for fear,” Chang Suining said calmly. “This, too, is part of the ritual.”

The monks: “…”

No one had mentioned this part of the ritual!

Seeing the sword in her arms and the guards behind her, the lead monk forced himself to utter a trembling chant and politely asked whether any more “ritual parts” would follow.

The youngest novice was ashen-faced. Would they, too, be “part of the ritual” before it ended?!

“No,” Chang Suining said, turning her gaze toward Zheng Chao, who knelt upon the ground. “No more shall die.”

Zheng Chao tore a strip from Zheng Ji’s blood-soaked robe, lifted it high together with the dagger, and cried out with trembling voice, “O Heaven and Earth, gods and Buddhas above! I have slain the true culprit of our sins!”

The scene was both solemn and chilling.

A few frightened commoners whispered, “He truly must be mad…”

“Seems he’s gone insane.”

“…”

“No—he’s not mad!” a young scholar suddenly exclaimed, face pale with shock. “He is the Gentleman of the Thatched Hall!”

The Gentleman of the Thatched Hall?!

How could it be him?

Almost all in Xingyang had heard that name—especially among the learned.

From about seven or eight years ago, in an abandoned thatched hall outside the city, there suddenly appeared a man who began lecturing there.

At first, no one went to listen, but since he did not collect any tuition and allowed everyone to attend, before long, he had a few students.

Later, the reputation of this “Thatched Hall Master” spread. The number of students coming to listen grew ever larger, though his lectures were irregular—sometimes he disappeared for three or five days—but even so, there were always scholars eager to come and hear him.

No one knew this Thatched Hall Master’s surname or given name. He never showed his face, always wore a dull gray robe and a bamboo hat veiled with black gauze, claiming that his face had been disfigured and was unfit to be seen.

Now, he had been recognized—because of his voice.

A man’s face may be hidden, but his voice cannot deceive those who often listened to him lecture.

The dozen or so scholars gathered before the altar were utterly stunned.

They had never imagined that beneath the Thatched Hall Master’s hat lay the identity of a son of the Zheng family.

“The Eldest Master of the Zheng family is the Thatched Hall Master!”

The cry quickly spread through the crowd, drawing more and more scholars to the site.

And along with them came the troops led by Li Xian.

The Zheng family clansmen, already in a panic, turned pale when they heard Li Xian had arrived.

“How could he come so fast…”

The family head had clearly ordered men to ambush Li Xian on his way into the city—

Where were those men?!

The crowd of commoners was forced aside as the soldiers advanced toward the altar. The Zheng clansmen, seeing this, turned ashen with despair.

The family head was dead, and the blade of slaughter had arrived...

One clansman staggered backward, drawing something from his sleeve. His expression hardened with grim resolve.

Moments later, three sharp and piercing arrow whistles rang through the air above the crowd.

The altar stood at the main road leading to the Zheng family estate.

By the time Li Xian reached it, he had already been informed of Zheng Ji’s death.

As his horse slowed near the altar, he raised his head toward the darkened sky.

When the last echo of the whistle faded, he smiled faintly.

“To report now—don’t you think it’s a little too late?”

His smile disappeared as he looked toward the altar and shouted,

“The Yuan family of Luoyang has already confessed! The collusion between the Central Plains aristocrats and Xu Zhengye was all under the command of the Zheng family head, Zheng Ji!”

Then, coldly, he gave his order:

“Arrest all members of the Zheng clan! Any who resist—kill without mercy!”

At once, the soldiers behind him surrounded the altar on all sides.

At that same moment, within the Zheng estate, those aware of the signal stood stunned and dismayed.

Three arrow whistles meant the plan had failed—but how could it fail so quickly?

They had arranged an ambush! Why had it been of no use?!

Moments later, panic-stricken servants ran into the hall to report:

“The family head Zheng Ji is dead—slain by Zheng Chao himself!”

“Heaven has abandoned the Zheng clan…!”

An elderly clansman spat blood and collapsed, supported by those beside him.

“The Zheng clan may perish—but we must not let those vile thieves take our legacy!”

“Since matters have come to this, we shall carry out the family head’s final orders!”

Several clansmen rushed out of the hall.

For generations, the true heirloom of every aristocratic clan had never been their wealth or estates, but the rare and precious books passed down through the ages.

As the foremost of the Central Plains aristocratic families, the Zheng clan’s collection was vast.

Their books were stored in several library pavilions, their locations kept secret and protected by mechanisms and guards day and night.

This was true of other great clans as well.

Thus, in recent days, Li Xian had tortured and executed countless sons of noble houses to force them to reveal where their collections were hidden.

The keys to the Zheng clan’s libraries were always held by the family head—

but last night, Zheng Ji had given those keys to his clansmen.

“I have already slain the culprit Zheng Ji!

By the order of blood and seniority, I am now the Zheng family head!”

On the altar, Zheng Chao knelt with his forehead to the ground.

“I am willing to offer all of the Zheng family’s lands, estates, and collections!

I am willing for the Zheng family of Yingyang to be reduced to commoners!

I am willing, bearing my guilt, to lead our surviving sons throughout the realm to lecture and preach—

to return ourselves to the world, and atone for the Zheng clan’s sins!”

When he finished, he struck his head again against the wet altar, splashing muddy water.

At that very moment, the libraries he spoke of were about to be consumed by fire.

Within the three pavilions of the Zheng family collection, pine oil had been poured across the floors.

“…So be it, so be it!”

“Today, I will perish alongside the Zheng clan’s teachings!”

A clansman, weeping in despair, reached for a torch from a servant’s hand—

but before it could touch the ground, an arrow pierced his knee, knocking him forward.

Footsteps echoed sharply as soldiers entered the library.

The startled servant dropped the torch—

A figure leapt forward, catching it midair and exhaling softly, “That was close…”

Cui Ling’an handed the torch to another man.

“Take it out and extinguish it.”

The injured clansman, dragging his wounded leg, stared up at the tall, straight figure entering the room. His voice trembled in fury:

“It’s you… Cui Ling’an!”

“You—what are you doing?!”

Having already been attacked, he no longer harbored illusions of help.

Cui Jing ignored him, ordering his men to extinguish all flames, remove the torches, and guard the building inside and out.

The wounded man was soon dragged out and thrown onto the stone steps.

“It’s you! You ruined the family head’s plan—it was you!”

“This is your mother’s clan—you share the same blood!”

“Cui Jing, you aid the wicked and disgrace all noble families—may Heaven strike you down!”

Cui Jing did not respond.

He soon saw Zheng family members fleeing in terror—

women clutching their children, hairpins falling loose, ornaments scattered.

Others shouted curses at him in hatred.

A young man suddenly rushed forward from the side, sword raised toward Cui Jing.

Cui Jing did not order his men to harm him.

He simply reached out, gripped the blade, and snapped it in half with his bare hands.

The youth stumbled backward, clutching the broken sword, eyes red with fury.

“Cui Ling’an—you will be condemned by Heaven!”

The young man before him remained calm, his expression deep and cold as still water.

“If Heaven condemns me alone, but the rest of you can live—what of it?”

He turned and walked away.

The youth stood frozen, gripping the broken sword in silence.

At last, he dropped to his knees, howling in anguish.

Back at the altar, Li Xian was about to seize Zheng Chao when a figure appeared before him.

His eyes narrowed.

“General Ningyuan—why are you here?”

 Chapter 302: I Teach My Uncle

Facing this question, Cui Jing looked at Chang Suining. After a brief pause, he lowered his voice and said,

“Your Highness, my thanks.”

Meeting her gaze, he continued,

“I am one caught within the web. Those who are about to be slaughtered are the kin of my late mother—”

Thus, even if he wished to act, though not entirely out of selfish intent, selfishness was inevitably involved.

But she was different. Ever since the rise of the noble clans, the realm had long been divided between aristocrats and common-born scholars. From the standpoint of both the common-born and the Li imperial family, she ought to regard the noble clans as an opposing force.

Yet at this moment, she belonged to neither side. She merely wished to safeguard the thousand-year-old current of culture flowing through this land — to preserve it for the generations yet to come.

Whatever the world became, she truly cherished every river and inch of soil beneath her feet.

Looking at the young lady standing amid the murky night, her robes damp and soiled with mud, a line came unbidden to Cui Jing’s mind:

“A spirit fallen into the mire, yet its light unextinguished.”

At that moment, he heard her say:

“Precisely because you are within the web, you understand better than anyone what the noble clans possess, what they control. If all that were to be burned to ash, it would be a grievous loss. Moreover, even if you harbor selfish intent — that is only human nature.”

“In this world, what conflict has ever been free from selfish intent? The struggle between the throne and the clans — both sides act out of self-interest. Even the Holy Emperor, who ‘tests’ you with such means, does so out of self-interest as well.”

She said with calm indifference,

“Since all are selfish, by what right should anyone demand that you alone be a fool without it?”

Then she added softly,

“Right and wrong are bound to their time and place. With the passing of years, when stances change, what is wrong may become right, and what is right may be wrong. So long as we are without shame in our hearts at this moment, that is enough.”

Cui Jing looked deeply at her and nodded.

“Yes. So it should be.”

“I wonder, Your Highness — how do you intend to test them?”

Chang Suining did not answer directly, but asked instead,

“And you? Since you have returned this time, what are your thoughts?”

Cui Jing said,

“In my eyes, the calamity upon the Central Plains’ noble clans is not one that external forces can save.”

Even setting aside right and wrong, if he led the Xuanzhe Army to forcibly protect the clans led by the Zheng family, those beyond Luoyang and Yingyang would still face punishment. The disaster would quickly spread, implicating even more clans, including the Cui family itself — making the situation only worse.

The downfall of the noble clans of the Central Plains had become inevitable from the moment they chose to side with Xu Zhengye. They had to pay the price for their own deeds.

“If outside forces cannot save them, then only self-rescue remains,” said Chang Suining.

“To seek a way of self-rescue, one must save people — not merely the noble clans.”

“Yes,” said Cui Jing. “At present, only by stepping into the abyss can there be rebirth.”

As their gazes met, both already understood what the other intended.

“If it is to be self-rescue, then we must have figures of influence among them to discuss a course of action,” said Chang Suining. “The Zheng clan of Yingyang stands foremost among the noble families of the Central Plains. Time is pressing — why not secretly send men to Yingyang, and bring here some Zheng clansmen of weight?”

“No need to abduct anyone,” said Cui Jing, turning his head to the side. “This gentleman here bears the surname Zheng — Zheng Chao, courtesy name Guancang.”

“Zheng Chao…?” Chang Suining repeated, somewhat surprised. “Your maternal uncle?”

Cui Jing nodded. He was his mother’s only brother.

“My uncle is unlike the other members of the Zheng clan. His story is rather long.”

Chang Suining had heard a little about Zheng Chao before. He was the legitimate eldest son of the Zheng family’s main branch in Yingyang. In his youth, after his father’s passing, he inherited the position of clan head, but within a few years, the Zheng clansmen deposed him under the pretext of ‘frailty and unfitness for leadership.’

The succession of a great clan’s patriarch was no small matter. Having long been one of suspicion, Chang Suining had sensed something amiss even back then. Now that she encountered the man himself, she could not help but ask,

“...The rumors say your uncle has been long ill — is that true?”

“Half true, half false,” said Cui Jing. “He is indeed ill, but as he himself claims, his ailment lies in the mind.”

“What sort of affliction of the mind?”

Could it be cured by the Huichun Hall?

Cui Jing replied,

“A chronic illness of rejecting the way the noble clans conduct themselves.”

“…” Chang Suining instinctively looked at his head.

She had not expected this ailment to have a hereditary strain within the family.

Cui Jing then told her of his uncle Zheng Chao’s many youthful acts of defiance — how he once sought to reform the system of the noble clans, proposed opening education to the common-born scholars, and even wished to build academies everywhere, sharing the Zheng family’s collection of books with the world, so that all students under Heaven might have texts to study.

He had been filled with passion, his eyes alight as if finally seeing the dawn of his dream — leaving the entire Zheng family dumbstruck. For a moment, they could not tell whether the new patriarch had gone mad or simply lost his wits.

They searched the family genealogy, wondering from which branch such a disastrous deviation had arisen, hired masters to examine the ancestral tombs and geomancy, even performed exorcisms — all to no avail.

After several years, seeing that the young patriarch remained unrepentantly “deranged,” the family reached a consensus: whoever wished for him could have him — they certainly did not.

Thus came the official reason: “Too frail and ill to shoulder the duties of patriarch.”

Hearing all this, Chang Suining felt a newfound respect for this Master Zheng — suddenly realizing that he was in truth the very progenitor of the “rebellious ailment” afflicting the noble clans.

Before long, she and Cui Jing went together to meet this founding rebel.

Yuan Miao was still kneeling on the ground. When she saw them approach, she wiped her tears and was about to withdraw.

But Chang Suining said,

“Stay and listen.”

Yuan Miao stopped, instinctively looking toward her.

“Master Zheng.” Chang Suining raised her hand in greeting.

Zheng Chao, upon hearing, turned to look at his nephew and clicked his tongue.

So little time had passed, and yet the boy had already given him away.

Meeting his uncle’s questioning gaze, Cui Jing feigned ignorance.

“I wonder, Master Zheng,” said Chang Suining frankly, “what plans you might have next?”

Zheng Chao nodded confidently. “I do. I’ve already planned it all.”

Chang Suining’s eyes lit with anticipation.

Cui Jing almost wanted to caution her not to expect too much — for, knowing his uncle…

“Tomorrow,” Zheng Chao declared, “I shall return to Yingyang. Once I’ve eaten my fill, bathed, and changed into clean robes, I will sit at home and await the Imperial Envoy Li Xian’s arrival — when he comes to execute me.”

Chang Suining: “…”

Yuan Miao: “…”

Cui Jing remained utterly calm — he was long used to this.

“Master Zheng has rendered great service in controlling the floods. Moreover, I have just heard from Grand General Cui that Master Zheng was unaware of the Zheng family’s collusion with Xu Zhengye,” said Chang Suining.

“Of course I did not know,” Zheng Chao replied indifferently. “I have never held any voice in the Zheng family’s affairs. Yet whether I knew or not—what difference does it make? Those who perished unjustly in Luoyang, even the women and children—did they all know? They did not, yet they still had to die.”

“This matter is unjust and must not be allowed to continue,” said Chang Suining, meeting his gaze. “If such wrongs are permitted to persist, they will become an unbreakable trend. Then, more innocent people will die in vain. Therefore, it is necessary for you, sir, to step forward and put a stop to it.”

“…Who?” Zheng Chao froze. “Me?”

It was as if he had heard a jest. He laughed once, then said, “I have heard of General Ningyuan’s deeds—she can save others, but I cannot.”

“No,” said Chang Suining, “this matter can be done by no one but you.”

Meeting that steady and resolute gaze, Zheng Chao fell silent for a while before smiling toward Cui Jing. “Ling’an, the persuader you found is far better at speaking than you.”

As he spoke, he rose from the stone mill. Having sat cross-legged for too long, his legs had gone numb. Straightening his robe, he sighed in self-mockery. “Enough, I will find a place to sleep. I must return to Xingyang tomorrow.”

“Master Zheng once tried to save the Zheng family in the past,” came a voice from behind him. “Why not try again this time?”

Zheng Chao halted mid-step.

Cui Jing looked at the man’s back and said, “Uncle, you do not fear death—so why fear to try?”

After a long pause, Zheng Chao slowly turned back to face the two of them and pointed. “Between the two of you—who is truly making the decisions here?”

He suddenly felt that this young lady was not merely a persuader his nephew had brought.

“It is her,” said Cui Jing, turning toward Chang Suining. “Uncle should trust her.”

Only then did Zheng Chao give Chang Suining a look of genuine regard. “General Ningyuan, why do you wish to help the Zheng family?”

Chang Suining shook her head. “This junior does not intend to help the Zheng family. Like you, sir, I wish for the learning of the gentry to have the chance to be passed down throughout the realm, rather than vanish and perish.”

Zheng Chao was taken aback, then glanced toward his nephew—did this boy truly tell her everything?

He laughed at himself. “When I said such things in my youth, everyone thought me mad. Of course, it is still the same now. In the Zheng clan, I am the madman of great repute.”

Chang Suining smiled. “That is a good thing. Only madmen can act freely.”

Zheng Chao looked at her, curious and testing. “Then tell me, General, how should this madman act?”

“Can Master Zheng kill?” asked Chang Suining.

“Kill whom?” Zheng Chao asked blankly.

Kill Li Xian?

If that was what she meant, he truly would rather go sleep.

“Kill the gentry to protect the Zheng family,” said Chang Suining.

Zheng Chao was stunned. “How would I kill them?”

“Of course, with a blade.”

Zheng Chao started. “Truly kill people?”

Not a metaphor?

He waved his hands hastily. “…That will not do. I have never killed anyone!”

Then added, “Not even a chicken!”

Cui Jing spoke in time. “I shall teach my uncle—it is not difficult to learn.”

Zheng Chao’s lips trembled. Looking at his thoughtful, considerate nephew, he found himself unable to refuse.

If his late sister could see from the afterlife that her son was teaching her brother how to kill, who knows what she would think?

During the next two days, elsewhere aside, the people within and around Xingyang City lacked grain and nearly rioted, though the authorities managed to suppress them.

The county magistrate of Xingyang, his hair falling in handfuls from anxiety, had nearly despaired when a savior arrived.

The savior offered an enormous gift—ten thousand shi of grain—but on one condition.

The magistrate bowed repeatedly in gratitude. “Not one, even a hundred conditions, I would agree to all! That is ten thousand shi of grain!”

The other party’s demand was simple: to open the city’s altar and pray for the rain to cease.

Hearing this, the magistrate nearly wept with joy. “What a living Bodhisattva!”

That same day, several porridge sheds were set up throughout Xingyang City. The magistrate publicly declared that the grain had been donated by the Zheng family to relieve the famine victims.

The people, long tormented by hunger, were deeply grateful for the Zheng family’s generosity.

But the Zheng clan head, Zheng Ji, flew into a rage. Busy with pressing affairs, he had known nothing of this so-called donation. Upon investigation, he learned that it had been Zheng Chao’s doing.

“That madman,” Zheng Ji sneered. “Does he truly think that by giving away some grain and currying a bit of favor with the common rabble, he can escape this calamity?”

To preserve the Zheng family through the pity of starving peasants—what folly!

After all these years, his cousin was still the same—naïve, foolish, dreaming wildly.

As the man who had succeeded Zheng Chao as clan head and masterminded the Zhengs’ alliance with Xu Zhengye, Zheng Ji was not one for mercy. He immediately had those involved in the grain donation punished severely and sent men to bring Zheng Chao back. But soon came the report—Zheng Chao was in the city, atop the altar, personally offering prayers.

Zheng Ji laughed coldly. “He has truly disgraced the Zheng family!”

At such a critical juncture, he had not wished to concern himself with the madman’s antics—but he soon learned that Zheng Chao’s act of prayer was far more “mad” than he had imagined.

As the rain eased, many famine victims who had received Zheng’s aid came voluntarily to the altar to express gratitude.

On the high altar, seeing the growing crowd below, Zheng Chao—who had been sitting cross-legged beside a dozen monks—slowly rose to his feet.

Under countless watching eyes, he stepped to the front and called out loudly, “You may not know me. I am Zheng Chao, courtesy name Guancang, former head of the Zheng family’s main branch in Xingyang. Today, I pray here to atone for the Zheng family’s sins and beg Heaven and the Buddhas for forgiveness!”

The crowd stirred in confusion.

“This flood in the Central Plains, this calamity upon Luo River and the land of He, all are the fault of the Zheng family!” cried Zheng Chao, eyes bloodshot, his soaked garments clinging to his frame. “The Zhengs are steeped in sin—colluding with the traitor Xu, offending Heaven itself! Our guilt is beyond pardon!”

The words thundered across the square, and the crowd erupted.

The former head of the Zheng family… had confessed on behalf of the clan!

The affair of the Luoyang gentry had already spread, and some whispered that the next to fall would be the Zhengs of Xingyang. Yet the Zhengs were the foremost gentry of the Central Plains—deep-rooted and powerful—none dared predict their fate.

And now, before their eyes, a Zheng elder had admitted their guilt publicly!

The uproar grew. The news spread like wildfire, and ever more people gathered before the altar.

Zheng Chao’s “mad act” reached the ears of Zheng Ji and the other elders.

In recent years, Zheng Chao had lived as an idle drunk, near useless—none expected such a spectacle.

When word came that he had confessed the Zhengs’ guilt in public, the clan members turned pale. “Why are you not bringing him back immediately!”

But their servants stammered in panic—men with extraordinary martial skill guarded the altar. None could get near.

“It seems my cousin has truly gone mad,” said Zheng Ji coldly. “I will bring him back myself.”

At such a moment, only he, the clan head, could salvage a shred of dignity.

As for the rest—

Word had just arrived that Li Xian had already led his troops into Xingyang. By now, he should have crossed the city gates.

“Uncles, remain here. Proceed with the plan as arranged.”

(End of Chapter)