Chancellor Yin’s pupil, a scion of the Zuo clan of Xinyang, the top scholar in all three examinations under the late emperor—none of it could outweigh the Prince Regent’s fearsome reputation. In less than a quarter of an hour, Zuo Yuan had assembled two thirds of the prefectural troops outside the city. He dared not delay, terrified that even a moment’s hesitation might cost him his head beneath the Prince Regent’s sword.
Meanwhile, Xu Qingye told Song Liang how the Prince Regent had slaughtered warriors of the thirteen Hu tribes on the battlefield in his younger days, and Rong Jing recounted how he had killed powerful eunuchs and nobles in Yanjing over the past few years.
In short, he killed whenever he pleased. He was the law.
Song Liang could only envy him, wondering when he, too, might enjoy such a gloriously lawless existence.
3085 vehemently condemned this ambition and flung his Tyranny score, along with his Debauchery score, in front of him. Song Liang pretended not to notice. Through the transparent screen, he could see the prefect of Qingyang’s face, seething with anger he dared not voice.
“Shall we kill him?” Xie Yun asked mildly.
“Let’s get through this first,” Song Liang replied at leisure. “You can never kill everyone. The point of killing is to make people easier to govern. If he submits to my authority, I don’t mind keeping him.”
“A scholar who topped all three examinations. I do appreciate an educated man.”
“Especially one with personal ambitions. Those are the most useful. Once properly tamed, he’ll serve me better than a general commanding three armies.”
“Did you truly make no contingency plans?” Xie Yun asked.
“You understand me better by the day. Soon you’ll know me as well as I know you.” Song Liang tilted his head toward him, his voice bright with interest. “If we ever truly fought, I wonder which of us would win.”
“You are the most competitive person I have ever met.”
3085: 【A like for the comment above. [Like]】
Song Liang: 【…】
“Since you anticipated my involvement in this hunt, you must also have anticipated that Cen Huan would lead a rebellion without hesitation if anything happened to me. You would have arranged for at least one person to prevent it.”
“I did. I’m just not sure he can keep himself alive first…”
At the Western Hills camp, what should have been a joyous imperial gathering was now shrouded in gloom. First, His Majesty had been attacked and fallen from a cliff. Then the Prince Regent had inexplicably disappeared. After that, the Grand Empress Dowager had led the Golden Plume Guard to arrest the Black Armor Guard, accusing their master, Xie Yun, of attempting to assassinate the emperor.
Yet no sooner had the Black Armor Guard been detained than their two commanders rode back. Before the Grand Empress Dowager herself, they threw down the gravely wounded, unconscious Marquis of Wuying, declared that he had attempted to assassinate both His Majesty and the Prince Regent in a treasonous plot, and demanded an explanation from her.
Naturally, the Grand Empress Dowager denied it. The Black Armor Guard responded by surrounding the entire camp.
There were barely more than a dozen of these mounted guards, yet they held the camp as though a single warrior barred a pass against ten thousand men. No one dared leave their tent without permission. The accompanying ministers and nobles had spent an entire day and night hiding in their respective quarters.
Only that morning had someone finally lost patience and demanded to know how much longer the Black Armor Guard intended to detain them. On hearing this, Cen Huan simply sent word: they would release everyone when the Prince Regent returned unharmed.
This provoked considerable outrage. Many longed to demand whether the Black Armor Guard truly intended to rebel if Xie Yun never returned.
But no one actually dared ask. They all knew that Cen Huan and his men were perfectly capable of rebellion. Everyone in Yanjing knew that even the dogs in the Prince Regent’s residence had treason in their bones.
Another half day passed. With nightfall approaching once more, the gathering could no longer remain still. Unrest stirred through the camp again, resentment toward the Black Armor Guard mounting. Some even began cursing Xie Yun under their breath.
Just then, three thousand Golden Plume Guards finally arrived, surrounding Cen Huan and Ruan Chong’s tent and every member of the Black Armor Guard.
With three thousand Golden Plume Guards within the camp and the Xiaoyi and Tengxiang Guards outside, the younger nobles assumed the Black Armor Guard would have no choice but to surrender.
Several veteran ministers, however, felt a jolt of alarm. Few could imagine the depth of the young Lord Cen’s loyalty to the Prince Regent. Fewer still understood just how formidable the Black Armor Guard were in battle. The Grand Empress Dowager was all but goading them into violence.
Realizing the danger, one minister considered risking a visit to Cen Huan.
It was already too late.
The moment Cen Huan heard that the Golden Plume Guard had surrounded the camp, he gave a cold laugh. He and Ruan Chong each took a spear from the weapons rack, left the tent, and mounted their horses.
Then he leveled his spear at the Grand Empress Dowager, who stood ahead in sumptuous robes, supported by her attendants.
“Black Armor Guard! Follow your general and engage the enemy!”
At a single command, the dozen or so Black Armor riders in dark robes and light armor instantly struck the heads from the Golden Plume Guards beside them. Blood splashed across the ground. The fallen men had never expected them to attack without hesitation.
Neither had the Grand Empress Dowager.
“Seize them!” she shrieked.
Cries of alarm and agony erupted throughout the camp. Ministers and nobles scattered. The young lords who had paraded about so proudly in their finery the day before now scrambled for hiding places.
Amid the chaos, a figure suddenly darted out of the crowd and rushed at the Grand Empress Dowager. He pressed a blade to her throat and shouted, “I have the Grand Empress Dowager! Everyone, stop!”
Reinforced by a measure of internal energy, his voice reached every ear. The crowd looked up and saw a youth holding the Grand Empress Dowager hostage. Shock rippled through them.
Cen Huan frowned, the murderous fury around him still undiminished.
“Isn’t that the guard who serves the young emperor?”
Ruan Chong nodded. “It is.”
Qin Zhiwei knew everyone in the young emperor’s service. Naturally, she recognized Xuan Seven as well. Her expression turned cold.
“Such audacity! You dare take me hostage? Have you grown tired of living?”
Xuan Seven’s voice trembled. “Tell them to stop.”
Qin Zhiwei gave a cold laugh.
“So young, and so capable. What a pity you chose the wrong master. Have you considered what will become of you if Chen Min fails to return alive?”
Before Xuan Seven could answer, she continued, “You will be sentenced to death by a thousand cuts. Slice by slice, they will strip the flesh from your body. Only when your blood has run dry and every scrap of flesh is gone will you be allowed to die. Your clansmen, your family, your friends—all of them will be executed!”
Xuan Seven went pale. His hand shook involuntarily.
The maid beside Qin Zhiwei struck at once, forcing him back. He had no choice but to retreat, only to find a guard’s blade pressed against his neck.
“On your knees!”
Someone kicked the backs of his knees. His legs buckled, pitching him forward.
At that very instant, a long saber came hurtling through the air and plunged into the earth beneath his knees, catching and supporting them before he could kneel.
With it came the thunder of approaching hooves—and a furious shout, cold and dark.
“Let me see who dares make him kneel!”
“…”
That voice was so familiar that even darkened by anger, it was instantly recognized by everyone present.
Clad in crimson brocade, his black hair bound high, Song Liang rode toward them, sitting tall in the saddle. His handsome features carried a chilling, almost blinding killing intent. As he looked down upon them all, the onlookers felt, for one fleeting moment, that they were seeing the Chen dynasty’s Emperor Gaozu step out of his portrait in the ancestral temple.
Cen Huan straightened sharply in his saddle.
Qin Zhiwei stared at the approaching figure, her eyes wide with hatred, her nails digging into her palms until they drew blood.
“Chen. Min!”
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