Free Web NovelThe emperor’s pupils, behind the ceremonial fringe, suddenly contracted.
In the space of a single breath, his expression moved from puzzlement to astonishment, then to an almost incredulous shock.
This man… he recognized him!
Five years ago, on this same hall that symbolizes the empire’s highest authority — though back then it was not the Court of State Ceremonies, but the even more imposing Hall of Golden Chimes — after the Metropolitan Examination results were announced and the Qionglin Banquet had ended, the new jinshi had come to the throne to give thanks.
He remembered it clearly: tenth place in the second class, that young jinshi from Qingshi County, only seventeen years old, the one he personally appointed to the Hanlin Academy as a compiler.
That youth who, in the imperial court, had been accused by Yongchang Marquis Chen Yuan of the monstrous crime of "causing military delays," forced into a desperate plight, and ultimately stripped of office and scholarly honors by one helpless imperial edict — then exiled to the Blackwater Camp on the Northern Frontier!
His name was Su Ming!
For a moment, the emperor’s breathing briefly faltered.
Five years had passed.
He had assumed that talented yet stubborn-as-stone teenager had, like countless other exiles, turned into a mound of earth on the northern ice, a single skeleton.
So how could he be here?
How could he possibly… be seated in the position of a Cloud Hidden Sect envoy?!
That blue robe, that aloof, otherworldly calm that seemed at odds with the mundane world, all of it pointed toward a possibility that made the emperor’s scalp tingle.
Beneath the throne, among the officials,
several veteran ministers who had attended that same court session five years ago almost simultaneously recognized Su Ming.
“Hiss… isn’t that…”
“The Hanlin compiler… Compiler Su?”
“Wasn’t he exiled? How could he…”
Whispers, like the buzz of flies, spread in a small radius through the silent ranks of officials. Some gasped in shock, others wore puzzled expressions, and a few seasoned ministers with deeper calculations glanced meaningfully at Xu Qing, who stood beside the throne, their looks turning complex.
They all remembered: the only person who had stood up in the Hall of Golden Chimes five years ago to defend Su Ming was the current Minister of Revenue, Xu Qing.
Now, one man held overwhelming power at court, while the other had become a sect envoy.
What had happened in these five years?
Xu Qing stood at the emperor’s side, eyes forward, utterly composed. To the probing, astonished gazes turned his way, he seemed entirely oblivious. His expression was as calm as deep water, without even a ripple.
He had finally, with dignity, returned to the capital that once wronged and humiliated him, albeit in a different role.
On the throne, the storm in the emperor’s eyes rose quickly — and subsided just as fast.
After all, he was a mighty sovereign; his temperament was steadier than most. He soon withdrew his gaze and restored his solemn, detached bearing, neither acknowledging nor revealing anything unusual.
Yet the hand hidden in his wide dragon sleeve had, without intention, clenched slightly.
The emperor’s mind replayed the image of the thin figure kneeling on the cold tiles of the Hall of Golden Chimes five years earlier.
That youth had faced the Yongchang Marquis’s immense power and framing with a straight back and unflinching eyes, showing no fear, only a near-obsessive calm and stubbornness.
Now that person had returned.
Not shackled and weather-beaten as a prisoner, but as a Cloud Hidden Sect envoy — a status that even the Son of Heaven would be required to receive with ceremony.
The emperor’s eyes flicked to Xu Qing beside him.
Suddenly, many things fell into place.
The first chess piece in this game had been placed five years ago, and it was one he had not known about.
An odd hush fell over the great hall.
At that moment, the Northern Barbarian delegation’s chancellor — who had remained silent until now — slowly raised his head.
A faint glint passed through his clouded eyes, and his hoarse voice, like sandpaper, broke the still air.
“Your Majesty.”
The Northern Barbarian chancellor rose and bowed deeply to the Son of Heaven on the throne.
“Our Great Khan wishes for eternal peace with Great Xing. However, Northwind City, Cloud Center City, and Dingxiang City were taken by our forces over four years ago. The people there have long adapted to our governance. If returned forcibly, I fear they will rebel.”
His tone was neither humble nor arrogant; each word was slow, yet carried an unquestionable firmness.
“For the sake of lasting peace between our states and for the people of the three cities, I implore Your Majesty’s compassion. Allow your mighty forces to withdraw with dignity, and acknowledge my state’s administrative control over the three cities. Only then can there be a long-term solution.”
When he finished, the temperature in the hall seemed to drop several degrees.
The so-called peace talks began with a brazen challenge.
The chancellor’s words struck the hall like a boulder thrown into a calm lake, sending invisible ripples through the chamber.
Withdraw with dignity?
Acknowledge Northern Barbarian control of the three cities?
This was not a plea for peace — it was a show of strength meant to coerce!
Several of Great Xing’s generals flushed with anger; veins stood out on their hands as they gripped their sword hilts, nearly ready to erupt.
On the throne, the emperor’s face remained composed, but the eyes behind the ceremonial fringe narrowed slightly, showing a glint of coldness.
Before the emperor could speak, Xu Qing at his side gave a soft, almost imperceptible scoffing laugh.
The sound was light, but in the empty hall it rang clear — like a thin needle puncturing the chancellor’s newly projected aura of toughness.
“Chancellor.”
Xu Qing spoke slowly, his tone warm and even, betraying no anger or delight. He did not look directly at the Northern Barbarian chancellor. Instead, from his sleeve he casually produced a thick roll of archives.
He placed the documents gently on the table before him, producing a dull thud.
“You say, for the people of the three cities. That is well said.”
Xu Qing lifted his eyes and finally looked at the chancellor. His gaze was as still as water, yet carried a sharpness that seemed to see through a man’s heart.
“Then please, Chancellor, take a look at this. Over the past four years, in your attempts to wrest back what belongs to Great Xing, how many of our border towns’ people have been displaced? How many of our soldiers have died with their horses’ hides on them?”
Xu Qing did not raise his voice. He extended a long finger and lightly opened the first page of the archive.
“Autumn, the twenty-first year of Great Xing’s Yongtai reign: your state, without cause, tore up the treaty and sent iron cavalry south to capture Northwind City. Of the city’s garrison of thirty-six hundred, three thousand five hundred and ninety-eight died in battle; the remaining two were grievously wounded and maimed.”
“After the city fell, your troops pillaged for three days. Over twelve thousand civilians were killed or wounded, houses were destroyed, towns left desolate, nine out of ten households gone.”
“That same winter, at Wind Crossing Ferry outside Cloud Center City, our Imperial Guard thirty thousand faced your fifty thousand. In that engagement, our forces suffered eighteen thousand dead and nine thousand wounded. Your army’s casualties… are unknown.”
