[Imperial Palace · Taiji Hall · 5-7 AM]
"By imperial decree, this minister has investigated the currency case. The findings are as follows—"
Xie Qingyan's voice resonated through Taiji Hall. Every official held their breath.
"—Seventeen individuals, including Ministry of Revenue Director Wang and Supervisor Zhang, conspired with corrupt merchants to illegally trade old currency for personal profit. The total sum involved: eight hundred thousand taels of silver and three million strings of old copper coins."
Eight hundred thousand taels.
The number struck like a thunderclap, reverberating through every heart in the hall.
Dead silence descended upon the chamber. So quiet you could hear someone's sharp intake of breath. So quiet you could hear the soft plink of cold sweat dripping from a minister's brow onto the marble floor.
The young Emperor sat on his dragon throne, his small face taut with tension. Though only a child, he understood what eight hundred thousand taels meant—that was half the national treasury's annual tax revenue. Such an enormous sum, simply embezzled?
He stole a glance at the Regent beside him, then at the officials kneeling below, and a complicated emotion stirred in his chest.
Imperial Uncle is truly formidable. Those ministers who usually bossed him around now cowered in silence, not even daring to breathe too loudly.
But the more formidable Imperial Uncle becomes, the more I seem like a mere decoration...
Xie Qingyan continued: "This minister has detained all implicated parties in the Ministry of Justice prison. Witnesses and evidence are complete and accounted for. I request Your Majesty issue a decree for punishment according to the law."
The young Emperor swallowed hard and nodded hastily: "G-Granted! Permission granted!"
Standing among the civil officials, Prime Minister Zhou Yanling's expression had turned utterly ghastly.
That list of seventeen names—he didn't need to see it to know. They were all his people. Director Wang, Supervisor Zhang, Clerk Li... these were the trusted subordinates he'd planted in the Ministry of Revenue over a decade of careful cultivation, his chess pieces, now swept away in a single net.
His hands trembled within his sleeves, fingernails digging so hard into his palms they nearly drew blood.
What alarmed him even more was the behavior of the officials around him—those who usually showed him the utmost deference now hung their heads, eyes darting everywhere, desperately trying to put distance between themselves and him.
Vice Minister Liu of Revenue shuffled half a step to the side, pretending to adjust his sleeve. Director Qian of Rites turned his face away entirely, suddenly fascinated by the carved patterns on a pillar. Even the Ministry of Personnel supervisor whom Zhou Yanling had personally promoted now had his head bowed low, as if trying to shrink into nothingness.
These fence-sitting cowards! Zhou Yanling ground his teeth internally. Every day they eat my food, take my money—but the moment trouble arrives, they scatter faster than rats from a sinking ship!
"Prime Minister," Xie Qingyan suddenly spoke, his gaze falling upon him, "the list of implicated parties includes several individuals who maintained close contact with your residence. This King would like to inquire—were you aware of their activities?"
A wave of whispers rippled through the hall.
Zhou Yanling's expression shifted. He hurried forward and dropped to his knees: "Your Highness the Regent, please see clearly! This old minister's interactions with these individuals were nothing more than ordinary social exchanges. I had no idea they would dare commit such audacious crimes! I am willing to cooperate fully with any investigation. If I am found to have even the slightest connection to this matter, I will accept my punishment without complaint!"
"The Prime Minister speaks too seriously." Xie Qingyan's tone was mild. "This King is not suspecting the Prime Minister of anything—merely asking as a matter of routine. There is no need for the Prime Minister to be nervous."
The words were spoken lightly, almost casually, yet they sent a chill down Zhou Yanling's spine.
Xie Lan is warning me. Not moving against him today didn't mean he wouldn't move tomorrow.
"Your Majesty, this minister has one more matter to report." Xie Qingyan turned to face the young Emperor. "I recommend that the recovered funds of eight hundred thousand taels be deposited into the national treasury, to be used for disaster relief and river embankment repairs."
The young Emperor nodded eagerly: "Imperial Uncle is right! Let it be as Imperial Uncle says!"
"This minister thanks Your Majesty for your grace."
The morning court session concluded. Officials filed out in orderly streams.
Yin Wuwang walked among the military officials, coldly observing as the ministers clustered in small groups, heads bent together in whispered discussion, their expressions a varied tapestry. Some gloated at others' misfortune. Some looked worried sick. Others wore expressions of naked sycophancy, craning their necks to catch a glimpse of the Regent.
A bunch of fence-sitters. He sneered internally. Whichever way the wind blows, that's where they bend.
Little Deer Assistant 9527's voice crackled in his mind: "Suggestion: Press the advantage! Take down the Prime Minister in one stroke! Cut the weeds and dig up the roots! Speed-run to victory!"
Yin Wuwang didn't even blink. Too hasty. That old fox of a Prime Minister won't go down without ironclad evidence. Strike now, and we'll only alert the snake by disturbing the grass.
He ignored the Little Deer's advice and strode out of Taiji Hall.
[Prime Minister's Residence · Study · 9-11 AM]
Zhou Yanling returned to his residence and smashed an entire tea set to pieces.
It was his treasured Ru ware—priceless, carefully preserved for years, so precious he'd normally hesitate to even touch it. Now he hurled it piece by piece against the floor, porcelain shards scattering in every direction.
"Bastard!" He kicked over the tea table. "That whelp Xie Lan!"
His advisors stood frozen at the edges of the room, too terrified to approach or offer words of comfort.
Zhou Yanling paced back and forth across the study, his chest heaving violently. He remembered ten years ago, when Xie Lan had been nothing but a green young man fresh to the court. It was he, Zhou Yanling, who had recommended him to the late Emperor, who had secured him a position in the cabinet. In those days, Xie Lan had been all deference and respect, addressing him as "Benefactor Prime Minister" at every turn.
A man I raised with my own hands, now dares to bite the hand that fed him!
The more he thought, the angrier he became. He grabbed the inkstone from his desk and hurled it at the wall. Ink splattered everywhere, leaving a shocking black stain across the pristine white surface.
"My lord, please calm yourself..." One advisor mustered enough courage to step forward. "What's done is done. Perhaps we should..."
"Should what?!" Zhou Yanling whirled on him, eyes bloodshot. "Seventeen men! Eight hundred thousand taels! Ten years of cultivation in the Ministry of Revenue—gone overnight! You want me to calm down?!"
The advisor stumbled backward several steps, not daring to speak another word.
Zhou Yanling slumped into his chair, looking around the room.
A study full of advisors and retainers, each one styling themselves as a brilliant strategist on ordinary days—yet now every head was bowed, every mouth sealed. Not a single one could step forward with a useful idea.
A pack of useless fools! He cursed silently. What's the point of keeping any of you?
But cursing was one thing. He also knew that he had lost this round. Xie Lan's strategy had been watertight—from the currency reform to the black market investigation, every move had anticipated his reactions. He'd swum straight into Xie Lan's net like a stupid fish.
"Send someone to invite Prince Huai for a discussion at the residence." His voice emerged hoarse. "Tell him I have urgent matters to discuss."
An advisor bowed and departed.
Zhou Yanling sat alone in his study, gazing at the floor strewn with broken porcelain and ink stains. A vicious gleam flickered in his eyes.
Xie Lan, you think this is over? I've navigated court politics for forty years—what storms haven't I weathered? You may have won this battle, but you won't win the war!
[Southern District · Prince Huai's Residence · Noon]
In the rear garden of Prince Huai's residence, a pool of emerald water held several koi fish drifting lazily about.
Prince Huai sat in a pavilion by the water's edge, one hand holding fish food, tossing it into the water with an air of casual indifference. Today he wore a moon-white robe, his hair gathered with a jade hairpin. He looked the picture of refined elegance—nothing like a ruthlessly ambitious member of the imperial clan.
"Your Highness, someone has arrived from the Prime Minister's residence." The steward bowed low. "The Prime Minister requests Your Highness's presence for an urgent discussion."
Prince Huai's hand paused momentarily over the water. Then he resumed scattering the fish food, not even lifting his head: "I decline."
"Your Highness?"
"Zhou Yanling, that old fox, is currently an ant on a hot pan." A faint smile curved Prince Huai's lips. "He wants to drag me into the water with him. I'm not that foolish."
The steward hesitated. "Then how should we reply to the Prime Minister's messenger?"
"Tell them my old ailment has flared up and I'm bedridden." Prince Huai spoke with languid unconcern. "Advise him to rest well. No need to visit."
The steward bowed and withdrew.
Prince Huai sat alone in the pavilion, watching the koi glide through the water. His eyes were deep and unreadable.
Zhou Yanling moved too hastily with his gambit. Greed blinding ambition—hoarding that much old currency was practically sending Xie Lan an engraved invitation: "Come arrest me."
He'd anticipated Zhou Yanling would stumble eventually, but hadn't expected the fall to be quite this spectacular. Eight hundred thousand taels, seventeen men, the entire Ministry of Revenue network uprooted—Xie Lan had cast his net wide and pulled it tight.
Still, this isn't necessarily bad news for me. Prince Huai calculated silently.
With Zhou Yanling's power severely diminished, he would become even more dependent on Prince Huai going forward. And while Xie Lan's move had been brilliantly executed, it had also pushed him to the forefront of attention. Those fence-sitting officials who cowered before the Regent's authority today might not hesitate to switch allegiances tomorrow.
He looked down at the koi in the pond, suddenly reached in, and lifted one from the water. He examined it for a moment, then gently released it.
"Send word to Zhou Yanling," he said quietly. "Tell him to hold steady and make no rash moves. When the storm has passed, I will make arrangements."
The steward bowed and departed.
Prince Huai rose and walked to a potted plant by the water's edge—a carefully pruned pine, its needles deep green, its shape refined and elegant.
He picked up a pair of shears, studied the tree for a moment, then snipped away a withered branch.
"This branch... has outlived its usefulness." He murmured to himself, a meaningful smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
In the pond, the koi churned, splashing droplets of water into the afternoon light.
[Duke of Zhenguo's Residence · Study · 5-7 PM]
Yin Wuwang sat in his study, brush in hand, composing a secret letter.
"The Prime Minister has suffered heavy losses and has sent someone to contact Prince Huai. Prince Huai remains stationary, likely waiting for the opportune moment. Many fence-sitters in court—beware of defections."
He sealed the letter and handed it to his personal guard. "Deliver this to the Regent's residence."
The guard bowed and departed.
Half a shichen later, a reply arrived.
Yin Wuwang unfolded the paper. Upon it, in that familiar cool, elegant script: "The Prime Minister will certainly strike back. Be careful."
He stared at those words, and the corner of his mouth curved upward. Is Fuguang... reminding me to stay safe?
Fuguang really is thoughtful. He mused. Though I am the mighty Demon Lord—a mere Prime Minister's retaliation is nothing to worry about.
He picked up his brush to reply: "Don't worry. I know what I'm doing."
After writing it, he felt the response was too curt, as if he wasn't taking Fuguang's concern seriously enough. So he added another line: "You be careful too."
Looking at those three characters, he began to second-guess himself. Would this seem too caring? Would Fuguang think I'm trying to get too familiar?
Forget it! He steeled his resolve, sealed the letter, and sent it off. So what if I care? I DO care about him!
After the letter was dispatched, he leaned back in his chair and gazed out at the darkening sky beyond his window.
This round of closing the net was only the beginning. The Prime Minister would never let this go without retaliation.
And in the southern district, Prince Huai set down his fish food and rose from the pavilion.
"Prepare my wheelchair," he said quietly. "It seems it's time I paid more attention to court affairs."
His aide bowed. "Your Highness's health..."
"My health," Prince Huai smiled thinly, "has never been the problem."
Ten years of playing the invalid. Ten years of watching from the shadows. The Regent and the Prime Minister were too busy fighting each other to notice the third player positioning his pieces.
Let them exhaust themselves, he thought. When they're both bleeding, I'll be the one still standing.
[End of Chapter 11]
Next Chapter Preview:
The man who spent ten years in a wheelchair suddenly stands. The court gasps. The chessboard shifts. And Prince Huai has only one thing to say to these two overpowered transmigrators:
"You cheating bastards have no martial ethics!"
Chapter 12: The Wheelchair Prince: You Two Cheaters Have No Martial Ethics!