Memorials from all over the land flew to the capital like snowflakes.
The encirclement of the Central Secretariat had enraged the literati of the realm. Scholars and degree holders signed a petition of ten thousand names, which was spread out on the imperial desk. The killing intent in Ji Hong's eyes had nearly transformed into a blood mist. The eunuch attending him, fearing any oversight would provoke His Majesty's temper, maintained the utmost vigilance, treading on thin ice.
Ji Hong grabbed the petition and tore it with force. The brocade ripped down the middle, twisting the names. These names, torn and cleaved, were like dismembered bodies ordered to be executed. The eunuch trembled, his hand shaking as he poured water, nearly spilling it.
"Good, exceptionally good!"
Ji Hong laughed in anger, looking at the torn petition. He wondered if this realm was still the Ji family's.
These literati and scholars, these court officials, were either themselves tainted, or foolishly misled, or conniving individuals desperate to protect their own interests and maintain their scholarly status. The Lin Yuan Dynasty had endured for a century, appearing as an unyielding giant, but its roots were already deeply rotten.
The eunuch, terrified, knelt on the ground and cried out for His Majesty to calm his wrath.
Ji Hong glanced at him, waved him away, and the eunuch retreated cautiously. Only after stepping out of the imperial study did he let out a sigh of relief, his legs so weak he almost collapsed. A young eunuch quickly supported him.
He took a long while to recover, wiping the cold sweat from his brow.
In recent days, His Majesty's majesty had surpassed even his former demeanor. Every gesture, every glance, carried the decisive ruthlessness of an emperor and an unfathomable depth.
Whether it was an illusion or not, he felt that His Majesty's princely bearing had become even more pronounced.
His Majesty resembled the Prince more than the late Emperor.
Thinking this, he shivered violently, daring not to let his thoughts wander further. If His Majesty knew of this thought, his anger would be beyond appeasing, even with ten thousand deaths.
...
The next day, at midnight!
The outskirts of the capital!
Nan Shiying crouched on a tree branch, listening to the sounds of music drifting from the grand mansion not far away.
Ying Yi stood on another branch, his peripheral vision sweeping over Nan Shiying. Since coming out, the Princess Consort had become increasingly unrestrained.
In the darkness, the treetops swayed. Ying Yi drew his sword, but the raised blade silently returned to its sheath as he saw a figure gracefully approaching over the treetops. Nan Shiying did not turn her head. Following the faint scent of falling cherry blossoms in the air, a familiar fragrance brought her an unprecedented sense of security. Nan Shiying's tightly strung nerves gradually relaxed until a disheveled figure appeared beside her. The warm breath, accompanied by the familiar scent, enveloped her tightly. Only then did Nan Shiying slowly stand up.
Ji Jinmo naturally took Nan Shiying's hand, their fingers interlocking.
Neither of them spoke, yet they could feel the fervent longing and genuine affection in each other's heartbeats.
Ying Yi took a step back, feeling somewhat redundant.
The sound of iron boots treading the ground grew closer. In the darkness, the cold glint of moonlight reflecting off armor could be vaguely discerned. Ji Jinmo, holding Nan Shiying's hand, leaped down from the treetop. He looked at the mansion before him, its carved beams and painted pillars, and with a wave of his hand, the Demon Hunt Army kicked open the mansion gates.
"Bang~"
The great gate splintered. The Demon Hunt Army, stepping over the shattered remains, stormed into the courtyard.