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Chapter 65
He Xuan kicked open the main gate of the Grand Master’s residence and strode out.
The street in front of the Grand Master’s residence was usually deserted, especially during the national mourning period. No one dared to pass by, and the street was eerily silent. No one witnessed He Xuan’s bold exit from the New Grand Master’s hall to return to the Old Grand Master’s residence, or it would surely have caused widespread panic and gossip in the capital.
Currently, the ministers in the capital had pinned their hopes on He Xuan.
Mo Yin, with his high rank and control over the Imperial Decree Office and the Imperial Guards, commanded the entire city, even the dogs obeyed his orders.
However, Mo Yin’s attitude towards his colleagues was worse than towards street dogs. At least, Grand Master Mo wouldn’t whimsically raid a dog’s den and send the dog into exile.
Mo Yin did not form factions; he eradicated all his opponents and eliminated those who had once flattered him. The remaining officials in the court were left with nothing but fear of Grand Master Mo.
During the Emperor’s reign, a few ministers risked everything to impeach Mo Yin, but the Emperor, fond of Mo Yin, always dismissed the accusations lightly. After the Emperor’s death, those ministers, in despair, hanged themselves in their homes. Even then, Mo Yin did not spare them, finding a pretext to dig up their bodies and behead them again.
Such vindictiveness was truly terrifying.
Against such an all-powerful figure, the civil officials, powerless as they were, had no hope unless divine intervention occurred.
He Xuan’s return to the capital was a great morale booster for the officials.
The He family had been loyal for generations. Even the paranoid Yuan Emperor, who had killed all his meritorious subjects, had spared the He family. This generation of the He family had turned to the military, with He Xuan becoming a general, offering a glimmer of hope.
He Xuan knew little of Mo Yin’s deeds on the frontier.
Chen Cong was a cautious person. The letters he sent only mentioned Mo Yin’s steady rise in rank.
He Xuan assumed that Mo Yin’s talent naturally led to his rise. What he didn’t know was that Mo Yin’s first act upon rising to power was to ruthlessly eliminate his rivals.
And he certainly did not expect that Mo Yin would dare…
As soon as the words “regicide” entered He Xuan’s mind, he felt his blood freeze, unable to think further. From a young age, he had been taught loyalty to the emperor, and after years of guarding the borders, “loyalty to the emperor and defense of the country” were etched into his bones.
When he and Mo Yin returned to the mountain city together, the so-called treason case was filled with fabrications. In his dreams, Mo Yin’s cold eyes always questioned him in the dark.
He Xuan believed he had never done anything against his conscience or the law, yet he turned a blind eye to this case, pretending ignorance. He told himself that perhaps it was a wrongful case, but those people were not entirely innocent. They had harmed Mo Yin, so it was just retribution.
He Xuan sat in the Grand Master’s chair once occupied by his father.
The chair was black and hard, uncomfortable to sit in.
In truth, he had been covering for Mo Yin from the moment he suppressed his suspicions, hiding Mo Yin’s presence in the battle reports. He had already violated his own principles.
Why had he done it…
He Xuan spoke to himself in his heart without expression: “He Zangfeng, because you had selfish motives.”
To stand tall and unyielding, one must be free of desires.
He had failed to achieve that.
He Xuan’s face lowered slightly, and his shoulders, like a mountain, collapsed.
Footsteps sounded outside, and He Xuan immediately straightened up. His personal guard reported, “General, the spies at all entrances have been cleared.”
He Xuan nodded slightly, his face stern, “Order everyone to be on constant alert.”
“Yes.”
The guard retreated hurriedly.
He Xuan sat in the Grand Master’s chair for a moment, then began searching the bookshelf for the hidden compartment he remembered. After some tapping and knocking, he found the hollowed-out secret compartment.
Inside the compartment was a black wooden box. Opening it, he found a thin notebook.
This notebook contained the political strategies and experiences of He Qingsong, who had spent many years in the court. He Qingsong was proud of this knowledge, but since he did not want his son to get entangled in the court, he left the notebook in the Old Grand Master’s residence, cutting off his past thirty years of political career.
He Xuan opened the notebook, ignoring the strategies written by his father, and directly turned to the last page.
Mo Yin didn’t send anyone to assassinate He Xuan again.
As the protagonist, He Xuan’s survival was ensured; any assassins sent would merely become fodder, potentially triggering greater potential or fortuitous encounters for him. This knowledge was something Mo Yin learned during his training, and although it seemed useless during formal missions, he realized its value in his previous world. Thanks to his natural talent, he excelled in everything, even in things he initially disdained.
In this world, the conflict between him and He Xuan had already erupted.
Having been trampled by power, Mo Yin sought to gain power himself, to never be at anyone’s mercy again. To achieve this, he had to ascend to the highest position—a goal that suited him perfectly.
In this world, where he retained a sliver of his spiritual energy, Mo Yin felt everything more profoundly than in the previous one. He could clearly sense himself changing.
It wasn’t just fear of falling into a dire situation again; he simply believed that the highest position rightfully belonged to him.
Becoming the regent was just the first step. In a few years, he would depose the young emperor—or rather, the young emperor would “willingly” abdicate in his favor.
But He Xuan would never willingly watch him take that position.
This man was full of “loyalty to the emperor and love for the country,” something Mo Yin knew very well from their time-fighting side by side at the border.
A subject’s duty was to serve loyally, without questioning the monarch’s competence. The subject’s role was to do their best and leave the rest to the monarch.
Filial piety means exerting oneself to the utmost, loyalty means giving one’s life.
A perfect example of a loyal and filial general.
Mo Yin lay languidly on the couch. In this world, He Xuan’s greatest source of strength was clearly his unwavering belief in loyalty. What Mo Yin needed to do was to confront and defeat this belief directly, forcing He Xuan to watch him seize the highest power.
He would make him kneel.
His excitement surged again, making his blood feel like it was coursing faster. This overexcitement caused him to curl up on the couch, coughing violently.
A maid entered promptly with tea, carefully offering it. As the warm tea entered his mouth, Mo Yin couldn’t help but cough again, blood mixed with tea spilling back into the cup. The maid saw the bright red streak clearly, her hands trembling as the cup shattered on the floor.
“I deserve death.”
Mo Yin’s gaze was cold. “What did you see?”
The maid, quick-witted, shook her head. “I saw nothing.”
“Clean it up and leave.”
“Yes.” The maid trembled as she spoke.
Wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth with a handkerchief, Mo Yin lay back, feeling fatigued.
If he hadn’t been cautious and brought a sliver of his spiritual energy into this world, he had no doubt he would have died on the way to exile due to the weakness of his body.
Even in the first world, he had faintly heard the doctors giving up and preparing to declare him dead before he entered the body, bringing it back to life.
Not the kind of physique a grand villain should have.
Mo Yin’s gaze was thoughtful as he stared at the dark bed curtains.
—
The emperor’s body had been meticulously handled by the palace attendants.
During this process, Mo Yin stood nearby with the second prince.
Palace attendants applied white powder carefully to the bruised neck of the emperor. The second prince took one glance and, terrified, could no longer look, lowering his head and sobbing, trembling all the while.
The attendants remained calm and indifferent, unmoved even by the obvious signs that the emperor had been strangled.
Over the past two years, the palace had silently replaced many of its staff. The remaining old attendants had been relegated to less important places.
“Your Highness,” Mo Yin whispered into the sobbing second prince’s ear, “as long as you behave, I guarantee you’ll live longer than your father.”
The second prince nodded, trembling all over.
With the royal family dwindling, few members remained. The emperor lay in state in the Zhengyuan Palace, receiving the condolences and worship of the royal family. Presiding over this was the second prince, eyes swollen from crying, his demeanor timid. Beside him was the Grand Master in a red robe, his presence overshadowing the entire dynasty. The Grand Master’s position seemed even more prominent than the second prince.
The royal family members, though part of the imperial clan, had been marginalized by the late emperor, who never granted them much real power. They could only bow in submission towards the throne, seething with resentment, knowing that this could not last long. Military commanders from various regions had already gathered near the capital to offer condolences to the emperor, and no amount of political influence could surpass the might of the armed forces.
After completing their condolences, the royal family members had lunch in a side hall. According to tradition, they should have left the palace after lunch. As they leisurely strolled towards the palace gates, they found them tightly shut.
After about the time it takes to burn an incense stick, these members of the royal family were horrified and yet struggled to comprehend their situation—they were being confined.
The crimson palace gates were pounded, and voices rose high, demanding to be let out.
At that moment, arrows shot through the air from behind the towering gates.
The arrows were aflame, and the curses from within the palace quickly turned into cries for help.
Standing outside the palace gates, Mo Yin remarked calmly, “Noble heirs of the emperor, this is your reality now.”
Without the aura of imperial authority, what distinguished these people from lambs awaiting slaughter?
The guards dared not speak, their fearful and reverent gaze falling upon their grand master.
He was a man unafraid of any wielded power, for he embodied power itself.
After half an hour, the palace gates reopened, and the royal family members stumbled out disheveled, their faces displaying a fear that Mo Yin had become intimately familiar with over the past two years—a fear that penetrated to their core.
It was good. He was satisfied.
News of the royal family members not leaving the palace as expected only reached He Xuan the next day, and he was considered one of the first to know.
Upon hearing this news, He Xuan immediately realized what Mo Yin intended to do. He couldn’t help but clench his fists and slam them hard on the table, nearly shattering the intricately crafted golden nanmu wood.
Li Yuan exclaimed, “General—”
He Xuan rose with a stern expression, pacing the study like a trapped beast. He looked up at the plaque bestowed upon the study, bearing the characters for “loyalty and righteousness,” his temples pulsing with tension.
This move was cutting off the enemy’s retreat, too ruthlessly.
Military commanders were converging on the capital from all directions, but now, all the blood of the imperial family was held in Mo Yin’s hands.
He Xuan had no doubt that if they dared to rebel, Mo Yin would dare to slaughter every last member of the Li Family.
Without the imperial family, what right did they have to rule?
At that time, chaos would inevitably engulf the realm…
With so many hostages in his hands, Mo Yin indeed wielded power equivalent to thousands of soldiers and horses.
But in doing so, he laid bare his ambitions for all to see, with no way to retreat.
He Xuan’s chest tightened. At this moment, he found himself unwilling to give up seeking a “way out” that would allow Mo Yin to escape unscathed.
But did Mo Yin really need one?
Apart from supreme power, there was probably nothing else in this world that could satisfy him.
A way out?
Mo Yin didn’t need one, and yet, he too had no way out now.
“Li Yuan,” He Xuan tore his gaze away from the plaque, “Summon the household guards.”
Late at night, the entire Beijing slept soundly, with the exception of the night watchmen. The streets were deserted.
In an inconspicuous abandoned mansion on the outskirts of Beijing, several figures dressed in night attire scaled the walls.
The mansion, long neglected, was covered in fallen leaves. Following the lead of their commander, they entered one of the rooms. In the darkness, a tinder was lit, casting a faint glow that revealed their surroundings. Holding the tinder was He Xuan.
The ground was thick with dust, and He Xuan measured the length with his foot. After counting several bricks, he ordered, “Dig—”
The servants immediately produced knives and began to dig. He Xuan stared fixedly at the brick on the ground, illuminated by the dim light of the tinder.
Brick by brick was removed until finally, someone whispered, “Young master, here!”
A brick was tossed aside, and He Xuan reached in, feeling the cool breeze against his fingers.
Years ago, when the late emperor and his brothers fought for the throne, nearly falling into an irretrievable crisis, the He family secretly dug a tunnel from the outskirts of Beijing to the palace in an attempt to rescue the emperor.
Later, the late emperor managed to free himself within the palace and to avoid arousing suspicion, the He family sealed the tunnel, pretending it had never happened.
At that time, He Qingsong was only in his middle years, and his father was the one in charge. He Qingsong’s intuition told him to keep this secret passage, perhaps one day it could truly save lives.
He recorded the existence of this passage in his personal notes and sealed them together in Beijing.
If one day his descendants needed to return to the capital, to be swept up again in the tumultuous waves, then it would be fate.
He Xuan pulled back his hand, took a deep breath, and said, “Open the entrance.”
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