Chapter 19: Utmost Caution

The battle for the capital did not last long, the warships hovering in the sky acting as the perfect deterrent. To prevent another fiasco like in Liao City, the cruiser captain took a meticulous inventory of all the gun turrets that could pose a threat and systematically obliterated them.

While the anti-air retaliation from the capital seemed more intense than that of Liao City, it had little practical effect. The collapse of each turret, followed by earth-shattering explosions, was a powerful intimidation to the defenders. Even the most stubborn finally understood that resistance would only lead to destruction.

For most common people, be they citizens or soldiers, such power struggles were nothing new, having witnessed or heard of many before. This was a war of the elites, a clash among royalty and nobles, and no matter who won, it made little difference to their lives. Taxes would remain the same, responsibilities would be unchanged, and prosperity, if it ever came, would always be elusive.

After each power struggle, when a new king ascended the throne, he would initially grant amnesty, reduce taxes, and purge corrupt officials. However, soon enough, things would revert to their previous state, with even heavier taxes to recoup the initial reductions.

Thus, even as the conflict reached the capital, the people of Zheng remained calm. Nan Ruohuai encountered some resistance only when attacking the palace, from loyalists of the Second Prince who knew surrender would not bring them a favorable outcome. Other princes also had some forces within the palace; some offered slight resistance, while others surrendered wisely, seeing the futility of further defiance.

The occupation proceeded smoothly, and by nightfall, the sounds of gunfire and screams in the capital had greatly diminished. Troops of the Imperial Guard were deployed across the city to enforce curfew and to round up the ruffians who had taken advantage of the chaos to set fires and loot, restoring order to the city.

From this decisive action, it was evident that Nan Ruohuai had some capabilities.

At this point, an envoy from Nan Ruohuai found Qian Ye, inviting him to meet at the palace. Song Lun, standing nearby, sneered, “So he’s already putting on the airs of a Zheng King?”

The eunuch replied, “Though the Zheng King has not yet ascended the throne, he is still a figure of great dignity and cannot easily leave the palace. With the current turmoil, any mishap would be disastrous.”

Song Lun, furious, was about to retort, but Qian Ye raised his hand to stop him, saying, “Going to see for ourselves is fine.”

With Qian Ye’s words, Song Lun had no choice but to comply, grudgingly getting into the carriage. As Nan Ruohuai was his protege, any mistakes would reflect poorly on Song Lun.

Qian Ye’s convoy was small, just a handful of vehicles, but each was loaded with mercenaries, at least one mercenary general in each. After Nan Ruohuai’s guards were dispatched, Qian Ye took steps to gather his mercenaries to avoid conflict.

Neutral ground mercenaries were notoriously ruthless, and in a fight, they would show no mercy. Qian Ye was concerned that a confrontation might result in too many casualties among the guards, which would not look good.

Entering the palace, there were no additional incidents. The place was teeming with Imperial Guards, while servants and workers were busy clearing the remnants of battle. The eastern gate was completely destroyed, indicating the ferocity of the fight.

Servants worked tirelessly, clearing the massive debris. Most officers of the Imperial Guard had witnessed Qian Ye slaying the Grand Tutor Liu Zhongyuan, who dared provoke him now?

Qian Ye’s carriage halted just inside the central gate. He stepped out, facing a large, open square. At the end of the thirty-three steps leading up from the square lay the heart of the Zheng Kingdom, the Hall of Deliberation.

This grand plaza was impressive, though not on par with the majestic square before the Great Qin Palace. It was about a quarter of the size, but considering Zheng’s resources, it was already extravagant. Such a space was typically used for national rituals, with all noble families and officials lining up, yet how could Zheng’s power match even a quarter of Great Qin’s?

Above the entrance of the Hall of Deliberation, a plaque read “Qianhe Hall” in bold, sharp script, like a sword unsheathed. Though full of spirit, it lacked the broad-mindedness seen in Great Qin’s calligraphy, which exuded a sense of embracing the world. In contrast, Zheng’s central power was a scene of tension.

Qian Ye stood for a moment, looking at the hall and the square. He then saw someone running out from the hall, none other than Nan Ruohuai.

He sprinted to Qian Ye, panting heavily, and said angrily, “These servants are all blind! They failed to inform me of your arrival, Uncle!”

As Nan Ruohuai spoke, he glanced at Qian Ye, catching the latter’s inscrutable smile and bottomless eyes. A shiver ran down his spine, and his mind went blank, forgetting what he was going to say. His knees buckled, and he collapsed to the ground.

The courtiers and maids were horrified. Some screamed, and a few, eager to show loyalty, tried to rush over to help Nan Ruohuai. But as they passed the mercenaries, a glint of cold light flashed, and their heads rolled.

In their eagerness to show loyalty, they instead met a swift death. Blood spurted from their severed necks, splattering onto Nan Ruohuai, causing him to tremble. He instinctively reached to wipe the blood off his face but stopped midway, remaining prostrate.

Qian Ye said calmly, “It’s good that you know fear.”

Nan Ruohuai stammered, “Entering the palace, my head was spinning, and I couldn’t think clearly. The people around me encouraged me, and… and I forgot who I am.”

Qian Ye nodded, “I can help you stand, and helping others would be easier. As for why you, and not your second brother or others, think about it.”

“Yes, I will think deeply.”

“Rise,” Qian Ye lifted his hand slightly, and Nan Ruohuai got up. He began to shake, his face pale.

Qian Ye ignored him, leading the group towards the hall.

Nan Ruohuai followed, and as they crossed the threshold, a eunuch asked quietly, “Your Majesty, are you unwell?” He had been inside and missed the earlier commotion.

“I’m fine,” Nan Ruohuai said, though his pale face told a different story.

Nan Ruohuai was thinking back to the moment he killed the Second Prince. While everyone else struggled under Qian Ye’s domain, Nan Ruohuai remained unaffected, not due to his strength but because a layer of origin power shielded him from the overwhelming pressure, undoubtedly provided by Qian Ye.

Qian Ye could protect him with origin power, but also kill him, as easily as slaughtering a chicken.

Caught up in the excitement of becoming king, Nan Ruohuai had missed this detail. Now, confronting Qian Ye’s terrifying presence, he recalled everything on the city wall.

Qian Ye paused in the Qianhe Hall, examining the decor. Though he had never been in the imperial palace, he had seen the architecture of the Zhao and Song Clans. The Zhao residence was imposing and regal, while the Song compound was luxurious and opulent, subtly showing extravagance. Without a doubt, the Bai and Zhang Clans had their own unique styles.

Even without comparing to the imperial palace, the four clan residences alone overshadowed the Zheng Kingdom’s palace. The interior, though attempting to be lavish, exuded a crude opulence, falling short in elegance and refinement. The decorations, upon closer inspection, were rough. Truly valuable items, Zheng neither possessed nor could afford.

Qian Ye wondered if the gaudy decor reflected the Zheng King’s taste or was meant to distract from the ordinary materials.

After viewing the main hall, Qian Ye gained a clear understanding of Zheng’s power. Recalling Liu Zhongyuan’s assessment that though the empire was vast, it wasn’t necessarily strong, he marveled at where such confidence came from. Perhaps being isolated for so long had limited their perspective.

Nan Ruohuai stood by, waiting until Qian Ye finished, and said, “Please, there are others who wish to see you.”

Qian Ye glanced at the passage leading to the harem and nodded, starting to walk. Several eunuchs, faces changing, wanted to stop him but dared not.

Nan Ruohuai glared at them, “This is my uncle, the King’s uncle. How dare you obstruct him?”

An old eunuch quickly interjected, “Your Majesty, the harem is no ordinary place. While we wouldn’t dare to stop Uncle, those others…”

Qian Ye understood, turning to Song Lun, Song Hui, and the mercenary generals, “Wait here for me.”

Song Hui asked, “Are you going in alone?”

“Is there another way?”

“Be careful,” she warned earnestly.

Qian Ye chuckled, “What, do you think anyone here can harm me?”

“Who knows!” Song Hui retorted, wide-eyed.

Qian Ye shook his head, dismissing her concern, and followed Nan Ruohuai to the harem.

Song Hui pouted, angry. Song Lun, puzzled, whispered, “Don’t you know how formidable Qian Ye is? Even the entire Imperial Guard together wouldn’t stand a chance, unless they resort to treachery.”

Song Hui snapped, “What poison could kill him?”

Song Lun was taken aback but assumed it was frustration. He wasn’t overly worried, as poisons required a medium, and here, any attempt via food or drink would be laughable. He doubted Zheng possessed a toxin that could fell a near divine general through contact or air. Had he known of Qian Ye’s ancient vampire constitution, even that small concern would vanish.

Watching Qian Ye disappear behind a screen, Song Hui gritted her teeth, muttering, “Hope he gets eaten to the bone!”

Song Lun, realizing something, looked at her strangely.

The harem, similar in style to the main hall, had a small garden regulated by an origin power array, warm and inviting. Small and filled to the brim with various flowers—red, white, yellow, blue—all in layers, creating a lively scene.

Qian Ye understood the desire to maximize the use of a constant-temperature garden. In contrast, the entirety of the Unending Palace, with its integrated origin power arrays, was beyond Zheng’s imagination.