Chapter One: There Are Always Scheming Subjects Plotting Against Me

Imperial Nation, the Palace, Imperial Study.

Zhu Yu sat alone in the vast Imperial Study, leafing through the secret memorials that had just been presented. Beads of cold sweat gradually formed on his forehead.

The contents of the secret memorial were divided into three matters.

First, in the southern border state of Wuguo, authority had been usurped by a martial society known as the World Society. They were currently suppressing local martial groups that refused to submit. The society’s leader, Xiongba, was exceedingly ambitious and warranted caution, but for now, the myriad martial factions within Wuguo made any immediate involvement unnecessary.

Second, in the northern Mongol territories, there existed a martial group called the Ming Cult, which had been recruiting tirelessly and now boasted one hundred thousand followers. Their intentions seemed rebellious, and they wielded considerable power. It was also discovered that the Ming Cult’s leader, Yang Dingtian, had vanished thirty years ago and was presumed dead. In the aftermath, Yin Tianzheng led a faction to break away and founded the Heavenly Eagle Cult, plunging the martial world into chaos. Currently, the Ming Cult and the Heavenly Eagle Cult had no dealings with each other—an opportunity ripe for exploitation.

Third, the Western Xia kingdom had invaded the empire’s borders with an army of fifty thousand. Fortunately, Qiao Feng, leader of the Beggars’ Sect, sent timely word, allowing the imperial forces to lay an ambush and secure a resounding victory.

On the final page of the memorial, a line of bold, vigorous characters declared the sender:

Presented by the Iron-Gutted Marquis Zhu Wushi!

“Heh.” Zhu Yu felt like crying, but the tears would not come. As for laughing... one would need a heart of steel to laugh at a time like this.

He had been overjoyed a month ago, when he first crossed into this world and became the Crown Prince. He’d thought himself a figure of prestige among all transmigrators. Now he deeply regretted how he’d spent the past month feasting and idling within the palace, never once stepping outside. Had he known all this, he’d have happily chosen the life of an idle prince.

Who could have predicted that his conveniently absent father, the emperor, would die so suddenly? At first, he suspected his “transmigration aura” had brought about the old emperor’s demise, clearing the way for his ambitions. But in hindsight, the cause of death wasn’t so clear-cut after all.

All that, however, was a trifling concern compared to his present predicament—Zhu Yu now felt as though the dragon throne beneath him was searing hot.

Since ascending the throne, Zhu Yu hadn’t eaten or slept well. Outsiders believed his sorrow stemmed from longing for the late emperor, but in truth, he was terrified that, at any moment during a meal or sleep, some so-called hero would burst in with a sword, crying, “Dog Emperor! Today I shall deliver justice on behalf of heaven and claim your life, to restore light to the realm!”

It wasn’t as far-fetched as it seemed. Zhu Yu counted the people he could truly rely on, and there were only three:

Cao Zhengchun, chief eunuch overseeing the Directorate of Ceremonial Affairs and the Eastern Depot.

Yu Huatian, head of the Western Depot, the Chief Inspector.

Liu Xi, deputy chief of the Eastern Depot.

And who were these people? Infamous eunuchs, every one of them!

Notorious eunuchs, reviled far and wide, despised to the point that killing them would bring universal satisfaction! With these three at his side, was it any wonder if a vigilante for justice suddenly appeared? In Zhu Yu’s view, it was practically inevitable.

As for loyal followers, the only one worth mentioning, according to Old Wu the eunuch, was the late emperor’s chief bodyguard—a paragon of loyalty and martial prowess—who had resigned abruptly a month before the emperor’s death. In a bid to retain him, the late emperor bestowed the honorary title of Divine Marquis and sent him to retire beyond the palace walls. The whole scenario felt oddly familiar, but Zhu Yu couldn’t quite recall from where; he chalked it up to aftereffects of being frightened by the Iron-Gutted Marquis Zhu Wushi.

Night had fallen, with stars twinkling in the sky. It was time for rest, yet Zhu Yu couldn’t sleep. Worse, when he did, nightmares plagued him: sometimes a swordsman came to assassinate him; sometimes Zhu Wushi demanded he abdicate; sometimes Xiongba insisted he play the role of a harmless mascot.

He awoke each time drenched in cold sweat.

And truth be told, Zhu Yu had also had some particularly bizarre dreams. In one, Li Qiushui wandered into the palace and ran into Tianshan Child Elder—an encounter that ended with the two fighting and Zhu Yu, an innocent bystander, dying in the crossfire. In another, Emperor Shitian came at midnight to tell his fortune, which resulted in Zhu Yu’s phoenix blood raging out of control, and he died peacefully with a single glance.

Just remembering all this was enough to keep him from daring to sleep.

Knock, knock, knock. A voice accompanied the sound at the door.

“Your Majesty, it is time to rest. You must attend court tomorrow,” said Old Wu, his attendant eunuch.

“What court? Isn’t everything handled by Chancellor Cai and the cabinet?” Zhu Yu replied, somewhat annoyed.

Old Wu murmured deferentially from outside, careful not to offend anyone in his reply.

Yet, despite his words, Zhu Yu rose and left the study. After all, this was the only time he could enjoy one of the perks of being emperor—summoning his consorts.

Three palaces, six courts, seventy-two concubines, not to mention countless noble ladies and court beauties—it was enough to bring a smile to his face.

As expected, the next morning’s court session was just as Zhu Yu anticipated: all matters had been handled by others. He was a mere figurehead, and there was nothing significant to address.

Otherwise, any trouble would only make him a target for political rivals, no matter how exalted his rank—many hands make light work, after all. Yet, when Zhu Yu did speak, things were carried out with remarkable speed.

After the court session, Zhu Yu kept Cao Zhengchun behind for questioning.

“Where’s Yu Huatian? I haven’t seen him for several days.”

“Well...” Cao Zhengchun hesitated.

“Speak plainly. What could possibly make the chief of the Eastern Depot afraid to talk?” Zhu Yu quipped.

At this, Cao Zhengchun trembled, fell to his knees, and wailed, “Your Majesty, I am wronged! Some scoundrel must be slandering me behind my back. I have always served with diligence and integrity, never daring to covet a single coin!”

“All right, enough. Can’t you tell I was joking? So where is Yu Huatian? Speak!”

Cao Zhengchun, flustered, answered, “Recently, it was discovered that Consort Huang was pregnant. But after careful calculation, it was determined... the child is not the late emperor’s. The Empress Dowager flew into a rage and ordered Yu Huatian to escort Consort Huang to the late emperor for punishment. But Consort Huang got wind of this and fled, rescued by a martial hero named Zhao Huaian. Her whereabouts are unknown, and Yu Huatian is currently pursuing them.”

Zhu Yu drew a sharp breath. Whether it was New Dragon Gate Inn or Flying Swords of Dragon Gate, he couldn’t quite recall, but that was beside the point.

What mattered now was that Yu Huatian was in grave danger!

He already had so few trusted men, and he himself was powerless; Yu Huatian absolutely could not be lost!

“Issue an edict—summon Yu Huatian back at once!”

“Your Majesty, issuing edicts is always the responsibility of the Eastern Depot, but the Eastern and Western Depots have long been at odds. Though Yu Huatian would not dare defy an imperial order, he might still obstruct the messenger, which could delay your affairs,” Cao Zhengchun replied, his forehead pressed to the floor.

“So what do you suggest?”

“If Your Majesty truly wishes to recall Yu Huatian urgently, then your servant must go in person.”

“In person? What about Liu Xi? Isn’t he always at your side?” Zhu Yu asked.

“Liu Xi has gone to Jiangnan on official business and won’t return for several days,” Cao Zhengchun replied.

Zhu Yu considered briefly, then said, “Very well, you go. Make haste and return quickly. And let Yu Huatian ponder his excuses—how could I, the emperor, know nothing of a large force leaving the capital?”

A hint of satisfaction flickered across Cao Zhengchun’s face, but he quickly composed himself and asked cautiously, “And what about the Empress Dowager?”