Chapter 33: Blood on the Golden Steps Part 2

“Ministers…” He looked at the vast sea of white mourning robes and frowned in displeasure. “For whom are you in mourning?”

The hall fell into a sudden, heavy silence.

Grand Preceptor Dong adjusted his robes and took a step forward, bowing deeply. “In response to Your Majesty, your subjects are in mourning for the ‘Rites.'”

Dong raised his head and recited clearly, “The Founding Emperor established the ‘Separation of Civil and Military’ as the foundation of our nation. Now that the ancestral laws have been discarded, your subjects are heartbroken. We can only show our grief through these mourning garments.”

Yuan Zhuo knew full well they were targeting Gu Huaiyu. He let out a cold laugh and swept his sleeves as he ascended the jade steps.

“Heartbroken. Well said.”

The young Emperor took his seat, eyeing the white robes of the Pure Stream faction. “I have been on the throne for but a year, yet you all dress as if for a funeral. Do you find me so young and easily bullied?”

Grand Preceptor Dong lowered his head solemnly. “We would not dare.”

“However, we worry for the altars of Great Chen. We grieve for the loss of ancestral tradition. It is not that we dare to defy the imperial will, but rather…”

“It is rather that Chancellor Gu has unilaterally altered the ancestral laws, usurped the imperial prerogative, and recklessly shaken the foundation of the state!”

Another Vice-Minister suddenly knelt out of line, shouting sternly.

Gu Huaiyu had not even arrived yet, but the “great play” had already begun.

“Your Majesty’s foundation is still shallow, and the mountains and rivers are not yet stable. Yet someone acts with such tyranny, ignoring the ancestral teachings. Your subjects cannot eat or sleep in peace—”

“We beg Your Majesty to investigate clearly and rescind the decree to restore order to the court!”

The Minister of Rites slammed his head against the ground, his voice hoarse with desperation. “I would rather my blood stain these golden steps than see the civil and military blurred and the rites destroyed!”

The hall was suddenly filled with the sound of wailing. These scholars, who usually valued etiquette above all else, were now beating their chests and stamping their feet as if their own fathers had died.

Only Dong Danyu stood silently to the side. The face of the new Third Scholar showed no grief; instead, it held a trace of pensive, subtle thought.

The royal kinsmen sat on either side, but none spoke up.

Among the military officers, many were gritting their teeth.

“I thought someone actually died, for God’s sake.”

“If our brothers at the border had half this much energy for crying, we might actually get our pension silver approved.”

“Enough,” Lao Yan hissed to stop them, letting out a long sigh. “Look closely. This is the situation the Chancellor has to face.”

For a moment, the entire military line was silent.

They were rough men, more skilled at cursing than reading the classics. But now, for the first time, they realized that the decree that allowed them to enter this hall was a blade Gu Huaiyu had swung through layers of fury and bloody storms.

Pei Jingyi had seen the strength of the Pure Stream faction at the Xuande Gate. The murderous intent within Chuigong Hall today was ten times more dangerous than yesterday.

He raised an eyebrow. Could Gu Huaiyu’s frail frame withstand the siege of the entire civil court?

Suddenly, a commotion erupted at the hall entrance.

Four palace attendants carried in a sandalwood armchair, which was placed directly at the foot of the dais.

It faced the entire court, with its back to the dragon throne—positioned exactly in front of the royal kinsmen like an invisible boundary stone, physically separating the Emperor from his ministers.

Following them were two young eunuchs—one carrying a gilded hand warmer, the other holding a green jade tea set.

Then came a heavy wooden box containing a silver charcoal brazier. Before the light of the fire reached them, the wave of heat did.

The faces of the Pure Stream faction turned an ashen iron-gray.

Grand Preceptor Dong’s expression was hideous. The entire court was required to stand, yet Gu Huaiyu dared to set up a seat inside Chuigong Hall!

The military officers, however, craned their necks like a pack of wolf cubs waiting for their mother.

Yuan Zhuo leaned forward slightly on his throne, his back stiffening. The young Emperor unconsciously gripped the armrests, taking a deep breath as he stared at the shadows behind the curtain.

As the attendants lifted the curtain, Gu Huaiyu stepped into the hall. He wore a rare black leopard-skin cloak, its glossy fur shimmering under the candlelight.

A snarling leopard head rested right upon his shoulder, its fangs bared. This attire was a sharp departure from his usual sickly image. Beneath the cloak, hints of a crimson python robe with gold-stitched patterns flashed with every step, drawing every eye in the room.

He seemed entirely unfazed by the attention, sitting down with casual elegance as if no one else were there. He took a sip of tea before finally looking up to scan the assembled officials.

“Please, continue.”

Gu Huaiyu’s gaze landed on the Minister of Rites. He set down his tea. “Who was it that said they wanted to stain the golden steps with blood? Spill some for me so I can see.”

The hall fell into a deathly silence.

The Pure Stream members turned pale. Gu Huaiyu had clearly just arrived, yet he knew exactly what had been said!

This level of infiltration and control made several guilty officials shrink back, not daring to even breathe loudly.

Meanwhile, the military officers were stunned.

These brutes, who had carved their way through seas of corpses, had never seen such a soul-stirring beauty. Several younger officers looked down hurriedly, as if even looking at him was a form of desecration.

Pei Jingyi’s eyes darkened as he scanned the cowering scholars and the now-pale faces of the Pure Stream faction.

A nameless sense of satisfaction surged in his chest—with a single, light sentence, Gu Huaiyu had forced these hypocrites to reveal their true colors.

But the satisfaction only lasted a moment.

Because Yuan Zhuo was staring at Gu Huaiyu without blinking, and the light in the young Emperor’s eyes was far too piercing.

Gu Huaiyu didn’t care about the opinions of others. He had come today to settle things, and to settle things, one had to sacrifice a head to the flag.