A heavy silence descended upon the Golden Luan Palace after Jiajing’s pronouncement.
Junior Grand Secretary Xu Jie, however, was in turmoil. Was the Emperor mocking his son, or offering him an opportunity?
If Hongzhou was Wanli’s fiefdom, he would have a legitimate reason to command troops, to reclaim his territory.
“The Emperor’s will is inscrutable,” Xu Jie murmured, “truly inscrutable.” He had believed, after years of service, that he understood Jiajing’s temperament. But since the Crown Prince’s trip to Nanchao, the Emperor’s intentions had become increasingly difficult to discern. I cannot fathom his thoughts.
Perhaps… Yan Song knows?
Desperate, he considered consulting his rival. The thought, however, was fleeting. The Xu and Yan factions were bitter enemies. He, the leader of the Xu faction, couldn’t possibly seek guidance from the treacherous Grand Secretary. I shall discuss this with Zhang Juzheng after court.
As he pondered, a powerful surge of spiritual energy erupted in the palace square outside the Golden Luan Palace. What was this? This aura… the cultivator’s power was comparable to his own.
“I am an envoy of the Celestial Empire, bearing a decree from His Majesty, the Emperor of Tang! Ruler of this insignificant kingdom, come forth and kneel to receive it!”
An uproar erupted within the Golden Luan Palace. The officials were stunned not only by the envoy’s power but also by his audacity.
Great Ming was the strongest kingdom in the world, Emperor Jiajing the only ninth-rank Great Vehicle cultivator. How dare this envoy, bearing a so-called celestial decree, demand their Emperor’s submission?
“Your Majesty! Command us to execute this insolent cur!”
“A ruler’s shame is his subjects’ death! We are ready to shed our blood for Your Majesty!”
As the officials clamored for vengeance, the Tang envoy stood calmly in the palace square smiling.. Dressed in the elegant robes of a Confucian scholar, his demeanor exuded an air of nobility and wealth. He held a magnificent scroll, woven with gold and silver threads, adorned with embroidered dragons and auspicious clouds – the imperial decree of the Tang Emperor.
Unfazed by Jiajing’s silence, the envoy unfurled the scroll. Instantly, a brilliant image, like a holographic projection, appeared above it, illuminating the sky. A magnificent landscape unfolded, depicting majestic mountains, flowing rivers, and a wise ruler governing a prosperous kingdom, attracting tribute from all corners of the earth.
The Great Ming officials, many of them Confucian scholars, had witnessed impressive calligraphy before, but nothing on this scale. This vibrant depiction of a flourishing kingdom, its cultural and political power evident, was unprecedented.
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
“A Confucian Emperor? A second Emperor Wen?”
The officials, despite their experience, had never encountered a ruler whose mastery of Confucian principles and whose cultural influence was so profound. For a fleeting moment, they felt a flicker of admiration for this Celestial Emperor.
Was this the true reason for Hongzhou’s surrender? Had they not been conquered, but… inspired, to submit willingly?
The envoy smiled at their reaction, he brimmed with confidence and a sense of superiority. This was the natural order: the Celestial Empire reigning supreme over the lesser kingdoms.
The envoy’s announcement rang through the palace square.
“His Imperial Majesty, in his benevolence, seeks to avoid bloodshed! If the Emperor of Ming relinquishes his title and submits to the Celestial Empire, he shall retain his noble status. His officials, too, if they pledge their loyalty , they shall be welcomed into our service. But those who resist…”
Before he could finish, a flash of light struck him. He instinctively raised his hands to block the attack, but a searing heat engulfed him, as if he had plunged his hands into molten lava.
“Aaah…” He opened his mouth to scream, but his voice was cut short as he was consumed by the flames.
In the eyes of the Great Ming officials, they saw that it was Emperor Jiajing who took action. His right hand was still outstretched and his expression indifferent. He had unleashed a simple attack using the Sun and Moon Scripture. Where the envoy had stood, only a pile of charred remains remained.
“Annoying,” Jiajing murmured. Killing a celestial envoy was as trivial as swatting a fly.
Then, he noticed something lying beside the ashes in the palace square. The Tang Emperor’s decree. Fallen to the ground, stained with dust, its vibrant image had faded, but the gold and silver threads still glowed faintly. The scroll itself was clearly a high-grade spirit treasure that was exceptionally rare.
“Extravagant,” Jiajing commented.
The purpose of an imperial decree was to convey the Emperor’s will, not to display wealth. Jiajing, priding himself on frugality, saw the use of such precious materials for a mere scroll as wasteful, not impressive. He beckoned, and the decree flew into his hand.
“Your Majesty, this… document…” An official, about to speak, was silenced by Xu Jie’s warning glance.
A document? What document? Having executed the envoy, Jiajing had effectively rejected the Tang Emperor’s authority, the very notion of a Celestial Empire.
“Excellent calligraphy,” Jiajing said, examining the scroll. “I recall a certain Chen Lin in Wei, whose writing was also quite impressive. Emperor Wei once praised him for his writing skills. Upon capturing him, he spared his life, employing him as a scribe.”
He paused, looking at his officials. “Tell me, whose literary talent is superior? The Tang Emperor’s, or Chen Lin’s?”
The officials remained silent, unsure of his intentions.
Was he suggesting he would capture the Tang Emperor, Li Yu, and employ him as a court poet, just as Emperor Wei had done with Chen Lin? Was this some elaborate jest? How could a mere Chen Lin compare to a Celestial Emperor?
Grand Secretary Yan Song stepped forward, “Your Majesty, should we begin preparing for war? Gathering resources, mobilizing troops?”
Jiajing looked at him for a long moment, then shook his head. “Grand Secretary Yan, have you grown senile? Your memory fails you.”
Yan Song, playing along, knelt. “I am indeed old and foolish. I beg Your Majesty’s forgiveness and guidance.”
“There is no need for apologies,” Jiajing said, waving his hand dismissively. “As the saying goes, ‘A family with an elder is like a family with a treasure.’ Everyone grows old, even I. Otherwise, there would be no ambitious individuals vying for power.” He glanced pointedly at Xu Jie, who shuddered as cold sweat broke out on his forehead.
“Have you all forgotten what I said earlier? Hongzhou is the Crown Prince’s fiefdom. If he has lost something, he should reclaim it himself. Court dismissed.”
Emperor Xiang Chong paced anxiously. He had just received news: Xiongzhou, the largest province in southern Great Chu, had fallen!