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Blue Lightning Marquis Yu Xiaogang requests an audience?
The hall fell deathly silent at once. The civil and military officials, who had been whispering among themselves, stopped and exchanged openly scornful and mocking glances.
Everyone present knew how the title "Marquis of Blue Lightning" had come about. Without the support of the Seven Treasures Glazed Tile Sect's power and the strong backing of Yu Yuanzhen, the sect master of the Blue Lightning Tyrant clan, how could such an empty, meaningless title possibly have landed in the hands of such a useless person?
What was even more comical—this very person seemed completely oblivious, strutting about each day as if he were truly an indispensable pillar of the Empire.
Meng Shenji stood before the civil officials, his chilly gaze peering from beneath snowy eyebrows—eyes that'd witnessed the countless vicissitudes of life.
Since arriving in Heaven Dou City, Yu Xiaogang had, under the pretense of "studying," frequented the National Royal Library, hand-copying countless rare tomes.
At that time, the Seven Treasures Glazed Tile Sect was at its zenith. Yu Xiaogang received his marquisate from the Heaven Dou Empire and was even made an honorary elder at the Blue Lightning Tyrant Academy. As the Empire's Head of Teaching Administration, he had no recourse but to silently condone this charade.
Chen Yi, who had been meditating with closed eyes by the Dragon Throne, set his musings aside and slowly opened his eyes.
Sitting on the throne, Xue Qinghe's eyes abruptly turned frosty. What is this clown here to see me for?
"Let him in."
Soon, Yu Xiaogang entered the main hall with a cautious, yet brisk stride. He wore a deep-blue brocade robe, embroidered with the lightning emblem of an imperial marquis, and his hair was neatly combed. He did his utmost to maintain the dignity of a so-called 'Grandmaster.'
But as his eyes swept past the steps and lingered on the purple-clad figure by Xue Qinghe's side, he instinctively shrank his neck, and his confident gait wobbled a little.
Many officials in the hall witnessed this and bursts of soft, stifled laughter spread around. The news of Yu Xiaogang being punished by Chen Yi—twice—had long since become a joke among the Heaven Dou elite.
These forced-back snickers lit a blaze of fury upon Yu Xiaogang's face, and he was infuriated, all the more when he saw Xue Qinghe did not rebuke or restrain them.
When a new ruler ascends, it is exactly the time to win the hearts of the people. Yet, he indulged his ministers in mocking a "meritorious subject" far too magnanimously. How could someone so ignorant of how to treat the talented and virtuous claim any magnanimity as a ruler?
Inwardly sneering, Yu Xiaogang judged Xue Qinghe as "mean and ungrateful, unworthy of great undertakings."
"Yu Xiaogang pays his respects to Your Highness, the Crown Prince."
The cold light in Xue Qinghe's eyes deepened; his voice was so indifferent it bore no emotion.
"Yu Xiaogang, what brings you here to the palace at this hour?"
He didn't even mention the "Blue Lightning Marquis" title.
Yu Xiaogang, pushing out his chest to steady himself, loudly declared,
"Your Highness, I have come today to beg you to show mercy to the young and ignorant disciples of the Seven Treasures Glazed Tile Sect."
"Oh?"
Xue Qinghe's lips quirked in a half-smile, but before he could respond, Chen Yi at his side let out a laugh, as though he'd just heard a highly amusing joke.
"Yu Xiaogang, I'm curious—why do you think your face is so big? Who do you think you are? White buns?"
Everyone burst into laughter.
"Young master Chen speaks the truth! That's exactly right!"
"Because he has such a big face!"
With the hall echoing with laughter, Yu Xiaogang turned beet-red, then purple, his outstretched finger trembling as he pointed at Chen Yi.
"You— you— Chen Yi, why must you humiliate me like this!"
He turned sharply to Xue Qinghe.
"Your Highness, do you permit such maniacs to openly humiliate a marquis personally appointed by the late emperor—one who dedicated his life to research on soul master theory within your very court?"
"This is not the conduct of a wise monarch!"
Xue Qinghe leaned forward, elbows resting on the imperial desk, fingers interlaced, his smile ambiguous.
"I'm very curious too, Yu Xiaogang. Where do you get your gall?"
Yu Xiaogang, livid, stiffened his neck and raised his voice.
"Your Highness! Before I received the Marquisate of Blue Lightning, Emperor Xue Ye himself visited me three times!
Are you so arrogant as to overturn the benevolent policies of the late emperor?"
At these words, the hall's laughter abruptly ceased. The officials' expressions shifted—some showed contempt, others watched Xue Qinghe's reaction closely.
To bring up the previous emperor was always a sensitive subject.
Every trace of a smile vanished from Xue Qinghe's face as he rose and looked down from the steps at Yu Xiaogang.
"Yu Xiaogang, I have seen countless self-important fools—but you are the worst. Truly number one."
"You—!"
Never before had Yu Xiaogang been insulted so overtly, let alone by the "new emperor" he so despised. Shaking with fury, he stabbed an accusing finger at the imperial steps.
"Arrogant! Kneel before me!"
"Yu Xiaogang," Xue Qinghe shouted, "First: I am the new emperor of Heaven Dou, and you should address me as 'Your Majesty.'
Second: The title of Blue Lightning Marquis was a hollow honor forced upon my father by pressure from Ning Fengzhi and Yu Yuanzhen.
As for those stories about 'three visits to a thatched cottage'—where did you get that from?"
Yu Xiaogang flinched at the sudden shout, but years of stubbornness and inexplicable pride made him stiffen his neck in defiance.
"You think you deserve to have me kneel? You are just—"
"Slap him!"
Xue Qinghe cut in sharply, allowing no room for further defiance.
A burly guard stepped forward at lightning speed and, in a flash, appeared before Yu Xiaogang. His palm, broad as a fan, cracked across Yu Xiaogang's face—twice, sharp and stinging.
The blows were just strong enough to daze but not to cause brain damage.
Seeing blood trickling from the corner of Yu Xiaogang's mouth, Xue Qinghe suddenly shook his head, yet the killing intent in his eyes was overwhelming. He raised a hand, about to order the warriors before the hall to strike him down, establishing his authority by execution—when a faint yet clear transmission whispered in his ear.
Qian Renxue's heart wavered, though her expression did not change. Her murderous gaze softened; an icy chill deepened.
"In consideration of the emperor's recent passing, of the need to avoid bloodshed during the state's mourning, and out of respect for Yu Yuanzhen's decades as a veteran general of the empire—"
Her voice turned gentler, yet it sent chills down every spine.
"Today, I might just spare your life."
Yu Xiaogang, hearing this, felt both relieved to escape calamity and faintly proud that the new ruler still "feared" his status. But reality struck a moment later.
"However," Xue Qinghe's tone suddenly turned grim, "you may be spared the death penalty, but you will not escape punishment.
Since you always claim to have accepted this title so unwillingly, very well—today, I acknowledge your unwillingness! You don't want this title, and the Empire will never again allow someone like you to wear this garb!"
He looked to the gates of the palace.
"Guards!"
Armored golden guards stationed outside strode in, coolly clanking as they swiftly surrounded Yu Xiaogang.
"Strip him of his marquis robes."
"What—! Xue Qinghe! How dare you—how could you— The late emperor appointed me himself! I—"
Yu Xiaogang shrieked in panic, struggling wildly as the oncoming guards closed in. But in front of the elite palace guards, his meager soul power was utterly laughable.
Two guards gripped his arms like iron clamps, another deftly undid his brocaded sash and robe fastenings, and, finally, a fourth gave a sharp tug.
Tear—snap—hiss!
The dark-blue, regal marquis robe and silk innerwear were torn away by brute force. In a blink, Yu Xiaogang was left standing in nothing but his undergarments before all the officials.
Humiliated and enraged, Yu Xiaogang desperately tried to shield himself.
"Furthermore," Xue Qinghe sat high on the throne, coldly looking down, "you ignorant fool—haven't you always touted your so-called life's theories as achievements proud enough to plagiarize and collect?
Yu Xiaogang jerked his head up, his eyes clouding with dread.
"Then today—let us reveal your face, remind the world of your 'accomplishments.'"
Sure enough, Xue Qinghe smiled cruelly.
"Guards, carve every main point of his 'Distinguished Grandmaster Theory'—every last word—clearly, onto his old face!
So that wherever he goes, he can boldly 'publicize' his doctrines to all."
"No! Don't—please, don't do this!"
Yu Xiaogang's scream was one of utter despair. He had always treasured his theories—just not in this way.
Xue Qinghe waved a hand with visible disgust, as if shooing a filthy fly. The guards mercilessly dragged him away, hauling him out of the main hall. His shrill wails gradually faded down the corridor, until they vanished completely. A strange quiet settled over the hall.
Xue Qinghe slowly sat back on the Dragon Throne. Suddenly, he recalled how Ning Fengzhi once tried to make this good-for-nothing his teacher. Old grievances and new ones tangled together, and a fresh surge of anger welled up.
"His knees are so precious, yet he refuses to kneel before me?
Very well—he shall never kneel again."
A eunuch, utterly startled, immediately bowed deeply.
"Understood."
In the distance beyond the palace, a faint, broken, wailing shriek echoed—so high-pitched it barely sounded human—before suddenly cutting off.
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