"An annulment?"
The moment Song Qinghe uttered those words, the air in the Marquis Dingguo's residence seemed to freeze instantly.
Zhang Feng's face darkened until it looked like it could drip ink. His knuckles turned white from the sheer force of his grip on the great saber.
"The marriage contract between the Song and Zhang families was a betrothal arranged by our grandfathers when you were infants. The wedding is imminent, yet you speak of annulment so lightly?" Zhang Feng's voice was ice-cold. Each step he took carried the crushing pressure of a veteran from the killing fields. "Does the Song family intend to trample the dignity of my Marquisate into the dirt?"
Zhang Tian stood to the side, looking at his beautiful but frost-eyed fiancée. His heart remained untroubled; in fact, he almost wanted to laugh.
In the eyes of a modern corporate slave, this matter was simple: this was an emergency divestment from a failing venture capital.
Song Qinghe remained indifferent. She gave a slight, graceful bow. "This is indeed the Song family's fault. However, the tides of the world are changing, and I, Qinghe, cannot go against them. My father specifically asked me to relay this: should the Zhang family encounter trouble in the future, the Song family will certainly lend a helping hand."
"Get out!"
Zhang Feng laughed out of sheer rage, slamming his saber into the ground with a heavy thud. "Tell that old dog Song Wenli that if there's to be an annulment, it will be my Marquisate doing the annulling! What right does the Song family have to look down on us?"
Song Qinghe remained unmoved by his fury. She cast a glance at Zhang Tian, her eyes shimmering with a high-and-mighty sense of pity.
To her, the Old Marquis Zhang Jinlong was dying, the second generation was mediocre, and Zhang Tian, the third generation, was nothing but a dandy seeking death by tearing down the Imperial Decree. The Zhang family was a sinking ship. She, Song Qinghe, was destined to marry a future Pillar of the State; she would never sink into the mud with them.
"If that is so, the Song family shall await the Marquis's grand arrival."
Song Qinghe turned and left with her servants, her robes fluttering in the wind, the picture of aloof elegance.
"You animal! Someone points at your nose to break an engagement, and you can still smile?" Zhang Feng whipped his head around, directing all his fury at Zhang Tian.
Zhang Tian rubbed his face helplessly. "Father, a woman who only shares wealth but not hardship is better off gone. It's called 'cutting your losses.' To her, the shift in power is a game of choosing sides. She fears my actions will implicate her family. With such a narrow vision, she's destined to be nothing more than a bitter housewife. She isn't worth your anger."
Zhang Feng froze. He realized his son had become a stranger. That level of calm was almost unnerving.
But he didn't have time to dwell on it. He sheathed his saber and said grimly, "The annulment can wait. The priority now is keeping your head on your shoulders. Follow me to the palace. The Empress is waiting in the Golden Throne Hall. Remember: I don't expect you to show genius, but for heaven's sake, keep your mouth shut and stay out of trouble!"
The Great Wu Imperial Palace, Taiji Hall.
The vermilion palace gates slowly groaned open, releasing a heavy, suffocating scent of history.
Zhang Tian followed his father into the hall. On both sides, the civil and military officials held their breath. Countless complex gazes, sharp as blades, shot toward the "dissolute heir" who dared to tear down the decree.
"Announcing the Decree-Tearer, Zhang Tian, to the hall—!"
Amidst the sharp cry of the eunuch, Zhang Tian walked to the center of the hall. He didn't tremble like the others. Instead, taking advantage of his bow, he stole a glance at the supreme throne.
Upon the Dragon Throne sat Wu Zhao, draped in a golden Nine-Dragon robe. Her face was breathtakingly beautiful but cold as frost, her phoenix eyes radiating an awe-inspiring majesty that seemed to swallow mountains and rivers. She was the first Empress in Great Wu's history—stunning, yet bone-chillingly cold.
Zhang Tian mused inwardly: The Empress has just ascended. She faces threats from within and without. She doesn't need a teacher right now; she needs a 'dirty blade' to break the deadlock for her.
Wu Zhao looked at Zhang Tian, feeling a pang of disappointment. According to her intel, this was a straw man. Had Great Wu truly run out of heroes?
She suppressed her emotions and spoke clearly: "Zhang Tian, I have a question. Suppose you are a newly appointed magistrate of a remote county plagued by bandits. One day, while patrolling the streets, a local butcher—a violent thug with powerful connections in the capital—points at your nose and curses you publicly. What would you do?"
The hall went silent.
This was a treacherous question. To retreat was to lose the dignity of the court; to strike back was to risk a local riot or offend powerful capital officials.
Wu Zhao tapped her finger rhythmically on the dragon-head armrest, waiting for an answer about "governing with virtue" or "strict legal punishment."
Zhang Tian went silent for three seconds. Then, he looked up and smiled, revealing two rows of white teeth.
"Your Majesty, I would smile. I would bow to him in public and thank him for pointing out the flaws in my administration."
Wu Zhao's eyes darkened. She was about to wave him away.
Suddenly, Zhang Tian's voice rose:
"Then, I would return to the yamen and command my subordinates to strike gongs and beat drums as they deliver ten taels of gold to the butcher's house. I would have them shout to the world: 'This is a reward for the butcher's honest advice!'"
Zhang Tian's pace was slow, yet it carried an eerie chill. "By sunset, every bandit in the county would know the butcher has a fortune. In a land of lawlessness, the butcher's entire family would be dead by dawn. I would simply have my constables lying in wait nearby. Once the butcher's family is slaughtered, I would swoop in and arrest the bandits."
"Thus, the gold returns to the yamen, the problematic butcher is erased, the bandits are caught, and I... I gain the reputation of being a virtuous official who repays grievances with kindness."
Silence! Absolute silence!
Wu Zhao's tapping finger froze. Her phoenix eyes erupted with a terrifying brilliance!
This is no magistrate. This is a fox in human skin!
"What a magnificent four-birds-with-one-stone scheme," Wu Zhao said, a dangerous curve appearing at the corner of her lips. "Then, I ask you again. What if the person is not a butcher, but the elderly or the young who hold a blood feud against you? They are unarmed and helpless. What then?"
Great Wu valued Confucian virtue and benevolence. The officials expected Zhang Tian to say he would "let them go."
Zhang Tian bowed slightly, his tone as gentle as if he were discussing the weather.
"I would tell them: 'Remember my face. The next time we meet, I shall show no mercy.'"
"Then, I would turn to leave. After three steps, I would suddenly whip my head back and burst into a loud laugh—"
Zhang Tian looked directly into the Empress's eyes, his own a mixture of madness and surgical calm.
"Hahaha! What a coincidence! We meet again!"
"Presumptuous!"
The veteran General Wang Zhongyi slammed the table and stood up, his beard bristling. "Absurd! The blades of Great Wu men should be turned toward our enemies, not toward the unarmed elderly and children! Marquis Zhang, your son is a monster without a shred of morality!"
The surrounding officials echoed the sentiment, the hall suddenly filling with the sound of spit and condemnation.
Zhang Feng turned pale, kneeling on the ground as sweat poured down his face.
Wu Zhao, however, said nothing. She only stared intensely at Zhang Tian.
Facing the storm of curses, Zhang Tian laughed loudly. "General Wang, my great saber indeed does not kill the weak... but I still have a small dagger."
"You..." Wang Zhongyi was at a loss for words.
The Top Scholar, Zhou Yinhe, sneered, "Eloquent words cannot hide your demonic nature! To pull up the grass by the roots is the path of a monster!"
Zhang Tian turned to Zhou Yinhe, his smile fading. "Scholar Zhou, how do you know that the child you let go today won't return in ten years to avenge his family? If his father had understood the concept of 'uprooting the grass' years ago, would my family face this blood feud today?"
"I can live a lifetime with guilt, but I refuse to live a lifetime in fear."
"To leave the roots is an act of cruelty toward one's own kin!"
Zhang Tian's voice echoed through the hall, each word like a nail driven into the hearts of the officials.
"Of course, the bit about 'turning back after three steps' was just a joke. If I truly had to act, I would first give them some silver and play the part of a saint to earn a reputation like General Wang's."
"Then, I would secretly track them to see which relatives or friends they seek shelter with... and uproot them all together!"
"Furthermore... I would check under the beds, in the wardrobes, and inside the rice vats. If there are younger siblings hiding, I must ensure the whole family stays together in the afterlife."
"Finally, since the heart is usually on the left, but a rare few have it on the right... I would make sure to stab both sides of the chest. Just to ensure there are no survivors."
With every sentence Zhang Tian spoke, the temperature in the hall seemed to drop another degree.
The rowdy officials were now shocked into a deathly silence by this "Theory of Double-Stabbing."
Wu Zhao sat upon her throne, looking at the polite, smiling young man who spoke such demonic words. Only one thought remained in her mind:
Finally... the world has produced a 'ghost-genius' who can do the dirty work for me!