Chapter 446 Corn

Chapter 446 Corn

Chen Zhengqi stood before the Meridian Gate, the night wind making his cloak flap noisily.

The Minister of War handed several sealed secret edicts to him and said in a low voice:

"Sir, as long as these edicts reach the border, there will be no trouble from that direction within ten days."

Chen Zhengqi took the edicts, glanced at the imperial seal on them, and a wry smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"What those border men respect is this." He handed the edicts back.

"As long as they believe the capital is calm, they won't make a move. By the time they catch on—"

He paused.

"The outcome will already be decided."

The Minister of War nodded, slipped the edicts into his sleeve, and turned to leave.

Chen Zhengqi raised his head and looked toward the imposing palace complex in the distance.

Lights blazed everywhere, yet how many defiant souls lurked within? The hand clasped behind his back tightened slightly.

If tonight didn't yield the outcome he wanted, then those soft-handed policies could be discarded.

Some people won't turn back until they hit a dead end—let them crash into it.

He looked away and suddenly asked, "Where is Hao'er now?"

The attendant beside him hurried forward and said in a low voice, "Sir, the Second Prince has gone to the Hall of Literary Brilliance."

Chen Zhengqi's brow furrowed slightly, then smoothed.

He let out a soft laugh—one tinged with resignation and knowing.

This nephew of his appeared composed, but in the end, he was too young and too hot-headed.

But no matter. At the Hall of Literary Brilliance, those old bastards like Lin Zhufeng couldn't make any waves.

He was just about to say something—

All of a sudden.

"Fwoosh—boom!" A flare of fire suddenly burst in the night sky.

Chen Zhengqi's eyes narrowed sharply. He looked up at the signal flare still blazing in the night sky.

"What's going on?!"

"I'll go find out right away!" The soldier beside him jumped in fright and hurriedly turned to go see what was happening.

But before he could run more than a few steps, the frantic sound of hooves grew closer.

"Sir! Disaster! Disaster!"

The soldier scrambled in, stumbling and crawling, and dropped to his knees with a thud, shaking all over.

Chen Zhengqi frowned and barked, "What's got you in such a panic?!"

The soldier stayed prostrate, his voice trembling: "The East Glorious Gate... the East Glorious Gate is under attack!"

Chen Zhengqi's face darkened.

The East Glorious Gate?

That's the palace gate closest to the Hall of Literary Brilliance!

Hao'er is still at the Hall of Literary Brilliance!

His hand gripped his sword hilt, knuckles white.

"Whose troops?!" He ground the words out through clenched teeth.

The border was locked down, and the capital's main forces were all in his hands—at a moment like this, who would dare? Who even could?

The soldier remained prostrate, not daring to raise his head.

"I... I'm not entirely sure, but from their uniforms..." He gulped.

"They've got to be the Embroidered Uniform Guard!"

A flicker of shock crossed Chen Zhengqi's eyes.

The Embroidered Uniform Guard?

Lu Ming?!

How dare Lu Ming move without the emperor's order? Isn't he afraid the emperor will have him punished? Isn't he afraid of his whole family being wiped out?!

He was about to speak when another frantic clatter of hooves drew near.

Another soldier rushed in. "Sir! Terrible news! The Hall of Literary Brilliance... there's trouble at the Hall of Literary Brilliance!"

Chen Zhengqi's eyes narrowed sharply.

"Out with it!"

The soldier stayed prostrate, not daring to raise his head: "Someone... someone has abducted the Second Prince! The ministers in the hall were taken too!"

Chen Zhengqi's face went livid.

Hao'er's been abducted?!

His hand gripped his sword hilt, knuckles bone-white. But before he could get a word out—

More hoofbeats.

A third soldier burst in, almost tripping as he dropped to his knees, his voice shaking uncontrollably.

"Sir! Sir! The Chen mansion... the Chen mansion is under siege!"

Chen Zhengqi's breath hitched.

"Old Master Chen... and the whole family... all... all abducted!"

The soldier's words hit Chen Zhengqi like a thunderbolt.

He staggered.

His temples pounded so hard his vision went black.

The East Hua Gate was hit, Hao'er got snatched, those old bastards Lin Zhufeng and his crew were broken out, the Chen estate was surrounded—his dad... his dad and his whole family...

A wave of coppery sweetness surged up his throat. His face was so dark it looked like he wanted to eat someone alive.

The attendants and soldiers around him dropped to their knees, not daring to breathe.

The night wind swept in, snapping his cloak. The fire still blazed overhead, throwing his shadow across the ground, stretching and shrinking by turns.

He shut his eyes.

When he opened them, all that was left was a cold, murderous glint.

The game had changed.

He couldn't afford to wait any longer.

All that crap about soft policies and playing the long game—bullshit.

Tonight, he had to cut the Gordian knot in one stroke.

Take power first. Talk later.

No matter how good the Imperial Guards were, they only had twenty or thirty thousand men. Without backup, they were just moths flying into a fire.

He had the Three Great Camps under his command—even if he had to bury them under a mountain of corpses, he could crush them.

He slowly tightened his grip on the hilt. "Give the order—"

His voice came out through gritted teeth, cold as midwinter ice.

"The rebels have risen! Order the Three Great Camps to arm up and march into the city to protect the throne!"

He paused, then spun on his heel and strode off the platform.

"Muster the men and follow me into the palace now—" he said, each word deliberate. "We'll slaughter the traitors!"

...

A flash of steel, and another man dropped.

Cheng Ge's blade was already chipped, blood running down the edge.

His arms were numb with ache, his hands raw and stinging, but he kept killing, kept pushing forward.

Behind him were the pillars of the Great Zhou; ahead, a tide of pursuers surged.

He couldn't fall back—if he did, everyone died.

"Form up!" he roared, his voice hoarse as a broken gong.

The Imperial Guards reacted instantly. Several fell back to form a shield wall around the old ministers.

The rest kept charging, blades flashing, covering Cheng Ge's flanks.

"Sir! They're pushing through at the East Hua Gate!"

An Imperial Guard ran up beside him, soaked in blood, but his eyes burned with a fierce light.

Cheng Ge didn't turn around. He just tightened his grip on the blade. "How many?"

"Two thousand! And more are coming!"

A cold smile twitched at the corner of Cheng Ge's mouth.

Two thousand.

Enough.

He raised his blade and pressed it to Zhou Hao's neck.

Even with the chipped edge, Zhou Hao went rigid the moment it touched his skin.

Cheng Ge didn't look at him. He just lifted his head and faced the oncoming pursuers.

"Let them see." His voice wasn't loud, but it carried to every ear.

In the firelight, Zhou Hao's face was plain as day—half a steamed bun stuffed in his mouth, tied up hand and foot, like a lamb to the slaughter.

The pursuers hesitated for a beat. Cheng Ge didn't give them time to think.

"Move!" he barked, shoving Zhou Hao ahead as he led the group charging toward Qianqing Palace.

The Imperial Guards flanked them, blades out, carving a bloody path.

Wu Zhongzi gripped his sword, guarding Lin Zhufeng, his hands shaking like a man with Parkinson's.

Lin Zhufeng followed behind him, unhurried, but not a single step behind.

The Qianqing Palace loomed closer, its towering halls flickering in and out of the firelight.

But more pursuers were converging on the noise, the thunder of hooves swelling like a tide.

Cheng Ge cut down another man, blood splattering across his face—warm and cloyingly sweet.

At that moment, from the side, a man swung his sword straight at Cheng Ge's head!

Cheng Ge's mind worked faster than his body—

He lunged, grabbed Zhou Hao by the scruff of the neck, and yanked him up as a shield!

The blade was already there, stopping just three inches from Zhou Hao's forehead.

Zhou Hao: "!!!"

Zhou Hao's eyes flew open, his eyeballs nearly popping out of his skull.

With half a bun stuffed in his mouth, he couldn't speak, only let out a frantic "mmm-mmm-mmm" from his throat—shrill and desperate, like a pig being slaughtered.

The soldier saw Zhou Hao's face and nearly pissed his pants.

He stumbled back two steps, almost tripping over his own feet.

Zhou Hao glared at the soldier, eyes practically bulging out of his head.

With the bun in his mouth, he couldn't curse, but his glare said it all: Are you blind?! You trying to kill this prince?!

Cheng Ge held Zhou Hao by the scruff like a chicken headed for the chopping block, shoving him forward.

"Hold them back." His voice was hoarse, but every word landed clearly in the soldier's ears.

The soldier gripped his blade, neither advancing nor retreating, frozen in place like a wooden post.

Cheng Ge ignored him, shoving Zhou Hao forward, continuing to charge ahead.

Using him as a human shield, he strode toward the Qianqing Palace.

Those around them dodged their blades left and right, afraid of cutting Zhou Hao, that walking goldmine.

Instead, Cheng Ge, that sneaky bastard, took the chance to stab several of them dead.

The two sides clashed fiercely—

Suddenly, Cheng Ge's vision went black, and a rush of coppery blood surged up from his throat, filling his mouth, so foul it nearly made him gag.

He couldn't swallow it, nor spit it out, left with no choice but to let the bitter taste spread across his tongue.

He swayed uncontrollably a few times.

Cheng Ge instinctively used his blade to brace himself, the tip catching in a crack between the stone slabs, barely keeping his swaying body upright.

He shook his head violently, trying to clear the blackness.

All he could see was blurred firelight, flickering dim and bright, as if looking through a haze of blood.

The men traded looks.

After a couple of breaths, Cheng Ge finally regained clarity, the firelight coming back into focus.

But three blades were already on him.

A cold gleam, blades slicing through the air, barely three feet from his head.

He had almost no room to dodge; instinctively, he raised his blade to block.

The wind from the blades was already stinging his face—

In that instant, a shadow out of nowhere slammed into the crowd, a dark figure charging in.

"Bang—!" The shadow crashed in from the side.

Before Cheng Ge could react, arms wrapped around his waist and yanked him backward!

He was yanked three or four steps back, the incoming blades slicing past the tip of his nose.

The man shoved him behind, spun around, grabbed a soldier by the neck, hoisted him up, and hurled him into the three charging behind.

"Bang—!" The crack of bones was sharp and sickening; the four of them tumbled into a heap and never got up.

Cheng Ge: "What the—!?"

Cheng Ge stood there panting, looked up, and saw a mountain of a man blocking his way.

Broad shoulders, a thick back—like a mountain—he cast Cheng Ge entirely in shadow.

Just then, the imperial guards from the Donghua Gate arrived.

A tide of dark flying-fish uniforms surged in, blades flashing, war cries shaking the sky.

The pursuers were scattered, and the front line surged forward instantly.

Cheng Ge had no time to think. He braced himself on his blade, dragged Zhou Hao, and charged ahead.

And that mountain of a man stayed right by his side the whole way.

The man said nothing, just guarded his flank, clearing out every enemy who got close with that almost brutal style.

Fists smashed, hands ripped, bodies flung—the dead piled up like a small hill in front of him.

Near the Qianqing Palace gate, the man suddenly spoke, his voice low and raspy, with a foreign accent.

"Yuli," he said slowly, "where... are you going?"

Cheng Ge's whole body jolted; he froze on the spot, as if hit by a spell.

He whipped his head around, staring at the face wrapped in black cloth, at those eyes blazing in the firelight.

"You—" Cheng Ge opened his mouth, but only one syllable came out.

Grand Tutor Lin and the others hid behind Wu Zhongzi, with the imperial guards shielding them in the middle.

Wu Zhongzi gripped his blade, shaking like a leaf, but he didn't miss a single step in blocking.

Suddenly, Grand Tutor Lin's ear perked up.

He stopped dead, slapping Wu Zhongzi on the back.

"Lord Wu!" Wu Zhongzi flinched from the slap, nearly dropping his blade, and stumbled forward a step.

"Wh-what?!"

Grand Tutor Lin looked around frantically, his head whipping back and forth like a rattle-drum.

"Did you just hear someone call my grandson?!" His eyes blazed.

"I heard someone call him! Calling him Yuli!"

Wu Zhongzi held his blade, totally confused. "Huh? No? I didn't hear anything?"

Lin Zhufeng didn't buy it. He turned and looked back at Zhang Gelao, Minister Wang, and Reader Li, all huddled behind the guards.

"Zhang Gelao, did you hear that just now?!"

Zhang Gelao was gasping for air, caught off guard by the question, and paused.

"Huh... hear what?"

Lin Zhufeng glared at him. "Someone called my grandson! Called Yuli! You weren't far—did you hear it?!"

Zhang Gelao frowned, strained his ears, then shook his head.

"There's nothing but battle noise all around; my ears are old, I heard nothing!"

Lin Zhufeng then turned to Reader Li.

Reader Li quickly waved his hand. "Don't look at me, I'm deafer than him. I didn't even catch what you just said."

Lin Zhufeng's brow furrowed even tighter. He had clearly heard someone call out Lin Nanshu's name.

He turned at last to Zhang Gelao.

Zhang Gelao was being supported by two guards in brocade uniforms, still three or four steps away, wheezing for breath.

Battle cries and the clash of blades rang out everywhere, a total mess of noise.

Lin Zhufeng hollered over to him, "Zhang Gelao! Did you hear someone call out my grandson's name?!"

Zhang Gelao tilted his ear and squinted over at him, "Huh—? What'd you say—?"

Lin Zhufeng hollered even louder, "Someone called my grandson—! Yuli—! Did you hear it or not—!"

Zhang Gelao leaned in, ear cocked, and shouted back, "Corn—? What corn—?"

Lin Zhufeng: "..."

He took a deep breath and roared even louder, "It's Yuli—! My grandson—!"

Zhang Gelao's brow scrunched up so hard it could kill a mosquito, and from over there came another shout:

"Tsk! You want corn—? At a time like this—! There's no corn—!"