Chapter 990 – War at the Northern Border (Twenty-Seven)
Everyone knows that the former Prime Minister Huangfu was a scheming traitor, using a young ruler as a puppet to control the court and plotting to usurp the throne.
Now, a meteor has fallen from the heavens, inscribed with the ominous phrase, “The Emperor will not pass on for a generation; Huangfu will take his place.” What could this possibly imply?
It implies that Prime Minister Huangfu is unwilling to accept defeat and is back for revenge against the world!
As if that weren’t enough, Wei Ci’s birth chart matches exactly with that of the deceased Prime Minister—no differences whatsoever!
What a coincidence! Who could possibly not be suspicious?
People in the ancient world are superstitious, preferring to explain the incomprehensible through myths.
Ignorant of what lies beyond their planet, they conjured ideas of a “Celestial Palace” and all-powerful “Immortals.”
The meteor was seen as a treasure dropped by these immortals, and naturally, the words inscribed upon it were also thought to come from them.
Heaven has sent a warning, suggesting that Wei Ci is the reincarnation of the treacherous former Prime Minister.
This man would likely wield immense power, aiming to overthrow the throne and threaten the very foundation of the realm!
If a different Emperor were in charge, Wei Ci would undoubtedly be doomed, and his family would suffer bloodshed alongside him. For an Emperor, who dares to covet the throne? Not even a rising official, but even their own parents, spouses, or children would be dealt with ruthlessly.
Since ancient times, emperors—whether wise, average, or foolish—share a common trait:
They are suspicious!
No emperor can tolerate anyone eyeing their throne and power.
During that time, petition after petition cascaded into the imperial palace like snowflakes, cluttering the Emperor’s dragon desk.
Sparks of unrest shimmered throughout the court.
The immense pressure weighed down on Wei Ci, making it hard for him to breathe. He even contemplated suicide to preserve his innocence.
But what made Wei Ci laugh bitterly was that his entire household was filled with the Emperor’s confidential guards. Every move he made was scrutinized under their watchful eyes; he even had several guards waiting outside when he went to the bathroom. If he didn’t respond after some time, they would force their way in!
“The court is filled with voices of opposition; Your Majesty should not be so obstinate… please, Your Majesty… grant me freedom…”
Wei Ci never thought of usurping the throne, but everyone unanimously believed he would do so, leading them to eliminate any potential threat right at its roots.
He couldn’t withstand the external pressures.
Better to decide his own life and death than wait for the Emperor to order his suicide.
Although he couldn’t choose the moment of his birth, at least let him choose the moment of his death.
Such a simple request was ruthlessly turned down—
The Emperor gazed at him coldly, and after a long pause, uttered two words.
“Wait.”
After a while, Wei Ci avoided several assassination attempts, and Jiang Zhao initiated a first cleanse.
The fallen meteor was a hoax, and the inscriptions were false; this entire incident was merely a trap set by malicious individuals to harm loyal subjects.
While harming loyal subjects might not lead to death, using heavenly orders would be unforgivable and would implicate their entire family.
The Emperor exposed several families involved in the plot, confiscated their assets, and demoted them to commoners.
Both Wei Ci and the Emperor knew those families were just scapegoats thrown under the bus for some much-needed venting.
Since the meteor was fake, the order inscribed upon it must also be a fabrication.
Wei Ci cleared his name but faced lesser penalties—reducing his salary and downgrading his rank.
Following this incident, Wei Ci slowly faded from the center of power, actively seeking a position akin to retirement, steering clear of real authority.
Though it was a setup, the meteor incident left him with deep psychological scars.
Having nearly forgotten the ordeal, Wu Libai’s curses brought back troubling memories.
Seated at the head, Jiang Pengji scoffed, saying, “If curses worked so well, wouldn’t you still be a prisoner?”
Her unrestrained mockery left Wu Libai’s expression utterly pitiful.
Jiang Pengji added a jab, “Why even bother leading troops into battle? Just set up a platform before the armies and see who can spit venom more viciously!”
The others in the tent couldn’t hold back their laughter, and only a few cast wary glances at Wei Ci, secretly letting out relieved sighs.
Should the Lord become suspicious, the first to suffer would be Wei Ci.
However, seeing the Lord’s broad-mindedness now, there was little fear of Wu Libai inciting discord.
“Though we may be enemies, I respect you as a man, so I won’t humiliate you,” Jiang Pengji said, stifling a yawn in boredom. Rising from her seat, she casually drew a beautifully crafted curved blade from her waist and tossed it before Wu Libai. “You can see yourself out.”
Dying at the hands of an enemy is nowhere near as glorious as taking your own life!
At the very least, preserve that last shred of dignity.
Wu Libai was utterly blindsided by Jiang Pengji’s reaction, glaring at her with a complex look in his eyes.
“Really?”
“Of course it’s real,” Jiang Pengji replied, “but I can’t guarantee what will happen to your corpse.”
Wu Libai’s expression shifted, a hint of desolation and helplessness lingering in his gaze.
“Heaven wants to cast me out of the Northern Border—but Liu Xi—don’t get too cocky; you’ll surely follow in my footsteps one day.”
Every word Wu Libai said was laden with weight. With a shake of his shoulders, he broke free from the grasp of the surrounding soldiers and picked up the fallen blade.
“My Lord—I’ll take my leave first—”
He then clutched the hilt with his trembling right hand, steadied himself to pull it out, tears brimming in his eyes.
He didn’t know where the strength came from as he forcefully plunged the blade into his left chest, driving it straight into his racing heart.
His eyes bulged, a frozen expression of agony and valor as if he had a thousand words to say but couldn’t find the breath.
After a moment, he begrudgingly drew his last breath, his sturdy frame collapsing forward with a heavy thud.
“Drag him away; once the weather clears, hang him before the main camp,” Jiang Pengji coldly surveyed the lifeless body at her feet, devoid of any emotion. “When the flood recedes, regroup the army, clear out the Northern Border tribes along the waters, and pursue the remaining soldiers.”
“Yes.”
The others retreated, and Feng Zhen and the others appeared somewhat grave.
Wu Libai’s death was a relief, but his loose tongue was genuinely infuriating.
Watching Wu Libai’s corpse being hung outside the camp lifted a burden from their hearts.
Feng Zhen complained, “… he died, so let’s just leave it at that instead of causing more trouble…”
Qi Guanrang remarked, “The Lord is no ordinary person; she is fully aware. As long as she doesn’t go overboard, nothing will happen.”
Despite Wu Libai being unloved, his premature exposure of that facade led the Lord to consider much more and act with greater thoroughness.
Better to be prepared now than be caught off-guard later.
Feng Zhen responded, “Let’s hope so—”
The terrible flood gradually receded, revealing a scene akin to hell on earth, with corpses that sent chills down one’s spine.
Jiang Pengji commanded the soldiers to deal with the bodies, capturing all surviving individuals as prisoners while also confiscating the assets of various tribes.
The scope of this flood was extensive, with casualties so staggering it left the sizes of the tribes along the river thoroughly decimated.
Of course, none of this was as demoralizing as hanging Wu Libai’s corpse in the enemy’s main camp.
