The Lonely King 010

On the very day they were plotting, unusual movements were also occurring in the capital.

"Audacious eunuch! How dare you barge into this Dowager's chambers! What insolence!" The elderly Dowager Empress's wrinkled face twisted in fury, her voice brimming with rage.

Eunuch Li, hands clasped behind his back, sneered coldly. "By the Emperor's decree."

The Dowager Empress froze. The palace maids and female officials in her chambers exchanged glances, but none knelt. Indeed, while outsiders might still play along with this puppet emperor, the Dowager had no patience for such pretenses—and her servants naturally shared her disdain.

"Sima Rui has brought chaos to the inner court, poisoned the Empress, and defied the natural order of heaven and man. Her crimes warrant execution. However, in consideration of her status as Dowager Empress, she is to be imprisoned immediately, pending final judgment!" Eunuch Li finished reading the decree and extended his hand. "Will you receive the edict?" The imperial scroll slowly fell to the ground.

"You—!" The Dowager clutched her chest, nearly fainting from rage. "He dares issue such an edict? He’s nothing but a commoner!"

"Insulting the Emperor adds another count to your crimes," Eunuch Li replied calmly. "Additionally, by oral decree: the female officials in the Dowager’s chambers—spare none."

"Treason! Guards!" the Dowager shrieked.

Eunuch Li smiled and raised a hand to stop her. "Dowager, don’t bother. From today onward, the Imperial Guards answer directly to the Emperor."

"What?" The Dowager’s face was a mask of disbelief.

"Proceed." Eunuch Li waved, and the eunuchs behind him surged forward. Anyone could see—these eunuchs were actually skilled in martial arts! Their moves were ruthless, and in moments, every female official in the chamber lay dead.

Two eunuchs hauled the Dowager up. Eunuch Li stepped forward, picked up the imperial decree, and stuffed it into her mouth to muffle her wails.

"Take her away."

At the right wing of the Imperial Guards, the commander—a loyalist of the Sima family—was drinking and cursing. He railed against Zheng Tai, that lucky upstart, and Wei Xun. After General Wang was killed by Sima Cheng, Zheng Tai had taken temporary command of the Imperial Guards, while he himself, as a follower of the second young master, faced relentless sidelining.

Even that useless Wei Xun had been promoted three ranks. What kind of luck was that?

Mid-rant, the door burst open.

"What? Who dares interrupt—" Before he could finish, his vision shifted. With a dull thud, he saw his own feet—how could he be sure? These were new shoes, and he hadn’t even paid for them yet.

Wei Xun strode into the room, glanced at the headless corpse, and unfurled an imperial decree. "From this moment, I command the right wing!"

Meanwhile, at the Western Mountain Camp outside the capital, news of the general’s fatal fall from his horse spread through the ranks. The soldiers remained silent as the impassioned deputy addressed them—they were used to following orders.

The newly appointed head of the Imperial City Bureau stood guard at the Meridian Gate, awaiting the Emperor’s command, while the corpse of his predecessor lay not far away.

Fuhai considerately draped a cloak over Fang Zhiyi’s shoulders as the Emperor gazed from the palace walls.

"Fuhai, have you ever wondered about the letters I had you deliver?" Fang Zhiyi suddenly asked.

Fuhai shuddered and bowed his head. "Your Majesty, this servant does not dare to be curious."

"You’re a man of many thoughts. How could you not wonder?"

Fuhai kept his head lowered. "Some things are better left unquestioned."

"Hahaha! You’ll live a long life," Fang Zhiyi laughed before turning away. It was time to inspect the results.

Back then, he had sent the same message to all those sidelined officials: promises of a brighter future. For those drowning in frustration, such promises were fuel. Along with the messages came silver—no small thing for men who relied solely on meager salaries, some struggling to feed large families.

With each promotion, their faith in Fang Zhiyi grew—and so did their hopes for their own futures.

The conspirators of Sima Cheng’s faction had just finalized their plans to act upon returning home. But the moment they opened their doors, blinding torchlight flooded their vision. Armored soldiers had surrounded Sima Cheng’s residence, sealing it tight.

By dawn, the common folk resumed their daily toil, oblivious to the night’s upheaval.

The Sima family’s plot to rebel was publicly exposed—a crime of the highest order, punishable by the extermination of nine generations! Yet the Emperor, in his mercy, acknowledged the Sima clan’s past contributions. He stripped all Sima descendants of their ranks, barred them from office forever, and confined the Dowager Empress, Sima Jue, Sima Cheng, and their bedridden patriarch together, declaring he would "care for them in their twilight years."

The realm praised the Emperor’s benevolence.

Only the Sima faction’s remnants were left dazed. How had the world turned upside down overnight? The imposing figure on the throne seemed almost unfamiliar.

"By Our decree," Fang Zhiyi announced, his voice icy and commanding, "the positions of Chancellor and Grand Marshal are abolished. Henceforth, governance shall be conducted through a Council of Ministers."

One official, steeling himself, stepped forward. "Your Majesty, this humble subject has a word—"

"If you hesitate to speak, then don’t."

The man choked on his words. Fuhai leaned in and whispered to Fang Zhiyi.

As the official opened his mouth again, Fang Zhiyi cut him off with a cold laugh. "Wan Ji, a mere vice minister, yet you own four estates outside the capital? Your salary seems… excessive."

Wan Ji gaped. How did the Emperor know about his estates?

"Take him away. Investigate thoroughly!"

In a secluded courtyard, the Sima family exchanged bewildered glances. Inside, the paralyzed Sima Ci finally pieced it together—he’d been fooled! That seemingly foolish Emperor had played him from the start, making his first move the moment he began mingling with eunuchs. Sima Ci had dismissed him too easily, never suspecting a thing!

The courtyard gate creaked open. A eunuch entered, flanked by two grim-faced men.

"Esteemed Sima lords, are you comfortable here?"

"You—! Who are—?" Sima Jue recognized the eunuch—his father’s spy planted near the Emperor—but couldn’t recall his name.

The eunuch smiled. "No need for introductions. Why would a Sima lord remember a castrato’s name? Still, I am Cai Guang, of the Eastern Depot. By imperial authority, I hold the power to execute first and report later."

Sima Jue muttered, "The Eastern Depot… the Eastern Depot…" Suddenly, his eyes flashed. "I understand now! Father, I understand!" The Emperor had woven a web using these overlooked eunuchs—all of them his eyes and ears!

"But what’s the use?" Sima Ci lamented inwardly. He, too, had connected the dots—even his newest concubine must have long been aboard the Eastern Depot’s ship.

Fang Zhiyi granted Sima Ying her freedom, but she refused to leave. Watching him consolidate power with practiced ease, witnessing the rise of one new institution after another until no dissent remained in court, she realized she had underestimated this Emperor all along.