Trials and hardship depend entirely on one’s environment.

Since birth, Jun Buli had certainly faced no shortage of tempering—but always under the protection of his father, his uncles and aunts. Yet this past year and a half of trials had been spent navigating, step by careful step, among a nest of scheming old foxes.

Though he appeared ruthless, he understood better than anyone just how perilous his own position was, and how precarious the standing of Prince Yao’s estate truly was within Da Zhou—precisely because he moved more carefully than anyone else, weighing every step.

This year and a half of hardship had left his once-clear gaze now carrying an added depth, a profound and unreadable quality. It had also gradually transformed him from the once lively, outspoken child he’d been into someone composed and reticent.

Nearly nine years old now, his strikingly handsome face had long since shed any trace of childishness, his features growing ever sharper and more defined, his profile increasingly striking—perhaps even more handsome than Jun Beiyue’s, by a fraction.

At this moment, in the imperial study, following his cold pronouncement, silence fell once more, deathly still.

The five ministers and three generals present all kept their heads bowed, murmuring meek assent. Even though many harbored deep dissatisfaction, disagreeing entirely with Jun Buli’s decision, not one of them dared voice a single complaint—their shock and their anger both locked away deep inside.

“What is it—do you have no objections, or do you have objections you’re too afraid to voice? Have you all gone mute?” Jun Beiyue asked, raising an eyebrow coldly.

“We would not dare, Your Majesty!” the ministers chorused.

“Then go carry out the order at once!” Jun Beiyue’s voice grew even colder, making it seem as though this man held no warmth for anyone at all.

“Yes! Your Majesty’s will be done!”

The ministers had not yet even withdrawn when Jun Buli himself left first, stepping out through the doors of the imperial study, a complicated look hidden deep in his eyes.

The northern border issue was the most critical matter at hand. If public opinion continued down this path, swaying the hearts of the people, it would spell serious trouble!

He didn’t know how, nor would he ever choose, to feign benevolence or put on some hollow show of caring for the common people. But everything he actually did was always done with the people’s long-term welfare firmly in mind!

Once this crisis passed, the truth would prove all the false rumors wrong on its own!

He walked step by step toward the palace gates. Along the way, every maidservant and eunuch he passed knelt far off to the side in deference. In this vast imperial palace, aside from Eunuch Xu, truly no one else dared come anywhere near this emperor.

And the old trick of palace maids “accidentally” bumping into their master to curry favor—that sort of thing never happened again from that point on.

Soon, he made his way onto a secluded corridor draped in flowering vines, and from behind, his figure looked ever more solitary and forlorn.

As he walked, he said flatly, “Zizhu, would you go?”

At some point, without anyone quite noticing when, he’d stopped calling the great beast Zizhu “Grandfather Zizhu,” addressing it now simply by name. The great beast Zizhu appeared out of thin air, transforming into a fist-sized ball of fur that settled onto his shoulder. “Young Master, the Master must have had some unspoken reason for leaving without a word—please don’t blame him!”

Every single time Zizhu appeared, it inevitably tried to plead this same case. But no matter how much it pleaded, Xiong Xiaobao’s face remained utterly expressionless, showing neither sorrow nor anger—growing ever more like his father, never letting his emotions show, leaving others forever unable to guess what he truly felt.

After some persuading, the great beast Zizhu finally gave up, sprawling lazily on Jun Buli’s shoulder, sighing helplessly. “Fine, fine, fine, Young Master’s word is law. We shall serve faithfully unto death!”

To its surprise, only then did Jun Buli finally speak, saying coldly, “I told you to go build roads, not to go die. If you want to die, don’t go.”

“You—!” The corner of the great beast Zizhu’s mouth twitched, and it couldn’t help but curse. “You little brat, you’ve grown up heartless! It was your mommy and daddy who left without a word—at least we’ve been here looking after you the whole time!”

Jun Buli stopped in his tracks, turning back with a raised eyebrow. The great beast Zizhu’s eyes widened immediately, about to try goading him further, when Jun Buli suddenly flicked a finger and sent it flying off with a single snap. “I hate it most when someone nags in my ear.”

Left to be flung far away, Jun Buli strode off without a backward glance. Furious, the great beast Zizhu chased after him for a while before suddenly calling out loudly, “Ah… Young Master!”

At these words, Jun Buli’s steps clearly froze for a moment. Yet after only an instant, he didn’t turn back at all, simply continuing forward—he wouldn’t fall for such a childish trick.

The great beast Zizhu had been prepared to give him a good scolding once he turned around, but watching his retreating figure grow more and more distant, more and more forlorn, an inexplicable wave of sorrow welled up in its heart.

The great beast Zizhu remembered how the nine-tailed white fox had once played this exact same trick on the young master, and he’d immediately turned around in a temper. But this time, he showed no reaction at all.

Shaking its head helplessly, the great beast Zizhu murmured to itself, “Young Master, if you don’t come back soon, you won’t even recognize your own son anymore—he’s growing more and more impossible to read.”

After leaving the palace, Jun Buli headed back to Prince Yao’s estate. Even though he’d ascended the throne and now had his own imperial quarters, whenever he had no state affairs to attend to, he always returned to Prince Yao’s estate, staying in the eastern wing, in Ziqing and Jun Beiyue’s old rooms, with only the maid Hongyi and the guard Guxi attending him.

The western side of the estate now housed two newly built residences, where the imprisoned princes, imperial grandsons, and officials’ families were all kept under house arrest—their days there could only be imagined as unbearably tedious.

There was no visible security whatsoever around the western wing—not even ordinary door guards. Perhaps it was simply the deterrent presence of the poison beasts and shadow guards, but even though not a single guard had ever been seen there since the day these people first moved in, to this day, no one had dared attempt to sneak out.

Jun Buli almost never went there himself, and had never once inquired after conditions in that part of the estate.

After dinner, he lounged lazily in a rocking chair in the courtyard, gazing up at the vast expanse of stars, seemingly lost in some thought.

At that moment, the estate steward hurried over, whispering something into Hongyi’s ear. Hongyi’s expression changed, and she quickly walked over to Jun Buli.

“Young Master, the Second Prince is kneeling at the gate, requesting an audience.”

This wasn’t the first time the Second Prince had come seeking an audience. Officially, he came to see Jun Buli, but what he truly wished to see was his own mother consort and his son.

Only, this was the first time he had come kneeling!

Even as emperor, they were still, after all, uncle and nephew—kneeling at the front gate like this, what would people think?

And yet Jun Buli remained utterly unmoved, not even opening his eyes, saying flatly, “Tell him I’ve retired for the night. If there’s anything he needs, he can come find me at the imperial study tomorrow.”

“Young Master, I’m afraid he won’t leave,” Hongyi said, concerned.

“Pass the message along. Whether he leaves or not is his own business,” Jun Buli said, his tone just as flat as before. Hongyi, soft-hearted, wanted to plead his case further, but Guxi stopped her with a single glance.

Where Jun Beichen was concerned, Prince Yao had already given him one chance—how could the young master possibly give him another?

For those harboring ulterior schemes, Prince Yao paid them no mind at all, confident he could handle whatever came. But the young master, too, paid them no mind whatsoever—because he would never, under any circumstances, give such a person any opening at all.

When it came to ruthlessness, the young master could well surpass even Prince Yao by a considerable margin. Jun Beichen would likely never again see his mother or his son for the rest of his life.

Once Hongyi withdrew, Jun Buli slowly opened his eyes and said flatly, “Guxi, I suddenly find myself thinking of someone.”