Three months later. The Dachu capital.

Renaming the capital Daxing had done nothing to reverse Dachu’s decline — perhaps that in itself was an omen.

It had not been the current emperor who changed the name. Nor was the current emperor the kind of useless man who would pin his hopes for saving the realm and the Yang family on something so trivial as a name change.

Yet he always felt powerless — willing, but unable.

Emperor Yang Jing sat on the dragon throne in the great hall, looking out at those impeccably dressed officials below him, feeling an ever-stronger urge to order a wholesale slaughter.

Were these people merely occupying their posts and drawing their salaries while doing nothing? They were far worse than that — far more despicable, far more contemptible. They were feeding at the hand that sustained them while working against it.

Only a few days earlier, a battle report sent by Prince Wu, Yang Jiju, had arrived in Daxing. What caught the emperor’s attention was not the military situation itself, but what lay outside the military situation.

The two forces had faced each other at Boye Slope in Dashen Prefecture. Prince Wu had led his army to win the first engagement through a strategy of layered ambushes, killing more than twelve thousand of the rebel Yang Xuanji’s troops.

Yang Xuanji had been forced to abandon a freshly built encampment and order a retreat of over a hundred *li*.

When Prince Wu’s army swept through Yang Xuanji’s campsite, they found large quantities of items that had not been taken away — including a full basket overflowing with letters. The vast majority of these letters had been written to Yang Xuanji by officials at court.

There was no need to read them to imagine their contents.

As emperor of the Dachu Empire, Yang Jing looked at those faces and felt wave after wave of revulsion.

The impulse rose in him again and again — he nearly could not stop himself from ordering the Imperial Forest Army to drag all those treacherous ministers outside and execute them.

Slaughter the lot and confiscate their households — the court would make a handsome sum of it.

But he could not.

If he executed every civil and military official in the court, would there even be a court left?

And he did not dare.

If he truly killed that many people, could a realm already torn apart and estranged manage to hold itself together?

The emperor listened as the men below droned on endlessly, but not a single word entered his ears.

Someone from the side door of the great hall caught the attention of the Grand Steward of Attendants, Wen Xudao, with a soft call. Wen Xudao turned and saw a young eunuch whose face had gone pale with alarm.

Wen Xudao frowned and stepped to the side door, asking in a chilled voice: “What is it? How dare you disturb His Majesty during court?”

The young eunuch bowed low: “Reporting to the Steward — someone has returned from the northern frontier. They say… they say that Khan-Emperor of Black Wu, Kuokedi Dashi, has been killed.”

Those words drained the color from Wen Xudao’s face in an instant. His heart lurched into a violent pounding.

His instinct was to look back at the emperor, then at the assembled civil and military officials.

After a brief silence, Wen Xudao asked: “Who else knows about this?”

The young eunuch said: “Only those of us on duty knew. The messenger was exhausted — he collapsed just outside His Majesty’s eastern study. He managed those few words, and only we few heard him.”

Wen Xudao made a sound of acknowledgment and dropped his voice to give instructions: “See that the man is properly cared for. Summon an imperial physician, but do not tell anyone his identity, and do not repeat these words to anyone.”

“Yes, yes, yes.”

The young eunuch immediately turned and ran.

Wen Xudao returned to the great hall. He waited until the official who had been speaking at length finished and stepped back, then waited further as the emperor responded to a few more matters before finally moving to the emperor’s side.

He lowered his voice and relayed the news. Emperor Yang Jing lurched to his feet.

“Court is dismissed.”

The emperor issued the order and turned to leave.

Wen Xudao announced the dismissal, then quickened his pace to follow.

The assembled officials looked at one another in bewilderment — no one knew what had happened, or why the emperor had departed in such haste.

The emperor strode rapidly ahead. After a short distance he stopped abruptly. He asked Wen Xudao: “How many people know?”

Wen Xudao bowed: “Reporting to Your Majesty — only the few young eunuchs attending outside the study.”

“Go deal with it.”

The emperor said it and continued on his way. Wen Xudao’s expression shifted through several changes, but in the end he only let out a helpless sigh.

Half an hour later, several young eunuchs in the palace were seized by the Imperial Guards for stealing precious items from the imperial study. Not long after, right there outside the palace gates, they were beaten to death.

Another hour later, the messenger had regained consciousness. Seeing the emperor, he struggled to rise. The emperor shook his head and said: “Lie still.”

He asked: “The attack-slave… is dead?”

The messenger nodded: “Yes. The seven of us traveled north. Only I returned.”

The emperor asked again: “Is the information certain and accurate?”

The messenger said: “The rumor was that the other six were captured by the Black Wu people and set upon by wild beasts in the middle of the street, their bodies devoured entirely — not a bone left behind.”

The emperor frowned: “That is not what I asked. I asked whether Kuokedi Dashi is truly dead.”

The messenger was momentarily startled, then bowed his head: “He is. Confirmed dead.”

The emperor let out a heavy breath and then could not help but burst into laughter — wild, uncontrollable laughter.

“Ha ha ha ha… Good. Very good. Excellent!”

The emperor laughed aloud: “He deserved to die!”

Wen Xudao immediately lowered his voice in reminder: “Your Majesty…”

The emperor made a sound of acknowledgment and caught himself.

He was silent for a moment, then said: “Have someone tend to him properly…”

Then he looked at the messenger, hesitated briefly, and said: “You… We will have an unnamed tomb built within Daxing City. When you have recovered, go and keep watch over it.”

The messenger’s face fell. After a long silence he bowed low: “Your subject… obeys the imperial decree.”

The emperor said: “Do not blame Us. This matter must not be publicized under any circumstances. We know the loyalty and righteousness of what you all did — by rights you should be rewarded with honors and titles, but that cannot be.”

He turned to Wen Xudao and instructed: “Go to the inner treasury and draw a sum of silver for him.”

That said, the emperor turned and left. After stepping through the door, he stopped once more and laughed again, several times.

“The Khan-Emperor of Black Wu… called himself without equal, declared himself master of all under heaven — and in the end was still killed by one sword-slave of Ours.”

The emperor said it to himself and strode on his way.

Another hour passed. The imperial study.

The emperor looked at a newly delivered military report, and fresh lines of worry appeared on his brow.

Prince Wu’s latest dispatch said that the rebel leader Yang Xuanji was advancing cautiously and steadily, purely on defense without attacking, and would be difficult to annihilate quickly.

After a long silence, the emperor instructed Wen Xudao: “Prepare the ink and brush.”

Wen Xudao promptly moistened the brush, trimmed its tip, and then presented it to the emperor.

The emperor deliberated for a moment, was about to write, then stopped himself.

He sighed and said: “If I urge the royal uncle again, would it seem too harsh?”

Wen Xudao bowed and said: “Prince Wu is indeed in a rather difficult position.”

The emperor said: “I know the royal uncle’s difficulties. But whom else do I have to trust?”

He said this and then lifted the brush to write — the meaning was roughly to urge Prince Wu to seek a decisive engagement soon.

For the threatening forces were not Yang Xuanji alone. Day after day, reports of rebel armies from various regions came pouring into Daxing.

“Your Majesty — the Yuwen family’s forces, might they be ready to deploy by now?”

Wen Xudao ventured a reminder.

The emperor immediately turned his head sharply toward Wen Xudao.

Wen Xudao was frightened by the emperor’s gaze and immediately stepped back, dropping to his knees with a thud.

“This slave has erred — this slave should not meddle in affairs of state.”

The emperor said: “Rise. It isn’t as though I don’t know you… what you said is not wrong. The Yuwen family’s people can indeed be deployed now — they’ve been training for a year.”

He lifted the brush again: “Later, arrange for messengers to carry the imperial decree — have them lead their troops northward. Qingzhou and Yuzhou are Dachu’s grain depots, absolutely vital. With the royal uncle away, have them go and hold those regions.”

“Yes.”

Wen Xudao rose with some trepidation.

The emperor said: “I know you are clever, so let me ask your view on something.”

Wen Xudao immediately replied: “This slave dare not — this slave is dense and slow-witted.”

The emperor said: “Speak freely.”

He asked: “I have been pondering for some time — do these rebel leaders truly believe they can make themselves emperor?”

The question frightened Wen Xudao into a small shudder. A question like this — how could he, a eunuch, answer it?

His mind turned through a thousand possibilities before he finally replied: “They are all fools spinning idle dreams — a rabble of petty men…”

Before he could finish, the emperor shot him a sharp look: “Flattering nonsense like that, don’t waste it on me.”

Wen Xudao frightened himself into another bow.

The emperor said: “I have thought this through carefully from every angle. Among these great rebel leaders, very few of them truly believe they can become emperor. What they want is the glory of the present moment — the reverence of all around them, every word they speak treated as command. Of all the rebel chiefs under heaven, many have dared to crown themselves king, yet not one has dared declare himself emperor.”

He looked at Wen Xudao: “They crown themselves king of their own authority — what does that tell you?”

Wen Xudao shook his head. He no longer dared to venture an answer at all, and could only say: “This slave is truly dull-witted and cannot fathom what they are thinking.”

The emperor said: “Because ‘king’ — in the hearts of these rebels — is already the furthest their greed extends. Yet what is the point of crowning yourself king of your own authority?”

He suddenly gave a slight smile: “What if We were to enfeoff them with proper royal titles?”

This statement made Wen Xudao wonder if the emperor had fallen ill — if the shock had been too much, and he was now raving.

But he dared not say so, of course. How could he presume to evaluate the emperor’s thinking?

The emperor said: “Yang Xuanji crowns himself king; Li Xionghu crowns himself king; Dou Yuande crowns himself king; Kou Nianhai crowns himself king; Qiu Songji also crowns himself king… and these rebel chiefs, every one of them, chose titles as though competing with one another — each wanting his own to outshine the rest in prestige.”

“You dare call yourself the King of Heaven’s Mandate, I’ll dare call myself the King of True Destiny… they compete over titles like children at play. Since they want royal titles and noble rank, We shall grant them official ones.”

The emperor smiled: “Qiu Songji, the great rebel of Qingzhou, has named himself the King of Coastal Realm. Another great rebel of Qingzhou, Gao Shushen, has named himself the King of Maritime Dominion. He commands a force of one hundred thousand. Now — Xudao — if We were to formally issue a decree enfeoffing Gao Shushen, the weaker of the two, with a royal title, while ignoring Qiu Songji entirely, do you think Qiu Songji would fly into a rage?”

Wen Xudao finally understood what the emperor was thinking.

His eyes lit up: “If Your Majesty formally enfeoffs those rebel leaders with royal titles and tasks them with pacifying their regions, the other rebel armies in those areas will inevitably target them — and they will inevitably fall out with one another.”

Then he caught himself again.

“But Your Majesty — the granting of royal titles is no trivial matter. Once an official decree is proclaimed to all under heaven, the common people would… the civil and military officials would also…”

There were things he did not dare say outright, but he knew the emperor would understand his meaning.

The emperor let out a long breath and said: “Do you think I haven’t thought of everything you’re thinking? If I enfeoff rebel leaders with royal titles, every official in court will denounce me as a feckless and benighted ruler — they’ll call me a depraved emperor.”

The emperor said: “But can I rely on them? If I enfeoff all those court officials with royal titles as well, could they pacify the rebellions? If they could, I’d gladly make every man at court a king.”

The emperor’s fingers rapped hard against the table.

“I must rely on myself, in the end…”

After a moment, he gave instructions: “Send messengers to Qingzhou with the imperial decree — formally enfeoff Gao Shushen as the King of Coastal Realm, with the same rank and stipend as a Prince of Second Rank, and add hereditary succession. That sort of thing — Gao Shushen will be overjoyed.”

The King of Coastal Realm was Qiu Songji’s title. Gao Shushen’s title was King of Maritime Dominion.

The emperor said: “If doing this can prove useful — if it makes those rebel leaders slaughter one another and turn on each other — then what does it matter if We enfeoff a few dozen kings?”

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