Ziqing waited. At this point, there was no need for further words—she wanted only a result.

Jun Beiyao waited too, his own value, his own leverage, resting entirely on Emperor Tianhui’s decision.

Jun Beichen waited as well, glancing casually toward Consort Yi, calculation hidden deep within his eyes.

The assembled ministers, the nobles filling the hall, even every guard present—all of them waited, waiting for Emperor Tianhui’s decision, waiting to see just how far Han Ziqing’s audacity would truly extend.

Emperor Tianhui hesitated, weighing his options, assessing the situation. Though unable to remain fully composed, unable to exercise his usual careful caution, he forced himself to stay calm, forced himself to think clearly.

This single decision, made in this single moment, might very well determine not the Seventh Prince’s fate, but his own throne’s fate, and even the fate of all of Da Zhou.

What he needed to consider most was nothing else but Han Ziqing’s own reaction.

If he handled Old Seventh leniently, how would Han Ziqing react? Would she accept it? If not, how far might she escalate this confrontation?

At this very moment, Emperor Tianhui watched Ziqing intently—no, more precisely, he watched her hand as it stroked the dark iron scorpion.

He guessed, estimated, pondered—what exactly was this woman calculating right now, what exactly was she truly waiting for?

What if—what if he didn’t yield to her wishes, would she then…

Emperor Tianhui didn’t dare think further. The shadow guards filling the hall, the troops surrounding the entire compound outside, the Tiger Army, and all of Jun Beiyue’s various forces scattered throughout Da Zhou—none of it bore thinking about further.

If this had happened before, he might still have had a chance, might still have gambled on resistance. But now, he simply couldn’t.

Though Jun Beiyue had fallen, Han Ziqing had risen to stand in his place. This woman had earned the trust and obedience of the Glass Pavilion’s shadow guards, the Thirteen Riders of Youyun, the Tiger Army—which meant she, just like Jun Beiyue, could not be easily shaken or overthrown!

Finally, Emperor Tianhui slammed his hand on the table and stood. “Someone, the Seventh Prince, Jun Beiyao, has violated palace prohibitions by secretly maintaining private troops. He shall be stripped of his princely status, demoted to commoner, and expelled from the imperial family, ordered to vacate Longyin Palace before noon tomorrow!”

Emperor Tianhui delivered this furious pronouncement in a single breath without pausing, then collapsed heavily back into his seat, gasping for air.

Jun Beiyao slumped to the ground, mouth agape, his face utterly filled with despair. Everyone present was struck with shock as well.

Even the Seventh Prince hadn’t escaped punishment—what did this mean?

It meant that even with Jun Beiyue gone, Han Ziqing still wielded tremendous power, perhaps even greater than what Jun Beiyue himself had once held!

It meant that even Emperor Tianhui had to submit to this woman, had to curry her favor!

It meant that though the emperor remained on the throne, imperial authority had already crumbled—the throne itself had become little more than a puppet, while Prince Yao’s mansion had truly become the center of real power!

No one dared speak. Even the Tenth Prince froze, finally sensing the unmistakable scent of a coup in the air.

In the silence, Ziqing’s sharp gaze finally moved away from Emperor Tianhui’s face. She strode toward the entrance and said coldly, “Commanders of the Thirteen Riders of Youyun, heed this order: return your troops to their original posts and guard the capital rigorously.”

“Yes!” All thirteen answered in unison, then retreated in orderly fashion.

“Yingzi, let’s go back… let’s go check… check on our prince.” Ziqing’s tone finally softened. Yingzi, standing closest to her, clearly noticed her voice trembling as she said this, her whole body trembling too.

Their prince—was he alive or dead, what condition was he truly in?

Ziqing’s steps remained slow, remained calm and composed, all the way until her retreating figure disappeared from sight. Only then did everyone remaining in the Court of Judicial Review finally let out a collective sigh of relief, the hearts that had been hanging suspended in midair finally settling back down.

Yet none of them knew that with her back turned to everyone, the seemingly cold and merciless Han Ziqing had already burst into tears, walking faster and faster, growing more and more anxious with each step.

Jun Beiyue, the words left unspoken were all true words, words from her heart—just a few sentences, that was all. Our score wasn’t even that long to settle. I can’t wait three years, I don’t want to wait three years!

She walked on, farther and farther, until her retreating figure disappeared in the direction of Prince Yao’s mansion. Only then, at the corner, did a figure in purple slowly emerge.

Purple robes, silver hair, a tall, slender figure, as ethereal as an immortal, as beguiling as a demon—that ethereally beautiful face grew paler and paler still, his cold, distant eyes watching from afar, continuing to watch even after her retreating figure had long since vanished.

He thought to himself—if this woman didn’t possess those hands that played the zither so beautifully, hands he genuinely admired from the bottom of his heart.

If this woman didn’t possess such boldness of spirit, such ministerial talent and strategic acumen.

Would he perhaps not be hesitating like this?

But she possessed both, and possessed them in full measure!

A scorpion-shaped ring, a tiger-head seal—both obtained from Jun Beiyue himself, representing Jun Beiyue’s own recognition and approval of Ziqing.

The respect she commanded from Yingzi, Commander Ouyang, and the Tiger Army—all of it earned through her own ordinary conduct, through her own genuine ability!

Whether it was the Thirteen Riders of Youyun, the Glass Pavilion’s shadow guards, or the capital’s guards, she had firmly established an authority that brooked no doubt, no challenge.

Just as she had, in front of the entire assembled court, secured Emperor Tianhui’s decision, brought down the Han prime minister’s household, and defeated Jun Beiyao—her authority within the court had been firmly established.

This woman would prove no less formidable than Jun Beiyue himself—perhaps, in time, she might even become a far greater threat than Jun Beiyue ever was.

Thinking this, his handsome brow furrowed involuntarily, and he thought to himself: Han Ziqing, oh Han Ziqing. Back then, I chose not to kill you, and tonight, once again, I chose not to kill you. Xuanyuan Lige—will there come a day when I regret this choice?

“Young master, Jun Beiyue may not survive this—this is a golden opportunity!” the lute boy said in a low voice.

“It’s been a long while since I’ve heard ‘Sorrow of Parting.’ Who knows when I’ll get the chance to hear it again,” he said flatly, turning and walking off in the opposite direction.

The lute boy looked at him with suspicion, but didn’t dare say more, hurrying quickly to catch up.

Meanwhile, Ziqing had already reached the gates of Prince Yao’s mansion, rushing in anxiously, moving so fast even Yingzi could barely keep up. But right at Jun Beiyue’s chamber door, she suddenly stopped short!

Hongyi and Shiliang were both waiting anxiously inside, and the moment they saw Ziqing, they froze in shock—how could this be…

Their mistress—how could she look like this, her bright eyes swollen red from crying, so red and swollen it was distressing to look at. And yet, despite crying so much, her cold, delicate face remained tightly composed, stern, holding everything back!

“How… how… how is he?” Ziqing struggled for a long moment before finally managing to speak clearly, her voice clearly catching in her throat, forcibly suppressed.

“The prince, he… he…” The moment Hongyi began speaking, her voice broke into sobs—clearly none of them knew exactly what had happened to the prince. Physician Gu had been inside for so long already, and no one dared disturb him.

All they knew was that when Physician Gu and Young Master Situ had brought their master back, his entire body had been rigid and cold, his handsome face terrifyingly pale!

Suddenly, Ziqing erupted in fury. “What are you crying for! Jun Beiyue isn’t dead, he won’t die! No crying allowed!”

Fierce anger, forbidding anyone to cry—she herself certainly wouldn’t cry either. And yet, why were the tears starting to fall again? Uncontrollably streaming down.

She had questioned everyone’s guilt, punished everyone’s crimes!

Now she needed to question herself. She was the true, greatest culprit of all—it was her own hand that had plunged that blade into Jun Beiyue, using his most precious, most beloved dagger, driving it viciously straight into his heart!

She was the true guilty one!

“No crying… he’s not dead yet… no crying…” Murmuring to herself, her pale hand slowly, slowly pressed against the door. She closed her eyes, tears streaming down, and with a sudden burst of force, pushed the door open!