For a moment, the court fell deathly silent, broken only by Xiao Ya’s intermittent coughing.
Jiang Xingyan certainly wanted the Huo family to suffer, but not at the cost of her own life—or Xiao Ya’s.
She immediately dropped to her knees in apology. “Your Majesty, please forgive this transgression! My daughter cannot bear to be apart from me, so I resorted to this reckless measure. I am willing to accept any punishment!”
A soft chuckle seemed to drift from above.
A deep, authoritative voice echoed through the hall. “Am I some kind of monster? Look how frightened you are, General Huo.”
The surrounding courtiers promptly offered sycophantic laughter.
“Rise and speak.”
Uncertain of the Emperor’s temperament, Jiang Xingyan steeled herself and stood, her gaze falling on Xiao Ya’s flushed face.
The little girl seemed to realize she had done something wrong, pressing her tiny fingers to her lips to stifle her coughs.
Jiang Xingyan’s heart ached at the sight.
The maternal aura radiating from her stunned the officials nearby.
Was this really the same General Huo—the merciless battlefield demon nicknamed “Little Yama”?
“Let the child out for some air. Keeping her hidden in your armor will only make her sick.”
Despite the Emperor’s efforts to sound casual, the overwhelming authority in his voice left no room for disobedience.
Not daring to overstep, Jiang Xingyan merely adjusted Xiao Ya’s position slightly, allowing her face to peek out.
Xiao Ya timidly glanced around—everywhere, there were people.
Especially that imposing man on the golden throne, wearing a beaded crown. Everyone seemed afraid of him.
She ducked back in, leaving only her wide, fearful eyes visible as she stared at the Emperor.
The Western Zhou Dynasty was ruled by the Xiao family, and the current Emperor bore the single name Ao.
Since ascending the throne, he had devoted himself to governance, strengthening the military and enriching the nation. The people hailed him as a wise ruler.
Emperor Xiao Ao had five princes but no daughters.
Seeing Xiao Ya stirred a rare paternal warmth in him.
Yet the thought of this child nearly being drowned by a servant yesterday darkened his expression.
He despised those who harmed children—perhaps because, in his youth, he had narrowly escaped death multiple times due to the schemes of his father’s concubines.
Upon taking the throne, he had decreed that any harm done to imperial heirs would be punished with the extermination of nine clans.
Thanks to this, all five of his sons had been born safely and raised in good health.
Displeasure laced Xiao Ao’s voice. “Huo Ci, was yesterday’s incident due to your failure to discipline your household servants?”
Jiang Xingyan eagerly admitted fault. “This is entirely my negligence. I beg Your Majesty to punish me!”
Though her face showed terror, inwardly, she hoped for a severe penalty.
Seizing the opportunity, Censor Wang stepped forward with an air of fearless righteousness. “Your Majesty is wise indeed. If one cannot manage their own household, how can they govern the realm?
“General Huo Ci lacks virtue, allowing his servants to commit atrocities—even daring to harm his own child.
“How can Western Zhou entrust its military power to such an immoral man?”
Jiang Xingyan’s eyes brightened. This Censor Wang speaks wonderfully.
“I implore Your Majesty to revoke General Huo’s military authority, strip him of his title as General Who Pacifies the North, demote him to a fourth-rank staff officer, and exile him to Yang Pass to guard the frontier.”
Before the words had fully left his mouth, the military officials erupted in protest, crying injustice.
Only then did Jiang Xingyan realize what Xin Zhui had tried to warn her about twice—the censors were targeting Huo Ci’s military power.
Seems like Huo Ci isn’t exactly thriving in court either.
Unlike the sharp-tongued censors, the generals could only clumsily argue about enemy nations eyeing them greedily, how they shouldn’t weaken their own forces, and how this would disillusion loyal warriors.
One hot-tempered officer even blurted out, “This is no time to kill the hounds once the hares are caught!”
Jiang Xingyan’s heart sank.
Sure enough, the Emperor’s wrath thundered from the throne in the next instant.
“Outrageous!“
“Your Majesty, calm your anger!”
The officials dropped to their knees in unison.
Jiang Xingyan looked down to see Xiao Ya covering her mouth, tears welling in her eyes.
The pitiful sight tugged at her heart.
She gently nuzzled the top of Xiao Ya’s head in reassurance.
Soon, the hall returned to silence.
“General Huo, what do you think?”
Behind the twelve strands of jade beads hanging from his crown, Emperor Xiao Ao’s expression was inscrutable.
Jiang Xingyan pressed her forehead to the floor, her posture flawlessly deferential.
“Censor Wang speaks wisely. I am guilty and deserve punishment.”
Every bit of my dowry—left by my grandfather—was stolen by that old hag and her lackeys.
Now, it’s Huo Ci’s turn to taste that bitterness.
The generals gaped in disbelief. How could Huo Ci agree to surrender the Huo Army so easily?
Yet Censor Wang felt no triumph—only wary suspicion.
Since when has Huo Ci been so compliant? Is this a retreat to advance?
Emperor Xiao Ao remained silent.
Three years ago, Huo Ci had crushed the prodigy general from Northern Luo, securing five years of peace between the two nations.
Now, trade flourished, economies prospered, and diplomatic relations were stable. Even after the five-year truce, war seemed unlikely.
Though he was a wise ruler, military power outside his control was a thorn in his side.
Huo Ci, who had argued vehemently just days ago, was now yielding.
If he could reclaim the Huo Army’s command token without bloodshed, wouldn’t that eliminate a major threat?
The court was eerily still.
No one dared speak first, fearing they’d be scapegoated if things went awry later.
Creak—
The doors of the Grand Harmony Hall swung open abruptly, drawing all eyes.
A young Daoist acolyte pushed a plain wheelchair inside.
Seated atop it was a man with snow-white hair—yet his face was that of a youth.
His features were coldly elegant, his peach-blossom eyes shimmering like a sky full of stars.
This was Yun Chunfeng, the newly appointed Imperial Advisor.
Holding a stalk of yarrow between his fingers, his voice rang clear as a mountain spring.
“Your Majesty, I have just cast a divination.
“The result was the Zhun hexagram—water above thunder.
“Storms gather, dangers lurk.
“Now is not the time for bold moves. Only by retreating and preserving our strength can we turn calamity into fortune.”