diymy Chapter 14 Chess Players and Chess Pieces
Chapter 14 Chess Players and Chess Pieces
On the 17th day of the tenth month of the fifteenth year of Chongzhen's reign, at the beginning of the 1
West Warm Pavilion of Qianqing Palace.
The autumn sun slanted in through the window, casting a bright beam of light onto the polished, golden brick floor. Within the beam, tiny dust particles floated slowly, like countless suspended, golden hailstones.
Li Ce sat behind his desk, holding a copy of the secret letter he had taken from the sole of Li Qian's shoe.
The paper was soaked in blood and half-dry, its edges hard and brittle, and it would break at the slightest pressure.
He read very slowly, word by word, as if he wanted to engrave every stroke of each word into his eyes.
"Zhao Qichang has already sent his personal servant Zhao Yong northward, carrying a map of the capital region's defenses and a list of troop rotations at the nine border garrisons, intending to present them to Huang Taiji of the Jianzhou Jurchens..."
His finger lingered on the words "Gyeonggi Defense Map" for a long time.
This map is the top secret of the Ming Dynasty's northern border defense. It shows the troop deployments, food reserves, and beacon tower communication routes at various passes along the Great Wall, as well as the garrison deployments, artillery positions, and water sources around the capital.
If this map falls into Huang Taiji's hands...
Li Ce closed his eyes.
Memories of his past life flooded back like a tide—in March of the seventeenth year of the Chongzhen Emperor's reign, Li Zicheng broke through Juyong Pass, the Beijing garrison collapsed, and the eunuchs opened the city gates. He stood on Coal Hill, watching the raging fire engulf the Forbidden City.
At that time, he thought, if the troops from the nine border regions could have arrived a day earlier, if the defenses of the capital garrison could have been stronger, if…
But there is no "if".
In this life, he received this card ahead of time.
"Your Majesty," Wang Chengen entered quietly, "Li Tongzhi is waiting outside."
"Announce."
Li Ruolian entered the hall and knelt in worship. He hadn't slept all night, and the bloodshot in his eyes was even more pronounced, but his back was ramrod straight, like a gun stuck in the ground.
"Have you found out?" Li Ce asked.
"It's been investigated." Li Ruolian's voice was a little hoarse. "Zhou Ming, the owner of Zuixianlou, is the nephew of Zhou Kui, the father-in-law of the emperor. Last night at the hour of Chou (1-3 AM), a cart in his backyard was used to transport Li Qian's body to the Tonghui River to dump it."
The bloodstains on the tires matched Li Qian's blood, and the tire tracks matched the route taken to dump the body. Zhou Ming denied the crime, claiming the car was stolen, but the night watchman testified that the car hadn't been moved, and another employee identified several people as having seen them loading long sacks onto the car the previous night, one of whom had a limp in his left leg.
"Did they find out about the cripple?"
"There are three suspicious individuals." Li Ruolian took out a list from her sleeve and presented it to him: "Wu Zhaoyi, the former battalion commander of the Fifth Army, a thug at the West City gambling den, and the director of the Ministry of War's Department of Military Affairs."
In my opinion, Wu Zhaoyi is the most suspicious—he is a student of Zhao Qichang, and two months ago he "fell from his horse" and injured his left leg. He has been staying at home on sick leave, but people with Jiangnan accents are frequently seen coming and going from his residence.”
Li Ce looked at the list and lightly tapped the three characters "Wu Zhaoyi" with his fingertip.
"Keep an eye on him," he said, "but don't move yet."
"Your Majesty..." Li Ruolian raised her head, "What about Zhou Kui..."
"What do you think?" Li Ce asked in return.
Li Ruolian was silent for a moment, then said in a low voice, "Zhou Kui is the Emperor's father-in-law and the Empress's father. If he is truly involved in the case, he would be guilty of colluding with the enemy as a relative of the Empress, a crime deserving of death. But if he was merely implicated by his nephew and was unaware of the truth..."
"Unaware?" Li Ce laughed, but his smile was devoid of warmth. "Zhou Ming worked at Zuixianlou for ten years, transporting corpses on a cart and dumping them in the Tonghui River—such a huge commotion, how could he, as his uncle, really be completely unaware?"
He stood up and walked to the window.
Outside the window, the autumn sun shone brightly, reflecting a dazzling golden light onto the glazed tiles of the Forbidden City. In the distance, the outline of Coal Hill stretched out in verdant green against the blue sky.
"I know Zhou Kui is greedy for money." Li Ce said calmly, his back to Li Ruolian. "In the second year of Chongzhen's reign, he donated three thousand taels of silver to pay his salary, crying poverty and saying he had lost everything."
I ordered the eunuchs to investigate, and they found that his mansion had a hoard of 130,000 taels of silver.
In the seventh year of the Chongzhen Emperor's reign, the Empress visited her family, and he hosted a three-day banquet, with each table costing thirty taels of silver—enough to feed an ordinary family for three years.
He turned around and looked at Li Ruolian:
"Do you believe that someone like that would sell palace secrets to Zhao Qichang for a thousand taels of silver?"
Li Ruolian lowered her head: "I do not believe it."
"Then why?" Li Ce walked back to his desk and sat down. "Why did Zhou Ming take such a huge risk? Why did Zhou Kui acquiesce? And even accept 'tribute' from the gentry of Jiangnan afterward?"
He paused, then spoke slowly and deliberately:
"Because they felt that I was going to lose."
The hall was deathly silent.
Only the crisp, cold sound of the wind whistling through the eaves of the window against the iron horse-drawn carriages could be heard.
"Zhao Qichang contacted Prince Fu, allied with the barbarians to quell the rebellion, rallied gentry in Jiangnan, and bribed relatives of the emperor in the capital."
Li Ce's voice was soft, yet it struck the hall like a hammer: "They are all gambling—gambling on the Jurchens entering the pass, gambling on my downfall, gambling on the change of dynasties so that they can preserve their wealth and even... go further."
He picked up the blood-stained secret letter:
"Li Qian is dead. He was seventeen years old, a student of the Imperial Academy, and the only son of Li Banghua."
He could have taken the imperial examinations, entered the Hanlin Academy, and brought glory to his family. But now, he died in a filthy alley, his body thrown into the icy river.
Why?
Li Ce raised his head, his eyes fixed on Li Ruolian:
"Because someone doesn't want this letter to reach me. Because someone is afraid I'll find out about Zhao Qichang's conspiracy. Because someone feels—the Ming Dynasty needs a new master."
Li Ruolian knelt on the ground, her back chilled.
He suddenly understood what the emperor meant.
This is not a simple murder case.
This is the outpost of a war.
"Zhou Kui cannot be moved," Li Ce finally said. "At least not now."
"His Majesty……"
"Touching him is to tell the world: the empress's family is colluding with the enemy, and the empress's family is plotting a rebellion. At that time, the court will be in chaos, the harem will be in chaos, and those gentry in Jiangnan who are watching from the sidelines will completely side with Zhao Qichang."
Li Ce tapped his fingers lightly on the imperial desk. "What Zhao Qichang wants is for me to lose my composure. If I purge the maternal relatives now, he will be more than happy to do so."
He paused:
"But not doing anything doesn't mean ignoring it."
"Li Ruolian, heed the imperial decree."
"Your subject is here."
"First, give Li Qian a grand funeral. Posthumously grant him the title of Commander of the Embroidered Uniform Guard and allow one of his sons to enter the Imperial Academy. Tell Li Banghua—I will remember the grudge against his son."
"Secondly, go to Zhou Kui's side in person. Do not bring any troops, only an oral edict: strip him of his title of Imperial Father-in-Law, fine him 100,000 taels of silver, confine him to his residence to reflect on his mistakes, and do not leave without an imperial decree. Tell him—this is the dignity I am giving to the Empress."
"Third, the Drunken Immortal Pavilion will remain sealed off, and Zhou Ming will be imprisoned in the Imperial Prison in solitary confinement. No torture, no interrogation, just confinement. Let Zhou Kui know that his nephew's life is in my hands."
"Fourth—" Li Ce's voice suddenly turned cold, "Send elite cavalry to intercept Zhao Yong. They must stop him before he reaches the Chaohe River. He must be alive, and all his belongings must be intact. If the garrison commander, Sun Yingyuan, cooperates, there will be no further investigation. If he obstructs…"
He raised his head:
"Kill them."
"Your subject obeys the decree." Li Ruolian kowtowed deeply.
"Go," Li Ce waved his hand. "You haven't slept all night either, go and rest for two hours. This is an imperial decree."
Li Ruolian's eyes welled up with tears, and she lowered her head, saying, "Thank you, Your Majesty."
He left the hall.
Inside the hall, only Li Ce remained.
He picked up a pen and wrote a few words on a blank notebook:
October 17th, sunny. Li Qian died, Zhou Kui is suspicious, Zhao Yong went north.
After writing, he put down his pen and looked south.
Nanjing.
Zhao Qichang.
And then there's Zhao Yong, who's heading north carrying a map of the Ming Dynasty's defenses.
"Three days," he murmured to himself. "Three more days."
On the same day, Shen Shizheng.
Nanjing, Zhao Mansion Study.
The Qinhuai River outside the window shimmered, and several painted boats slowly sailed by, with the faint sound of music drifting in, soft and gentle, like the last elegy of this era.
Zhao Qichang sat in a grand chair, holding a newly translated secret letter in his hand.
The letter was sent from Beijing using coded language, traveling 600 li by express courier, the ink still carrying the chill of the north. The letter was on specially made mulberry paper, thin yet tough, with burn marks on the edges—a pre-arranged signal: to be burned after reading.
The letter contained only two lines:
"Mao Cai has not returned; he has likely been captured. The incident at Zuixianlou has occurred, and Zhou Ming has been arrested. We must quickly resolve matters in the north; delay will only lead to unforeseen changes."
The signature is simply the character "吴".
Wu Zhaoyi.
Zhao Qichang's hand trembled almost imperceptibly.
He had guessed that Shen Maocai would be arrested. This head manager of the Shen family in Jiangnan knew too much, and once he fell into the hands of the Embroidered Uniform Guard, he would eventually reveal the Jiangnan network.
But Zhou Ming was arrested...
That was Zhou Kui's nephew, the emperor's father-in-law. Zuixianlou was one of his most important contact points in the capital.
This means that the Embroidered Uniform Guard has extended its reach to the imperial relatives.
This also means that his hidden network in the capital has been severed.
"Master," the butler stood to the side, his voice tense, "to the north...is it...?"
"It's alright." Zhao Qichang put down the letter, his expression returning to calm. "Zhou Ming knows only so much; at most, he can only say that Zuixianlou is a contact point. As for Wu Zhaoyi, he knows absolutely nothing."
He stood up and walked to the window.
Outside the window, the autumn sun shines brightly. The music and singing on the Qinhuai River that lasted until the third watch of the night have all ceased now, leaving only a few painted boats quietly moored on the shore, like a group of sleeping giants.
"Where is Zhao Yong?" he asked.
"Judging by their pace, they should have already passed Tongzhou."
The steward said, "We should arrive in Miyun by tomorrow at the latest. As for Chaohechuan... Sun Yingyuan has already made arrangements. Ten thousand taels of silver were sent in three installments, the last one being three days ago. He has agreed to let Zhao Yong cross the pass on October 20th."
"Ten thousand taels." Zhao Qichang repeated the number, a sneer appearing on his lips. "Sun Yingyuan, the deputy general of Miyun, a third-rank military officer, earns only two hundred shi of grain a year, which is less than one hundred and fifty taels of silver. Ten thousand taels is enough for him to earn for sixty years."
He turned and looked at the butler:
"So, do you think he'll go through with this deal?"
The butler bowed his head: "People die for money."
"Yes, people die for wealth." Zhao Qichang walked back to his desk, picked up the copy of Mencius, and ran his fingertips over the pages. "Even birds die for food."
The emperor wanted to perform surgery to remove the poison from the bone, cutting off everyone's source of income. So these people... had no choice but to take desperate measures.
He opened the letter and took out another copy of silk from a hidden compartment—a backup of the defense map of the capital region. The original had already been taken by Zhao Yong; this was his backup plan.
"We can't rely solely on Zhao Yong for the messengers from the north." He carefully rolled up the silk and put it into a new oilcloth tube. "Tell Wu Zhaoyi to activate the backup plan."
The steward was taken aback: "Master, are you referring to... a military coup at court?"
"We can't wait any longer now." Zhao Qichang's eyes were cold and hard. "Shen Maocai has been arrested, and Zhou Ming has been captured. The emperor will surely be on high alert. If we wait for him to take the first step in purging Jiangnan, we will truly become fish on a chopping board."
He handed the oilcloth tube to the butler:
"Have Wu Zhaoyi contact Liu Liangzuo, the guerrilla commander of the Three Thousand Battalion—this man is greedy, but he can be used. Tell him that after the deed is done, the position of Commander of the Beijing Garrison will be his."
"Is Liu Liangzuo...reliable?"
"Whether he's reliable or not is not important," Zhao Qichang said calmly. "What's important is that he was willing to lead his troops into the Imperial Palace at a critical moment. Once he sets this precedent, others will naturally follow."
The butler took the oilcloth container, his palms sweating. "Then... what about the time?"
"October 18th, Grand Court Assembly." Zhao Qichang said slowly and deliberately, "At the exact hour of Chen (7-9 AM), when all officials have gathered in the Hall of Supreme Harmony, we will take action."
"But the Grand Court will be guarded by the Capital Garrison, and the Embroidered Uniform Guard will also be there..."
"Therefore, we need the pretext of 'purging the emperor's inner circle'." Zhao Qichang took out a draft of a proclamation he had prepared beforehand from his sleeve. "Using the grounds of 'the emperor's indiscriminate killing, favoritism towards the secret police, and disruption of the court,' we request the emperor to dismiss Li Ruolian, disband the Embroidered Uniform Guard, and halt the new policies. If the emperor does not comply..."
He paused:
"Then we request that Prince Fu oversee the country."
The butler gasped.
This is no longer a military remonstrance.
This is a coup.
"Master..." his voice trembled, "This...this is too risky. What if we fail..."
"If we fail, we'll just die anyway," Zhao Qichang said, looking at him. "But if we do nothing, and the emperor finishes reorganizing the capital garrison and confiscating the Jiangnan region, we'll still die. The only difference is whether we die standing or kneeling."
He walked to the bookshelf, pulled out a copy of "Spring and Autumn Annals," opened it, and found a list tucked inside.
There are twenty-seven names listed above.
There were retired officials from Nanjing, gentry from Jiangnan, the head of the Yangzhou salt merchants, and... two prefects in office.
"These people have all secretly expressed their support for 'changing the government'." Zhao Qichang handed the list to the steward. "Tell Wu Zhaoyi that those of these people who are in the capital must be present on the day of the grand court assembly. Those who are not in the capital must simultaneously submit a joint petition to the various government offices to create a nationwide response."
The butler took the list, his hands trembling violently.
He knew that once the paper was handed out, there would be no turning back.
"Go and do it," Zhao Qichang waved his hand. "Remember, everything must be done quickly. Before the emperor makes a move, get the rice... cooked as a fait accompli."
The butler bowed and left the study.
The door closed gently.
Zhao Qichang stood alone in front of his desk, looking out the window at the blinding autumn sun.
The sun is shining brightly.
It was as good as that spring in the first year of the Chongzhen Emperor's reign.
At that time, he was still the Right Vice Minister of the Ministry of Personnel, Zhou Yanru was still the Grand Secretary, the Donglin Party members were still talking loudly in the court, and the grain ships from Jiangnan were still going north year after year, bringing grain and silver.
At that time, the emperor was still young. He would listen to their lectures in the Wenhua Hall and would frown and ask, "What should be done about the Liaodong situation?"
At that time, everyone thought that the Ming Dynasty could last another hundred years.
But it was only fifteen years.
In fifteen years, there were seven different prime ministers, more than a dozen military commanders died, the nine border regions were in turmoil countless times, bandits spread from Shaanxi to Henan, and the Jurchens attacked from Shenyang to Jinzhou.
The emperor, too, transformed from that gentle and refined young man into a tyrant with a butcher's knife in hand and cold eyes...
"Your Majesty," Zhao Qichang murmured to himself, as if speaking to someone a thousand miles away, "it's not that I want to rebel. It's that you... forced me to rebel."
He turned around and held the draft of the manifesto up to the candlelight.
The flames rose and devoured "purging the emperor's inner circle," "dismissing the imperial secret police," and all the grand and righteous words.
Finally, it devoured the name of the young emperor to whom he had once served.
On the same day, at the beginning of the You hour (5-7 PM).
Beijing, Wu Zhaoyi's residence.
The study was dark, save for the last rays of the setting sun streaming in through the window. The light slanted across the desk, illuminating a corner of an open copy of "The Art of War," and... a pair of hands gripping the armrests of a wheelchair tightly.
His hands were very thin, his knuckles were white, and his veins were prominent.
Wu Zhaoyi sat in a wheelchair, his left leg wrapped in thick bandages, his face showing signs of illness, but his eyes were bright, so bright that they seemed to belong to a lame person.
He is waiting.
Waiting for news from Nanjing.
"Master," came the butler's voice from outside the door, "we have a guest."
"Who?"
"His surname is Liu, and he's said to be from the 3,000-strong battalion."
Wu Zhaoyi's eyes flickered: "Let him in. You stand guard outside the door; no one is allowed to approach."
"Yes."
The door opened, and a middle-aged man in plain clothes slipped in. He was about forty years old, burly, with a scar running from his left eyebrow to his right cheek. His eyes were wary, and his hand remained on the hilt of the knife at his waist.
Liu Liangzuo, a guerrilla commander of the Three Thousand Battalion.
"Master Wu," Liu Liangzuo said, clasping his hands in a low voice, "what's the matter that you summoned me in such a hurry?"
"Sit down." Wu Zhaoyi pointed to the chair opposite him. "Close the door."
Liu Liangzuo closed the door and sat down, but his body remained tense.
"General Liu, there's no need to be nervous." Wu Zhaoyi smiled gently. "It's very safe here."
"Safety?" Liu Liangzuo scoffed. "Li Ruolian's men are already watching me. Today, when I left the mansion, at least three tails followed me."
"That's for sure," Wu Zhaoyi said. "With Shen Maocai arrested and Zhou Ming arrested, it would be strange if the Embroidered Uniform Guard didn't keep a close eye on you."
"Then why did you send me?!" Liu Liangzuo raised his voice, "What if they find something on me..."
"We can't catch you." Wu Zhaoyi shook his head. "You entered through the back door of my residence, using a secret passage. No matter how skilled your tail is, it can't follow you in."
Liu Liangzuo relaxed slightly, but his hand remained on the hilt of the sword.
"Master Wu, please speak plainly. What exactly does Vice Minister Zhao want?"
"Purge the court of corrupt officials." Wu Zhaoyi uttered three words. "Tomorrow, at the grand court assembly, at Chenshi (7-9 AM), you will lead three hundred personal guards into the Huangji Hall square under the pretext of 'protecting the court assembly.' At that time, several censors will launch an attack on the spot, impeaching Li Ruolian, requesting the abolition of the Embroidered Uniform Guard, and halting the new policies. What you need to do is, when the emperor hesitates... lead your troops forward and exert pressure."
"Pressure?" Liu Liangzuo narrowed his eyes. "How do you apply pressure?"
"Surround the imperial steps and control the officials." Wu Zhaoyi said calmly, "We will not harm anyone or assassinate the emperor, but simply let him know that he is not the only one who calls the shots in this court."
Liu Liangzuo remained silent for a moment.
"And then?" he asked. "What do I get in return?"
"The Commander-in-Chief of the Beijing Garrison," Wu Zhaoyi said, "Zhang Weixian will be dismissed, and the position... is yours."
Liu Liangzuo's breathing became heavy for a moment.
Admiral of Beijing Camp.
He was a second-rank military officer, in charge of 36,000 soldiers in the capital garrison, and the top general under the emperor's nose.
The temptation is too great.
"Minister Zhao...does he keep his word?"
"Of course." Wu Zhaoyi took out a silver note from his sleeve and placed it on the table. "This is a deposit of five thousand taels. After the matter is completed, there will be another fifteen thousand taels. The appointment of the Commander of the Beijing Garrison will also be issued within three days."
Liu Liangzuo stared at the silver note, his Adam's apple bobbing.
Five thousand taels.
As a guerrilla general, his annual salary, including all the usual allowances, amounted to no more than a thousand taels. This five thousand taels would be enough for him to earn for five years.
Not to mention the position of Commander of the Beijing Garrison.
"Do you need me to kill someone?" he asked.
"No need," Wu Zhaoyi said. "Killing is a poor strategy. What we want is for the emperor to bow down, for the new policies to stop, and for the Embroidered Uniform Guard to be disbanded. As long as the emperor is willing to compromise, everything is negotiable."
He paused:
"Of course, if the emperor insists on refusing..."
He didn't finish speaking.
But Liu Liangzuo understood.
If the emperor insists on refusing, then "removing the emperor's inner circle" will become "inviting Prince Fu to oversee the country."
In this process, some bloodshed and the death of a few people are inevitable.
"I understand." Liu Liangzuo stood up. "I will lead my troops into the palace at Chenshi (7-9 AM) tomorrow."
"Remember, be quick," Wu Zhaoyi instructed. "Once the attack begins, you must control the square within half a quarter of an hour. Don't give Zhang Weixian time to mobilize troops, and don't give the emperor... time to react."
"Don't worry." Liu Liangzuo grinned. "My three hundred personal guards are all veterans who have been with me for ten years. Each one can take on three. Controlling a square is more than enough for them."
He turned and walked toward the secret passage behind the bookshelf.
Halfway there, I turned back:
"Master Wu, your leg...is it really from the fall from your horse?"
Wu Zhaoyi smiled and said, "Otherwise what?"
Liu Liangzuo gave him a deep look, said nothing more, and entered the secret passage.
The door closed gently.
Wu Zhaoyi was alone in the study again.
He pushed his wheelchair to the window.
Outside the window, the sun had completely set, leaving only a dark red hue on the horizon, like dried blood. The shadows of the sycamore trees in the courtyard stretched long in the twilight, menacing and menacing, like some kind of ominous premonition.
His left leg was not actually injured in the fall from the horse.
Two months ago, after a secret meeting at Zhao's residence in Nanjing, he was attacked by a group of "bandits" on his way back to Beijing. The group was ruthless, targeting his left leg and repeatedly striking it with sticks until the bone broke.
He later learned that it was Zhao Qichang's arrangement.
This was to allow him to "reasonably" claim illness and stay home, thus avoiding the daily surveillance of the Embroidered Uniform Guard, and at the same time... leaving him with no way out.
What future could a crippled Ministry of War official possibly have besides clinging tightly to Zhao Qichang?
Wu Zhaoyi looked at her left leg, which was wrapped in bandages, with a complicated expression.
There was resentment, fear, and a hint of... madness.
He knew that after tomorrow, he would either rise to great heights or... die without a burial place.
There is no third way.
"Li Ruolian," he murmured the name, "Tomorrow... let's have some fun."
On the same day, at the hour of Xu (7-9 PM).
Xishan Royal Estate.
The autumn wind was strong, making the flags on the drill ground flutter loudly.
Zhou Yuji stood on the command platform, looking at the three thousand Shanxi soldiers in front of him.
The soldiers were elite troops, their armor was neat and their swords and spears were gleaming, and their eyes revealed the fierce courage and indifference unique to border troops.
They were veterans selected by Zhou Yuji from the three towns of Datong, Taiyuan, and Xuanfu. They had fought alongside him against bandits and the Jurchens, and had truly seen bloodshed.
"Listen carefully." Zhou Yuji's voice carried far on the autumn wind. "At midnight tonight, enter the city in batches. Three hundred crossbowmen, led by Captain Wang, will lie in ambush on the roof of the Hall of Supreme Harmony. The rest will blend into the garrison's rotation and take control of the nine gates of the capital."
"Remember—" he raised his voice, "Your mission is to protect His Majesty and safeguard the court. Not to kill, not to rebel. But if anyone dares to harm His Majesty, dares to disrupt the court assembly…"
He paused, then spoke slowly and deliberately:
"Kill without mercy."
Three thousand people, silent.
Only the sound of the autumn wind fluttering the flags could be heard.
Zhou Yuji was very satisfied.
He didn't need passionate shouts, only this kind of silent, cold obedience.
"Dismissed. Eat, sleep, and meet again at midnight."
The soldiers dispersed silently.
Zhou Yuji turned around and looked towards the capital.
Night had fallen, and the outline of the capital city stood majestic and silent in the darkness, like a lurking beast.
He knew that tomorrow, inside the belly of this behemoth, a battle that would determine the fate of the Ming Dynasty would take place.
And he was the sharpest knife in the emperor's hand.
When a knife is drawn, blood is sure to follow.
"General," the adjutant approached and whispered, "news has come from the capital that Liu Liangzuo has taken leave today, and many soldiers have gathered at his residence."
"Understood." Zhou Yuji nodded. "Have our people in the city keep a close eye on things. I need to know the exact number, equipment, and route of Liu Liangzuo's personal guards before Chenshi (7-9 AM) tomorrow."
"Yes."
The deputy general stepped down.
Zhou Yuji stood alone on the training ground, watching the last rays of light disappear and the night completely envelop the earth.
He reached out and touched the hilt of the knife at his waist.
The knife is cold.
Like this era.
But he knew that some things were colder than a knife, and harder than a knife...
For example, people's hearts.
For example, the spine.
He looked towards the Forbidden City and murmured to himself:
"Your Majesty, I... am here."
"Don't worry."
"As long as I am alive—"
"The sky over this Ming Dynasty will not collapse."