Chapter 23

The sun cast long golden beams through the stained-glass windows of the Hall of Harmony, bathing the five princes in majestic light as they knelt in formal greeting before their father, the Emperor. Yet beneath that light, darkness moved—silent and sure, like oil slipping through cracks in marble.

Crown Prince Li Yuyan delivered the monthly report with measured calm: tax reliefs for the flood-ravaged provinces, reforms to the local guard systems, and new medical funds for orphanages. The court clapped lightly at the Crown Prince's vision. The Emperor smiled with fatherly pride.

But three sets of eyes in the hall saw opportunity in every applause he received.

Mingzhao bowed lower than necessary. Wenjin mirrored his movement, and Fenglin leaned lazily with an amused half-smile.

Behind the throne pillars, Minister Zhang Jinyuan gave a barely perceptible nod to Chancellor Lu Xian. The signal was clear: the preparations were complete.

That evening, in a secluded chamber deep beneath the Palace of Nine Moons, a candlelit map sprawled across the table. Mingzhao stood tall, no longer hiding behind brotherly masks. At his side were Wenjin and Fenglin, donned not in princely robes but plain traveling cloaks.

"Two weeks from now, my men will be positioned at all three southern gates," General Han Jue announced, pointing to the map. "Loyal to coin. Loyal to the cause."

"We'll strike the night before the Emperor's pilgrimage to Yueliang Temple," Zhang Jinyuan added. "He'll be outside the palace walls. The Crown Prince will assume temporary command… as planned."

Councilor Bai stepped forward, unfurling a scroll bearing falsified orders bearing the Emperor's jade seal. "With these," he said, voice low, "Li Yuyan's authority will be stripped the moment the gates fall. His own guards will be turned before sunrise."

Chancellor Lu Xian held up a ceremonial dagger. It gleamed crimson under the lantern light.

"Tonight," he said solemnly, "we bind our pact in blood. Not out of ritual—but certainty. There is no return."

Mingzhao extended his palm first. "The empire has waited long enough."

Wenjin followed, hesitating only briefly. "The Crown Prince treats the empire like a classroom. We need a ruler, not a lecturer."

Fenglin chuckled. "I only care that I get my province and palace when this is done."

Each man pressed a shallow cut into his palm, letting the blood drip into a jade basin at the center of the table.

When it reached Han Jue, the general didn't flinch. "My loyalty is to strength. And strength no longer resides in the East Pavilion."

One by one, the officials followed. Blood mingled in the basin—politicians, generals, princes—all tied by ambition, deceit, and the promise of a crown.

Outside the chamber, thunder rolled in the night sky. The capital slept peacefully under a gentle drizzle. But within the palace walls, the fate of the empire was already shifting.

The next morning, Li Yuyan stood in the royal library, sifting through military proposals with furrowed brows. Something wasn't adding up. Funds were missing. Troop transfers had been requested, but not by him. Temple guards were being reassigned.

He raised his head, eyes narrowing at a window that framed the rising dawn.

Unaware, perhaps, of the oath made in blood the night before.

But instincts had begun to stir.

And the winds were changing