Chapter 101: The Fear Instilled by Lord Lu of Beiluo

The gates of the Imperial Capital creaked open. Ten valiant steeds thundered through. The stench of blood hung heavily in the air, invading their nostrils.

Jiang Li rode at the front, her horse's mane billowing in the wind. Her gaze swept over a hellish landscape—heaps of corpses, a sea of blood. The ground was strewn with shattered arrows and lifeless bodies. On the city walls, the corpses of imperial guards lay twisted in grotesque poses, blood streaming from the crevices like crimson rivulets.

"What happened here…?" one envoy shivered uncontrollably, the gruesome scene seizing his mind with horror.

"Could it be the army of the Northern or Western Province that has breached the capital?" another envoy swallowed hard, his voice trembling.

Jiang Li tugged the reins, her horse restless, agitated by the overwhelming scent of blood.

"Lord Lu of Beiluo…" A strange glint flickered in her eyes.

Beiluo… someone has come?

In the Library Pavilion, silence reigned as always, serene and refined. Mo Tianyu sat at the entrance, immersed in the study of divination. With a massive gourd in hand, he poured liquor down his throat.

Ever since the Grand Preceptor had brought him back from Beiluo City, Mo Tianyu had awakened. He had changed. He was no longer the wanton madman who once roamed the capital with reckless arrogance.

He understood now—arrogance without strength was but a fool's bravado. If he possessed the power of Lu Fan, then he could afford to be proud, to be wild. Who would dare oppose him?

As for divination… he had not given up. It was his passion, after all. Before studying under the venerable Master, he had already begun practicing the art. Letting go was impossible. Even though his readings often erred, he remained undeterred.

No regrets in dedicating his life to the path of divination.

Footsteps echoed upstairs. Mo Tianyu looked up, surprised. At some point, the Master, who had secluded himself for days, now stood atop the pavilion, hands clasped behind his back, hunched but composed, gazing into the distance.

Kong Nanfeng, donned in Confucian robes, emerged behind him, eyes also cast afar.

"A storm brews upon the mountain wind…" the Grand Preceptor murmured.

"Have you felt it? The wind of the capital… has begun to shift."

Kong Nanfeng nodded. "Lu Ping'an's maid and coachman have entered the capital, leading five hundred iron riders from Beiluo."

"Lu Ping'an's intent is clear: he plans to purge the decaying noble families of the capital just as he did in Beiluo."

"Though the aristocrats here may not match those of the Southern or Northern Provinces in might, their deep-rooted ties to court officials make them far more dangerous. One tug could unravel the entire fabric of the empire."

The Master smiled faintly, his white hair fluttering in the wind. "Some say turbulent times require heavy-handed rule. I once scoffed at such notions. Harsh measures destroy order, harming both state and people."

"But now… the Great Zhou has nothing left to lose. How much worse could things get?"

The Grand Preceptor sighed. "It is Lu Ping'an who sees most clearly…"

In the Purple Gold Palace of the capital, Emperor Yuwen Xiu's eyes gleamed with a fervent light as he finished reading a secret missive.

"To do what I dare not… Truly, Lu Ping'an lives up to his name."

He clenched the letter tightly, crushing it into a ball. "Well done! Kill them all!"

"Those treacherous scum dared to raise secret armies and even reach for control of the capital's troops—do they intend rebellion?!"

"If chaos breaks out in the capital, then all hope for the Great Zhou will be lost!"

His face turned icy, and with a loud crack, he slammed his palm against the desk.

He felt utterly stifled. Not a single trustworthy minister in his court—only schemers and traitors.

The old eunuch at his side also bore a grim expression.

And that seemingly half-dead Prime Minister Zhao Kuo… even he had hidden such a trick up his sleeve.

"What a pity Lu Ping'an cannot leave Beiluo to aid my court. If I had him by my side, the realm would surely fall under the unified rule of the Great Zhou."

The emperor sighed deeply.

Hearing this, the eunuch shook his head. Had it not been for He Shou's detestable decree, Lu Ping'an might not even have deigned to send someone to the capital.

A man like him would never stoop to serve under another's command. Even if he were willing, the emperor might not dare accept him.

At the Wangxiang Pavilion, He Shou's face turned ashen as he stared at the breathless servant.

"My lord, the pavilion is surrounded by armored cavalry—we… we can't escape!"

The servant collapsed to his knees, his forehead slick with cold sweat, trembling with terror.

"Run!" He Shou's face changed drastically. The gathered officials, panic-stricken, hurried to flee.

The thunder of hooves exploded outside, striking fear into their hearts. They dared not use the main exit, instead rushing toward a side door.

"Those ruthless Beiluo dogs! We must reach the Prime Minister's estate and consult him at once!" He Shou shouted.

Deeming it unsafe to flee openly, he swapped clothes with a servant and slipped out the side door.

But just as they emerged, they found themselves blocked by the icy steel of the Beiluo iron cavalry.

He Shou's face turned ghostly pale. The officials beside him quivered in terror, about to turn and flee—when a blood-stained blade was suddenly thrust before them.

"Who among you is He Shou?" Luo Cheng asked coldly, blade in hand.

From the distance, Nie Changqing approached with a carriage.

"You scholars love to posture. After setting an ambush, do you still crave admiration? Do you intend to recite poetry as well?" Nie Changqing said, dressed in white, his tone indifferent.

His discerning eyes swept over the group. Though they wore servant garb, they couldn't hide their scholarly airs. It was obvious who they were.

Regret surged within He Shou. The might of Ning Zhao and Nie Changqing had left him utterly terrified. Not even a storm of arrows could penetrate their defenses…

Were these truly the martial warriors he once knew?

Even a Grandmaster martial artist was said to fall before a thousand arrows, unable to stand against an army. Yet this time, he had mobilized three thousand elite soldiers to slay Lu Ping'an's maid and coachman, hoping to dull Beiluo's edge.

But what he encountered defied all reason.

Arrows suspended midair, then fell harmlessly to the ground.

A cleaver, hurled from a distance, cleaved flesh like a butcher at work.

Such sights shattered He Shou's composure.

Nie Changqing, his white robe fluttering and cleaver in hand, strode forward.

"Who is He Shou? Speak his name, and you may live."

The officials in servant garb, having already resented He Shou for dragging them into this disaster, wasted no time pointing him out.

He Shou turned pale with fury.

Luo Cheng's eyes blazed with wrath. With a hiss, he drew his long blade and swung it toward He Shou's neck.

"You wrote that doggerel of a decree? You dare insult the Young Master?! What scum you are!"

The blade tore through the air, exuding a dreadful edge.

He Shou's face turned deathly white. Regret consumed him.

Why… why did he have to come to the Wangxiang Pavilion to court death?!

"Wait," Nie Changqing raised a hand, halting Luo Cheng.

"To let him die so easily would be far too kind. Let him witness the chaos his wretched decree has unleashed upon the capital."

Nie Changqing turned to the first official who had identified He Shou.

"You may leave."

Overcome with joy, the man scrambled away on hands and knees.

Nie Changqing watched the fleeing figure and sighed. "So this is the caliber of Great Zhou's ministers. No backbone whatsoever. No wonder the capital lies in ruin."

"The rest of you—kill them."

At his word, Luo Cheng's men drew their blades in unison.

Blood splattered. The once-proud ministers, now reduced to mere onlookers, perished on the spot.

He Shou collapsed, a stench rising from beneath him. A nearby official's blood sprayed across his face.

He had soiled himself