Chapter 214 — Renamed Li Dai

In that instant, even the wind brushing past Ye Jiao's sleeves seemed to hold its breath. She turned her head slowly, her gaze fixed upon the gates of the Eastern Palace. It was as though her soul had fled her body—her limbs were numb, immobile—only the tears brimming in her eyes reminded her that she was still alive.

The Emperor! Had the Emperor arrived?

There were no banners of storm or thunder, no majestic emblems of Azure Dragon or White Tiger. The grand imperial entourage was reduced to a few blood-soaked imperial guards, and behind them, over a hundred court officials stood, their faces resolute and unflinching.

The Emperor was clad in full ceremonial regalia—his coronet adorned with twelve streams of white beads, a dark robe trimmed with crimson, beneath it a white silk undergarment embroidered with the Twelve Ornaments of state, a leather girdle, broad sash, and ceremonial sword. Such solemn attire was reserved for morning court, grand rites, or triumphant returns from military campaigns.

Supported by the chief eunuch Gao Fu, he stepped forward and ascended the stone steps before the Eastern Palace gates. Majestic and commanding, he needed no words to make all under heaven tremble.

"Your Majesty!" Ye Jiao could no longer restrain herself. She fell to her knees, her voice choked with emotion, though her tears were still withheld. Relief, joy, and gratitude surged through her, overflowing her heart.

The Emperor looked at her with a gaze both kind and stern, full of paternal warmth yet undiminished authority.

"You have suffered, Ye Qing," he said. He did not spare a glance for the Crown Prince who had narrowly escaped death, nor for Li Chen, the traitor who sought to usurp the throne. Instead, his eyes settled deeply upon Ye Jiao. "I am here now. Stand behind me. Let us see who dares to question the golden token in your hand."

The Emperor swept his gaze across the gathering. Before he could speak another word, the imperial guards, the Prince's loyal troops, and the rebel soldiers all dropped their weapons and fell to their knees.

"We pay homage to the Emperor!"

Crown Prince Li Zhang, Prince Zhao Li Jing, and the Sixth Prince Li Can knelt as one. Across from them, Prince Wei—Li Chen—stood in stunned silence, his body swaying, incapable of uttering a single word.

How could this be?

He had commanded the imperial guards to seal the Nanxun Hall. Could Ye Jiao have spared forces to rescue the Emperor while saving the Crown Prince? Who would risk their life to protect the sovereign at such a time? It couldn't have been the civil officials—they looked brave but were unarmed. Most likely, they had encountered the Emperor en route and followed him here.

Li Chen was deeply shaken. Then his eyes fell upon Yan Congzheng, the Deputy Commander of the Guards standing by the Emperor's side. His wounds were severe—his arms, thighs, and shoulders were tightly bound in blood-soaked strips of cloth that barely stemmed the bleeding. The ground beneath him was already dyed a deep red from the blood pooling at his feet.

He would die sooner than Li Chen, no doubt.

And yet, despite his grievous injuries, he stood firm by the Emperor's side, gaze unwavering like a tamed hound—loyal, foolishly loyal.

How stupid, how pitiful!

Had Li Chen emerged victorious today, Yan Congzheng would have become the Emperor's kin, a hero of the realm. But now, even with merit in saving the sovereign, the Yan family would be exterminated.

Li Chen felt no sympathy for Yan Congzheng. Only fury—biting, burning rage! His mind reeled, mad with the urge to obliterate everything before him.

The Yan family had betrayed him. His wife's kin had betrayed him. So this—this was the taste of betrayal, cruel and soul-devouring.

"Seize him."

Through his haze of panic and wrath, Li Chen heard the Emperor's voice.

"At once!"

Responses rang out from all directions as soldiers surrounded him like an iron wall.

"Prince Wei, Li Chen…" the Emperor paused for a moment. If one listened closely, a faint tremble could be detected in his voice—that of a father struggling against heartbreak. But this faint mercy was swiftly crushed beneath the weight of imperial duty.

"Prince Wei, Li Chen," the Emperor declared slowly, "for high treason and defiance of all morality, your title is hereby stripped, your name changed to Li Dai. You are to be imprisoned in the Celestial Dungeon and executed on an appointed day. All members of your household—children, wives, concubines, servants, and guards—are to be put to death. All accomplices in your conspiracy shall be tried and sentenced accordingly."

He turned and bellowed, "Where is the Prime Minister?"

"Your servant is here," Prime Minister Fu Qian stepped forth and knelt upon the blood-soaked floor, awaiting orders.

"This matter shall be handled by you with full authority," the Emperor commanded coldly. "There shall be no leniency, no favoritism. If the law is bent, the punishment shall be the same as for rebellion."

"Your servant obeys."

Fu Qian raised both arms in salute and bowed deeply.

At once, imperial guards stepped forward and seized Li Chen, who no longer resisted. He burst into maniacal laughter, shouting hoarsely, "Father! You would rename me?!"

Chen—a name of nobility and reverence.

"Feeding on my mulberries, cherishing my message. The Huai tribes come bearing their tribute—'Chen'."

That was a verse from the Book of Songs, praising Duke Xi of Lu and lauding the noble ancestry of Li Chen's mother. A name that embodied legacy and honor.

"So what if you are renamed?" Li Can exhaled with relief. "You're lucky he didn't name you Li Dog, to spare the surname Li the disgrace."

"What are you so proud of?" Li Chen sneered at Li Can. "The Emperor favors only Li Zhang. The rest of us are pawns, meant to be sacrificed for his power. Li Long fought his war, and the Emperor cast him aside. You serve Li Zhang faithfully, but you'll be discarded too. And Li Ce—ha! He was sent to suppress the rebellion in Jinzhou, risking life and limb to pave the way for Li Zhang. Even his betrothed was not spared. You're all pawns—abandoned pieces!"

"Silence!" Prince Zhao, Li Jing, sprang up and moved to silence him. To slander the Emperor before the entire court—was he so eager to die?

But Li Chen twisted away from his hand. This time he did not laugh. He simply gazed at Li Jing with pity, his eyes soft and sorrowful.

"And you, poor fool. Have you never wondered why, after all these years, you have no heir? Have you never suspected your mother? Your elder brother? You're twins, born of the same womb, the same—"

His words were abruptly cut off as guards gagged him with a thick cloth.

Li Jing stood stunned, bewildered. "What nonsense are you spouting? Take him away—quickly!"

Let him live a little longer if he must. After all, he was still a brother.

Li Chen's eyes bulged with fury, his breath ragged with hatred as he tried to draw near the Emperor, desperate to say more.

The wind sweeping into the Eastern Palace turned fierce. Ye Jiao rose with the officials, remembering what Li Can had told her—that the young Taoist had sent word: a strong wind would rise today, and none should linger near high walls or beneath tiled eaves.

Rumors of a coming windstorm had already been forecast by the Bureau of Astronomy, and the court had repeatedly warned the ministries to prepare for natural disasters. But could the wind truly rise so suddenly—today of all days?

Ye Jiao stepped aside, motioning for Gao Fu to escort the Emperor back to Nanxun Hall.

But then, a sobbing figure burst into the hall.

It was Lady Shu, Consort Lu.

Today had been unbearable for her. At dawn, she had received Li Chen's message instructing her to remain in the palace and prevent the Empress from sending for help. At that time, she was elated, believing her son would triumph. Yet what greeted her was the Emperor's own hand quelling the rebellion.

How could this happen?

She had been certain the Emperor was gravely ill, nearing death.

Frantically, Consort Lu arrived at the Eastern Palace. No matter what, she would save her son. If he must die, then—

Bathed in tears, she knelt before the Emperor and cried, "I failed to properly guide Prince Wei, and thus a grave sin was born. For the sake of his young children, I beg Your Majesty to take my life instead. Let me die in his place."

The Emperor cast her a look of cold disdain and thundered, "He is what he is not because of your neglect, but because of your excessive interference. You are the only consort bold enough to secretly visit the princes beyond the palace walls—the most ambitious, and the one who holds the law in contempt!"

"It is my fault, all mine!" she cried, inching forward on her knees. "Then let me pay with my life. Let me die!"

Clutching the Emperor's robes, she rose in tears—hand trembling...