Self-Reproach Edict and Driving the Ninth Royal Uncle Out of the Capital

Whatever storm the chess match might stir up, and however furious the Su Clan might become, Serena Feng paid it no mind. She certainly wouldn’t add fuel to the fire at a time like this.

Ever since her appearance at the National Academy, Serena Feng had shut herself away, refusing to go out. Chess masters came to her door every day, but she turned them all away, claiming ill health and refusing to see anyone.

To outsiders, Serena’s avoidance looked like cowardice, but anyone clever knew she was simply sitting back and watching the show—coldly observing as the so‑called righteous scholars forced the Southern Lyn Su Clan to strip their plaque and abandon their prestigious name.

Serena’s words at the National Academy may not have been lethal, but they left the Southern Lyn Su Clan with no way out. With so many eminent scholars present, the Su Clan couldn’t deny the wager even if they tried. From now on, anyone who called themselves the Southern Lyn Su Clan would only be met with contempt.

The Su Clan’s position was now awkward—they were loathed by the literati and gentry. They’d hoped to win favor with the Emperor of Eastlyn, to become his loyal lackeys, but a major crisis had erupted in Eastlyn. The Emperor had no mind to bother with the Su Clan, and not even the alluring Consort Su could catch his attention now.

“The Imperial Mausoleum is destroyed, over ten thousand soldiers are dead, and yet no one knows who did it. Tell me—have I misjudged you all?” The Emperor hurled the memorial in his hand directly at the Grand Protector’s head. “The late Emperor’s tomb and coffins have been smashed, and all you do is beg forgiveness. What use do I have for a pack of useless fools like you?”

Smack— The poor Grand Protector, already advanced in years, was struck so hard he bled and fainted on the spot. He’d hoped to escape to the Imperial Clinic for rest, but the Emperor acted as if he hadn’t even noticed, leaving him lying on the cold floor.

The Emperor turned furiously to the other ministers. All they could do was kneel and beg forgiveness, unable to say a word in their defense. Enraged, the Emperor ordered the guards to drag them out for a beating—even the unconscious Grand Protector was not spared.

No one dared disturb the Emperor in his fury—except for one fearless soul who chose this moment to enter the palace.

“Your Majesty, Lord Fuller requests an audience.” The young eunuch’s legs were shaking with fear, but he forced himself to speak. He expected to be scolded, but instead the Emperor suppressed his rage and ordered Lord Felix Fuller to be admitted.

After the formalities, Lord Felix Fuller—looking perfectly composed—got straight to the point: “Your Majesty, I’ve heard the Imperial Mausoleum was bombed. What exactly happened?”

“See for yourself.” The Emperor, gratified, looked at Felix—finally, a minister willing to take responsibility at a time like this.

Felix didn’t stand on ceremony. After a brief apology, he picked up the blood‑stained memorial and began to read. The garrison commander, knowing the gravity of the situation, had dared not conceal anything and had written out every detail of the scene.

“Your Majesty, since this was a deliberate act, someone is clearly targeting Eastlyn.” Felix quickly gave the Emperor a motive for the attack.

After venting his anger, the Emperor calmed down. Looking at his most trusted minister, his tone softened: “Felix, do you have any suspects?”

“Your Majesty, for someone to move so freely within Eastlyn, to wipe out over ten thousand of our troops in just one hour, it’s clear the enemy is formidable. Their methods were ruthless, yet they didn’t touch any burial treasures in the mausoleum. That means they weren’t after wealth—they only wanted to humiliate Eastlyn. If I’m not mistaken, the culprits are either Former‑Dynasty rebels or one of the three other realms.”

The Emperor nodded, agreeing with Felix. There was no evidence, but only a handful of people on the Nine Provinces continent had the ability and the audacity for such a crime. The Emperor had once suspected Ninth Royal Uncle, but remembering that his own parents were buried in the mausoleum, he dismissed the thought.

“Felix, I’m leaving this matter in your hands.”

“As Your Majesty commands.”

The bombing of the Imperial Mausoleum caused a huge stir. Ninth Royal Uncle had even confronted the Emperor in person, demanding that he give both the imperial family and the people of Eastlyn an explanation. If he couldn’t even protect his ancestors’ tombs, shouldn’t he feel ashamed?

The Emperor did feel ashamed—though not for failing to protect the late Emperor’s remains, but because Ninth Royal Uncle’s righteous words had stung him. Recalling the bombing of his own mausoleum, the Emperor was so furious he spat blood on the spot.

The ministers could only kneel and beg the Emperor to take care of his health, offering no real solutions. The Emperor fell seriously ill from anger, but once he recovered, he wasted no time. Accepting the ‘evidence’ Felix Fuller had ‘found,’ he pinned the blame on Former‑Dynasty rebels and issued a self‑reproach edict, admitting his own failure to protect the ancestral mausoleum.

With the culprit for the mausoleum’s destruction found and executed by slow slicing, and the Emperor having admitted fault, the matter was closed. Ninth Royal Uncle was still dissatisfied, but he said no more—he simply requested imperial permission to personally oversee the excavation and reconstruction of the mausoleum ruins.

The Emperor was unwilling at first, but Ninth Royal Uncle made it clear he didn’t trust the Emperor to protect the mausoleum. The Emperor nearly suffered a relapse from anger. Felix Fuller came to the palace overnight—no one knows what he said, but the next morning the Emperor appeared in high spirits and issued a decree for Ninth Royal Uncle to depart for the mausoleum and supervise its reconstruction.

Supervising the reconstruction didn’t actually require Ninth Royal Uncle to be present, but the imperial edict ordered him to reside at the mausoleum until the work was done.

Ninth Royal Uncle accepted the decree, giving the Emperor a meaningful look without voicing any objection. The courtiers dared not speak, but their gazes toward Ninth Royal Uncle now held both sympathy and worry.

“You planning to stay at the mausoleum for ten or eight years?” William Wang Jinling had arranged to meet Ninth Royal Uncle at an ordinary teahouse. Pouring himself a cup of tea, he paid Ninth Royal Uncle no further mind.

Ninth Royal Uncle wasn’t offended. He poured himself a cup of hot tea but didn’t drink, just held it in his hands. “I’ll go when I choose. The decree says ‘depart at an appointed date’—I’ll pick my own timing.”

William smiled and nodded. “I said so—you’re not that easy to drive out of the Capital.”

If the Emperor really had the power to drive Ninth Royal Uncle out of the Capital, he would have done it long ago.

“Let him enjoy his victory for a couple of days.”

William grinned mischievously. “Only you would dare say that. Still, it’s a good excuse—once things settle down in the Capital, you should leave. With the mausoleum reconstruction as your reason, you’ll be free to go wherever you want—no one can restrict you.”

Once you’re out of the Capital, the sky’s the limit. Even if the Emperor wanted to intervene, he’d be powerless. Ninth Royal Uncle would have much more freedom in his actions.

“There’s no rush. We’ll plan carefully.” Ninth Royal Uncle asked, “Did you verify the list I gave you?” The list came from the gray‑clad assassin they’d captured—the names of concubines and ministers involved in the Menagerie fire.

The assassin didn’t know much—no matter how they interrogated him, he only confessed to the Menagerie plot. He claimed ignorance of everything else.

Besides Consort Purity, several other concubines of similar rank—six in total—and eight ministerial households were involved in the Menagerie fire. These people bore no personal grudge against Serena Feng; she simply stood in their way.

When it came to business, William’s smile faded and he nodded solemnly. “It’s all confirmed. We can move.”

“Good.” Ninth Royal Uncle replied simply, acknowledging the report.

Last night, the final group of Black Riders had already infiltrated the Capital. Now, all they awaited was Ninth Royal Uncle’s order—the moment he gave the word, the Black Riders would begin their second mission: quietly eliminating everyone involved in the Menagerie fire…