Germination of the Emperor’s Suspicion

After Nolan Dongling spoke, he calmly retreated to his original position. The Emperor gazed at him thoughtfully, a cold glint flashing deep in his eyes—the look of a hunter who has just spotted a prey’s weakness.

But who is the hunter and who is the prey? Until the very end, no one can say for sure.

Nolan’s long lashes drooped, hiding the chill in his eyes.

The gathered nobles couldn’t decide how to weigh their words, none daring to speak lightly. Crown Prince Terrence considered for a moment, then stepped forward to break the tense silence: “Father Emperor, I believe Nolan spoke well. Serena Feng was slandered so viciously—anyone would be enraged. No woman could endure being insulted in the street without anger. In my view, Serena’s reaction shows a child’s pure heart and the bearing of a general’s daughter.”

“Crown Prince and Nolan’s words are overly indulgent. Serena is already sixteen, no longer a child. As nobles, we cannot allow temper to justify killing at will.”

Everyone knows Serena’s honor and favor come from the Emperor. If she acts so arrogantly, outsiders will assume it’s because His Majesty indulges her—and that would disgrace the Emperor’s name.” Adrian Eastlyn spoke deliberately, his gaze at Serena Feng filled with murderous intent.

Serena Feng maintained her calm, her eyes fixed on the memorials as she regulated her breathing, trying to slow the bleeding from her scalp.

Seeing the Emperor’s stance, it was clear he had no intention of letting her go easily. The wound atop her head was certainly not minor.

The Emperor’s blow had shown no mercy.

Once someone spoke up, the rest surged forward: “Your Majesty, right now the princes of Southern Lyn, Western Lyn, and Northlyn, as well as their heirs, are all in our Eastlyn Imperial Capital. Several young lords from other great cities are also present.”

Prince Nolan kept his eyes lowered, his expression serene and detached—as if he hadn’t been the one to spark the whole shouting match.

The other calm figure was Serena Feng herself, kneeling at the front of the hall—entirely the picture of an outsider. In truth, the ministers’ quarrel had already drifted away from her, now centering on the upbringing of their own children.

The civil ministers accused the martial families of raising simple-minded, muscle-bound offspring who only knew how to fight, completely ignorant of the rites and teachings of Confucius and Mencius.

The martial nobles wouldn’t let that stand. Loudly, they shot back: “You civil ministers claim to raise your children well, yet one of yours had a shameless affair before marriage, clinging to some random man without status, and another snuck around with her cousin while his legal wife lay gravely ill.”

They didn’t need to name names—everyone knew the first was Rosa Zhen of Duke Allen’s manor, and the second was Elaine Jiang of Jinyang Manor.

The civil ministers were left speechless, their faces flushed purple with humiliation. All they could do was point at the martial nobles and accuse them of vulgar language and disgraceful behavior.

The martial nobles simply ignored them, grinning smugly, utterly pleased with themselves.

By the time both sides had nearly exhausted themselves, Serena had finished reading the impeachment memorials. She’d trained in speed-reading, so she could scan documents quickly—but…

Vertical columns of classical prose with no punctuation were truly tiring to read, so her speed slowed a bit. Add to that the ministers’ ornate, flowery writing—each memorial was all decoration, with only one or two lines that mattered. Serena was thoroughly bored.

"Your Majesty." Serena arranged the memorials neatly, then raised them above her head with both hands.

They were heavy, and soon her arms began to ache. Fortunately, her willpower was strong enough to endure.

"Finished reading?" The Emperor’s tone was much calmer than before; clearly, the ministers’ quarrel had served its purpose. At least, his anger toward Serena had lessened considerably.

"In reply to Your Majesty, your subject has finished reading." Her arms shook from the weight of the memorials. The Emperor, unwilling to nitpick with a young woman, had a eunuch take the documents away. Serena exhaled in relief and obediently knelt in her pool of blood.

The Emperor hadn’t told her to rise, so she couldn’t. She hadn’t come to the palace to complain, but she also couldn’t disrespect royal authority. Give the Emperor face, and he’ll give you substance in return—the higher their status, the more they care about face.

"Do you know your crime?" The Emperor was very pleased with Serena’s attitude. That’s how a subject should behave; anyone who constantly challenges imperial authority, no matter how tolerant the Emperor, will eventually be cast out.

Not everyone has the magnanimity of Emperor Taizong, able to tolerate a minister who criticizes him all the time. And even Taizong only tolerated one Wei Zheng—any more, and he wouldn’t have put up with it.

"Your Majesty, the ministers are eloquent, their pens truly masterful—but I honestly do not know what crime I’ve committed. They accuse me of murder in the street, but I wonder if they’ve actually investigated why I killed.

Your Majesty, I was attacked in broad daylight by a mob of beggars. I immediately ordered my guards to give them silver to send them away, but they refused—not only that, even knowing my identity, they still attacked.

Every one of those beggars knew martial arts—and who’s ever heard of beggars who don’t want silver? Even if I were the dullest person alive, I’d know they weren’t ordinary. I had no choice but to order my guards to act, commanding them not to harm innocents. But the mob wouldn’t relent, determined to kill me, so I had to let my guards use deadly force.

If my guards hadn’t fought to the death, if the constables hadn’t arrived in time, I’d be lying dead in the street. My death wouldn’t matter, but what truly worries me is this: if assassins can infiltrate the Eastlyn Imperial Capital and openly attack an Emperor-ennobled noble daughter, then one day they might slip into the palace itself to assassinate Your Majesty.

My life is of no importance, but Your Majesty stands above all—nothing must ever go wrong. My parents taught me from childhood that the Emperor is a peerless ruler, and under Your Majesty’s governance, Eastlyn will surely make all nations bow. Even if the world were to perish, not a single hair of Your Majesty must be harmed. I beg you to investigate this matter thoroughly and root out the threat.

Of all people in this world, the Emperor fears death the most, craves power the most, and loves hearing flattery the most.

Her words were blunt and direct, just as Prince Nolan had said—a child’s temperament, and just as Left Chancellor Damian Du and the martial nobles had described: straightforward and without cunning.

A ruler who doesn’t dream of conquering the world isn’t a true ruler—and it was clear the Emperor had that ambition. Serena’s flattery pleased him immensely, but her next words made him wary.

The Emperor’s sons were all grown, but the Emperor himself was still vigorous. Barring disaster, he’d live another ten or twenty years at least—and that’s far too long for his sons to wait. In truth, they wouldn’t be able to.

Serena’s words hit the Emperor’s greatest anxiety—he could never tolerate anyone eyeing his throne.

The Emperor showed nothing on his face, but inwardly he grew guarded. Serena’s warning was entirely reasonable; he’d fought his way to the throne, killing brothers and cousins, so it was only natural to suspect his own sons might one day kill him too. The lure of the throne is beyond ordinary imagination.

The Emperor’s anger shifted away from Serena, landing squarely on Crown Prince Terrence Dongling and Adrian Dongling. His gaze swept over them, sharp and murderous.

Among the grown princes who hadn’t returned to their fiefdoms, only those two remained in the capital. Of course, it was possible that those living on their estates might use the birthday celebrations as cover for rebellion.

The Emperor’s gaze grew colder. The court officials, sensing the shift, immediately changed their tune and began to denounce Serena’s attackers as traitors, calling for a thorough investigation.

Serena remained silent, letting the ministers argue. She’d already said everything she needed to.

The Emperor’s anger had cooled, and he was now focused on the threat of assassination. He ordered the Ministry of Justice and the Imperial Guard to investigate at once.

The court officials immediately agreed, their voices ringing in unison. The martial nobles, who had been silent, now stepped forward to offer their own insights and support.

Serena was still kneeling, blood pooling beneath her. Her wounds throbbed, but she forced herself to remain calm and collected.

At last, the Emperor spoke: "Serena Feng, you have suffered greatly. You may rise."

Serena slowly stood up, her knees nearly buckling. She bowed deeply to the Emperor, her face pale but determined.

The Emperor waved his hand. "You may withdraw. Rest and recover, and leave the investigation to my officials."

Serena bowed again and turned to leave, her steps slow and measured.

As she left the hall, Prince Nolan’s gaze followed her—cold, unreadable, and tinged with something she couldn’t quite name.

Serena didn’t look back. She had no energy left for court intrigue; all she wanted was to return home and collapse into bed.

Behind her, the court was still in chaos, but Serena no longer cared. She’d survived the day—and that was enough.

She stepped out into the sunlight, breathing in the fresh air, her heart heavy yet strangely at peace.