Heaven’s Will, This Is Truly Defying the Heavens

Snow had fallen all night, blanketing the entire Imperial City in white. Any hint of other color was quickly swallowed by the relentless, heavy flakes.

This was the largest snowfall Eastlyn had seen since winter began. It was as if the heavens meant to cover up every stain, leaving behind only the purest white.

Such heavy snow made travel nearly impossible, but with the National Duke’s Manor holding a white funeral, even the lowliest officials had no choice but to come pay their respects, no matter how unwilling.

The National Duke’s sons and grandsons knelt in the mourning hall, bowing to thank the guests. Though the bitter cold kept the high and mighty away, the Manor still kept its dignity. But just then—

With a loud thud, the youngest grandson of the National Duke somehow appeared carrying a big black iron ball. He lost his grip and it crashed to the floor, rolling straight toward the brazier.

Ah—someone shrieked. Everyone in the mourning hall jumped in fright, about to scold the child, but when they looked up, they saw a black, rolling object.

“What is that?” someone blurted—just as another voice shouted, “Heavens, it’s a thunder-blast grenade! A thunder-blast grenade!”

“A thunder-blast grenade! It’s really a thunder-blast grenade! Run, run for your lives!”

“No, don’t let it touch the fire—it’ll kill someone! Quick, grab it!” Rosa Zhen screamed. After kneeling in the hall for so long, her legs were numb, but she didn’t care. She scrambled up, half crawling, and lunged toward the thunder-blast grenade.

The little grandson who caused all the trouble was too young to understand. He lay on the ground, ignored by everyone, bawling his eyes out.

Everyone in the mourning hall—whether members of the National Duke’s Manor or visiting mourners—surged for the exits. Rank and status didn’t matter now; all that mattered was escaping. What should have been a dignified white funeral turned into chaos, leaving only the old National Duke’s coffin sitting forgotten.

With such a major incident at the National Duke’s Manor, there was no way the Emperor wouldn’t hear of it. Anything involving thunder-blast grenades was never a small matter; with so many witnesses, there was no hiding what had happened.

“Thunder-blast grenades, just as I suspected—they’re at the National Duke’s Manor. I never should have trusted him.” The Emperor was furious. With a stroke of his vermilion brush, he ordered the Imperial Guards to raid the Manor and search...

As for the people of the Manor, all were thrown into prison. The National Duke’s corpse was left alone in the hall, ignored by all. Luckily it was winter—otherwise, after two days, the body would have started to rot.

The Imperial Guards surged into the Manor like wolves. Soon enough, they discovered a hidden chamber packed with dozens of thunder-blast grenades, iron fragments, and disassembled grenades. It was clear the House of Duke Zhen harbored wild ambitions—trying to manufacture their own grenades.

When all this was presented to the Emperor, his rage turned to bitter laughter. “Well, well, well—so this is my ‘loyal minister.’ When have I ever treated him unfairly?”

Some officials who’d been friendly with the National Duke’s Manor started to step forward to plead for mercy, but seeing the Emperor’s fury, they instantly backed away.

With the old National Duke dead, past friendships faded away—out of sight, out of mind. If the Emperor had only been mildly angry, they might have looked after the Duke’s descendants for old times’ sake. But faced with the Emperor’s thunderous wrath, none dared take the risk.

When the Son of Heaven is enraged, corpses fill the land and rivers run with blood.

The National Duke’s secret stockpile of thunder-blast grenades had touched the Emperor’s reverse scale. The Duke could count himself lucky to have died early—otherwise, he wouldn’t have lasted much longer. Besides, at this point, even if the Emperor wanted to spare the Manor, he couldn’t. Someone had to take the blame for the five mountain explosions. If he blamed it on heaven’s thunder and divine warning, it would mean he was no longer Heaven’s chosen ruler, and his throne would be at risk.

Whether or not the National Duke’s Manor was truly behind the five mountain explosions didn’t matter. What mattered was having someone to blame—someone for the people to vent their fear and anger upon.

The Emperor knew full well that the five mountain blasts were connected to Ninth Royal Uncle, but he had no intention of pursuing it. As a ruler, keeping up appearances was crucial; if civil strife broke out, the empire itself would be in danger.

The Emperor acted swiftly in dealing with the Manor. In just three days, every charge was prepared, and he personally wrote the decree: the Manor’s title was stripped, the men exiled to the northwest iron mines as laborers, the women sent to the brothels—even the children weren’t spared. Only the old madam was pardoned, but as a former maid with no family support, even the Emperor’s mercy couldn’t save her from a miserable old age.

It was just as the saying goes: ‘Too clever for one’s own good, in the end you ruin yourself.’ The old madam schemed her whole life, rising from maid to mistress of the house, but in the end, she was brought low again.

Fate gives what it will, and takes what it must. The old madam had chased after wealth that wasn’t hers, and now she had to pay it back. Worse, her ambition had brought ruin to her descendants. The lords of the Imperial City drew one conclusion: children raised by coarse women never amount to much.

As for Lady Bianca of Wu’an, once so dazzling, she fled in the chaos when the thunder-blast grenade incident struck. No one knew where she had gone...

“So it was Ninth Royal Uncle’s handiwork—he’s ruthless,” remarked William Wang Jinling, with a faint smile, uncertain whether to feel disappointed or pleased.

That man cared so much for Rena—it was hard to say if that was good or bad. But one thing was certain: with this move, everything had changed. With the National Duke’s Manor out of the way, the case could be sent back for retrial.

The Emperor didn’t care about such trivial matters anymore, especially now that they’d given him a reason for the five mountain explosions. If he kept pursuing Serena Feng, it would be going too far.

Politics is all about compromise, and they had already compromised. It was just a shame—the hope had been to use the mountain explosions to force the Emperor to release Ninth Royal Uncle, but now they’d have to think of something else.

“Take my letter to the Capital Prefecture Prison—have them retry Serena Feng’s case.” Some things went without saying; Ninth Royal Uncle had made his move, and William Wang Jinling knew exactly what to do next.

“Go, bring those witnesses—I need them.” Victor Yun was also someone who knew how to read the situation.

Everything changed in a single night, though Serena Feng knew nothing of it. Locked away in the dungeon, she was left to her own devices, idly digging holes in the wall and dreaming of a jailbreak.

But Ninth Royal Uncle never gave her the chance. She’d spent ten days in the dungeon, and just as she was plotting her escape, officials arrived that very afternoon.

“Serena Feng, you may leave now.”

“Huh?” Serena Feng was baffled. She’d been cut off from the outside world for ten days and had no idea what had happened—but as soon as the iron door swung open, she hurried out.

“What are you waiting for? Move!” The official glared at her. Was this girl so happy she’d lost her mind?

The official shot Serena Feng a look, impatient. But when he saw her up close, he froze.

Impossible. In the dead of winter, locked in a cell with nothing but thin gruel three times a day, no blanket, no stove—after ten days, Serena Feng still looked energetic and rosy-cheeked. It was unbelievable...