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Prince Zheng Zhu Zaiyu took a step forward, picked up the short knife and examined it carefully, and suddenly said in a sharp voice: "It is the secret sign of Prince Fu's Palace!"

A word stirred up a thousand waves.

The officials were talking to each other, some stretched their necks to see what was going on, some whispered, and glanced at Prince Fu Zhu Changrun from time to time.

Prince Fu's face turned pale in an instant, then flushed red, and he was furious: "Nonsense! This is a frame-up! It's obvious that someone deliberately framed me!"

Yi Huawei stood there with a calm expression. He reached out to take the dagger, threw it on the ground casually, and said in a low voice with unquestionable majesty: "This is the end of today's matter."

He slowly scanned the crowd, his eyes passing over every face. The officials caught by his gaze lowered their heads, not daring to look him in the eye. Some officials pretended to straighten their official uniforms, while others stared at the ground, not daring to make a sound.

"The grand court meeting will be held in three days, then——"

Yi Huawei paused, his tone calm but chilling: "No one who should be liquidated will escape."

Zhu Changrun gritted his teeth, his face livid. His fists clenched in his sleeves, making a creaking sound. He opened his mouth, wanting to refute, but after meeting Yi Huawei's cold gaze, he swallowed his words back. In the end, he just snorted coldly and turned his face away.

Qiu Chengyun was still kneeling on the ground, with his head lowered. If someone looked closely, they would find a barely perceptible smile flashing across his eyes. He slightly adjusted his posture, and placed his hands on the ground, in a respectful manner.

A gust of wind blew by, and the smell of blood gradually faded. Yi Huawei raised his head and looked towards the Forbidden City. The morning mist had completely dissipated, and the sun shone on the towering city walls.

………………

At noon, a gap appeared in the clouds, and the sunlight penetrated the lead-gray sky and flowed on the glazed tiles of the Forbidden City.

The snow in front of the Meridian Gate had not yet melted, and the sixty-four Jinwu Guards, dressed in iron armor, lined up in neat formations. The ice crystals condensed on the surface of the armor sparkled in the sun, standing like sculptures, and a solemn and murderous aura was overwhelming.

Yi Huawei stood at the Jinshui Bridge, the north wind blew up the corners of his black cloak, revealing the dark blue sleeves embroidered with cloud and dragon patterns. He reached out to catch a falling snowflake, watching the ice crystal gradually melt in his palm.

"Your Highness, please."

Zhu Zaiyu's voice was trembling. The old prince, who was in his seventies, was wrapped in a thick sable coat, and his withered fingers tightly grasped the jade sceptre. On the short ten-mile journey from Deshengmen to Wumen, Zhu Zaiyu nearly fell three times, but at this moment he insisted on leading the way for his grandson himself.

The dull sound of hinges rang out, and the middle door of the Meridian Gate opened. The door shafts creaked as they crushed the snow. Yi Huawei stepped onto the imperial road, and the soles of his boots landed on the golden bricks. In the distance, the copper bells on the eaves of the Hall of Supreme Harmony suddenly swung automatically, making a clear humming sound.

"Golden Bell..."

Xu Guangqi, the director of the Imperial Observatory, who was following behind him, was shocked and his voice gradually became lower. Shock and awe were intertwined on his face: "It is written in the Imperial Ming Ancestor Instructions that only when a real dragon enters the palace will…"

At this moment, the imperial guards on both sides of the corridor suddenly knelt down in unison. The sound of armor colliding spread like a tide along the three palace gates.

The young guard in the front row could not suppress his curiosity and secretly looked up, just in time to meet Yi Huawei's gaze. The gaze was as sharp as a sword, and he hurriedly lowered his head in shock. But at the moment of lowering his head, he caught a glimpse of the shadow reflected on his armor: the young man in black clothes walked steadily, and with every step he took, the snow under his feet melted away, revealing the reflection of the blood-red palace wall below.

Yi Huawei continued to walk forward. Wherever he walked, the snow melted and wisps of white mist rose from the floor tiles. This strange sight made everyone present hold their breath.

Prince Zheng Zhu Zaiyu looked at his grandson's back, and his eyes couldn't help but moisten. The fire thirty years ago almost destroyed the entire Prince Zheng's Palace. Now, the baby back then has grown into a monarch capable of taking on the responsibility of governing the country.

The snow on the glazed tiles at the side door of Wenhua Palace had not yet melted, and it shone coldly in the winter sun. More than a dozen guards stood on both sides of the palace gate holding long spears, and the white air they exhaled quickly condensed in the cold wind. Suddenly, hurried footsteps were heard in the distance, and the chief guard Wang Chengen frowned and pressed the hilt of the knife with his right hand.

"Who is trespassing——"

Looking at the person who came, his questioning stopped abruptly.

A dozen officials in scarlet robes came in at a brisk pace, their boots breaking the thin ice. The leader was the cabinet's deputy assistant Fang Congzhe. This powerful official, who was nearly sixty years old, did not ride in a sedan chair today. The hem of his dark purple robe was soaked by snow water, and beads of sweat oozed from his pale face.

Wang Chengen quickly stepped aside, but he caught a glimpse of several officials behind Fang Congzhe with different expressions - Shi Xing had a sneer on his face, the Minister of Revenue Li Ruhua kept wiping his forehead, and the Right Deputy Censor-in-Chief of the Censorate Zhang Heming had a strange light in his eyes.

Fang Congzhe suddenly stopped ten steps away from the palace wall, his eyes passed over the snow-covered white marble railings, and stared at the dark figure standing under the palace wall.

In an instant, the pupils of this old minister who had served through three dynasties suddenly shrank, and his right hand unconsciously clutched the robe in front of his chest.

Yi Huawei stood with his back to the crowd, his dark gold-woven python robe was particularly eye-catching against the snow. He turned slowly, the jade belt around his waist shone with a warm luster in the sun. When the face that was seven points similar to the portrait of Taizu in the Taimiao was fully revealed, Fang Congzhe's throat rolled and his legs trembled uncontrollably.

"Mr. Fang was still claiming to be ill last night."

Qiu Chengyun took a half step forward, his voice was very low but every word was clear, with a hint of sarcasm:
"Now he's walking briskly."

Fang Congzhe pretended not to hear anything, his eyes glued to the shallow scar between Yi Huawei's eyebrows - the "Hongwu Records" stored in the Imperial Ancestral Temple recorded that Taizu was scratched by a stray arrow during the Northern Expedition. What made him even more horrified was that when Yi Huawei's eyes swept over, the secret report in his sleeve that impeached "evil people and misled the people" suddenly became hot, and the edge of the parchment turned yellow for no reason.

"Lord Fang."

Yi Huawei spoke in a calm voice, but it made the guards thirty steps away straighten their backs at the same time.

Fang Congzhe's knees slammed heavily on the snow. This old official who usually dared to be perfunctory even to the emperor, now had his forehead pressed against the ice brick, his official hat tilted to reveal his graying temples. The snow soaked his knees, but the biting cold was nothing compared to the fear that welled up in his heart.

Yi Huawei approached slowly, his deerskin boots making a crackling sound as they crushed the snow. When the shadow covered his head, Fang Congzhe smelled a wisp of pine resin mixed with the smell of rust. He looked up secretly and saw the other person's right hand hanging at his side, with a little vermilion on his slender fingers.

"I heard that the elder has studied the Hongwu Zhengyun in depth."

The hem of the black dress stopped in front of Fang Congzhe, and the cloud and python pattern embroidered with gold thread shone slightly in the sun: "Do you know which kind of cinnabar Emperor Taizu liked to use the most when reviewing memorials?"

Fang Congzhe's throat rolled. This question was strange, but he had been in the imperial court for decades. His mind raced, and he replied, "My Lord, it is blood sand from Chenzhou. It is mixed with South China Sea pearl powder, and it turns into golden light when exposed to light, so Taizu's red is different from others..."

"wrong."

The word "light and fluttering" made Fang Congzhe feel like he was falling into an icy cave. Yi Huawei raised his right hand, and the red dots on his fingertips shone with a metallic luster under the light of the snow.

"It's Yunnan meteorite iron sand."

With a slight turn of his wrist, a drop of cinnabar fell on the snow: "You need to use the water from the Jade Spring of Mount Hua when grinding."

"Swish..." A wisp of green smoke rose up the moment the cinnabar touched the snow. Fang Congzhe stared with wide eyes, watching the red spread in the pure white, burning a hole as big as a bowl in the blink of an eye. The flame was not the common orange-red, but a strange bluish-white, silently devouring the three-foot-thick snow. Several timid officials gasped, and the Minister of Rites even stumbled back and knocked down the flagpole behind him.

When the flames died down, the black basalt tiles were exposed on the ground. Fang Congzhe crawled forward, not even noticing his official robe dragging across the charred snow. When he saw the seven characters "In the twelfth month of the Jiashen year, presented by the King of Yan" engraved on the brick surface, his blood seemed to freeze - this was exactly the handwriting he had seen in the secret archives when he was young!
"This... This is impossible..."

Tongzhengshi Yang Sichang squeezed to the front row, his goatee trembling violently: "How could the floor tiles of Jiashen year be buried here!"

"Lord Yang, be careful with your words!"

Zhu Zaizhen suddenly shouted. The old prince, who was over 70 years old, was supported by two guards, but his cloudy old eyes sparkled with brilliance: "According to the archives of the Ministry of Works during the reign of Emperor Chengzu, the square in front of the Hall of Supreme Harmony was rebuilt in the first year of the Yongle reign."

The crowd suddenly became agitated. Several Hanlin Academy scholars exchanged glances. They knew better than anyone what the three characters "Yan Wang Xian" meant when they appeared in the Jiashen year (the fourth year of Jianwen). The young attendant Wang Wenyan was about to speak when he was grabbed by a hand from behind. His teacher, the Donglin elder Zou Yuanbiao, shook his head imperceptibly.

"Sorcery! This is sorcery!"

A sharp shout broke the silence. Zhang Heming, the Right Deputy Censor of the Metropolitan Censorate, rushed out of the crowd. His black hat wings kept shaking due to the violent movement, and half of the yellow talisman paper was exposed at his sleeves. He pointed at Yi Huawei and shouted loudly: "My colleagues, don't be fooled by such tricks..."

The sound suddenly stopped.

Yi Huawei still stood there, his right hand still in an empty grip. Three feet away, Zhang Heming's black gauze hat suddenly exploded, revealing his bald head amid the flying silk fragments - a blood-colored lotus pattern suddenly appeared on it!

"White Lotus Sect's Ninth-Rank Lotus Seal!"

Luo Sigong cried out, his right hand already on the Embroidered Spring Sword. The Jinyiwei behind him took three steps forward in unison, but when Yi Huawei raised his eyes, they all froze, as if nailed to the spot by an invisible force.

"In the 22nd year of the Wanli reign, you were ordered by the Shandong Provincial Governor to wipe out the White Lotus Sect."

Yi Huawei flicked his fingertips, and a wisp of purple air broke through the air and accurately penetrated Zhang Heming's brow. "But he released the Saint Girl privately in exchange for a thousand taels of gold. Is this true?"

Zhang Heming collapsed to the ground, with dark water stains on the hem of his official uniform. He tried to explain, but found his tongue was as stiff as iron, and could only make "ho ho" gasps. A fishy smell filled the cold air. Several officials standing nearby took a few steps back at the same time, with disgust on their faces.

This scene shocked everyone present. Even the most stubborn Zhejiang Party officials lowered their heads, not daring to look Yi Huawei in the face. Several nobles who had accepted bribes from the White Lotus Sect were trembling and could hardly stand. Yao Zongwen, the right assistant minister of the Ministry of Works, even began to secretly take off the Hetian jade pendant from his waist - it was the gift from Zhang Heming last year.

Yi Huawei looked around at the crowd. Wherever his eyes passed, the officials either lowered their heads or glanced sideways. No one dared to look him in the eye.

"Liu Yirong."

Yi Huawei suddenly called out the name.

The editor of the Imperial Academy at the end of the queue trembled all over and almost knocked over the tablet in his hand. The young representative of the Donglin faction barely managed to stabilize his body, but saw a bamboo scroll flew out of Yi Huawei's sleeve and landed steadily at his feet.

"On the seventh day of the third month of the first year of the Tianqi reign, you took in two storytellers in your hometown of Jishui, Jiangxi."

Yi Huawei's voice suddenly became vague, as if it came from far away: "Is this true?"

Liu Yirong fell to his knees. He had never mentioned this matter to anyone else. The two men were actually spies of the White Lotus Sect, and he had secretly let them go.

"Drag it!"

Yi Huawei waved his hand, and Qiu Chengyun understood and signaled several of his men to take the two away.

"boom--"

The gilded bronze door slowly opened in front of Yi Huawei, and the eighteen red lacquered dragon-carved screens unfolded one after another. When Yi Huawei stepped over the last threshold, a ray of sunlight happened to penetrate the clouds and cast the shadow of the golden dragon pillar on him. The officials outside the palace looked up and saw that the black figure and the dragon shadow overlapped perfectly, as if a real dragon was coiling around the pillar.

Shi Xing stood in the crowd, his eyes flashing with complex light. He quietly stepped back a few steps and whispered to his confidant beside him: "Send someone to investigate immediately. I want to know... everything this prince has been doing for the past ten years."

The guard leader Zhao Nanxing suddenly knelt on one knee, and then the Jinyiwei in line knelt down one after another like waves of wheat blown down by the wind, and the sound of the Embroidered Spring Swords hitting the ground came one after another.

The palace door was wide open, and the cold wind blew in fine snow. As the candlelight flickered, Yi Huawei's fingertips ran across the cloud and dragon patterns on the armrests of the dragon throne.

It was cool to the touch, with fine carvings, and every pattern exuding the solemnity of imperial power. This was not the first time he had touched this dragon chair - when he was prime minister in the Qin Dynasty, he had stood beside the throne of the First Emperor and watched the emperor review the bamboo slips.

Now, he is going to sit in this chair.

There were footsteps outside the hall, and the officials were talking in low voices, but no one dared to enter rashly.

"Send the order." Yi Huawei did not turn around, and said calmly: "Tomorrow at noon, the six ministries, the nine ministers, the five military commanders, and the censors of all provinces will gather in Fengtian Hall to discuss matters."

Luo Sixian stood at the palace gate, hesitantly looking at the Minister of Rites Zhou Daodeng. According to convention, the decree to summon all officials must be drafted by the cabinet, approved by the Ministry of Rites, and then transmitted by the Ministry of Public Administration to the six departments for copying.

But what Yi Huawei said just now sounded like a direct military order.

Zhou Daodeng sweated profusely on his forehead. He opened his mouth, wanting to remind him that this was against the rules, but swallowed the words back. The man in front of him even skipped the complicated ceremonies of body examination and recognition, and directly used martial arts to intimidate the officials. It was obvious that he was not someone who would play by the rules.

"I... obey your order."

Zhou Daodeng agreed reluctantly, and when he turned around, he winked at the young eunuch outside the palace. The young eunuch understood and quietly ran towards the Silijian.

Yi Huawei saw it out of the corner of his eye, but did not stop it. He walked slowly around to the front of the dragon throne and leaned over to examine the subtle signs of wear on the seat - the paint on the left armrest was polished to a shine, which was caused by the long-term friction of the elbows of successive emperors when reviewing memorials; the eyes of the carved dragon on the right were inlaid with two obsidian stones, one of which was slightly dim, probably because a king had scratched it with his fingernails in anger.

These details reminded him of the bronze imperial desk in the Xianyang Palace. When he assisted Emperor Qin Shi Huang, there was an inconspicuous dent on the corner of the desk, which was caused by the Emperor Qin Shi Huang smashing it with his imperial seal when he was furious.

Power leaves traces, just as history always repeats itself in some way.

"Your Highness."

Prince Zheng Zhu Zaiyu walked in with a cane, his old voice hesitant: "According to the ancestral system, before ascending the throne, one must first pay homage to the Imperial Ancestral Temple and offer sacrifices to heaven and earth..."

(End of this chapter)