At the end of the Yuan Dynasty, they called me a demonic monk.

Just then, the sound of armor clanging could be faintly heard outside the hall, one after another, growing louder as it approached. It was clear that it was not Yan Temur's personal guards who were closing in, because he had only brought ten personal guards. The deep, rhythmic sound of iron boots pounding the ground outside the hall was clearly not something that his few personal guards could produce!

That could only mean that Bayan's elite troops had taken control of the palace, and the key to the imperial city had changed hands in an instant!

A chilling atmosphere permeated the palace gates, and undercurrents surged beneath the night sky, ready to erupt at any moment. The tense atmosphere gradually eroded Yan Temur's once invincible arrogance.

At this moment, Yan Timur was like a wolf trapped on the edge of a cliff, surrounded no longer by a flock of docile sheep, but by another group of bloodthirsty hunters. He knew that if he insisted on opposing now, he would not only be disgraced, but his family would be destroyed and his blood splattered on the imperial court!

His hand holding the knife remained suspended in mid-air, but the cold glint of the blade had lost some of its sharpness. His gaze swept rapidly around—the composed Bayan had clearly come prepared; Empress Dowager Budashiri gripped her phoenix robe tightly, her pearl crown trembling slightly, her previous feigned resolve shattered by the words "blood edict."

Cold sweat silently soaked the back of his shirt. Struggle and fear clashed fiercely in his eyes, but ultimately, the cunning of weighing the pros and cons prevailed over the madness of a desperate gamble. Yan Timur's knuckles clenched tightly in his sleeves, but a layer of icy calm slowly formed on his face. He sheathed his sword, his movements deliberately slow, as if not in submission, but as a king bestowing a favor.

"Very well, then we shall follow Lord Bayan's suggestion." His voice deepened, no longer impassioned, yet each word carried the weight of iron and stone. "Please, Your Majesty, issue an edict to send envoys south to Guangxi to welcome back Toghon Temür."

Though his words were words of compromise, his gaze was equally sharp as a knife, unabashedly fixed on Bayan and the still-shaken Empress Dowager. This was not an admission of defeat, but a calculated retreat—he could hear the faint sounds of armored soldiers outside the palace, and he understood the terror in the Empress's eyes, shattered by the "blood edict." At this moment, continuing to resist would only lead to immediate bloodshed in the deep palace, bringing him nothing but harm.

He remained the all-powerful Grand Chancellor, and even with his schemes, Bayan had not yet truly shaken his foundation. Today's retreat was merely a chess player temporarily moving a piece in the face of a rapidly changing game, not an admission of defeat. He scoffed inwardly: Guangxi was far away, envoys needed time to travel, and unforeseen circumstances abounded. Who would have the last laugh remained to be seen. This moment of bowing his head was merely Yan Temur temporarily folding his wings in the howling wind.

Back at his residence, Yan Temur dismissed all his servants and stepped alone into the candlelit inner chamber. Scenes from Xingsheng Palace replayed in his mind like ghosts—a sense of defeat, an emotion he had almost forgotten, now gnawed at his very core like a venomous snake. The power he had painstakingly cultivated, the power he cherished like a treasure, had cracked under Bayan's relentless pressure! The thought sent a lump down his throat, a burning, violent rage shooting to his head, even blurring his vision with a bloodshot haze. Bayan—this increasingly illustrious name—was no longer just an opponent in the court, but a venomous thorn deeply embedded in his bones, one he would not tolerate until it was removed. This temporary retreat in Xingsheng Palace was by no means the end; to him, it was more like a fuse buried deep in the ashes, waiting for the wind to rise and ignite a fire that would consume the heavens and the earth.

The brightly lit room illuminated Yan Timur's grim face. He tapped his fingertips heavily on the sandalwood table, the sound deep and resonant.

"Didn't he, Boyan, pride himself on his loyalty and integrity, aspiring to be a pillar of the nation?" The voice was low and hoarse, yet carried a chilling venom from the desolate northern desert: "Then let him taste... what it means for public opinion to melt metal, what it means for accumulated slander to destroy bones."

The trusted advisor standing by knew his lord was truly enraged. He held his breath and bowed low, not daring to miss a single word. Only then did he hear the icy voice continue to be forced from between clenched teeth, carrying even deeper calculation and ruthlessness:

"Go find it. Turn over every old file in the Censorate, dig three feet into the ground, and find some old cases or flaws that can implicate his former subordinates, or even him himself. Embezzlement of military funds, collusion with foreign vassals, past misconduct... no matter how small, you can make a big deal out of it." He paused slightly, a bloodthirsty glint flashing in his eyes, almost freezing the air. "If you really can't find it..." He sneered, the laughter sounding particularly chilling in the secret room.

"Then create one. Treason, embezzlement, witchcraft... whatever it may be, make sure he can't defend himself."

After speaking, he slowly leaned back, his entire body sinking into the deep shadow of the armchair, like a alpha wolf licking its wounds and gathering strength in the dark. Only his eyes, in the dim light, still gleamed with an undeniable killing intent.

"I want him to die a just death, a death that... is known to the whole world."

The night was as dark as ink, but the study in Boyan's residence was brightly lit. Boyan walked slowly to the window with his hands behind his back, gazing at the deep, silent night outside. After a long while, he spoke in a low voice, "It's going to rain... Remember to bring in the laundry beforehand."

Upon hearing this, Tuotuo's eyes sharpened, and he immediately understood the deeper meaning behind his uncle's words. He calmly replied, "Uncle, rest assured, the clothes at home have already been packed and the doors and windows have been reinforced."

Bayan slowly turned around. The lamplight swept across his profile, casting faint shadows on his nose and eye sockets, making his usually stern face appear somewhat unfathomably sinister. His voice was even lower, almost blending into the rustling night wind outside the window:

"This rain... it's probably going to be heavy. There might even be thunderstorms." His gaze was sharp and fixed on Tuotuo's face. "Those of us standing on high ground are the most conspicuous... I'm afraid we've already been targeted by the lightning."

The night was deep, and the lamplight occasionally crackled and popped in the silence. Upon hearing this, Tuotuo stepped forward, his figure appearing exceptionally tall in the light. His voice was not loud, but each word was clear and precise, revealing meticulous care: "I have already had the lightning protection checked, and the warehouse is well-stocked with raincoats and straw hats. Even in a torrential downpour, the house will be perfectly protected."

Boyan nodded slightly, a hint of relief flashing in his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by solemnity: "It's good that you're so cautious. But remember, the nature of rain is unpredictable. It can nourish all things, but it can also turn into a raging torrent. We must not only stand firm and guard against being soaked and blinded by this sudden wind and rain... but also learn to seize the opportunity."

He paused briefly, and the air in the room seemed to freeze:

"Let this heavy rain wash away some things... things that should no longer exist."

Just then, the candlelight crackled and popped again, the flames leaping upwards and illuminating the equally resolute and determined faces of the uncle and nephew. The flickering flames cast shimmering shadows in their deep eyes, as if foreshadowing an imminent upheaval that would sweep across the court and the country.