Sky Curtain: The opening scene explains the four major cases of the Ming Dynasty plus the early Ming

The studio lights shifted to a dim, deep blue, and the intricate web of relationships on the holographic screen slowly rotated. The red line representing Yan's faction and Prince Jing, and the green line representing the Jiangnan civil official group, were tightly intertwined in the center of the screen, presenting a relentless and agonizing struggle.

"Faced with the Yan faction and Prince Jing's frenzied encroachment in the south, what did Xu Jie do? Did he lead the memorial to denounce them? Did he slam his fist on the table in court and fight to the death?" Zhu Dijun shook his head repeatedly, letting out a disdainful sneer. "If he had done that, he wouldn't have been able to hold onto his position as the second prime minister; he would have followed in Yang Jisheng's footsteps long ago. To deal with thugs, you can only use methods more insidious than those of thugs."

He drew a meandering arc on the whiteboard.

"Xu Jie, that old fox, chose the most shady infiltration route. He secretly integrated the wealthy landowners and local gentry in Jiangnan who had been ruined by Prince Jing's land grabbing, and quietly transformed this huge public resentment into political donations to overthrow Yan."

Zhu Dijun pointed the pointer in his hand toward the West Garden of the Imperial Palace.

"The first step was a propaganda war, to destroy their spirit! What did Jiajing fear most in his life? 'Two dragons cannot meet.' The emperor feared his son seizing power, and guarded against his son like a thief. Xu Jie instructed his protégés to spread an extremely deadly rumor in major teahouses, restaurants, and private banquets of officials in the capital—"

He lowered his voice, mimicking that chilling, whispering tone:

"Yan Song wanted to harm Prince Yu and install Prince Jing as the crown prince."

A string of "Holy crap!" scrolled rapidly across the live stream's chat screen.

"Killing without shedding blood." When these words reached the Western Garden, they directly touched Jiajing's sore spot. "I'm not even dead yet, and you're already in a hurry to establish a new emperor? In an autocratic imperial system, this is called usurpation and treason! From this moment on, an irreparable rift was carved into Jiajing's trust in Yan Song."

"The second step." Zhu Dijun put away his pointer, placed his fingertips together in front of his chest, and said, "Local officials are going on a rampage. Xu Jie arranged for the censors to submit memorials to Jiajing every few days, not impeaching anything else, but impeaching the Yan faction for corruption in the local areas. Every word and sentence was implying one message to the emperor—that Prince Jing's outrageous behavior in the south was all the Yan faction using the imperial name to amass wealth."

"Your Majesty, look. The land your son seized and the money he collected all ended up in Yan Shifan's pocket." Zhu Dijun spread his hands, his expression extremely amused. "Jiajing is extremely stingy. We've talked about 'my money' before. This Prince Jing, this front man, not only didn't give the money to the emperor to build Taoist temples, but instead fed it all to Yan's faction. Who can tolerate this?"

With these two consecutive deadly moves, the red light representing the Yan Party's defensive positions on the big screen began to peel away layer by layer.

"The groundwork has been laid. Jiajing has completely lost patience with Prince Jing. But as long as Prince Jing is alive, the Yan faction will have a reason to rise again." Zhu Dijun took a deep breath, his tone becoming extremely cold. "So, in the forty-fourth year of Jiajing's reign, this great power struggle came to its final moment. Prince Jing fell ill."

The holographic scene shifts to the Prince Jing's Mansion in De'an. The gates are tightly closed, and a low cough can be heard from inside.

"A twenty-nine-year-old prince fell ill. Logically, the Imperial Medical Academy should have dispatched top doctors day and night to treat him, and local officials should have poured the best medicines from their warehouses into the prince's residence." Zhu Dijun tapped the blackboard. "But what actually happened?"

He wrote two extremely damaging words on the whiteboard: "procrastination".

"At this point, Xu Jie was the one who called the shots in the cabinet. When the memorial announcing Prince Jing's serious illness was sent to the capital, the processing became strangely lengthy. Send imperial physicians? Yes. But when they would arrive? What medicines they would bring? It was all under the micromanagement of the civil service group."

"In the medical environment of ancient times, where emergency care was scarce, murdering a member of the royal family didn't require poisoning at all." Zhu Dijun's eyes were terrifyingly deep. "You only needed to cut off his effective communication with the capital, administer the wrong dosage of even a single tonic, or simply delay him on the road for ten or fifteen days. That's medical malpractice? No, that's damn political sterilization!"

The image on the screen froze instantly. The flame representing King Jing's life was extinguished completely in a deathly silence.

"On the ninth day of the first lunar month, Prince Jing died suddenly. He left no last words and no heirs. He didn't even get to see his birth mother, Consort Lu Jing, one last time."

The studio was so quiet that you could hear Zhu Dijun breathing clearly.

"Is it over once someone dies? Don't be naive. The civil service is notorious for taking advantage of people and leaving them with nothing." Zhu Dijun kicked aside the wastebasket and roared, "The body is barely cold, and the Jiangnan tycoons and local officials pounce on it like sharks smelling blood!"

Documents detailing the investigation of land holdings flew across the screen like snowflakes.

"The tens of thousands of hectares of land and countless lakes, ponds, and fishing taxes that Prince Jing seized during his lifetime have all been seized and liquidated. But has this enormous wealth been returned to the national treasury? Has it been given back to the people?" Zhu Dijun sneered repeatedly, his eyes full of contempt.

"Dream on! It's just a transfer from one hand to the other, nominally 'returning it to the people,' but in reality, it all ended up in the pockets of local gentry and civil official families. This asset restructuring triggered by Prince Jing's sudden death has made the Jiangnan financial magnates extremely wealthy. Xu Jie not only completely severed the political foundation of the Yan faction, but also completed a textbook-level wealth harvest!"

In the upper right corner of the large screen, a solitary figure is displayed: Prince Yu, Zhu Zaiji.

"And look at our Prince Yu, who won without lifting a finger." Zhu Dijun walked over and pointed at the figure. "He did nothing, just hid in his palace every day, living in constant fear. And what happened? His rival died mysteriously. The Yan faction lost its biggest backer. He became Jiajing's only surviving son, the unique and legitimate heir to the Ming Empire."

"But is it really just luck?" Zhu Dijun turned around, looked directly at the camera, and every word he uttered was icy. "Xu Jie and the Jiangnan civil official group have been secretly protecting him from beginning to end. What they need is a monarch who has no foundation, is weak-willed, and has to rely on civil officials to secure his rule."

He typed the final command on the holographic keyboard. The timeline jumped to the 45th year of the Jiajing reign.

"The following year, Emperor Jiajing passed away. Xu Jie drafted his will overnight. In this will, he thoroughly denounced the malpractices of the Jiajing reign and completely purged the Jing Prince and the Yan faction of their collusion. Prince Yu, stepping on the red carpet paved by these veteran officials, smoothly ascended the throne and became known as the Longqing Emperor."

Zhu Dijun spread his hands out.

"Everyone, have you seen through the essence behind this? The death of Prince Jing was not a natural disaster, but a man-made one. Prince Yu's ascension to the throne was not a succession of imperial power, but a perfectly executed coup victory by the civil service group. In this power struggle, imperial power has been completely usurped by the Jiangnan financial clique."

The Ming Dynasty, a parallel universe.

In the third month of the forty-fourth year of the Jiajing reign, the early spring wind, carrying the lingering chill of snow, swept along the surface of Taiye Pond and into the refined residence in the West Garden.

Inside the study, there were no palace maids or eunuchs. Even Lü Fang, the Grand Eunuch of the Directorate of Ceremonial who was usually inseparable from the emperor, had been sent far away to guard the outer hall.

Inside the enormous Bagua alchemy furnace, sandalwood burned, emitting bluish-gray smoke that wisps of it coiled around the roof beams.

Emperor Jiajing, Zhu Houcong, sat cross-legged on a prayer mat. This emperor, who had ruled the Ming Dynasty for over forty years, looked extremely old at this moment. Less than two months after the news of Prince Jing's death was sent to the capital, the grief of losing a son to his father had drained a large part of his already meager vitality.

His oversized Taoist robe hung loosely on his body, making him look like a skeleton draped in yellow silk.

Kneeling on the gold-brick ground directly in front of him was a young man dressed in a casual robe with a dragon motif. This was Prince Yu, Zhu Zaihou.

At this moment, Zhu Zaihou's body was trembling as if he had been soaking in an ice cave for three days and three nights. Cold sweat dripped from his forehead and chin, pattering into the cracks between the bricks in front of him. The back of his clothes was already soaked with sweat, and when the cold wind blew, it clung stickily to his spine.

In the center of the study, the blinding white light of the sky had just faded. Zhu Dijun's assertion about the "conspiracy theory of Prince Jing's death" still reverberated in the deathly silent space.

Jiajing slowly opened his eyes. In those old, bloodshot eyes, there was no anger, only an extreme coldness that showed he had seen through the cycle of life and death.

"Crown Prince."

Jiajing spoke. His voice was dry and hoarse, like two rough stones rubbing against each other.

What's your opinion on this matter?

Zhu Zaihou's body twitched suddenly, and his knees struck the gold bricks with a dull thud.

"What's being said in this celestial canopy is just the Zhao King's descendants spouting nonsense and talking rubbish..."

Jiajing's gaze was fixed on his son's head as if it were a physical object.

"Or is it true, or is it really true?"

This is absolutely the most damn deadly question in history.

Deny it? The Heavenly Curtain has stripped the entire chain of interests bare, leaving nothing behind. Even he, the emperor far away in the deep palace, couldn't hide the methods of Xu Jie and the Jiangnan civil officials. Admit it? That would be tantamount to telling his own father that he colluded with the civil official group, stood idly by, and even rejoiced at the murder of his younger brother.

The air in the study seemed to have solidified into a solid block of iron, making it hard to breathe.

Zhu Zaihou's Adam's apple bobbed violently. He closed his eyes, his fingers digging into the flesh of his palms until his nails bled. After a few seconds of struggle, he suddenly raised his head, and his usually timid face revealed an unprecedentedly ferocious and savage expression.

"Reporting to Father Emperor."

Zhu Zaihou's voice trembled, yet every word was clear.

"In this matter, I am the biggest beneficiary. I... have nothing to say."

They admitted it. No excuses, no shifting blame.

This is an extremely blatant surrender of power. In the bloody battlefields of imperial power, those who benefit are natural accomplices, needing no pretense of innocence.

Emperor Jiajing stared at his only son for a long time. Surprisingly, he did not get angry, did not pick up the paperweight beside him and throw it, and did not even call for the Imperial Guards outside the door.

He simply let out a long sigh. In that breath lay the helplessness of an aging emperor.

"Good. Very good."

Jiajing closed his eyes, his withered fingers tapping on his knee.

"The struggle for the crown prince position has always been the case. Li Shimin killed his brother and forced his father to abdicate, and our ancestor Zhu Di usurped the throne during the Jingnan Campaign. Born into an imperial family, there is no such thing as brotherly affection. The fourth prince (Prince Jing) was corrupt and greedy, and someone seized on his crimes, making him a pawn of powerful ministers. He died a just death. I have nothing to say."

Just as Zhu Zaihou was about to breathe a sigh of relief, Jiajing's next words were like a poisoned dagger, piercing straight through his heart.

"But what do you intend to do with Xu Jie, Zhang Juzheng, and all these civil officials from Jiangnan?"

Jiajing suddenly opened his eyes, a terrifying glint in them, and leaned forward, staring intently at Zhu Zaihou.

Don't forget.

Jiajing gave a forced smile. "It's all clearly stated on the celestial screen. You, the legitimate Longqing Emperor of the Ming Dynasty, only lived to be thirty-six. Thirty-six! You didn't even live to a fraction of my current age before you went to meet your ancestors!"

Jiajing slammed his hand on the table beside him, causing the teacup to fall and shatter on the floor.

"You don't actually believe what's written in that 'veritable record' about a terminal illness, do you?!"

Jiajing's voice became extremely stern.

"These weak and powerless scholars managed to send your fourth brother away in De'an without bloodshed through delaying tactics. Is it so difficult for them to send you away, to send away a puppet emperor who depends on them to ascend the throne?!"

Zhu Zaihou was struck dumb, frozen in place.

Thirty-six years old. This number on the screen was like a death warrant, stuck firmly to his forehead.

Yes, what makes him think he can control these civil officials? Xu Jie could eliminate Yan Song, who held power for twenty years, without making a sound, and he could also eliminate Prince Jing, who held military power abroad, without bloodshed. In their eyes, isn't he, Prince Yu, who has only survived because of their protection, just a legitimate stamping machine?

An emperor who listens to reason is a wise ruler. If an emperor dares to threaten their interests, thirty-six years old might be the maximum he can live!

Zhu Zaihou's breathing became more and more rapid, and the fear in his eyes gradually faded, replaced by a kind of wild madness like a beast driven to the brink of despair.

The crown prince, who had previously been trembling with fear in the court, barely daring to breathe, had now completely shed his disguise. The extremely violent and bloodthirsty genes flowing in the blood of the Ming imperial family were fully activated by Jiajing's scathing remarks.

He slowly straightened his back. Although his knees were still on the ground, his eyes had become icy cold.

"Reporting to Father Emperor."

Zhu Zaihou gritted his teeth, speaking slowly and deliberately, his killing intent no longer concealed.

"Civil officials abused their power, formed cliques to suppress dissent, deceived their superiors and subordinates, and attempted to usurp the emperor's authority..."

He kowtowed violently, his forehead slamming into the gold brick with a loud thud.

"These people... deserve to die!!!"

As Jiajing gazed at his son's profile, contorted with murderous intent, a complex mix of admiration flashed in his eyes. He had finally waited for this. He had waited for this cowardly son to grow the fangs of an emperor.

"Deserves to be killed? What are you going to use to kill him?"

Jiajing sneered and leaned back on the prayer mat. "Xu Jie now commands immense influence in the court, and most of the country is filled with his protégés and former officials. If you draw your sword now, you'll only die before you're thirty-six."

Jiajing stretched his hand behind him.

"Come closer."

Zhu Zaihou crawled two steps on his knees and approached Jiajing.

Jiajing took out a copper tally stained with oil and cinnabar from his wide sleeve and stuffed it into Zhu Zaihou's hand. It was an absolute secret tally for mobilizing the Northern and Southern Garrison Divisions of the Embroidered Uniform Guard.

"With the fourth prince dead, my show is almost over."

Jiajing's voice was as low as a whisper, yet it carried a chilling ruthlessness.

"Don't be in such a hurry to turn against me. Continue to play the role of a dutiful son and grandson, and continue to be a good student under Xu Jie's command. Wait until I pass away, until the situation is settled, then you can use this knife... Remember, you must summon Qi Jiguang, Yu Daqiu, and others. Don't trust the Beijing Army. My cousin and other ancestors of the Ming Dynasty trusted the Beijing Army, which had been infiltrated and turned into a sieve, too much, and ultimately their efforts failed!"

Jiajing pinched Zhu Zaihou's hand hard with his fingers.

"Once everything is ready, send them all on their way. Don't even think about exile; just kill them all, regardless of age or gender!"

Outside the study, the north wind howled even more fiercely, as if sounding the clarion call for the impending final purge of the Ming Dynasty's officialdom.