Governing the country, enriching the people, an unparalleled imperial tutor

Only Prince An's voice remained in the side hall.

He walked around the officials lying on the ground, taking two steps toward Zhao Yan. He passed those who were still conscious—several young officials sitting against the wall, clearly not completely unconscious, their eyes unfocused but still open—their gazes following the dark purple figure. Prince An stopped three steps away from Zhao Yan, bent down to pick up a shard of broken porcelain from the ground, twirled it between his fingers, and then placed it back on the table.

"Your Majesty," Prince An's voice wasn't loud, but it was clear enough to be heard even in the farthest corner of the side hall, "how many years have you been sitting in this chair? Since the late emperor left, have you ever made a single decent decision on your own? Grain prices were stabilized by others, the Northern Barbarians were driven away by others, the irrigation canals were built by others, even that experimental field outside the city—was cultivated by others. You've been sitting on the throne for years, have you seen enough?"

Zhao Yan was tied to the back of a chair, his arms bound behind his back, the knots tightly secured, leaving deep red marks on his wrists from the rough hemp rope. He looked up at Prince An, too angry to utter a single word.

Several senior officials were tied to round stools. Some of them still had ginger and vinegar stains on their faces from when they fell over. The ropes were tied very tightly, and the rough hemp surface was covered with tiny bloodstains. Some were trying to lift their heads, while others had completely lost consciousness and were leaning against the back of the chair, breathing weakly.

Li Chong stood by the window, Duan Heng leaned against the door frame, and Helian Mu squatted in the corner, each occupying one of the three directions.

Prince An turned to his officials, his voice rising slightly: "Look at him—how many words did he utter? How many of them were of his own volition? Did a mere youth decide upon your empire, your taxes, your border defenses? The Zhao family's empire, by the time it reached him, was nothing but an empty shell. He sits there merely occupying the chair; the empire was built up by generations of emperors, and it was I who guarded your borders in the southwest for twenty years, allowing you to peacefully drink tea and feast in the capital!"

He tapped the porcelain shard lightly on the table: "This empire should be handed over to someone capable, experienced, and who has truly dedicated himself to Xuan Shuo. I—am more suitable than this child." After he finished speaking, he looked down at Zhao Yan, observing the change in his expression after hearing these words.

Zhao Yan remained unusually calm, his gaze never wavering as he stared directly at Prince An, observing his uncle's ruthless actions.

Helianmu stood up, walked to the door, and nodded to the outside. A moment later, four armored soldiers carried two iron barrels into the side hall, the rims of the barrels emitting cold air.

Prince An walked to the nearest tin bucket, bent down, scooped up a ladle of cold water, and approached the nearest old minister—the very same Vice Minister of Revenue who had been the first to collapse. The ladle of water was poured over his head, causing the old minister to choke violently, coughing as he straightened up from his chair. His unfocused gaze gradually sharpened. He recognized Prince An before him, then glanced at his bound colleagues and the emperor in the hall, his voice hoarse and shrill: "Prince An, you—you've rebelled?"

Prince An did not answer. Instead, he scooped up another ladle of water and splashed it at the Ministry of Rites official beside him. The cold water poured down his collar and into the back of his neck, jolting the man awake. He struggled for a moment, then realized his wrists were bound. When he looked up, his eyes were still dazed, but he quickly understood where he was: "Prince An, what you have done today is no different from treason!"

Cold water was poured down, ladle after ladle. Coughing echoed throughout the side hall; some people choked on the water and couldn't speak, while others struggled as soon as they woke up, the rope digging into their wrists, leaving dark red marks on the rough, pockmarked skin.

Prince An stood there, waiting for the last drop of water to drain from the ladle, then tossed it back into the bucket: "My colleagues, I'm here today for nothing more than to urge you to open your eyes and see the true state of affairs. Before you stands a mere child who can't even take care of himself—are you willing to continue wasting your time with him, or would you prefer someone who can truly stand up for you to take this position?"

The Vice Minister of Revenue leaned back in his chair, catching his breath for a while, before slowly raising his gaze. He glanced at Zhao Yan, then at the broken porcelain shards on the ground and the red silk beneath the beam, and shouted, "You traitorous scoundrel!"

The official from the Ministry of Rites beside him looked up, water droplets still clinging to his lips. "You're here cursing His Majesty, but you've been managing things in the southwest for twenty years. What have you done for Xuan Shuo? Have you ensured the people have enough to eat? Have you made the Northern Di retreat? Have you ordered the construction of irrigation canals in Ji Province? Besides training troops and stockpiling grain in your own fiefdom—" He gasped, his breath catching in his throat, before continuing, "What else have you done?"

No one answered Prince An's question. Just then, a clerk from the Ministry of Works lowered his head and said in a low voice, "The court is indeed unstable... If Prince An can stabilize things..." Before he could finish speaking, the person next to him turned to look at him. Their eyes were filled with anger. The clerk didn't continue, looking down at the red marks on his wrist, and didn't look up again.

The Vice Minister of Revenue shifted his gaze from the official in charge and turned back to Prince An: "Even if you kill me, I will still say the same thing. Traitorous ministers, may you be childless and without descendants."

Prince An snorted coldly. He walked to Helian Mu's side, bowed his head, and said, "Take these people to the city wall. After our army enters the city, we'll first execute the young emperor and the Grand Preceptor. As for the rest, well, those who submit to me prosper, those who oppose me perish. Choose your own fate."

Helian Mu turned and went out to arrange manpower. Duan Heng leaned against the door frame, the corners of his mouth still bearing that faint smile, as if he were watching a play whose ending he already knew, only now it was finally coming to an end.

Zhao Yan sat in the main seat, his hair wet with water. He didn't look down at the bloody marks on his wrists, nor at the officials being led out of the side hall. His gaze passed over Prince An's shoulder and landed on Lin Yanzhou.

Lin Yanzhou stood beside a pillar on the side of the side hall, already bound. His gaze fell on Zhao Yan, and across several rows of officials being gradually lifted up, he slightly twitched his lips, indicating that he was reassured.

Prince An walked up to Lin Yanzhou and said mockingly, "Rumors say you're a celestial being descended to earth. Come, let this old man see what kind of magical arts you have to turn the tables, hahaha..."