Deposed? I couldn't be happier! I wouldn't even be a dog to the crown prince.

The cold, torrential rain once again washed over the bluestone slabs of Chang'an, but this time, the rain seemed to carry a strong sense of bloodshed and despair.

The sky was as dark as spilled ink, pressing heavily on the magnificent glazed tiles of the East Palace. A gale, carrying a curtain of rain, lashed against the stone lions flanking the palace gates, emitting sharp screechs. And outside those tightly closed vermilion gates, the scene that once symbolized the highest echelons of the Tang Dynasty was now a chillingly shattered mess.

The once invincible heads of the five surnames and seven powerful families, who could shake prices across half of Asia with a single cough in the Tang Dynasty's business world, are now gathered here in a sorry state.

Cui Yonglin had disappeared without a trace, and the remaining family heads were emaciated and dressed in rags.

The brocade robe that the head of the Lu family once wore, worth a hundred taels of gold and woven over three months by Suzhou's top embroiderers, was now soaked through with mud and water, clinging heavily to his emaciated, withered body. His eyes, which used to gleam with shrewdness and arrogance, were now just empty, deathly gray holes. He knelt mechanically in the cold mud like a soulless zombie.

Rainwater streamed down his hair and into his neck, the icy touch sending a shiver through him, but he felt nothing. He simply stretched out his calloused and bruised hands and desperately pounded on the door that would never open for them.

"Your Highness... help! This old minister has lost everything!"

The heart-wrenching cries were so faint in the torrential rain that they were instantly drowned out by the thunder.

The head of the Zheng family knelt to one side, his forehead bleeding from repeated slamming against the hard bluestone slab. The blood mingled with the rain, spreading into eerie pale red patches on the ground. These powerful figures, who once believed they could control the fate of the nation, had now lost all their arrogance. They trembled in the raging storm, each one humbled to the dust, desperately seeking a sliver of hope in the aftermath of the financial tsunami they had instigated.

However, behind this heavy palace gate, which seemed to separate two worlds, the scene inside presented an extreme absurdity.

Inside the side hall of the East Palace, the originally chilly air was completely filled with a hot and enticing aroma.

In the center of the hall stands a brass hot pot, exquisitely carved with dragon patterns. The red oil simmers and bubbles under the heat of the charcoal fire, making a "glug, glug" sound, like a joyful chorus. Fresh spices boil in the boiling water, their powerful aroma lingering on the roof beams.

Li Chengqian was sitting casually on a large armchair, the black trench coat he had been wearing was now draped over the back of the chair.

He held a pair of extremely long silver chopsticks in his hand, his eyelids slightly raised, staring lazily at the pot.

"Splash—"

Li Chengqian picked up a slice of top-grade Wagyu tripe, sliced ​​as thin as a cicada's wing with clearly defined texture. He moved it slowly and rhythmically, lifting it up and down in the bubbling red oil broth.

His hands were very steady.

He remained as steady as a mountain, and even as a historic collapse unfolded outside the door, his fingertips did not tremble even slightly due to the earth-shattering cries.

The tripe, glistening with red oil, emitted an irresistible aroma. Li Chengqian blew on it, slowly putting it into his mouth with a satisfied sigh. The stark contrast between the steamy atmosphere inside the hall and the deafening wails outside pushed a near-cruel sense of pleasure to its peak. In his eyes, those family heads kneeling in the rain were nothing more than discarded pieces on his financial chessboard, not even worthy of affecting his appetite.

In the hidden shadows of the East Palace wall, several dark figures were moving cautiously.

That was a top reporter from the Tang Dynasty Royal Newspaper.

They held up the latest holographic capture devices, now fitted with a waterproof coating. Each time a bolt of lightning ripped across the sky, a flash of light would follow, blinking frequently in the dim rain, making a "click, click" sound.

To the heads of the Cui and Lu families, the sound of those camera shutters was more terrifying than the clanging of the guillotine gates.

These images are being transmitted back to the editorial department in real time via microwave.

Tomorrow, every newspaper in the Tang Dynasty will carry on its front page images of these former powerful figures kneeling in the rain, begging for mercy, their foreheads bloodied, looking utterly pathetic. This is no longer a simple economic war; it is a public, all-encompassing social execution. Li Chengqian, in this bloodless manner, has utterly trampled the centuries-old prestige of these aristocratic clans into the mire of the Tang Dynasty in a single second.

These images will become a permanent snapshot of the end of this era.

The white light from the spotlight illuminated the old face of the Lu family head, distorted by excessive despair, and the holographic capture device precisely captured that moment of terror.

This method of killing them by destroying their spirit is even more painful than cutting off their heads.

It was in this moment where tranquility and noise intertwined, destruction and enjoyment coexisted.

"Squeak—"

A side door to the inner palace of the East Palace was pushed open.

Xu Xiao strode in. His cold, hard armor was covered with glistening water droplets, which dripped to the floor from the edges. His usually stern aura softened for a moment as he stepped into the room filled with the aroma of hot pot.

He walked to Li Chengqian's side, bowed slightly, and spoke in a low, solemn voice.

"Your Highness, those people outside... their bones are practically frozen solid. Some of the older ones can't hold on any longer and look like they're about to freeze to death. What do you think... should we have the Snow Dragon Riders drive them away to prevent them from polluting our Eastern Palace grounds?"

As Xu Xiao spoke, he glanced out the window at the layers of rain, his tone revealing a disdain for the defeated general.

Li Chengqian did not look up.

He was intently dipping a piece of perfectly cooked tripe into the sauce, then stuffing it into his mouth and chewing it vaguely. The spiciness and meaty aroma exploded in his mouth, relieving most of the fatigue he had accumulated from the past few days of hard work.

Li Chengqian swallowed the tripe, took a sip of chilled sparkling water, and then leaned back lazily in his chair.

"Why chase them away? This is a rare sight."

Li Chengqian's lips curled into a meaningful smile, his gaze passing over the steaming hotpot as if he could see through the turmoil within the Taiji Palace.

"Make them kneel. The old man's internet addiction is probably kicking in too."