Joy of Life: Me, the Second Prince? Summon Yuan Tiangang!

Currently reading: Chapter 187 Sweeping Across the World, latest chapters available here.

The autumn of the first year of Zhaowu arrived earlier and was more bleak than in any other year.

This grand war, which later historians called the "War of Zhaowu's Conquest of the State," did not become a protracted quagmire as the world had predicted. Instead, it came to a swift and astonishing end.

Without Ku He, the Northern Qi was like a wolf pack without its totem; without Si Gu Jian, the Dongyi City was like a tiger without its fangs.

Faced with absolute military superiority, any conspiracy or trickery appears pale and powerless.

The fall of Dongyi City began from within. Li Chengze ordered the blockade of the sea and the severing of trade routes, and in just two months, this prosperous city, which relied on trade for its livelihood, was plunged into unprecedented panic.

With soaring prices and food shortages, once-wealthy merchants, faced with mountains of unsellable goods, desperately chose to compromise.

Although the disciples of Jianlu clamored to live and die with the city, under the indiscriminate bombardment of the Nanqing Navy's cannons led by Wang Shifei, their exquisite swordsmanship could not even touch the hem of the enemy's clothes before turning into a rain of blood.

Finally, the city lord of Dongyi City opened the city gates wide, bared his chest, led a sheep, and knelt before the banner of the Nanqing army.

The defeat of the Northern Qi was filled with mystery and bloodshed.

Ye Zhong's 300,000-strong army pressed forward relentlessly on the main battlefield, like a mountain pressing down on them. Although Uesugi Tora was a brilliant strategist, he could only struggle to hold on due to the disparity in national strength and the absolute inferiority in troop numbers.

What truly dealt a fatal blow to Northern Qi were the two sharp knives secretly cultivated by Li Chengze—the Great Snow Dragon Riders and a mysterious and terrifying organization, the Bad People.

Led by Chen Zhibao, 30,000 Great Snow Dragon Cavalry, like ghosts from hell, rampaged through the heart of Northern Qi. They didn't attack cities or seize territory; they did only one thing: destruction. They burned grain supplies, cut off water sources, and slaughtered the troops escorting the supplies. Northern Qi's supply lines were shattered, and the troops at the front lines went hungry, their morale plummeting.

Even more terrifying than the Snow Dragon Riders was the Bad Commander.

He led his thirty-six Heavenly Generals and seventy-two Earthly Fiends, infiltrating the capital of Northern Qi like mercury spilling onto the ground.

After Ku He's death, the Northern Qi royal family lost its last protector.

The assassination methods of the Bad People were extremely cruel and efficient. In just half a month, the pro-war ministers in the Northern Qi court died one after another at home, and even the defenses of the Empress Dowager's palace were breached silently.

When the ruthless commander held the cold Tang sword to the neck of the young emperor of Northern Qi, Zhan Doudou, the Empress Dowager of Northern Qi finally broke down.

On the eighth day of the eleventh month of the first year of Zhaowu, the Northern Qi announced its unconditional surrender.

The once invincible Northern Qi royal family, including the Empress Dowager, the young Emperor Zhan Doudou, Li Li's relatives, and those prestigious families, were all stripped of their titles and stuffed into simple carriages. Under the escort of the Southern Qing cavalry, they embarked on a desolate journey to the capital.

With this, the world was at peace.

Li Chengze, the young Emperor Zhaowu, accomplished in less than a year the great feat that all previous emperors had dreamed of, completely unifying this continent under the black dragon flag of Daqing.

However, for the officials in Kyoto, the end of the external war did not mean the arrival of a peaceful and prosperous era. On the contrary, it foreshadowed an even more terrifying storm that was about to sweep through the court.

When the cunning rabbit dies, the hunting dog is cooked; when the birds are all gone, the good bow is put away.

Now that the realm is at peace, the new emperor's gaze will naturally turn back to the country, and to those courtiers who wavered or even secretly gambled during the change of imperial power. Cleaning up the court and consolidating power in the emperor's hands is an inevitable path for every founding emperor.

The entire city of Kyoto was shrouded in an oppressive, deathly silence.

……

……

The Investigation Bureau, once a secret service agency that struck fear into the hearts of the people, now appeared particularly desolate in the cold winter wind.

In the deepest part of the Forensic Laboratory, in that dark room that never sees the light of day and is only illuminated by a few dim oil lamps, the air seemed to solidify, filled with the smell of old paper, a faint musty odor, and an indescribable stench of decay.

The wooden wheels of the wheelchair rolled over the bluestone floor, making a dull "creak, creak" sound.

Chen Pingping sat in his wheelchair, draped in his signature black wool cloak. His face was hidden in shadow, and his already pale complexion now appeared even more ashen. His eyes, which had once been as sharp as a hawk's and seemed to see through all the conspiracies of the world, were now bloodshot, empty and unfocused.

Standing opposite him was Fan Xian, dressed in black.

Fan Xian had lost weight, and a bluish stubble had grown on his chin. He exuded a deep weariness and a sense of vicissitude. In the past year, it was as if he had experienced a long and absurd dream.

"Have you thought it through?"

A hoarse and dry voice broke the deathly silence of the dark room. Chen Pingping slowly raised his head and looked at Fan Xian in front of him.

Fan Xian took a deep breath and smiled bitterly: "I've thought it through. Dean, I'm tired, really tired. The waters of this capital are too deep, the court politics are too cold, I can't handle it, and I don't want to play anymore."

He walked to a wooden chair and sat down, his hands hanging limply at his knees, his gaze drifting to the flickering candlelight: "The world is now unified, Your Majesty... The current Your Majesty is more ruthless and direct than the late Emperor. He doesn't need checks and balances, he doesn't need loyal ministers; he wants absolute obedience. My presence here is nothing but an eyesore."

"I want to resign from my position as the Director of the Censorate and return to Danzhou with my father and Uncle Wuzhu." Fan Xian's voice carried a hint of longing, a final desire for a peaceful life. "I want to be a wealthy old man living a carefree life, watching the sea and fishing every day, no longer concerned with any right or wrong in this world. This is probably the only thing I can do now."

Chen Pingping listened quietly, neither trying to persuade him to stay nor scolding him.

His withered fingers unconsciously traced patterns on the smooth armrests of his wheelchair. Beneath those armrests lay countless painstakingly crafted shotguns, capable of blasting a grandmaster to death at close range.

But now, this gun has forever lost its target.

"Retirement...a life of leisure..." Chen Pingping murmured these words repeatedly, and suddenly, he chuckled softly.

The laughter started softly, like the hooting of an owl, but then grew louder and more piercing, echoing in the empty, dark room and sending chills down Fan Xian's spine.

"Dean..." Fan Xian looked at him with concern. He could sense that Chen Pingping's mental state was on the verge of collapse.

Chen Pingping laughed so hard he coughed violently. He pulled out a white silk handkerchief and covered his mouth, coughing so hard it was excruciating. When he removed the handkerchief, a shocking smear of crimson blood was clearly visible on it.

He ignored the bloodstain, instead raising his head to look at Fan Xian with an extremely complex and sorrowful gaze.