Who said the eldest daughter is crazy? She's clearly a woman of high rank and influence in the

The Empress's principle has always been the same: better to kill the innocent than let the guilty go free.

That night, six female officials in charge of the palace were detained and awaited trial. The Inner Palace Service was replaced three times, and even the servants who cleaned the palace roads were all replaced.

But once the fire was started, it couldn't be contained. Among those investigated were two of the Empress's long-standing spies in the outer court. Driven to desperation by the sudden resurfacing of old grievances, they rebelled abruptly that night.

Two female officials somehow obtained weapons and, along with four palace servants who were being held captive, rushed out of the forbidden room and fought their way to the central palace's sleeping quarters.

The empress was changing clothes in the inner chamber when the blade slashed through the palace lantern curtains. The cold light that broke through grazed her neck and cut a three-inch-long gash above her collarbone.

The imperial guards killed all the intruders within ten breaths, but when the Empress sat in front of her dressing table and looked down at the still bleeding wound on her collarbone, her face turned as white as the first snow of winter outside the palace.

"Summon the imperial physician and tell everyone that I have caught a cold; there is no need to make a fuss."

When the imperial physician was stitching her up, he said, "If it were just half an inch off, I would have touched her neck pulse." The empress listened to this with her eyes closed, but said nothing.

During the time she was recuperating, deep in the riverbed below the cliff outside Qixia Pass, a pair of hands reached out from the icy water and clung to the withered branches on the bank.

When Helian Jing climbed out of the water, he was soaking wet. A knife cut on his shoulder blade was white and chapped from being soaked in water, but he did not stop in his movements as he stood up.

He took the token that had saved him from the knife from his waist, casually threw it into the river, and walked north along the riverbank.

The night wind blew into his soaked clothes, making him bite his back teeth in the cold, but a very faint smile curved the corners of his mouth.

In the direction of Beishuo, the lights in the Imperial Preceptor's bedroom were still on.

On the first snow of winter, Tuoba Lie was testing a newly acquired sword in the warm pavilion in the backyard of the palace. The cold light of the unsheathed blade was reflected in his pupils.

The butler slipped a scroll of urgent news through the crack in the door. He took it, unfolded it, and read it for a few moments. The color drained from his cheekbones down his face.

The trade route outside Shuofeng Pass was one of the only two sources of income he had left in the court.

He had been operating the route for smuggling furs and medicinal herbs between the North and the South for seven years, with three transshipment stations and twelve intermediaries, generating nearly 100,000 taels of silver per quarter.

When Fu Yuan was alive, he sealed it once, but it wasn't completely sealed, so he built a new bridge at the gap.

But before he could even pave the bridge, the newly appointed governor of Dongjun, under the pretext of "suppressing smugglers," shut down three transfer stations overnight.

Tuoba Lie sheathed his sword and placed it on the table. He sat in the warm pavilion for the entire afternoon. At dusk, he summoned his advisors and said only six words: "The Imperial Advisor has been suffering from a headache lately."

Xi Yueli received the soup the day before the moonless night at the end of the month. The soup was brought from the royal kitchen by the Left Prime Minister's men. They said it was a new addition to the royal kitchen, made with snow lotus and black chicken, and that the king had specially ordered it for the Grand Preceptor.

Xi Yueli had just started to feel a slight tightness in the back of her head a few days ago, so she didn't suspect anything and drank most of the soup while it was hot. The taste of the soup was slightly inferior to the one she usually drank from the Beishuo Kitchen.

The headache of the moonless night arrived as expected, but this time the pain was worse than ever before, a burning sensation like hot coals pushing outwards from the inside of the skull.

She curled up on the couch, biting the back of her hand, and endured until dawn, thinking that the pain would subside as usual after the night was over. However, the burning pain did not go away when the next day dawned.

She managed to attend court for three days, her face growing paler each day. On the fourth day, as she stepped down the steps after court, a metallic taste rose in her throat, and as she turned her head away, dark red blood spilled from the corner of her lips.

She stood for three breaths, leaning against the pillar, swallowing back the second mouthful of blood that surged up, then wiped her lips with her sleeve before collapsing to the ground.

The following morning, news spread from the royal court that the Imperial Preceptor was critically ill.

The Left Prime Minister sealed off the gates of the Imperial Preceptor's residence, and everyone entering or leaving had to pass through his hands.

Three groups of renowned physicians from the Northern Shuo Royal Court arrived. After taking the patients' pulses, they looked at each other in bewilderment. The prescriptions they gave were largely the same: calming the mind, replenishing qi, and nourishing blood—all conventional remedies for headaches. None of them could tell what the ingredients in that bowl of soup were.

Xi Yueli was kept alive by the ginseng soup she was given every day. Her complexion turned from white to a bluish-gray, and her lips were so pale that they almost blended into her skin. She was slumped in the bedding on the couch, barely breathing.

On the night Xi Yueli collapsed from the poison, Tuoba Lie retrieved the roll of names that he had kept sealed for half a month from a secret compartment in the mansion.

The title page of the register lists twelve names, each one of his former subordinates who remained in their positions after he was stripped of his military power in the court—not high-ranking, but occupying important posts.

The Ministry of War had a chief clerk in charge of issuing documents for the transfer of border troops, the Ministry of Justice had an inspector in charge of filing case files, and the Ministry of Revenue had a deputy envoy in charge of verifying the winter grain sales of the three northern towns.

After he was stripped of his power, these people all backed down and openly stopped associating with him, but every corner of the roll of names was polished to a shine, as if the owner had never truly let go of it.

On the third day of Xi Yueli's coma, Tuoba Lie had already moved three pieces in his chess game.

The memorial submitted by the official in charge of the Ministry of War was approved by the king as "postponed," but the regent's note in the memorial, "Military affairs may be delayed," quietly spread among the civil and military officials.

The Left Prime Minister rejected three personnel transfer proposals in succession during the court assembly. He knew that the Regent was taking advantage of the Grand Preceptor's critical illness to reinsert the nails that had already been pulled out.

The Imperial Advisor has been in a coma for more than ten days.

The doctors in the medical clinics of Shuojing City spread the word in private that the Imperial Preceptor's illness was very strange. His pulse clearly indicated a deficiency of both qi and blood, but the qi-tonifying prescription had no effect whatsoever.

Several senior imperial physicians met in a side hall, each wrote a prescription, and compared them together. They came to a surprisingly consistent conclusion.

"This poison is not from ordinary plants; it is likely a secret concoction from the south. Once it enters the body, it will adhere to the gaps in the meridians, making it impossible for ordinary tonics to penetrate."

The Left Chancellor had a notice written and posted at the four gates of Shuojing overnight: "Anyone who can cure the Imperial Preceptor's rare illness will be rewarded with a thousand gold pieces and allowed to enter the royal court for a face-to-face consultation."

On the third day after the notice was posted, a young man in white entered Shuojing City through the west gate.

He wore a faded, plain-colored long gown and carried an old blue cloth medicine box on his shoulder, the corners of which were worn shiny.

His figure was made even thinner by the loose plain robe. He wore a half-mask, and his skin was two shades whiter than that of an ordinary man. His brows and eyes showed a weariness that could not be concealed after a long journey, and his eyes were slightly droopy, like someone who had not slept well for many years.

He stood in front of the notice at the city gate, read the words, and then reached out to peel it off. When he spoke to the soldiers guarding the city, his voice was gentle and calm: "Take me to the royal court. I can cure him."

The soldier looked at him for a couple more moments, then stepped aside to make way for him: "Follow me."

When the message was delivered to the Left Prime Minister, he put down the unfinished document in his hand and gestured to the soldier who delivered the message: "Let him in."

The young man in white was led in, and the Left Prime Minister's gaze swept over the old blue cloth medicine box on his shoulder, lingering for a moment on his face, which was half covered by a mask.

Those eyes were very familiar. The shape of the shoulder line under the plain white robe was mostly hidden by the wide fabric, but when the Left Prime Minister glanced at the spot where the toes of his boots touched the ground as he walked in, he recognized them even more.

The Left Prime Minister didn't say anything, but simply looked up from the rolled-up document at him, and asked in a voice that was neither too loud nor too soft, "What is your surname, young master?"