Chapter 135

Since the crime was committed with undeniable evidence, there was no way to refute it.

Empress Shen, in her attempt to eliminate her despised stepdaughter, ended up inviting disaster into the palace, bringing in Rong assassins to attack the emperor… Such an absurd act left the court ministers speechless.

Although the guards arrived in time, emperor Bo’s injuries were too severe.

His complexion turned pale, and in front of the assembled ministers, his body convulsed before he finally succumbed to excessive blood loss, taking his last breath.

Empress Shen never imagined that her sinister scheme would ultimately cost the emperor’s life.

She immediately broke down in tears—not because of deep affection between husband and wife, but because his death placed all the blame squarely on her shoulders.

What made things worse was that due to the upcoming military alliance exercise, Shen Hua, who lacked military expertise, had temporarily handed over the authority of troop training to Jin Kui.

Recently, word had spread that Jin Kui had granted extended leave to many generals and officers in the military camp, claiming that military training was an exhausting and grueling task and that they should return to their posts only after the drills were completed.

Unfortunately, those who took leave were the privileged young nobles who had bought their ranks.

They had no ambition or diligence.

During the initial drills, they had been relentlessly tormented by some newly appointed officers—who spoke in a distinctly Great Qi accent.

When they heard they could avoid the scorching sun of the battlefield, they were overjoyed.

Now, despite Shen Hua’s quick reaction in dispatching trusted aides to rescue her at the palace, it was too late—distant water could not quench immediate thirst.

That detestable Jin Kui—he had always put on an act of unwavering loyalty to the Shen family, but it was all an illusion.

He was, in fact, just like Sheng Ye—utterly devoted to the surviving bloodline of the late Emperor Bo.

Jiang Xiurun was far more cunning than she had anticipated.

No wonder she sent that ugly maid into the army camp—it was all part of a calculated plan.

Step by step, she seized control of the military’s vital authority without anyone noticing.

The Shen family was now unreliable.

Her youngest son, being a hostage in Great Qi, was unable to return for the emperor’s funeral—let alone compete for the throne.

Realizing she could count on no one, Empress Shen resorted to wailing and proclaiming her innocence.

Thus, when the guards, following Jiang Xiurun’s orders, came to seize her, she went berserk, throwing herself at the ministers with bloodshot eyes and shrieking:

“This is clearly Princess Jiang Xiurun’s chambers, not the emperor’s! She schemed to switch rooms with him! She harbored ill intentions!”

While she screamed hysterically, Jiang Xiurun remained silent.

Her large eyes brimmed with tears as she suddenly dashed toward a pillar, attempting to smash her head against it—only to be swiftly stopped by Bai Qian and a few quick-handed guards.

Jiang Xiurun then cried out:

“Let me die! My father only exchanged rooms with me because I had just given birth and could not endure the cold mountain wind. If I had known assassins would break in to abduct me, I would have given my life in his place! Now my father is dead, and my mother blames me. What is the point of living anymore?”

Both women wept, but the contrast was stark—Empress Shen raged, cursing and accusing her stepdaughter, while the princess, frail and grief-stricken, mourned her father’s passing and her mother’s false accusations.

Collapsing into Bai Qian’s strong arms, her face, pale like jade washed by a mountain stream, looked pitiful beyond words.

No one dared imagine what horrors such a delicate girl would have suffered had she truly fallen into the hands of that beastly Rong king.

Among the elderly ministers present, some had seen the late empress.

She had been a legitimate royal princess of Bo, and now, seeing Jiang Xiurun, who resembled her mother so closely, weeping so sorrowfully while being framed by the very woman responsible for this tragedy, was unbearable.

One minister stepped forward, glaring at Empress Shen.

“If someone had not schemed against the princess and brought assassins into the palace, what harm could have come from the emperor switching rooms? The emperor is dead! This matter must be thoroughly investigated—otherwise, everyone here will bear the blame for regicide!”

Jiang Zhi’s hands and feet turned icy cold in rage.

The normally mild-mannered and scholarly eldest prince felt his heart clench at the thought of his sister being captured.

Seeing that Empress Shen still refused to yield, continuing to slander Jiang Xiurun as a treacherous viper who would bring ruin to Bo, he suddenly stepped forward and slapped her—twice, hard.

“You venomous woman! A curse upon our Bo! My father suffered this fate because he married you! If my mother were still alive, she would never have allowed you to corrupt the royal court, elevate your cronies, and drain the state’s wealth for your own family!”

His words struck a chord with the old ministers.

The late empress had been the true royal princess of Bo—her grace and poise had once captivated the nobility.

But after Empress Shen gained favor, she had consolidated the Shen family’s power, monopolized the government, and expanded her influence.

Many of the ministers present harbored resentment over this.

And now that the great tree had fallen, the monkeys were scattering.

With Emperor Bo dead, the entire palace was under the control of Ji Wujiang and Bai Qian’s elite soldiers.

Some ministers had overheard Ji Wujiang ordering the general stationed outside, Jin Kui, to seal off the palace and the roads leading from Mei city to the capital, Yang city.

They understood that at this moment, power lay with those who controlled the military.

The eldest prince and princess held the palace—whoever wielded command over the troops had the right to speak.

The Shen family, despite their lingering influence, could do nothing immediately.

As for Shen Hua, who had accompanied Empress Shen, he had already been seized by Bai Qian’s men and was securely bound.

Jiang Xiurun had wept bitterly—not for her father, but because the sight of his death reminded her of the helpless despair her mother had endured before her own passing.

Unable to hold back her tears, she wept in sorrow.

Now that her father had passed away like this, she could only hope that her mother had already reincarnated in the underworld, never again to encounter such a cold and heartless man who had treated his own children so harshly.

With Ji Wujiang seizing control of the entire palace and imprisoning Shen Hou, Shen Hua, and their trusted followers, he quickly reassured the ministers before discussing countermeasures with the eldest Prince, the princess, and several senior officials.

Wiping away her tears, Jiang Xiurun calmed herself and said, “With the alliance meeting approaching, any unrest in a small state like ours will only invite wolves into our home. Pass down the order: seal off the news of the emperor’s assassination, and keep his death a secret. Announce instead that he has fallen ill from food poisoning and is unable to attend the banquet with the other rulers. Once the alliance meeting concludes, we will then release the official announcement of his passing.”

Two senior ministers voiced their objections, arguing that such a decision was disrespectful to the late emperor’s body.

Even though the weather had cooled, if the funeral was delayed too long, emperor Jiang’s corpse would begin to rot.

If they were recorded in history as ministers who had allowed such disrespect, they, as men of reputation, could not bear the shame.

At that moment, Jiang Xiurun no longer appeared weak.

Instead, she fixed her gaze on the stubborn, old-fashioned ministers and coldly asked Jin Kui beside her, “General Jin, if the elite cavalry of Liang set out at full speed, how long would it take them to reach the capital of Bo? And how long could our forces hold them off?”

Without hesitation, Jin Kui replied, “Liang has recently acquired a thousand warhorses and well-crafted war chariots. With the current cool autumn weather, they could reach our capital in just three days. As for our army, most of our weapons and armor were forged over a decade ago and have been carefully maintained through generations of soldiers. However, no matter how well they are polished, the iron has thinned and rusted over time. Worse still, the Shen family has embezzled a large portion of the military funds, leading to growing resentment among the troops… If we were to hold the city gates with our lives, we might last three days at most.”

Jiang Xiurun scanned the ministers with an expressionless face.

“You see, if an enemy nation sets its sights on us, they could wipe out Bo in just six days. By then, even if you uphold your so-called traditions and give my father a grand funeral, I fear that before his coffin is even laid to rest, enemy iron hooves will be trampling over his casket.”

She stood up and declared, “For the sake of Bo’s people and a century of peace, I would rather bear the name of an unfilial daughter. If any of you are so concerned about your own reputation, say so now—I will make sure to accommodate you. I will personally see you arrested and locked away, only to release you after we survive this crisis. Then, you may push all the blame onto me, a foolish woman with no foresight, and cleanse yourselves of any wrongdoing. If that still does not satisfy you, then prepare a noose, find a quiet ditch, and hang yourselves to prove your integrity! I will make sure the historians write a thick volume in your honor.”

To be honest, the old ministers of Bo had been accustomed to the gentle and demure nature of the princess before she had left the state years ago.

They had never imagined that beneath her polite smile lay such sharp wit and ruthless determination.

With her arguments both logical and forceful, the two self-righteous ministers were left red-faced and speechless.

They wanted to argue further, but the others, growing impatient, rebuked them for their lack of judgment.

Ignored by the rest, the court quickly focused on discussing the next steps with the princess.

Though everyone knew that, as the emperor’s successor, the eldest Prince should be the one taking charge, it became apparent through the discussions that Jiang Zhi lacked decisiveness, while Ji Wujiang followed Jiang Xiurun’s lead without question.

As a result, all major decisions ultimately fell into Jiang Xiurun’s hands.

However, the emperor’s corpse could not simply be left to decay.

Fortunately, the cool and damp caves of Mei city could serve as temporary storage, preventing decomposition for a few days.

Thus, the five days leading up to the alliance meeting were filled with nonstop work.

On the day of the meeting, Jiang Xiurun appeared in Bo’s traditional court attire: a floor-length skirt with a midriff-baring top, overlaid with a gold-threaded gauze robe. Atop her head sat the golden serpent crown, a symbol of her royal status.

Her long black hair cascaded down like silk, reaching the curve of her hips beneath the fitted dress.

With rosy lips, arched brows, and an air of regal elegance, she made her entrance into the alliance hall—only to find that very few leaders had arrived.

After all, this year’s host was Bo, a tiny state with neither power nor influence to command the attendance of others.

Moreover, the late emperor Jiang had been known for his sycophantic nature, always flattering the powerful and looking down on the weak—his behavior was enough to make anyone sick.

Arriving late was, at the very least, a way for these rulers to preserve their dignity and stomachs.

Yet, no one had expected that the host’s seat would be occupied not by a feeble ruler, but by a breathtakingly beautiful woman.

The three or four rulers who had arrived early couldn’t help but rise to their feet, staring dumbfounded at this Bo princess, as if she were an illusion that might vanish at any moment.

Among them was Liu Pei of Liang, who had only come by chance.

He couldn’t help but take a deep breath.

He had been quite familiar with Jiang Herun, the hostage prince raised in Luo’an City, and knew his true identity.

Yet at this moment, under the morning light, with the river reflecting shimmering waves, the mist rising around her like a veil—Liu Pei found himself momentarily entranced by this old acquaintance.