Chapter Twenty: Toast

“Hyah!”
“Hyah!”
“Hyah!”
Just as the Lantern Festival Imperial Examination was drawing to a close, countless swift riders burst forth from the heart of the Imperial Palace, galloping along the avenues of the Eastern Capital, racing toward the noble estates scattered throughout the city.

This year’s Lantern Festival Examination had not only seen someone seize the top spot in both literary and martial trials, but it was highly likely that this person was the protégé of the Grand Tutor!

These two pieces of news, especially the latter, were the least welcome among the great houses of the Eastern Capital.

No sooner had the rumors from the Lantern Festival Examination leaked out than the retainers stationed outside the Imperial Palace for each noble family rushed back like madmen, reporting to their lords.

“What?! The Grand Tutor’s protégé!”

All across the Eastern Capital, figures leapt to their feet upon hearing the news, slamming the table in disbelief, unable to trust their own ears. After decades of silence, the Grand Tutor suddenly surfaced—setting the whole city ablaze with fervor.

“Repeat that! That man is the Grand Tutor’s protégé?!”

When the news reached the Marquis of a Hundred Battles’ estate, Marquis Wang Yi’s veins bulged with fury as he shook his retainer violently. The news was simply earth-shattering.

The estate of the Marquis of a Hundred Battles was a noble house with an eight-hundred-year legacy. Its founding ancestor was one of the legendary generals who followed the Second Emperor to conquer the world, later ennobled as Marquis of a Hundred Battles, a title passed down without interruption. The current Marquis belonged to the Divine Strategy faction, and the rivalry with the Grand Tutor was no secret in the Eastern Capital. If anyone least wished for the Grand Tutor’s return, it was, apart from the royal family, this very Marquis before him.

Though the Grand Tutor had distanced himself from the capital, he still had many followers at court, including two of the three Dukes. For over a decade, countless efforts had been made to erase the Grand Tutor’s name from court and replace him, but none had succeeded. Moreover, the three Dukes of every generation had always remained aloof from factional strife, yet now the current trio all followed the Grand Tutor’s lead.

At Wang Yi’s insistence, the retainer recounted the events of the Lantern Festival Martial Examination in detail.

When the retainer finished, Wang Yi looked up at his father, the elder Marquis of a Hundred Battles.

The old Marquis, dressed in a long robe, stood by the window, appearing calm and unperturbed. Yet Wang Yi clearly saw his father’s empty right sleeve trembling ever so slightly.

Suddenly, Wang Yi’s mind cleared, and he stared blankly at his father’s back. “Father, the appearance of the Grand Tutor’s protégé doesn’t necessarily mean the Grand Tutor is still alive...”

“Bang!”

The old Marquis shattered the window frame with a single palm, whirling around, his anger rising like thunder, his empty right sleeve billowing without wind. Of all the people in the Eastern Capital, he wished least to hear news of the Grand Tutor.

“Over two centuries ago, when the Holy Empress abdicated, though he had yet to enter the court, he opposed His Majesty’s claim to the throne, confronting me before the gate of the Black Tortoise, breaking my Heavenly Mechanism formation with eight hundred cavalry. Sixteen years ago, that night, he severed my right arm with a single stroke, and it has never healed. And now, unwilling to come himself, he sends a junior to steal the limelight—is this to insult the Wang family, to suggest we have no men of our own? Does he think I dare not strike against his protégé?” the old Marquis roared.

“But, Master Jiu Zhu is still alive, and besides, the Marquis of Martial Might is about to return to the capital,” Wang Yi said cautiously.

“Should we simply let this go?” The old Marquis’s eyes flickered with a cold, electric gleam, exuding an awe-inspiring presence. After a moment’s deliberation, he calmed, weighed his options, and though unwilling, sank into his seat in resignation.

...

Within the Hall of Supreme Harmony, the scholars and ministers who had participated in the Lantern Festival Imperial Examination awaited the final ceremonial rites, but the Grand Steward and Grand Protector were nowhere to be seen.

According to the rites of Great Tang, those who ranked among the top three in both literary and martial examinations not only received royal rewards, but if they were fifteen years old, the three Dukes would ceremonially tie their hair—a great honor. Yang Ning and Yang Zixu had come to participate for this very reason.

“His Majesty arrives!”

A loud voice rang out from the sacred pathway in the distance.

A carriage slowly entered the Hall of Supreme Harmony, flanked by the Grand Scholars of the Academy and palace maidservants.

“Greetings, Your Majesty.”

Everyone in the hall knelt in unison, performing the grand rites, chanting long life to the Emperor.

The ornate drapes were lifted. Clad in yellow robes and crowned, the Emperor of Great Tang, with his corpulent frame, struggled to descend, and with the help of the maids, took considerable time to mount the not-so-high throne within the hall. Even a few short steps left him panting for breath.

Seated upon the throne, his belly spilled out from the loose dragon robe, bulging against the belt.

The Emperor placed both hands on his abdomen, squeezing the protruding flesh with a bitter smile, kneading it, shaking his head as he gazed at the kneeling officials below. He was suddenly reminded of his first days upon the throne.

As time passed—nearly two centuries now—when he first seized the throne by force, he was slender and fit; now he had grown so fat, and the ministers’ private murmurs were not few. But so what? The one seated here was himself.

“Hmm?” The Emperor uttered a puzzled sound.

Hearing the Emperor’s voice, the attendant eunuch was startled, quickly leaning in.

“Where are the Grand Steward and Grand Protector?”

“Your Majesty, the Grand Steward said he went to the Ancestor Shrine.”

The attendant replied cautiously.

“The Ancestor Shrine? Shouldn’t they be announcing the results of the examination? Why go to the Shrine?” The Emperor was taken aback.

“I shall investigate at once,” the eunuch replied.

No sooner had the words left his mouth than the Grand Steward and Grand Protector appeared at the entrance, with all the guards and maids outside kneeling, as if welcoming the Emperor himself. Such honor was not theirs to receive.

An elderly man with snow-white hair appeared before the assembly. Sparse white hair tied with a white silk scarf, clad in a plain scholar’s robe, his withered hands etched with deep wrinkles, yet his clouded eyes shone with unyielding uprightness.

“Master Jiu Zhu?!”

The Emperor twisted his corpulent body, finally recognizing the old man at the door.

Standing outside was one of the most important figures in Great Tang—the Master of Rituals at the Ancestor Shrine. He was the longest-lived among the living in Great Tang. Since the founding by the First Emperor, Jiu Zhu had overseen every annual ceremony of heaven and ancestor worship at the shrine. He had witnessed six generations of imperial succession—First Emperor, Second Emperor, Third Emperor, Holy Empress, Middle Emperor, and now the current Tang Emperor. No matter how tumultuous the transfer of power, none dared disturb Master Jiu Zhu.

Some said Jiu Zhu was the First Emperor’s maternal brother, so every sovereign refrained from disturbing the old man. Others claimed he survived the Second Emperor’s coup at the Black Tortoise Gate. Most believed the former.

Undeniably, Jiu Zhu was the pillar and leader of all scholars and literati. Not only the three Dukes, but many royal scions had apprenticed under him or received his guidance. Thus, even the reigning Emperor dared not slight him.

“Old Jiu Zhu, what brings you here?” The Emperor forced a smile, pushing aside the maids supporting him, grasping his waist and belly, and, panting heavily, hurried to the entrance to escort Master Jiu Zhu inside.

“Your Majesty, you honor me too much. As sovereign, how could you lower yourself to welcome an old fool like me?” Jiu Zhu gently pushed aside the Emperor’s hand with his withered fingers.

The Emperor, his face full of fat, smiled helplessly, embarrassed.

The relationship between Jiu Zhu and the Emperor was known to the elder ministers present. Over two centuries ago, that fateful night, with fires blazing across the Eastern Capital, four princely factions vied for the throne. That night, it was Jiu Zhu who opened the long-sealed doors of the Ancestor Shrine, declaring to the world the next Emperor of Great Tang. With one simple proclamation, the other three princes had to lay down arms and accept the outcome.

In Great Tang, if anyone dared brandish a blade at the Emperor, none dared act violently before Jiu Zhu. For he was the Master of Rituals, the spiritual leader of all scholars in Great Tang!

“This Hall of Supreme Harmony—I haven’t set foot here in many years.” Old Jiu Zhu, trembling, walked to the steps of the hall. It seemed a gust of wind could blow him away, yet his aged, stooped frame struggled to stand upright as he gazed at the assembled ministers.

Indeed, it had been many years since Master Jiu Zhu had appeared in the Hall of Supreme Harmony. Whether the triennial court examination or the Lantern Festival Imperial Examination, it was always the three Dukes who announced the top scholars. Gradually, everyone forgot that the man whom all scholars wished would call their name was Master Jiu Zhu himself.

“Over two hundred years have passed. Last time, I remember it was those three—wonder which three young ones it will be this time.” Jiu Zhu squinted, smiling.