Chapter 3

At noon, the sun shone brightly.

Even the daytime prison didn’t feel as cold and gloomy.

The jailer outside the cell couldn’t help but look up repeatedly towards the narrow window.

Jiang Yuxun was engrossed in flipping through "Zhou Laws," his mind undistracted.

At the hour of Wu, it had not yet rained.

At the hour of Wei, still no rain.

By the hour of Shen, rain had yet to fall.

Until the last ray of sunlight disappeared, the words on 'The Laws of Zhou' were no longer visible.

Finally, the young man put down the book, stood up, and looked out the window.

The moment recorded in the history books had arrived.

Not just the jailers.

Even the condemned prisoners lifted their clouded eyes, looking towards him.

“Clouds are drifting in from Yueqiao Mountain.”

The youth's voice broke the deathly silence of the prison.

Everyone inside couldn’t help but follow his gaze outside.

Outside the window was pitch black.

But just as Jiang Yuxun finished speaking, a bolt of lightning suddenly tore through the sky, ripping open the thick clouds above Yueqiao Mountain like a claw through a blanket.

Thunder roared, awakening the entire plain.

“Rain... it’s really raining!”

The prisoners widened their eyes, struggling to crawl forward, trying to see the scene outside the window.

In an instant, the rain poured down heavily.

The historical record was correct; at sunset, the torrential rain arrived as expected.

Jiang Yuxun took a deep breath, trembling as he closed his eyes.

...This time, he had won the bet!

In just a moment, the fierce wind carried huge clouds, swallowing the clear sky.

Raindrops pounded like drumsticks, battering Zhaodu and the sculpted mythical creatures on the eaves of the Yuyang Palace.

The attendants were startled, but the person behind the painted screen remained calm and composed.

After a long while, he slowly raised his eyes to gaze at the vast, unattainable grey clouds outside the Qian Hall.

Eventually, he lowered his gaze to continue reviewing the memorials in his hand.

It seemed like just a common, light rain outside the window.

After a moment, he finally spoke softly: "The imperial prison is damp; bring the General's son to Yu Yang Palace."

-

In the Zhao Qian Hall, the lights flickered with the gusting wind, brightening and dimming intermittently.

Through the carved screen, a figure in crimson attire could be vaguely seen.

Ying Changchuan, with a finger lightly pressed against his forehead, slowly parted his lips: "I never knew, my dear subject, that you possessed the ability to predict rain."

As he spoke, his gaze, full of interest, penetrated the screen and rested on Jiang Yuxun.

The young man suddenly felt as if thorns were on his back.

"Your Majesty misunderstands," Jiang Yuxun immediately adjusted his breathing, "I do not practice divination."

Speaking thus, he raised his hand to his forehead and bowed, quickly explaining the deductions prepared in the prison: “Does Your Majesty remember, just before last year’s summer solstice, when Lanze County experienced a downpour?”

The heavy rain caused the rivers to overflow, flooding thousands of acres of farmland, an unprecedented disaster.

As the Emperor, Ying Changchuan surely knew.

"Hmm."

"I have lived in Lanze County since I can remember. In my memory, there has never been such heavy rain there, so I still remember the weather pattern of those days… The weather in Zhao Du yesterday was no different from last year. Plus, when I attended the banquet, I noticed that Yuyang Palace is situated in a low-lying area with poor drainage... hence my deduction."

Jiang Yuxun's heartbeat was so heavy that it drowned out the torrential rain outside the window.

The next moment, a drenched attendant in embroidered clothes appeared outside the hall, kneeling and loudly announcing, "Your Majesty, the moat near Xuantong Gate has overflowed. The Yuyang Palace is also starting to flood. It is advised that Your Majesty temporarily leave the palace to avoid the water—"

All this matched exactly what Jiang Yuxun had said.

Ying Changchuan didn’t pay attention to the attendant, instead turning his gaze to the young man.

It seemed as though he was waiting for his response.

As the rain outside poured down like a cascading galaxy, Jiang Yuxun paused, then spoke clearly, “Leaving the palace to avoid the water is but a temporary solution. If possible, I hope Your Majesty will consider repairing Yuyang Palace and reforming the water system of Zhao Du soon to prevent further flooding.”

Yuyang Palace, built during the previous dynasty, was sited based solely on auspicious locations without considering scientific principles.

It was unfortunately located in the lowest area of the entire Zhao Du.

Due to its improper location and design flaws, the area would continue to experience repeated flooding over the decades.

The young man spoke with utmost seriousness, his eyes filled with sincere hope.

He should be satisfied now, shouldn’t he?

But before Jiang Yuxun could relax, Ying Changchuan’s voice came from behind the screen again.

“Knowing that the Great Zhou's treasury is empty and the people are struggling, why then does my dear official propose such grand construction projects?”

Damn it!

...Is Ying Changchuan doing this on purpose?

Thinking of his own debuff, Jiang Yuxun's heart chilled.

An overwhelming sense of fear assaulted him in an instant.

But this couldn't stop him from speaking—

"Your Majesty, the terrain of Yuyang Palace is low-lying, and it's damp and cold even on regular days. Even without flooding, it's not a suitable place to live."

As his words fell, Jiang Yuxun's heart felt colder than the heavy rain in Yuyang Palace.

Ying Changchuan was only around thirty when he died.

In ancient times, when average lifespans were short, this was considered very young.

Historians speculate that besides being injured in war, his premature death was also due to overwork and the damp living conditions in Yuyang Palace.

The direct cause of the Great Zhou Dynasty's downfall and the ensuing chaos was Ying Changchuan's death.

Compared to that, what is this little bit of construction work?

The young man paused briefly, then continued, "Your Majesty, falling ill is a minor issue, but shortening your lifespan is a grave matter."

...Shorten, shorten lifespan?

What is Jiang Yuxun talking about?!

The thoroughly soaked attendant hesitated for a moment, slowly drawing the sword hanging at his side.

The reactions of those around did not halt Jiang Yuxun's following words.

In fact, his next sentence was even more shocking.

"If Your Majesty were to pass away, the Great Zhou would also perish with you. Countless people would then be left homeless in times of chaos, families torn apart — a great misfortune indeed—"

As his words settled, an eerie silence enveloped the Zhao Qian Hall.

The Emperor, shortening his lifespan.

The Great Zhou, facing demise.

Such taboo terms were bluntly spoken by Jiang Yuxun.

Is he insane, or am I?

Words once spoken are like water spilled.

Unbeknownst when, Jiang Yuxun had clenched his fist tightly.

Now, he had only one choice left — to confront head-on.

Jiang Yuxun had decisively become a "frank and outspoken minister."

The young man suddenly looked up, gazing deeply at the crimson-clad figure behind the screen: "To die offering advice in literature and in battle in arms is a matter of natural justice. My father died on the battlefield, a hero of the Great Zhou. As his son, I naturally cannot dishonor my father's legacy."

"My words are out of consideration for Your Majesty and for the well-being of the realm, true to my heart."

"I hope Your Majesty will reconsider."

Jiang Yuxun's heartbeat was so fast it felt like it would burst through his chest, his fingertips tingling.

He should have been afraid.

Yet at this moment, the satisfaction rising from the depths of his heart surged like a tsunami, suppressing the fear.

He had no intention of being hypocritically polite with someone like Ying Changchuan.

Speak your mind, what's the harm?

A storm raged in Yuyang Palace, with water flooding in from all directions.

The attendants waiting for Ying Changchuan to move to the traveling palace knelt outside the hall.

In the dim candlelight, Ying Changchuan for the first time lowered his gaze, closely observing his subject:

The young man appeared to be only sixteen or seventeen, his features still carrying a trace of youth.

His slightly upturned, cat-like peach blossom eyes were misty.

But his gaze was firmer than Ying Changchuan had ever seen.

Jiang Yuxun braved the rain to enter the palace.

At that moment, the rain, like tears, streamed down his cheeks.

His lips, turned pale from the cold, were tightly pressed together, never once pleading for mercy.

In the court, everyone concealed their sharpness.

This was also the first time Ying Changchuan encountered someone so openly fierce.

Inside Zhao Qian Hall, an utter silence prevailed.

After a long pause, Ying Changchuan suddenly said, "My dear subject fears me."

Jiang Yuxun bit his lip, not denying it: "I fear Your Majesty, and I also fear death."

But fear must be spoken.

Outside the window, the storm was dark and tumultuous, lightning flashing.

Hearing this, the emperor finally couldn't help but laugh.

Thump, thump.

Jiang Yuxun clenched his teeth, his heart pounding, almost bursting from his chest with tension.

Outside Zhao Qian Hall, the wind howled fiercely.

Carrying a faint scent of dragon's saliva, it assaulted the young man.

Instinctively, Jiang Yuxun closed his eyes, his body cold, awaiting the final verdict.

But what he finally heard... was the soft sound of a sword being sheathed.

A gentle laugh reached the young man's ears.

By the time he realized what was happening, Ying Changchuan had already risen and walked to the window: "Issue my decree, prepare the carriage and horses, we depart immediately for the alternate palace to avoid the flood."

"Your servant obeys the decree—"

Wait, he's just letting me off like this?

Jiang Yuxun suddenly opened his eyes, looking incredulously towards the hall.

-

At the hour of Mao, dawn was breaking.

The sky over Zhao Du seemed as if it had a hole torn through it.

Jiang Yuxun, braving the heavy rain, rode a carriage out of the city.

...Confined for introspection, with a salary penalty for three years.

Ying Changchuan not only let him off easily but even rewarded him with a set of brocade clothes, citing his drenched condition as the reason.

They looked quite valuable.

"Master, look ahead," while he was pondering, the voice of a family retainer suddenly came from the front of the carriage, "The manor is right there."

Ying Changchuan definitely wasn’t the type to appreciate 'harsh truths.'

Unlike the retainer who was radiating joy, Jiang Yuxun felt increasingly uneasy.

"Alright."

Forget it.

Unable to fathom the reason, Jiang Yuxun momentarily set the matter aside and pulled aside the carriage curtain to look outside.

The Grand General of the Southern Expedition often stayed in Lanzhe County and had no residence in Zhao Du.

Only this manor outside the city was his, earned through military achievements.

Neglected for many years, it was in a state of ruin.

But at this moment, Jiang Yuxun’s focus wasn’t on the manor, but on... the group of people lurking nearby.

"What are they doing?"

"Oh, about that," the retainer lowered his voice, "The words you spoke in the imperial prison somehow spread. Now the common people say you can predict natural disasters and have come here to pay their respects." His voice was filled with awe.

Pay respects?

As the carriage moved forward, the scene outside the manor became clearer — indeed, people were slaughtering animals and spilling blood, engaging in some kind of ritual worship.

A few seconds later, Jiang Yuxun suddenly gripped the carriage railing, gritting his teeth, "…I understand now!"

The family servant was startled by his reaction and hesitated before asking, "Young Master, what do you understand?"

Of course, I understand why Ying Changchuan would "spare" me!

The former dynasty was steeped in superstitions about divinations and omens, a practice ingrained from the top down.

After Ying Changchuan ascended the throne, he explicitly forbade private practices of divination, sacrifice, and ritual mourning. Any violations were met with heavy fines and forced labor.

A significant portion of the funds for his military campaigns came from these penalties.

This was also true for the empire's major construction projects.

Despite this, the practices of divination and sacrificial rituals continued, albeit more covertly.

They were just better hidden.

The imperial prison was heavily guarded, so how could the words I spoke there spread across the capital in a single day, drawing people here to worship?

This must be Ying Changchuan's doing, without a doubt.

His decision to let me return home was not out of a sudden awakening of conscience!

Instead, he wanted to use me as bait to lure out those harboring intentions of divination and sacrificial rituals who had yet to act.

No wonder Ying Changchuan was so generous.

He was using me as a walking source of military funds!

As the carriage entered the manor, the young man couldn't help but look back, gazing towards the fields.

To facilitate the "eradication of gods," Ying Changchuan personally developed the first intelligence and espionage organization in history, the "Xuan Yin Monitor."

They reported directly to the emperor, omnipresent and ghost-like.

Based on my understanding of Ying Changchuan...

I'd bet that right now, my surroundings and the area around the manor are swarming with members of the Xuan Yin Monitor!