Di Xin's Fear

After landing, Wenzhong looked at the group of court officials, their expressions complicated, his heart full of doubt. He cupped his hands and asked, "My fellow officials, I have campaigned in the North Sea for years and remained far from court. I do not know whether Morning Song's state affairs and the situation at court have remained stable these past years?"

The moment those words left his mouth, the grief, indignation, and resentment that had been bottled up for so long erupted at once. Civil and military officials all began speaking over one another, weeping as they recounted the chaos. The clamor was so disorderly that it left Wenzhong's mind in turmoil, his head spinning and his chest tight.

"Silence!"

Huang Feihu shouted angrily, his deep voice suppressing the uproar. He stepped forward, his tone bitter and heavy. "Grand Preceptor, you have guarded the northern frontier for years and know nothing of the drastic changes at court. Now the realm has lost its heart, the feudal lords are stirring, governance lies in ruins, and loyal, worthy men have been slaughtered. Great Shang has long since become a nest of chaos, no longer what it once was."

Wenzhong's expression changed violently. He demanded, "How could it have come to this?! Where are Royal Uncle Bi Gan, Prime Minister Shang Rong, Grandee Mei Bo, and the other pillars of the realm? With them holding the court, how could matters have collapsed so utterly?!"

Huang Feihu lowered his eyes in silence. The bitterness in his gaze deepened, and he had no answer.

Seeing this, Wenzhong's heart sank. He said no more, swung himself back onto the Black Qilin, and galloped straight toward the royal palace.

When they reached the entrance of the prime minister's residence, a plain white coffin stood quietly before the