"What on earth is Zhu Yuren trying to do? Has he gone mad?"
"What was he ordered by? Whose knife has he become? Which faction is he serving?"
"Could Zhu Yuren be one of the Yan Family's people? Impossible, surely. The Yan Family wouldn't court death by starting a war with the Song Family at a time like this... Could the Cui Family be pulling the strings from behind the scenes?"
With countless thoughts churning through their minds, everyone remained silent this time. Not a single person spoke.
They all knew that a brutal struggle for power within the imperial court was about to begin.
The victor would live; the loser would die.
A glint flashed through Prince Hui's eyes, and even his listless spirit perked up considerably. He adjusted his slumped body slightly, sitting high on the platform as he glared like a tiger at the censor Zhu Yuren kneeling on the ground.
Who is this man? What does he want? Prince Hui thought.
Is he bait thrown out by the Song Family, or a vanguard sent by some other faction?
What decision should I make? Should I ride the tide and clip the Song Family's wings, or find an excuse to suppress this matter and protect Song Yu?
In the blink of an eye, countless thoughts surged through Prince Hui's mind.
He had no choice. As the puppet emperor of the Xifeng Empire, he knew exactly how he had ascended the throne, and he knew even better that the Song Family's power was overwhelming—far beyond what he could easily resist.
They had been able to destroy his elder brother, and they could just as easily destroy him through despicable means.
But if this was a sharp sword swung by the Song Family's enemies, and he turned a blind