Han Yuan had heard far too many rumors like these.
Who had formed a clique with whom, who belonged to whose faction.
All manner of rumors constantly filled Han Yuan's ears.
Who was loyal and who was treacherous was something Han Yuan alone had to judge amid that jumble of voices.
It was no simple task.
Han Yuan had read history. He knew of many "foolish rulers" who had trusted treacherous ministers and petty villains.
He had once held them in considerable contempt.
But only after ascending the throne himself did he finally discover that nearly every minister beneath him wore a mask of unwavering loyalty.
Distinguishing the loyal from the treacherous was by no means as easy as he had imagined.
The commander of his personal guards had become entangled with the Crown Prince of the Eastern Palace.
At first, Han Yuan had not believed a word of it.
After all, he had personally promoted the commander, who had served at his side for more than twenty years.
The man could certainly be counted among Han Yuan's closest retainers.
Yet today, something like this had happened.
Did he think I was growing old and losing my vigor, and decide to secure a future for himself?
My body was still strong!
Though fury already blazed in Han Yuan's heart, not the slightest trace showed on his face.
Sooner or later, I would settle this score.
But not now.
At that moment, in the woodshed at the rear of the camp.
An oil lamp burned inside.
The light was dim, and the shadows of the firewood filling the room fell across the floor, making everything look even murkier.
The assassin was tied to a pillar.
An arrow had struck his leg, but it had long since been pulled out. His