Tingfeng Pavilion

Tingfeng Pavilion.

Zhu Zhanjun lounged in a private room on the second floor, gazing down through the window at the wreckage below.

At some point, Princess Channing had taken a seat across from him and personally poured him a cup of hot tea.

"You brat, you sure hit hard."

Princess Channing shook her head as she watched the servants groaning below, but there was no blame in her voice—only a hint of admiration.

"When dealing with people like that, you can't afford to go soft."

"Aunt, I'm only helping you establish your authority."

Zhu Zhanjun took a sip of tea and grinned.

"Who'll dare cause trouble at your Tingfeng Pavilion after this?"

"You and your glib tongue."

Princess Channing rolled her eyes at him, then her expression grew solemn again.

"But after this little stunt, you've thoroughly made an enemy of Fang Bin."

"That old fox holds a grudge over every slight. He won't let this go."

"That's exactly what I want."

A cold glint flashed in Zhu Zhanjun's eyes.

"Enemies lurking in the shadows are always difficult to deal with. Only by forcing him out into the open can we finish him with one blow."

He placed on the table the "confession" he had obtained from the assassin, filled with trivial details about Fang Bin.

"Aunt, please help me get this into the hands of some censors at the Censorate—'by accident.'"

"I'm sure they'll find it very interesting."

Princess Channing picked up the "confession" and skimmed it. She immediately understood Zhu Zhanjun's intentions.

"You want to set his own household on fire and leave him too busy to look after himself?"

"This is just the beginning."

Zhu Zhanjun smiled.

"The real feast is still to come."

He looked at Fang Cheng, who was already so terrified he had turned to jelly, without the slightest trace of pity.

A spoiled young master like him couldn't make much of a splash.

But through him, Zhu Zhanjun could drag Fang Bin—and the Prince of Han and Prince of Zhao behind him—into the mire.

The game had only just begun.

Meanwhile.

The Minister of War's residence.

A brazier burned brightly in the study, and the air was scented with faint sandalwood.

Minister of War Fang Bin sat with his eyes closed, reclining in a grand armchair piled with thick cushions as two beautiful maids massaged him.

His spirits had been excellent of late.

The Northern Expedition Army was trapped, the emperor had fallen ill, and the Crown Prince had been attacked.

The Great Ming court seemed to be teetering in a storm, but to Fang Bin, this was a once-in-a-thousand-years opportunity.

Prince Han and Prince Zhao had already promised him that once they succeeded, he, Fang Bin, would become the chief grand secretary of the new dynasty, standing at the pinnacle of power.

As for the Prince of Zheng, Zhu Zhanjun, who had suddenly appeared, Fang Bin considered him nothing more than a clever, green young lad.

The plot to frame the Eastern Palace for the Crown Prince's assassination had failed, but it had still muddied the waters. Everyone's attention had turned to the infighting within the Eastern Palace, distracting them from the true crisis at the Northern Border.

Everything was proceeding according to his plan.

"My lord, is the pressure all right?" one of the maids asked softly.

"Mm, very good," Fang Bin hummed in comfort.

The only thing giving him a headache was his good-for-nothing son, Fang Cheng.

All he knew how to do was gamble on cockfights, chase dogs, and cause trouble. He never gave his father a moment's peace.

"Speaking of which, where has Cheng gone today?"

Fang Bin asked casually.

The steward standing nearby promptly bowed and replied, "To answer your question, my lord, the young master went out with his men first thing this morning. He said he was... going to Tingfeng Pavilion to meet some friends."

"Tingfeng Pavilion?"

Fang Bin's brows drew together slightly.

That place was full of all sorts of people. It was no decent place to go.

Besides, he vaguely knew that Princess Channing stood behind Tingfeng Pavilion.

"That little ingrate!"

Fang Bin cursed in annoyance.

He was already thinking that once things settled down, he would lock Fang Cheng up at home and give him a proper lesson.

Just then, the study door burst open with a bang.

A servant came tumbling in, his face contorted with sheer terror and panic.

"M-my lord! Something terrible has happened!"

Fang Bin's pleasant mood was instantly shattered, and anger surged within him.

He snapped his eyes open and barked, "What kind of behavior is this, barging in like a madman?"

"What happened? Speak slowly!"

The servant flinched at his shout, but still stammered through his tears, "My lord! It's... it's the young master! At Tingfeng Pavilion, he... he's been crippled!"

"What?!"

Fang Bin sprang up from his armchair. His leisurely, self-satisfied expression vanished in an instant, replaced by shock and disbelief.

"What did you say? Say it again!"

"The young master... he took his men to Tingfeng Pavilion and got into a fight with someone. More than ten of his servants had their arms and legs broken!"

"The young master himself has been detained at Tingfeng Pavilion. The other side... they say they won't release him unless we pay a ransom of five million taels of silver!"

"Otherwise... otherwise they'll break both of the young master's legs!"

The servant's words exploded in Fang Bin's mind.

His vision went black. He swayed and nearly toppled to the ground.

"Outrageous! Outrageous!"

Fang Bin's face turned the color of pig liver, and a towering rage shot straight to his head.

"Who? Who did this?!"

"Who has the gall to lay a hand on my son?!"