Emperor Chen swept out his sleeve and sat upright on the dragon throne.
The torn sleeve of his dragon robe hung down. He made no attempt to conceal it, leaving it exposed as storm clouds gathered on his face. His cold gaze swept over the civil and military officials below the steps.
Everyone kept their heads lowered. No one dared meet his eyes.
"Tell me..."
His icy voice echoed through the hall. "How should I deal with Ding Feiyong?"
The words had barely left his mouth when Grand Commandant Tong Huan stepped out of the ranks. The old bastard's face brimmed with righteous indignation, his graying beard trembling slightly, as though that blade had stabbed not the emperor, but his own father.
"Your Majesty!"
He bowed, his voice loud enough to carry throughout the hall. "Ding Feiyong has committed an act of monstrous treason, raising a blade against Your Majesty! His crime is beyond pardon! This old servant believes he must be punished severely, as a warning to others!"
Before he had finished, Chancellor Cui Yizhong hurried out after him. Earlier, the emperor's declaration that "further deliberation is not what I want" had left him drenched in cold sweat. Now he rushed to speak before anyone else. "I concur!"
Their declarations seemed to open a floodgate. Officials stepped forward one after another, their denunciations rising in a chorus.
Some condemned Ding Feiyong for repaying kindness with ingratitude. Others said that only his execution could uphold the laws of the realm. Still others fell to their knees and wept, saying that the shocking scene had frightened their souls out of their bodies and begging His Majesty to take care of his imperial health.
The open rivalries, hidden struggles, and factional strife of the morning's deliberations were now tightly wrapped beneath a