The ninth prince, Zhu Qizhao

The scorching wind carried the stench of decay.

The earth had cracked beneath the baking sun, and scattered along the roadside lay rotting corpses, dead for who knew how long.

Even the weeds that should have grown along the roadside were now rarely seen.

The birds in the sky and the insects in the trees had vanished too.

After returning to the Tang Household, Zhang Qingyuan did not rest.

Though he had slain the invading enemies last night, his heart only grew heavier.

He sat alone on a stone stool, his thoughts in turmoil.

He was a modern man, raised beneath the red flag, born in New China.

Zhang Qingyuan had no particularly strong desire for the throne, nor could he quite understand why everyone wanted to be emperor.

Of course, what baffled him most was how, for the throne, they could disregard tens of millions of disaster victims and watch countless commoners suffer through fire and flood.

If foreign invaders were burning, killing, and pillaging, and the court was too rotten and incompetent to save anyone, that would have been one thing. But now, the ones leaving countless commoners displaced were blood brothers from the same family living in the Purple Golden City. They were fighting to become the head of their household, and so had no time to spare for the disaster victims.

Under the feudal system, imperial power reigned supreme.

Those dying, and those waiting to die, were all their subjects, their people.

Yet for a single seat, they had left the people of an entire province displaced.

What use was attaining such imperial power, becoming such a sovereign?

The victor became king, the loser a bandit...

"Tsk, tsk."

Zhang Qingyuan shook his head helplessly.

In broad daylight, Zhu Zizhao, who had been leaving early and returning late these past few days, finally appeared.

He pushed open the gate to Zhang Qingyuan's courtyard, carrying several steamed buns.

"Bro, I heard you really showed your might last night. The Heavenly Principle Sect's Four Great Protectors, two Vajras, and several leaders of the Dragon Gate-you killed them all. Truly Great Emperor Zhenwu descended to earth... oof."

What greeted him was a vicious punch from Zhang Qingyuan, square in the lower belly.

The punch left Zhu Zizhao stunned. Clutching his stomach in pain, he staggered back several steps.

Only after taking a moment did he recover. He glared at Zhang Qingyuan and cursed, "What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

Zhang Qingyuan withdrew his fist, shook his head slightly, and sat back down.

"I've been thinking about a question."

He sounded as though he were talking to himself, yet also as though he were truly asking.

Zhu Zizhao stormed over to him, about to curse again, but Zhang Qingyuan spoke first.

"Who do you think upholds a sovereign's authority?"

"Huh?"

A sovereign's authority?

Caught off guard by the sudden question, Zhu Zizhao failed to react.

Why ask that question?

Without waiting for his answer, Zhang Qingyuan continued, "I think it's the common people."

"What are you talking about? First tell me why you hit me."

"If all the common people died, and there were no ordinary folk left under heaven, only the emperor and the high-and-mighty officials, then who would demonstrate their authority?

Without the common people, whom would they govern?

Who would farm for them, who would pay their taxes, who would fill the gaps in this country?

Would the emperor lead a bunch of high-and-mighty officials in playing house?"

At this point, Zhang Qingyuan looked at Zhu Zizhao and gave a bleak smile.

"What do you think, Your Highness the Prince of Jin? Or should I call you the ninth prince?"

Zhang Qingyuan's mocking gaze made him somewhat nervous. Then he grinned and said, "How did you find out?"

He rose to his feet and looked down from above, revealing a glimpse of a prince's imposing bearing, tacitly admitting Zhang Qingyuan was right.

Zhang Qingyuan said evenly, "The Prince of Yu is already preparing to move. He's gathered disaster victims in the east, west, and south and is distributing weapons. Once the weapons have all been handed out, his army will march straight on the capital.

Are you ready?"

Looking into his eyes, Zhang Qingyuan recalled the intelligence he had obtained while interrogating the Dragon Gate last night.

Most of the Dragon Gate members were tough men who valued bonds and loyalty and did not fear death.

But not everyone was that tough. Old Six, one of the eight gate masters, went by the name Long Qi.

He was not so tough. After Zhang Qingyuan threatened him with death, he told the truth.

From Long Qi, he learned that Heavenly Principle Sect followers were spread throughout the country and could immediately inform the Prince of Yu of news from every region.

With the emperor critically ill and the imperial sons busy fighting over the succession, imperial control over the court had grown increasingly lax.

The few generals capable of fighting were all on the frontiers, while the nobles and ministers were busy choosing sides. As a result, no emergency measures had been taken for Kaifeng's severe drought.

There were honest officials who pleaded for the people, but under these circumstances, those officials could not get a word in.

Nor was the court unaware of the Prince of Yu's ambitions. The old emperor naturally knew about the movements in Kaifeng.

He wanted to strike back, but his body was already beyond saving.

Orders to mobilize troops from various regions either could not be sent out, or their couriers were intercepted and killed en route by Heavenly Principle Sect followers.

Yet the princes vying for the succession did not take the Prince of Yu seriously at all. Their thinking was that once they became emperor, the insignificant Prince of Yu would be no more than a man with a sale marker stuck in his hair, offering up his own head.

Having never experienced hardship since childhood, the princes always thought themselves men of grand talent and bold vision.

The two who held the Three Great Camps in their hands, in particular, had nothing but contempt for an army made up of disaster victims.

In their eyes, once they became emperor and all Three Great Camps were theirs, what would a few insignificant disaster victims amount to?

Still, the old emperor had not been entirely without a response. He had not appointed officials to provide disaster relief, precisely because he feared that this grain, too, would never reach the victims.

Ancient dynasties generally reached their limit at around three hundred years, and sometimes the reasons for their destruction were downright laughable.

The Great Qian Dynasty had been founded just over two hundred years ago. Measured against three hundred years, it already counted as an old man.

At first, Zhang Qingyuan had not understood either. The Prince of Yu was fucking about to rebel, yet the princes still had the leisure to fight over the succession. Instead of joining forces to resist him, the ministers were still fucking busy choosing sides. Did they all have holes in their brains?

If the actions of the Great Qian Dynasty's princes were written into a novel, readers would surely call the plot brainless.

After thinking it over, though, such brainless behavior was not all that difficult to understand.

Hadn't the history of China in his previous life also contained equally baffling, intelligence-insulting moves?

Just look at Great Song. Foreign invaders attacked, the country was on the verge of destruction, yet they plotted the death of the marshal best able to fight...

Compared with the emperors of Great Song's Zhao family, the princes' actions were not entirely without logic.

All he could say was that they were half a catty against eight taels-neither side had any right to criticize the other.

Looking into Zhu Zizhao's eyes, Zhang Qingyuan suddenly smiled.

He briefly told him what he had extracted during last night's interrogation. Zhu Zizhao shook his head and asked, "Then how did you guess my identity?"

"Heavenly Principle Sect followers are spread throughout the country, with people planted even in the capital, yet they received no news of anyone entering the capital to deliver a secret letter.

I also learned from him that the current emperor has thirteen sons in all. The ninth prince dislikes the court and takes no part in the struggle for succession. He likes only the jianghu.

Ever since childhood, he's wanted to wander the jianghu, with the Twelve Guards the emperor trained for him at his side, protecting him closely.

That prince's name is Zhu Qizhao."

Zhu Qizhao nodded and said frankly, "Actually, I've never had any lofty ambitions since I was little. I don't want to be the supreme sovereign, either. I just want to be a carefree prince and amuse myself in the mortal world.

That's why I took this opportunity to leave the capital. I simply didn't want to get involved in their struggle..."

"Stop."

Zhang Qingyuan cut him off. "You can tell that to your elder brothers, but don't tell it to me.

If you didn't want to be emperor, you could have found any place with beautiful scenery. Why come to Kaifeng?"

Zhu Qizhao's expression shifted slightly, making Zhang Qingyuan even more certain that he had guessed his true thoughts.

"Enough. Spare me the pretentious bullshit. First tell me what you have planned, then I'll think about how to help you."

"What plans?"

Seeing that this fellow was still playing dumb, Zhang Qingyuan said bluntly:

"Your plans to become emperor, of course. Where Old Five and Old Seven really went was north to ask General Huang for help, wasn't it?"