Chapter 512: The Grand Finale

Chapter 512 The Grand Finale

The dragon throne stood empty.

Under the expectant gazes of all, a tall figure slowly emerged from the side passage.

Now dressed in plain robes, Bei Jingchu walked forward and sat straight upon the dragon throne.

"The King of Qin plotted rebellion, and I had no choice but to quell the rebellion and protect the throne."

"However, His Majesty, overwhelmed and wearied, has taken to his bed and can no longer attend to state affairs. Thus, he has passed the throne to me."

"..."

Before the crowd could digest this news, the next moment, Xu Lanqi flicked his robes and knelt.

"Your servants greet Your Majesty’s divine presence!"

Even Bei Jingchu's own followers were a beat behind, hurriedly kneeling behind him.

The remaining bewildered officials, as well as those who had pledged allegiance to the King of Qin but now saw the winds shift, knelt one after another.

Soon, only a few remained standing upright in the court.

Bei Jingchu swept her gaze over them—aside from the scions of noble houses, they were the loyalists.

Father indeed had loyal retainers. They refused to believe that, without even laying eyes on the emperor overnight, the throne had changed hands.

No doubt they demanded proof of the emperor's safety.

But Father had already been placed under her confinement. How could those who seized power grant them an audience with the former emperor?

Today, whether they accepted her rule or not, they had no choice!

However... one of those still standing was neither a scion of nobility nor a loyalist. Instead, his face seemed faintly familiar.

He resembled an old acquaintance...

Zhao Yu?

So it was him.

He had risen to a rank where he could attend court, though at the very end.

Zhao Yu stepped forward, fiercely challenged: *“The Crown Prince* claims the King of Qin plotted rebellion—where is the evidence?"

"Was it truly the King of Qin who rebelled, or was it you?"

The word 'Crown Prince' struck like a slap across the faces of those who had just hailed her as "Your Majesty."

Zhao Yu stood with unshakable resolve, crying out in righteous defiance, "We pledge our lives in loyalty to His Majesty and will never consort with treacherous rebels!"

"Unless His Majesty appears in person to decree the abdication, we will never believe in your fabricated decree!"

Bei Jingchu wasn’t fooled by his show of righteousness—he was likely afraid she’d settle scores with him for his history with Beiqin.

But if she’d wanted to deal with him, she would have done so long ago. She simply couldn’t spare the effort for a mere jester.

With a wry twist of her lips, she summoned, "Guards."

A team of guards burst into the hall, swiftly encircling it.

One of them stepped forward, grabbed Zhao Yu by the collar, and lopped off his head before he could even resist.

The head was flung to the ground, and the guard returned to formation.

The severed neck, its artery cut, gushed blood like a fountain, splattering the officials standing near Zhao Yu.

The metallic stench seeped into everyone’s noses.

Bei Jingchu asked coldly, "Anyone else want to defy the decree or die for their principles?"

Under immense pressure, the Minister of State still stepped forward, bowing as he said, "We don’t mean rebellion, but we are deeply concerned for His Majesty’s safety."

"If only we could see His—"

Bei Jingchu shot him a sharp glance and asked, "Are you questioning my right to rule?"

Beside him, Xu Lanqi tried to yank his foolhardy colleague back.

Zhao Yu’s dead eyes still gaped ahead, and the Minister of State seemed to see his own fate reflected in them.

But...

"Your servant dares not!"

"I won’t kneel to a self-proclaimed emperor!"

Bei Jingchu knew that a throne seized by force would inevitably drag her into endless disputes.

But so what? Those who opposed her could argue their case in the underworld.

Since they refused to stay silent, she’d have to shut them up herself.

Just as Bei Jingchu prepared to spill more blood, a voice called out from nearby.

"Enough!"

This was followed by a fit of coughing, so harsh it sounded like his lungs would burst.

Then came someone unexpected—someone who should’ve been locked up in the Hall of Sweet Dew.

Bei Jingchu flinched for a split second, but her expression remained unreadable, and she quickly steadied herself.

It didn’t matter. Even if Father called her out as the real traitor, as long as she kept all the court officials trapped inside the hall, she still held the advantage.

Under Bei Jingchu’s wary gaze, Behen addressed the Minister of State: "I myself appointed the new ruler. All of you will not question it."

"I am gravely ill, and the rebellion of the King of Qin has further weakened me. I can no longer rule. Last night, I abdicated in favor of the Crown Prince, stepping down as Grand Emperor."

"From my sickbed, I heard that some oppose the new sovereign’s rise."

For now, Bei Jingchu had no energy to ponder why Father would back her lie, legitimizing her claim and steadying the court.

Her priority was securing her position. She seized the initiative: "Minister of State, if you hadn’t disobeyed, the Grand Emperor wouldn’t have had to haul his sickly self here."

"Disturbing the Grand Emperor’s rest—do you realize your offense?"

The Minister immediately kowtowed in apology.

He genuinely hadn't anticipated this—the scene so resembled a military coup that he couldn't have known it was all prearranged.

Shaking in fear, the Minister awaited his punishment. Yet, unlike Zhao Yu, Bei Jingchu granted him mercy: "In recognition of your loyalty, I spare your life."

"But questioning the imperial decree and disobeying orders violates the cardinal duty of a minister."

"You will submit your resignation, and I will approve your return to your hometown."

Grateful to retain both life and dignity—not dismissed but allowed to resign voluntarily—the Minister offered his profuse thanks.

At this moment, the power of the dynasty was irrevocably transferred into another's hands.

Bei Jingchu wrestled with conflicting emotions, uncertain what stance to take toward Behen.

Why raise me, yet distrust me when I gained power?

Why drive me to desperation, only to now validate my legitimacy?

But he was already turning to leave.

Bottling up every emotion, Bei Jingchu forced herself to focus on the future—until a dull thud shattered the silence.

Someone had collapsed, a crimson pool forming beneath his lips.

In that instant, her restraint vanished.

"Aye!!!"

"Fetch the royal physicians at once!"

By the sickbed, Bei Jingchu mused bitterly:

For an Emperor's mourning, a day counts as a month.

......

If he departed now, in thirty-six days, his memory would fade.

All would be absorbed in the new era under the new sovereign.

Though the empire once revolved around him, in death, perhaps only the one upon the throne would mourn the father she knew.

—End of Text—