Chapter 35 Some Find It Easy to Raise a Sword, Others Hard

Chapter 35: Some Find It Easy to Raise a Blade, Others Find It Hard

Xie Zhong didn’t even know how he managed to walk out of the examination hall.

The autumn wind outside chilled his sweat-soaked official robes, sending a shiver through his entire body.

He instinctively glanced at his colleagues emerging from the hall and found that each of them looked every bit like survivors of an ordeal, their steps unsteady.

That clearly wasn’t because they had stayed up all night studying—it was because of that damned exam paper!

Yet, strangely, such an eerie exam should have united the court officials in shared resentment, prompting them to grumble complaints about Wang Shenai, the one who had set the questions. Instead, they merely nodded politely to one another, exchanged greetings, and then dispersed, as if an invisible barrier stood between them.

Xie Zhong didn’t seek out his friends in the court to ask what they had written on the blank paper either. He only scanned his surroundings, trying to locate the culprit who had unsettled him so much, only to learn—

“He was taken back to prison first. His Majesty said that if he answered well, he would be released.”

Xie Zhong: “…”

What did “answered well” even mean?

Writing quickly and forcing everyone else in the examination hall to start writing early too?

Then he had indeed answered *too* well.

Brimming with fear, suspicion, and fury, Xie Zhong left the Censorate and returned home. But the moment he stepped through his gate, his eye twitched again: “You rebellious girl, what are you doing?!”

In the courtyard, his beloved green plum tree—the one he cherished most—was being uprooted by servants under Xie Yuejing’s command. His wife stood nearby, trying to intervene, but was pushed aside.

The once-exemplary model aristocratic lady Xie Yuejing had now hacked off two strands of her hair and changed into workman's attire, mud caking her hands—truly resembling—

“Why are you acting like a vulgar shrew?!”

Xie Zhong rushed forward in three quick strides, bellowing in rage, only to meet Xie Yuejing’s icy gaze: “A shrew? Wasn’t it *you* who married me off to the Wang family? Wang Gong was garrisoned at the frontiers, and his sons and daughters-in-law followed him, living in military camps. Naturally, they couldn’t adopt your scholarly family values.”

She emphasized the words “family traditions” with a cold laugh.

“I can’t learn such traditions. Hedging your bets and losing both ways, and then dressing it up as ‘avoiding conflict’ and ‘being kind to others’—now you personally take the exam while reminiscing about your former liege by likening yourself to a green plum tree at home. You want to have your cake and eat it too, but you refuse to see what the situation is today!”

She turned her head and barked another order: “Dig. Dig faster. He wants to die, but we don’t.”

Xie Zhong’s hand trembled as he pointed at his daughter, whose personality had changed so drastically since her marriage, but he couldn’t utter a single word.

After Wang Gong was executed by imperial decree, his female relatives and young children were sent back to Bianjing.

At first, Xie Zhong pitied his widowed daughter, but after she spent some time watching the celestial screen [referring to the mysterious sky phenomenon] in the courtyard, she had turned into this unrecognizable, insolent woman.

His beloved green plum tree, nurtured for over a decade, was split into kindling the moment it was uprooted. Xie Yuejing even took a hatchet to it herself before turning to face her father, her expression unapologetic—as if determined to live up to the label of “shrew.”

“What’s wrong? Was today’s exam so difficult that you’re too drained to even discipline your daughter anymore?”

Well, well, how pathetic he looked—nothing like the usual Xie Zhong.

For a moment, silence fell over the Xie residence. Then, a furious roar erupted: “You rebellious girl!”

Xie Yuejing shrugged, tossed the hatchet aside, adjusted the white mourning flower pinned to her hair, and strolled casually back into the house, leaving Xie Zhong standing alone in the courtyard, staring blankly at the hole where the tree had once been.

His examination response today… well…

……

“Is this man really from the same clan as Madam Xie? Why…” Chu Lingyuan bit back her words, flipping Xie Zhong’s examination response back and forth, unable to find even a trace of literary talent—only raw survival instinct.

She had truly witnessed what it meant to make excuses for oneself.

Wang Shenai didn’t even lift her eyelids. “He’s Madam Xie’s cousin’s son, so of course they’re from the same clan. As for what he wrote—what’s so strange about that?”

When Chu Lingyuan first received the blank papers, she had been puzzled, but Wang Shenai had already explained.

In the wake of a dynastic transition, a blank sheet of paper was far more effective than any exam with written questions.

Just as different people could interpret the same book differently, a blank exam given by the emperor to his officials would hold different meanings for every “clever” person—revealing their true nature and abilities.

Moreover, Yu Hong had been released from prison and ordered to answer immediately. The ominous clank of his chains had added pressure, making the officials’ true thoughts spill onto the paper.

Wang Shenai gestured to Chu Lingyuan: “Come, look.”

“There are 376 examination responses in total. Twelve are blank, and the rest have been sorted into categories. These thirty-five are the same as Xie Zhong’s.”

These people, to put it nicely, were tactful and masters of saving their own skins. To put it bluntly, they were fence-sitters trying to gild their reputations.

They claimed they had always opposed Sima Daozi and Wang Gong’s policies, believing the new dynasty should bring change—essentially saying their past going with the flow had been out of helplessness.

This attempt to whitewash themselves while avoiding clear stances was pure artful euphemisms. Unfortunately, such feigned innocence was far too crude.

Even the notorious Huan Xuan’s innocence was more sophisticated than theirs.

Chu Lingyuan shot the stack of papers a disdainful glance: “How do you plan to deal with them?”

Wang Shenai allowed a small smile. “What did they write? That they dared not remonstrate against Sima Daozi’s tyranny, hoping only to influence him subtly over time? Then let’s nail their answers to Sima Daozi’s gravestone and have them guard it. The dead can’t be tyrannical, nor can they rise to kill. Please, let them continue their vigil there. As for me… this emperor will humbly accept advice and learn from past mistakes.”

Chu Lingyuan’s mouth quirked as she forced out a reply: “Ah… Brilliant as always, Your Majesty.”

*So* wise.

Oh no, she could already imagine the absurd spectacle when this verdict was announced in court. As the emperor’s close aide, she’d have to maintain perfect solemnity—how unbearable!

No wonder the celestial screen said she had come a long way after having seen her share of the whirlwind of court politics.

Good heavens, *this* was how she was supposed to grow?

She gave a deliberate cough and changed the subject: “What about this stack?”

Wang Shenai rolled her eyes. “Incoherent ramblings throughout. Slightly better than blank papers, but not by much. Strip them of their positions and investigate any past misconduct. If they protest, post their examination responses publicly.”

Chu Lingyuan quickly noted it down before turning to the third pile.

Wang Shenai tossed her head scornfully. “All flattery. Compile them into a book, have multiple copies transcribed, and send one to every official who ‘fell ill’ and skipped the exam. If it kills them, good riddance. If it shocks them back to life, let them fight it out. After that, I don’t want to hear any backhanded remarks about the court in Jiankang [capital city]. But as for the writers…”

She arched a brow and declared without hesitation: “Reassign them to ceremonial posts.”

Knowing full well that after a dynastic shift—especially in such turbulent times—a ruler needed pragmatists, yet still writing such drivel? Clearly, the Nine-Rank System [a system for classifying official families and individuals] had spoiled them. Did they really think she, praised by the celestial screen, still wanted to hear this nonsense? What a joke!

She was an emperor who wouldn’t hesitate to raise a blade against noble families—did they truly believe she’d enjoy such ill-timed flattery?

Those who couldn’t read the times didn’t deserve their positions. Let them rot in sinecures before finding an excuse to have them resign on grounds of age.

“The last two categories…” Wang Shenai propped her chin thoughtfully for a moment, pondering. “Publicly announce that they’ve made exceptional service to the new dynasty.”

“But…” Chu Lingyuan blinked. Unless she was mistaken, the answers in these two categories were completely different.

One category consisted of those who genuinely answered earnestly, such as the exam paper placed at the top by Wang Shenai, written by an official named Wu Yinzhi. It discussed how the southern region of Guangzhou should be governed after Her Majesty's enthronement, after first securing Jing and Yang provinces. The response was thoroughly reasoned and well-supported. This individual had previously served as a prefect, possessing practical experience in regional administration, and his paper was neatly written—truly a standout in this assessment.

The other category, however, was less about examinations and more about making accusations. Some accused certain officials of opposing the new dynasty and secretly contacting outsiders. Others alleged that certain officials had family connections with the Prince of Liang or the Prince of Wuling abroad, or even intended to open the gates of Jiankang. There were also accusations of past corruption, warning against their appointment, or mentions of officials who had mishandled cases without proper documentation...

Chu Lingyuan gorged on these revelations like festival sweets, nearly overwhelmed by the flood.

"Aren’t they making contributions?" Wang Shenai asked with a straight face. "The bureaucracy isn't so simple—there’s always a use for them."

Such aggressive yet morally flawed individuals were far more useful than someone like Xie Zhong. As long as they weren’t placed in positions critical to the nation’s foundation or people’s livelihoods, they made excellent scalpels for excising corruption.

"As for those who genuinely proposed reforms to improve the current state of affairs, collate their proposals into a memorial without attributing specific proposals to individuals. Circulate them at tomorrow's court assembly for thorough discussion."

"Oh, and one more thing," Wang Shenai suddenly paused, as if remembering something. "Send a copy to Che Wuzi as well."

Che Wuzi, originally named Che Yin, was the unyielding elder statesman who had secretly reached out on the night she finalized the new dynasty’s name, seeking to remonstrate.

Incidentally, this elder statesman had a well-known story from his impoverished youth—the tale of "using fireflies in a silk pouch" to study by their light, a legend passed down through generations.

"Ask him on my behalf: Out of 376 exam papers, only about 80 actually discussed state affairs, while the rest were filled with groundless conjectures and irresponsible drivel. Is this the Jin Dynasty some believe should continue its reign?"

As a scholar who once couldn’t even afford candles, was this the era he wished to defend through his steadfastness?

Bid him declare his position.

As a representative—of a certain kind of people.

Noticing Chu Lingyuan’s admiration but lack of immediate action, Wang Shenai asked, "Any other questions?"

"Oh—no, nothing!" Chu Lingyuan startled from her reverie, gathering the stacks of papers to leave, then suddenly halted. Her expression turned complex, as if murmuring in a dream, "I just suddenly realized... officials were merely human after all."

In her younger years, walking the streets of Jiankang, she had always viewed those high-ranking officials in their vermilion and purple court robes as arbiters of life and death, debating grand matters of the world with imperial gravitas.

With the decline of the Chu family, her two elder brothers had desperately clung to hopes of restoring their house, often praising those influential courtiers in their conversations.

These words had cast a gilded illusion of court officials—and the court itself—in Chu Lingyuan’s mind.

Yet everything she witnessed growing up, the shameful conduct of officials after Sima Yao’s assassination, and the truths laid bare in these exam papers, all pointed to one undeniable fact:

Officials were just people—not figures inherently deserving reverence.

That illusion shattered abruptly, leaving her with a sour epiphany.

But another thought swiftly took its place. If those people were like this...

"So why did you ever doubt whether you could serve as an official?" Wang Shenai asked.

Without hesitation, Chu Lingyuan replied, "You’re right—of course I can!"

For instance, right now, she could competently fulfill Her Majesty’s arrangements for these exam papers.

Suppressing a smile, Wang Shenai watched the young woman all but danced through the doorway, sleeves rolled up and ready for action. Her earlier frustration with the exams lifted somewhat.

But when she stood by the window, gazing northward, her expression hardened once more.

"The proverb ‘survive in hardship, perish in comfort’ holds undeniable truth."

The Yangtze's natural defenses had stayed the northern barbarian tides, yet it also allowed the southern court to persist in complacency despite the era’s fierce competition.

But what of the north? Amidst the savage, barbarian carousel of conquest, it wasn’t just about capitalizing on fortune's turn—it was about harnessing the advantages of Han cultural integration, transitioning from steppe ways to governance rooted in the Central Plains.

Her time grew short for purging the remnants of the Jin Dynasty.

She wondered what transpired in the north at this very moment.

Under the heavenly display, surely not everyone merely stood dumbstruck gazing heavenward...

Nor could she rely on historical knowledge to predict her northern rivals. Yet by the same token—

Her rivals couldn’t rely on the heavenly display to understand her either!

...

Murong Bao’s screams rang incessantly as he was dragged through the streets until thrown before Tuoba Gui.

The avenues of Yecheng were littered with corpses and abandoned weapons from the street fighting, while flames still hungered unquenched in the civilian homes lining the roads.

When Murong Bao struggled to look up at Tuoba Gui, the latter’s face was half-illuminated by the flames, his campaign-grown beard from forced marches making him appear like a savage war god.

With a cold laugh, Tuoba Gui stomped on Murong Bao. "How laughable! Murong Chui was wise his entire life, yet he sired a son like you—and even made you crown prince and successor!"

Murong Bao gritted his teeth, unable to speak, as Tuoba Gui’s voice boomed from above. "Ah, I forgot. Your elder brother died by Wang Meng’s Golden Dagger Plot. Murong Chui did have capable sons, but you were the only legitimate heir left—who else could take the throne? If anything, I should thank you."

The late emperor of Later Yan, Murong Chui, had many skilled sons—except this crown prince!

The disastrous defeat at Canhe Slope, where Yan’s forces were routed, was entirely due to Murong Bao’s incompetent command.

And now... his panic over the heavenly display’s revelations had only worsened matters.

Days earlier, Tuoba Gui had launched a surprise night attack on Zhongshan.

The city, still reeling from the heavenly display’s disclosure of Yong'an’s identity, was caught off guard by the Wei Army’s assault.

Murong Bao’s third brother, Murong Nong, hastily led the defense while Murong Long escorted Murong Bao toward Yecheng.

Murong Nong was a seasoned commander—had northern conflicts not forced his recall, he would have continued routing the Eastern Jin forces. But this time, victory favored none.

Against the Wei king’s overwhelming all-conquering royal host, Yan’s last stand lasted merely half a day before the city walls were breached.

Murong Nong fell amidst the fray before his northern reinforcements could arrive.

While Cui Hong pacified Yan’s surrendered troops to counter the heavenly display’s warning of "Yan’s warriors fighting to the death," Tuoba Gui pursued Murong Bao.

The fleeing Yan Army, broken and dispirited, moved slower than the Wei forces that had departed Zhongshan later.

Worse yet, another Wei Army division from Bingzhou had already reached Yecheng, robbing Murong Bao of time to fortify its defenses.

By the time both sides faced off across the city walls, their fighting spirit differed as heaven and earth.

Perhaps more accurately, Yan’s fate had been sealed the moment Murong Chui failed to eliminate Tuoba Gui in one decisive strike—only to be predeceased by his foe.

Murong Bao, the new ruler, could neither control his ambitious princes nor match his talented half-brothers, while his most viable heir remained under his suspicion.

When Yecheng’s defenders saw Yan’s own surrendered troops among the Wei ranks, their already fragile morale collapsed entirely.

Thus, it was no surprise that Tuoba Gui’s conquest was only a matter of time.

Murong Long, commanding the troops, had planned a feint to escape northward with Murong Bao amid the chaos.

If they could return to Yan’s capital, Longcheng, and their stronghold in Liaodong, there might still be a hope of resurgence.

But at this moment, Murong Long lay pierced by arrows, trampled to death beneath horses, while Murong Bao was dragged before the King of Wei as a prisoner of war.

Tuoba Gui's merciless kick left Murong Bao writhing in pain for some time before he finally regained his composure. Yet before he could utter a plea for mercy, he heard his death sentence pronounced upon him.

"Though your Murong clan has many members, your head must still count for something!"

Murong Bao's pupils contracted. But behind the veil of blood splashed before his eyes, his eyes soon glazed over, gradually becoming dull and lifeless.

Tuoba Gui's spear was already stained with blood from the fierce battle, and now it cleanly severed Murong Bao's head.

Flames licked at the blood, burning ever more fiercely.

Tuoba Gui bared his teeth in a cruel grin: "Withdraw the troops, rest for a day, then continue north!"

He would not give Murong Chui's precious grandson any chance to let these Murongs establish one Yan kingdom after another. The death of Murong Bao must mark the end of the Xianbei Murong clan's royal line.

And he, Tuoba Gui, was the one who...

"Your Majesty—Your Majesty!"

A troop of soldiers suddenly came running toward him, cheering.

Squinting, Tuoba Gui looked in the direction of the noise and saw a young guard surrounded by a crowd of others, followed by a line of tightly bound prisoners. They clearly intended to claim their reward from him.

At first, his attention was drawn to the young guard. This soldier, with Han features, was quite young—no more than seventeen or eighteen—yet already radiated calm competence. He also seemed... strangely familiar.

But upon closer inspection of the group, especially the prisoners behind them, Tuoba Gui's expression changed instantly.

He strode forward to meet the jubilant Wei soldiers, listening as their leader announced triumphantly: "Your Majesty! We've caught a prize catch—this treacherous fox nearly escaped! Thanks to Brother Cui's strategy, we predicted his route. We were stationed outside the city to intercept Yan reinforcements when we caught him!"

The bound man stared fixedly at Murong Bao's severed head in the distance before turning his gaze to the crowd before him, realizing at last that all was lost. Only a trace of ferocity remained in his expression.

"Murong Lin, the Prince of Zhao of Yan, have you nothing to say to me?" Tuoba Gui tapped the man's face with his blade, showing no courtesy to this contemptible foe.

Though the Xianbei had little regard for propriety or shame, someone like Murong Lin—who repeatedly betrayed his own kin for survival—was another matter entirely.

Had he escaped, it might not have caused major trouble, but it would certainly have delayed progress. Who would have thought this old fox would be captured by a group of outlying sentries?

With Murong Lin captured, the remaining members of the Murong clan could truly be counted on fingers!

Tuoba Gui was overjoyed: "Fine work. You just said—"

He turned to the young man at the center of the crowd: "You're also surnamed Cui?"

At first glance, the young man had seemed familiar, and upon hearing the name "Cui," he finally realized why.

The young man promptly bowed: "This humble one is Cui Hao, eldest son of Cui Hong. Today, I dared to lay an ambush to serve Your Majesty!"

"...Good! Well done!" Tuoba Gui hesitated only a moment before slapping Cui Hao's shoulder.

Having risen to fame at a young age himself, how could he fault Cui Hao for acting on his own initiative?

He only wished for more talents like Cui Hao to join him, to speed his pursuit of the remaining Murong remnants, making it swifter and steadier. "You and your father are both fine ministers to me."

"Issue my command—"

He raised his blade and declared loudly: "Hang the heads of the four Murong brothers outside Ye City to display our power!"

After eliminating the remaining Murong forces defending Longcheng, he would send a challenge to the south by proclaiming himself emperor.

With Xie An and Xie Xuan dead, the southern lords posed no threat. This was a challenge—meant solely for Yong'an.

...

Two unrecognizable heads and two freshly severed ones were soon hung above Ye City as the flames of war gradually died down.

Coincidentally, in the south at the same time, three heads preserved in lime were delivered in ornate boxes to Huan Xuan.

Facing Xie Daoyun, who had come once again, he found it increasingly difficult to read any excess emotion on her aged but dignified face.

Wang Xun, sent as a "gift" alongside her, was frantically eye-signaling him, as if hoping to secure a way out.

Sima Dewen, Sima Dezong, and Sima Shangzhi, however, had forever fallen silent, transformed into three pale trophies.

Huan Xuan stood frozen for a long while before finally collecting himself. "...What did you just say?"

Xie Daoyun replied unhurriedly: "Her Majesty of Great Ying commands General Huan to give her an answer."

Huan Xuan wished Wang Shenai would not yet think of his crushed ambitions. He had never imagined she would declare herself empress with unprecedented speed, establishing the title "Her Majesty of Great Ying"!

An answer...

The answer of whether to pledge loyalty or raise arms in rebellion.

Huan Xuan took a deep breath. Suddenly, his blade seemed to weigh a thousand pounds.