Chapter 133.

After listening to Zheng Duobao’s report, Xue Shu turned his face, his expression dark and sinister as his cold gaze fell on the tiger cub by his feet.

The tiger cub, called over by Zheng Duobao with a simple gesture, now stood awkwardly at his side, its ears twitching and its gait clumsy, circling aimlessly. It bore none of the majesty befitting the king of beasts. Xue Shu couldn't fathom what about the creature had caught the emperor's attention.

Fixing the cub with a brief, disdainful look, Xue Shu cupped his hands toward Zheng Duobao in a gesture of courtesy, though his face betrayed his displeasure, and strode off without another word.

In the end, he didn't dare disobey. The last thing he wanted was to further provoke Yin Chengyu’s wrath.

He pondered for a moment, recalling the earlier report: Shao Tian was proving stubborn, his lips sealed despite repeated interrogations. As a Grand Secretary of the Inner Cabinet, Shao Tian still carried considerable weight, and the subordinates hadn’t dared to resort to harsher measures without explicit orders.

If Xue Shu could force a confession out of him, it would undoubtedly please the emperor.

A plan took shape in his mind. His tight-lipped scowl eased into a faint smirk, and he left the palace, mounting his horse and galloping toward the imperial prison.

Three days had passed since Shao Tian’s residence was surrounded by the Eastern Bureau's agents and he was thrown into the imperial prison.

In those three days, Shao Tian had been confined to the deepest cell of the prison. The agents had interrogated him three times, yet they hadn’t broken his silence.

Cunning and calculating, Shao Tian was an unprincipled man but not without wit. After two rounds of questioning, he realized the agents weren’t using severe torture on him, leading him to believe he had some leverage. This false confidence only made his resolve harder to crack.

When Xue Shu arrived, the assistant in charge of Shao Tian's interrogation gave a full report. Hearing this, Xue Shu sneered, dismissive.

“Some scholars might have a shred of backbone,” he remarked coldly. “Shao Tian, though? He’s merely bluffing, convinced you’re too timid to act.”

Ignoring the kneeling assistant’s attempt to justify himself, Xue Shu ordered sharply, “Bring him out. Fit him with the heavy stocks.”

There were limits, of course. Too brutal a punishment might lead Shao Tian’s faction to accuse them of coercion, and bloodier methods were out of the question. But the imperial prison had no shortage of subtle, excruciating tools that left no visible marks.

Shao Tian, clad in a prisoner’s garb, was dragged into the chamber shortly after. Shackles bound his wrists and ankles, forcing him upright as the agents secured him to the frame.

“Is this what you’ve stooped to, Eastern Bureau scum?” Shao Tian snarled, struggling against the chains, the metallic clank echoing in the chamber. “Trying to beat a confession out of me? Kill me here in this cell if you dare! I’ll never admit to the lies you’ve fabricated!”

“Ah, Shao Daren, you misunderstand.” Xue Shu settled into a chair brought by the agents, his tone leisurely yet dripping with malice. “I’m merely here for a friendly chat.”

As he spoke, agents brought in a variety of stocks, each with a different weight. Xue Shu’s eyes flitted over them before he pointed to the heaviest set—nearly 300 pounds.

“This one,” he said with a faint smirk. “Since Shao Daren’s tongue is so firm, I imagine his spine is equally sturdy. Surely he can manage this weight.”

At his command, four agents heaved the massive stocks into place, locking them around Shao Tian’s neck and shoulders.

A mere scholar accustomed to a life of comfort, Shao Tian had likely never carried so much as thirty pounds himself, let alone three hundred. The moment the weight settled on him, his knees buckled. But the chains forced him to remain standing, his body trembling as veins bulged and his teeth ground audibly under the strain.

Watching Shao Tian’s increasingly desperate struggle, Xue Shu finally allowed himself a small, satisfied smile. Clearly, the man’s bravado wasn’t as unyielding as he had claimed.

Taking a measured sip of tea, Xue Shu’s voice was soft but laden with menace. “I’ve got all the time in the world, Shao Daren. Let’s have that talk.”

*

After Xue Shu departed, Zheng Duobao led the young tiger into the Yangxin Palace of Cultivated Hearts. The little tiger, familiar with its surroundings, didn’t wait for Yin Chengyu to call it. Instead, it trotted eagerly to his side, resting its head heavily on his lap.

The tiger was stout, its head solid and weighty. Yin Chengyu set aside the memorial he had been reviewing and reached down to rub its furry, rounded ears, his fingers sinking into the thick, velvety fur.

Zheng Duobao, observing the scene from the side, couldn’t suppress a smile that crept onto his face. However, he quickly recollected the matter he hadn’t yet had the chance to raise.

Speaking in a low, measured tone, he said, “Your Majesty, your grand birthday is approaching. The Ministry of Rites has submitted the ceremonial itinerary for the Longevity Festival. Would you like to review it and suggest any additions or omissions?”

Yin Chengyu’s birthday followed closely on the heels of his ascension ceremony. With such limited time, preparations had been rushed, modeled primarily on the late emperor’s precedent for the Longevity Festival.

After carefully examining the document, Yin Chengyu struck out several items with decisive strokes of his brush. “Since this is the Longevity Festival, it should be a celebration shared with the people. All these superfluous expenditures are to be eliminated. Direct the saved funds to the charity hall in the city.”

Zheng Duobao accepted the document with a deep bow, his tone steady as he affirmed the directive.

Yet, just as Yin Chengyu handed it over, a thought surfaced in his mind—Xue Shu’s birthday was merely a month apart from his own.

Pausing for a moment, he reflected before picking up his brush again. This time, he listed several additional items, instructing Zheng Duobao to make arrangements for them as well.

*

Xue Shu spent most of the day in the imperial prison. It wasn’t until the late hour of Hai (around 10 PM) that he returned to the palace.

Tucked in his sleeve was Shao Tian’s confession, signed and sealed. In high spirits, he made his way straight to the Yangxin Palace of Mental Cultivation.

At this hour, if nothing else demanded attention, Yin Chengyu was likely preparing to rest. Without hesitation, Xue Shu headed for the sleeping quarters.

Zheng Duobao was absent, and none of the palace attendants were aware of Yin Chengyu’s earlier orders. When they saw Xue Shu approach, no one dared stop him. A low voice muttered, “His Majesty is preparing to retire,” but the attendants quickly stepped aside.

Inside the inner chamber, Yin Chengyu had already bathed and changed into loose sleepwear. Reclining lazily on a Luohan couch, he was flipping through a book. Hearing footsteps, he glanced up and saw Xue Shu striding in, uninvited, as though he owned the place.

Unbothered, Yin Chengyu merely raised an eyebrow and drawled, “Trespassing without summons? What punishment do you think that warrants?”

“I have matters to report,” Xue Shu replied, closing the distance between them. He pulled out the confession and presented it. “Shao Tian has admitted to his crimes.”

“So quickly?” Yin Chengyu’s expression shifted to one of intrigue as he straightened up, his attention immediately drawn to the document. Carefully reading it over, he saw that Shao Tian had confessed to both manipulating the imperial examinations and framing Xie Wendao.

Though the evidence had always been damning and Shao Tian’s confession inevitable, Yin Chengyu hadn’t expected it to come this easily. It saved him the tedium of a drawn-out interrogation.

With Shao Tian’s fall, cleaning up the rest of his allies within the court would be much easier.

Handing the confession back to Xue Shu, Yin Chengyu instructed, “Let Xie Yunchuan catch wind of this first.” Seeing Xue Shu frown slightly, he added with sharp clarity, “Given Xie Yunchuan’s capabilities, he’s destined for the role of Grand Secretary. Extending him a favor now, easing tensions between you two, will cost you nothing and pay off in the long run.”

Even though Xue Shu had forbidden him from dwelling on “what-ifs,” it was still wise to prepare for every eventuality.

Xue Shu chuckled, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “I’ve already saved Xie Yunchuan during the Sun Miao case and even guided him several times afterward. At this point, he practically worships me as his greatest benefactor. There’s no need to go out of my way to curry favor.”

Yin Chengyu’s expression froze for a brief moment, his gaze sharpening as he studied Xue Shu with a peculiar intensity. “Oh?! I wasn’t aware the two of you were so... close. Perhaps I was overthinking things.”

His tone was light, casual, devoid of overt emotion, yet Xue Shu, ever perceptive, caught the subtle undercurrent. He recalled how Yin Chengyu had brought up Xie Yunchuan on two prior occasions, each time with an inexplicable edge to his demeanor. Now, with this third instance, the pieces fell into place.

Dropping to one knee by the edge of the Luohan couch, Xue Shu leaned in, his voice low, probing, tinged with deliberate sensuality. “Your Majesty… are you jealous?”

Yin Chengyu leaned back slightly, avoiding the question.

But Xue Shu already knew. With a predator’s precision, he pressed closer, gripping Yin Chengyu’s shoulder to lock him in place, forcing their gazes to meet. “So even the Emperor can get jealous?”

Yin Chengyu refused to answer, unwilling to dignify the accusation.

Rationally, he knew there was no basis for such feelings; there was no question of improper intimacy between Xue Shu and Xie Yunchuan. Yet logic faltered in the face of his emotions. Seeing Xue Shu extend even the faintest of courtesies to another sparked a flicker of discomfort.

Perhaps it was because, in the past, Xue Shu’s devotion had been single-minded, his gaze never straying from Yin Chengyu. To now witness him share even a shred of attention with someone else, no matter how trivial, was deeply unsettling.

Once, Yin Chengyu had mocked Xue Shu for his beastly possessiveness, for the way he marked his territory so fiercely. Now, it seemed the tables had turned, and he wasn’t immune to such instincts after all.

Yin Chengyu pursed his lips, refusing to speak.

Xue Shu, emboldened by the realization, continued his relentless teasing, his voice dropping to an intimate murmur edged with unrestrained delight. “So even His Majesty can’t help but feel possessive? How thrilling.”

Pushed to his limit, Yin Chengyu finally shoved him back with a hand against his chest, his tone faintly exasperated. “You were jealous of General Hu once. Am I not allowed the same indulgence?”

“Of course you are.”

Xue Shu wasted no time pulling him into a fierce embrace, burying his face in Yin Chengyu’s neck like a triumphant beast hoarding its treasure. His voice trembled with unfiltered elation. “I’m just... so happy. Too happy.”

He tightened his grip, his joy pouring out through every touch, every glance.

Caught in the warmth of Xue Shu’s exuberance, Yin Chengyu couldn’t help but smile, his earlier annoyance melting away.

After letting him cling for a while, he finally pushed him off, his voice calm yet commanding. “Go bathe. You reek of the prison.”

*

The fate of Shao Tian was debated for two days by the three tribunals before they finalized their decision, which was then presented to the emperor.

The crimes committed by Shao Tian were unforgivable. His death was inevitable, but the timing of his execution was a matter that demanded careful consideration.

Emperor Yin Chengyu gazed at the memorial submitted by the three tribunals, his mind deep in thought. After a prolonged pause, he decreed that Shao Tian would be executed by beheading in March of the following year.

Shao Tian, though, still had his uses—there were many opportunities left for him to be of service before his end.

Once the decision regarding Shao Tian’s fate was made, it sent shockwaves through both the court and the wider realm. Those who had been closely associated with him scrambled in panic, trying to gather information, fearful of being implicated.

Yin Chengyu, observing all this with a cold, detached gaze, ordered the Eastern Bureau to keep a close watch on these individuals. As expected, they soon uncovered a web of key figures, each linked to Shao Tian.

For years, Shao Tian had held a powerful position and had committed numerous acts of corruption. Though the years had passed and his methods had been careful, the evidence was still there, and although investigating it would be a laborious process, confessions from his allies would make things far easier.

With the Eastern Bureau keeping tabs, a new batch of Shao’s cronies soon found themselves imprisoned in the imperial dungeons.

Desperate to clear their names, these officials turned on each other, revealing the full extent of the crimes committed by Shao Tian’s faction—murders, embezzlement, bribery, and more—everything came to light and was presented directly to Yin Chengyu.

Enraged by the scale of the corruption, the emperor ordered that all officials involved be severely punished, making it clear to the court and the people that no one would escape justice.

In just a few days, the ranks of those in power had thinned by thirty percent.

The Ministry of Revenue, where Shao Tian had served as minister, was particularly hard-hit. The corruption within its ranks was so pervasive that it shocked even the court. When Yin Chengyu took action, half of the ministry’s officials were purged in a single stroke.

The remaining officials, stunned by the emperor's wrath, were forced into greater efficiency, and the administration began running smoother than ever, despite a shortage of personnel.

While there were competent officials, most were mediocrities who had grown accustomed to a life of indifference, content to waste their time under the rule of Emperor Longfeng. Even worse were those, like the imprisoned officials, who had seized the opportunity to amass wealth, ignoring the law, becoming parasites feeding off the state.

Yin Chengyu had no intention of merely eliminating Shao Tian—he intended to eradicate these parasites as well and cleanse the court of its moral decay.

“There are too many officials who merely occupy positions without contributing,” Yin Chengyu remarked coolly as he read a confidential report from Xue Shu. “This is the perfect moment to use their fear to reshape the court and make the rest fall in line.”

Xue Shu nodded. “The agents have already begun raiding the homes on the list. There are fewer gatherings among officials now, and most of them are holed up in their homes after hours.”

“Let them learn a lesson,” Yin Chengyu replied coldly.

For years, officials had viewed Emperor Yin Chengyu as a benevolent ruler, but they had never witnessed the ruthless decisiveness he was now demonstrating.

In just a few short days, over twenty officials had been arrested, their homes raided, and their fates sealed. Dozens more were still under investigation, locked away in the imperial dungeons. The public gathered early every morning to watch corrupt officials meet their end at the execution grounds.

After this purge, no one would dare call the emperor soft or indulgent again.

The young emperor, now firmly in control of the throne, had eagerly shown his sharp claws, and no one in the court or beyond would forget the brutal efficiency of his rule.

———TN: Yu Yu: Drag him away!

With a wicked grin, 'Empress' Xue Shu, one of the emperor's loyal lackeys, stepped forward from behind him. Raising his hand with an air of dominance, he coldly declared, "I’m here."