Chapter 11: The Edict of Grace
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After a long silence, a trace of weariness finally showed in the Empress Wu Mingkong’s deep, phoenix-like eyes.
She rubbed the space between her brows, her voice carrying an unmistakably decisive edge.
“Then tell me—how should I pacify the realm within?”
That was precisely the question Zhao Yi had been waiting for.
He affected a profound air and pondered for a moment. Leaning forward slightly, he lowered his voice. His pose made him look exactly like a swindler preparing to peddle some secret family remedy.
“Your Majesty, repelling external threats and stabilizing the realm require attention to sequence—to what is more important, and what is more urgent.”
“More importantly, the remedy must suit the illness.”
He paused, raised his eyelids, and slowly tossed out a question.
“May I ask, Your Majesty, how many sons does Prince Wu De of Pacifying the South have?”
A flicker of impatience crossed the Empress’s eyes, but she answered all the same.
“Four.”
“Not one of them is harmless.”
“Exactly!”
Zhao Yi slapped his thigh, a meaningful smile spreading across his face.
“Think about it, Your Majesty. Four sons, yet there is only one title of Prince of Pacifying the South.”
“What a coincidence, wouldn’t you say?”
The Empress’s pupils contracted slightly. How could someone as intelligent as she was fail to understand the deeper meaning behind his words?
Brothers turning against one another. Blood relations fighting among themselves.
Since ancient times, it had been the most common drama in imperial families.
She nodded, signaling for Zhao Yi to continue.
Seeing that he had successfully aroused her curiosity, Zhao Yi grew even more enthusiastic.
He rose and walked to the imperial desk, lowering his voice until it was nearly a whisper.
“Your Majesty, I have a plan. Not only will it resolve the threat posed by Prince Wu De once and for all, it will also arrange every member of the imperial clan and royal family neatly and completely.”
“This plan is called…”
He drew out the final syllable, then slowly uttered three words.
“The Edict of Grace.”
“The Edict of Grace?”
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The Empress repeated the name, her phoenix eyes filled with questions.
“What is the Edict of Grace?”
There it was!
At last, the moment to show off had arrived!
Zhao Yi cleared his throat. At that moment, he felt as though he were standing on a lecture platform, imparting the art of dragon-slaying to the only student seated below.
“Your Majesty, under the laws of Great Zhou, succession has always followed the principle that the legitimate eldest son inherits. A prince’s title and fief can be passed only to his eldest son. As for the other sons, they get nothing but the privilege of living idle, comfortable lives. Do you really think they would harbor no resentment?”
“The brilliance of the Edict of Grace lies in the word ‘grace.’”
A nearly demonic light gleamed in Zhao Yi’s eyes.
“Your Majesty need not issue a command. You need only bestow your ‘gracious approval.’”
“Bestow permission upon the princes throughout the realm to divide their fiefs among all their sons. The legitimate eldest son will inherit the princely title, while the other sons may also be made marquises, each receiving a small territory of his own.”
“Just consider what an enormous favor that would be! Your Majesty would be showing compassion for the princes’ tender love for their children, unable to bear seeing their other sons suffer injustice. This is an open stratagem—a magnificent act of benevolent governance!”
“Can those princes refuse? Would they dare refuse? If one refused, would that not mean he did not love his other sons? And would the sons who received no benefits not hate him to the bone?”
“So they could only accept Your Majesty’s boundless ‘imperial grace’ with tears in their eyes and smiles on their faces!”
The more Zhao Yi spoke, the more excited he became, spraying spittle with every word.
“But what would be the result? The vast fief of Prince Wu De would be divided into four parts. In the next generation, those four parts would be divided into more than a dozen.”
“Within three generations, the vassal princes who once possessed enough power to challenge the imperial court would become a crowd of petty landowners, reduced to cockfighting and dog racing within their own tiny domains. They would already be fighting among themselves. Where would they find the energy—or the courage—to threaten Your Majesty’s throne?”
“Your Majesty would not need to do a thing. You would not even need to spend a single coin or deploy a single soldier.”
“All you would need to do is sit upon the Dragon Throne, issue an imperial decree, brew yourself a pot of fine tea, and leisurely admire the spectacle as they destroyed themselves.”
“This plan achieves victory without bloodshed, killing without leaving a trace!”
When the final word fell—
The Imperial Study sank into deathly silence.
The hand with which Empress Wu Mingkong held her teacup stopped in midair.
Hiss—
How in the world had this bastard’s mind been formed?
How was this an Edict of Grace?
This was a scheme to annihilate entire bloodlines!
The ruthlessness of its methods and the venomous intent behind it were simply appalling!
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She stared at Zhao Yi as though she were looking at a demon wearing human skin. Only after a long while did she squeeze a sentence from her dry throat.
“This… is your plan?”
Looking at her stunned expression, Zhao Yi felt a surge of secret delight.
Heh. Scared senseless, are you?
Almost instinctively, he lifted his head. His unruly gaze once again slipped out of his control, sweeping over the Empress’s chest as it rose and fell faintly with her shock before finally settling on her red lips, made even more alluring by her astonishment.
But this time—
He was caught red-handed.
The Empress’s gaze suddenly shifted from his face and collided precisely in midair with his brazen stare.
The air seemed to freeze.
Zhao Yi’s heart gave a jolt. This was bad.
Yet the thunderous fury he had expected never came.
The astonishment on the Empress’s face slowly faded, replaced by a faint, enigmatic curve of the lips.
Her smile was seductive—and terrifyingly dangerous.
She set down her teacup and leaned forward, displaying without the slightest concealment the breathtaking contours of her figure before Zhao Yi.
A delicate fragrance instantly slipped into his nostrils.
The Empress parted her vermilion lips, her voice languid and touched with teasing amusement.
“Lord Zhao.”
“Your scheme is vicious.”
“Your eyes, however, are lecherous.”
She extended one slender finger and tapped lightly against the imperial desk, producing a soft knock, knock. Each tap struck directly at Zhao Yi’s heart.
“I am wondering…”
Her voice grew increasingly playful.
“Should I first use your venomous scheme to deal with that band of treacherous rebels…”
“Or should I first gouge out those disobedient eyes of yours and soak them in wine?”