"The imperial clan belongs to the Tiandou Jiangshan clan. If faults occur, all heavenly fighters have the right to accuse and correct. But if unprovoked rumors arise, falsely claiming to speak for the prince and slandering him, this emperor shall never forgive!"
With these words, none dared to speak against the decree.
Rao quietly held his opinions on Xue Qinghe, containing his doubts. What means did the young prince use to win such favor from His Majesty? Was it mere deception, causing the emperor to kill innocent people indiscriminately?
Only those skilled in the machinations of emperors and ministers understood Emperor Xueye's true intent: He was playing a deadly game against his own son.
Emperor Xueye glanced around the hall; officials panicked. Only senior ministers understood his plan—to appear loyal, they would persuade, then let others slander Xue Qinghe.
Taking advantage of this, the emperor intended to restrain the prince's power, confiscate his seal, suppress his reputation, and reap praise for loyalty—a masterstroke killing two birds with one stone.
Such was the way of kings.
But Xue Qinghe showed unusual boldness hiding in the royal family; this storm was difficult to weather.
With a humble smile, the emperor spoke:
"No one is perfect. Although my son is cautious and strives to emulate his father respectfully, mistakes are inevitable, and offending adversaries unavoidable. Let this matter be conveyed to the temple one by one to explain to officials and reassure Tiandou's people. Without this, the prince's position will be insecure."
In the solemn hall, Subei could not help but laugh, making nearby officials frown.
Xindao (subtle voice in Subei's mind): "Who does this brash kid think he is, sneering and wearing a fancy mask—ridiculous."
One could hardly blame Subei, but Xue Qinghe spoke wisely.
He first placed himself in the common people's shoes—acknowledging that even if faults exist, explanations must be given.
Secondly, he implicated the emperor. If the prince erred, so did Emperor Xueye—thus the empire itself was at risk.
Xue Qinghe built an image of fairness and courage, unafraid of accusations.
Qian Renxue truly was a hidden veteran.
Emperor Xueye initially frowned but admired his son's youthful poise; the heir was truly his equal.
Such rhetoric from a mere sixteen-year-old was beyond his years.
Though relieved, the emperor remained wary.
He could not see through his son's true heart—whether his sincerity or deception.
If sincere, the emperor felt hope for his successor.
If deceitful, then the prince would be a shrewd manipulator controlling officials and empire alike.
His mind was deep and elusive.
The emperor understood everything.
The prince—no.
This fear haunted Emperor Xueye most, compounded by the deaths of his other sons.
Two years ago, his twelve-year-old second son Xue Luochuan mysteriously fell ill and died.
In truth, Xue Qinghe secretly poisoned him, using subtle chronic toxins that evaded detection—even the imperial doctors.
A year later, the eleven-year-old third son Xue Haizang suffered identical symptoms and died similarly.
These mysterious deaths were like a curse targeting princes around twelve years of age, with no cure.
At first, Emperor Xueye suspected palace maids, as the few women allowed near princes could cause harm during their vulnerable youth.
But deeper reflection revealed the real beneficiary: Xue Qinghe.
Thus, Emperor Xueye remained cautious about expanding his son's power.
Looking around sternly, he demanded, "If so, who is this person? Step forward and speak!"
In the hall, a young man in a top hat and C-level official uniform trembled.
Not from fear, but excitement.
His eyes blazed with fervor as he faced Emperor Xueye.
Xindao's voice echoed in Subei's mind: "Complete this task, be promoted to majesty, become the number one hero at His Majesty's side… return home in glory, admired by all."
The young man drew a scroll and said respectfully, "Your Majesty…"
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