Chapter 603: Thunder Up
Thunder Up . . .
Confusion rippled through the assembly of officials. It was still early in the morning, and the sudden commotion had caught them unawares. They exchanged hushed speculations, wondering if an accident had occurred. Rumors had circulated about the king's ailing health, suggesting his imminent demise. Had that fateful moment finally arrived?
The same musings occupied the Crown Prince's thoughts. He appeared outwardly perplexed but inwardly jubilant. The prospect of his father's death filled him with delight, for he harbored dreams of ascending to the throne. Inwardly, he exulted, "The gods favor me. Once the throne is mine, I shall be king!"
Unbeknownst to the Crown Prince, he continued to bask in this illusion, blissfully unaware of the events of the previous night. The royal masters had acted swiftly and covertly, ensuring that not a single individual among the implicated officials escaped their clutches. They were as thorough as a tightly-woven net, leaving no room for any to evade capture.
These masters, highly accomplished in the Sky Origin Stage, were deemed extraordinarily formidable by ordinary standards. The span of a single night had provided ample time for them to orchestrate their meticulously planned operation.
The officials grew increasingly agitated, seeking answers to the perplexing turn of events. "What's happening? Has something of great significance occurred?"
One official posed the query to the Crown Prince, who, having come to a disquieting realization, paled and lost his previous vigor. The scope of his anxiety grew as he observed the inexplicable absence of his officials. A mounting sense of dread crept upon him. The unmistakable pattern of their disappearance left him with no room for denial.
All the officials serving him had vanished simultaneously. It could only signify...
The Crown Prince's heart raced, and a grim pallor clouded his countenance. He shook his head, struggling to contain the increasing depths of his despair. His world was unraveling, descending into an inexorable nightmare. He yearned to awaken, but reality remained unyielding.
What was once a sweet dream had metamorphosed into a harrowing nightmare, an abyssal plunge from heaven to hell.
Amidst this internal turmoil, the eunuch's announcement pierced the air. "The king calls for the morning court!"
The Crown Prince quivered, feeling as if his legs were rooted to the ground, rendering him immobile. Each step was an arduous endeavor, as though his feet bore a leaden weight. He wrestled with the overwhelming burden of his trepidation, his body drenched in cold, clammy perspiration.
Observing the Crown Prince's distress, an official moved to support him. Upon touching the Crown Prince, he recoiled, his hands coming into contact with the chilling, clammy moisture clinging to the Crown Prince's form.
"What ails you, Your Highness?" the official inquired, genuine concern reflected in his voice.
Struggling to regain his composure, the Crown Prince mumbled, "I am well," and gingerly entered the main hall.
Another official, recognizing the Crown Prince's evident distress, offered counsel, "Your Highness, if you are unwell, perhaps you should request leave and retire to rest at home. Concealing your ailment out of fear of treatment is ill-advised."
Yet, the Crown Prince's pallid visage and distant demeanor indicated his utter inebriation. He remained oblivious to the concerns of those around him.
In the main hall, King Chen Xuantian directed his piercing, frigid gaze toward the Crown Prince, who was escorted by an official. His eyes harbored a complex array of emotions, and he longed for an explanation.
Within his heart, King Chen Xuantian yearned to pose a single question to his son: Why?
In the hushed expanse of the court, a heavy silence gripped the officials, casting a pall of foreboding over the assembly. The stifling atmosphere weighed upon them, inducing a sense of suffocation. It was clear that something had gone awry, but a cloud of trepidation muted any impulse to address it.
Not one amongst these seasoned, shrewd officials dared to break the silence with their words. Their collective wisdom had instilled a discerning apprehension. Whenever discord festered in the court, they instinctively lowered their heads and held their tongues. Those who braved the ill-advised step of uttering inane pleasantries like, "What a lovely day," likely met a swift, grim fate.
Ironically, the seemingly innocuous phrase, "What a lovely day," could have served as a humorous means to alleviate the tension. Nevertheless, no one was willing to test the boundaries of decorum in these dire circumstances.
King Chen Xuantian, leaning back on his throne, exuded an air of nonchalance. His eyes drew together in a languid manner, a facade of indolence.
Prime Minister Zuo, among others, recognized the perilous undertones within the king's actions. This was a portent of something momentous on the horizon, and a wave of unease rippled through their hearts. The nuanced signals conveyed by the king's relaxed demeanor and seemingly haphazard expressions bore the weight of gravitas.
These veteran officials, their collective experience spanning decades, could read the signs with remarkable acumen. They recognized the imminent danger and opted to remain aloof from its throes, like sly foxes tiptoeing through a forest of thorns.
In the shadowed chamber, the king's solemn voice cut through the silence. "Prime Minister Zuo," he addressed.
Prime Minister Zuo felt as if a thousand alpacas were stampeding across his heart in chaotic frenzy. He harbored a vivid wish to play dead on the spot, wondering if he had perhaps forgotten to beseech divine favor that very morning. Misfortune was painted across his existence, and he was bracing for the inevitable.
With hesitance, Prime Minister Zuo took a step forward and responded, "Yes, Your Majesty."
"Let me pose a query," the king inquired, his tone laced with gravity. "What exactly constitutes your duty, Prime Minister?"
Prime Minister Zuo trembled inwardly, sensing the metaphorical noose closing in. In response, he offered a meticulously measured answer, "Your Majesty, my responsibility is to serve as your aide, overseeing and guiding the officials, and providing my—"
"Hmm," the king interjected, snuffing out Prime Minister Zuo's response before it could flourish.
In the midst of a potent mixture of anxiety and relief, Prime Minister Zuo let out an internal sigh of gratitude. It was a sentiment echoing in the hearts of all who occupied his venerable position.
"Hmm," the king repeated, before continuing, "Overseeing and guiding the officials. Well articulated, Prime Minister Zuo. Allow me to press you further. Regarding the case of the Second Prince, how, in your capacity of overseeing officials, do you evaluate the effectiveness of your role?"
"I… I am culpable!" Prime Minister Zuo swiftly prostrated himself. Despite his utter surrender, a measure of relief coursed through his thoughts.
"So, it appears that another unfortunate soul has earned the ire of the king," he mused inwardly. "It could be worse than a half-year's deduction in salary."
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