Can I Become Emperor by Being This Lazy? - Chapter 63

Chapter 63

Zhou Feiren coughed up blood, struggling desperately. His nails dug into the stone floor until the skin tore away, leaving his fingers mangled and bloodied.

Jin Province and Jiang Province have fallen. If we don’t suppress them soon, the capital will also fall into Xu Mao’s hands within days, Zhou Feiren rasped, issuing his final warning.

Enraged, the guard glanced around and drew his blade. Blood sprayed across the ground as the strike landed, immediately silencing Zhou Feiren. His breath grew faint, gurgling sounds emerging from his throat, though no coherent words could be formed.

Spreading lies! Clearly scheming to disseminate rumors and panic the people—undermining the foundation of Great Liang! He deserved death! The guard’s blade dripped blood onto his shoes. He jumped back as if scalded, declaring righteously to those around him—whether convincing others or himself remained unclear—his gaze distant and vacant.

Zhou Feiren’s death passed without a ripple, unnoticed and unremarked. Wrapped in a straw mat, he was tossed into the mass graves, thus ending his life.

Dark clouds loomed over the city, a storm brewing. The air in Chang’an grew tense, carrying a cold wind laced with the scents of blood and decay into the palace halls. In the emperor’s quarters, the melodies of strings and pipes drifted sweetly and long, accompanied by graceful musicians of striking beauty.

The old emperor drowned himself in wine and illusion, plucking a pipa ineptly as he sang. Officials in bright court robes clustered around him, raising their cups with forced laughter and flattery.

All attention was fixed on the emperor. No one noticed as someone entered the hall and whispered into the prime minister’s ear.

The prime minister was Consort Feng’s elder brother, overseeing the Ministry of Personnel. Thanks to his sister, he enjoyed the emperor’s deep trust, frequently attending the ruler and handling state affairs. His power was immense; not a single court official dared cross him.

Prime Minister Feng swirled his wine cup, listening quietly. His brow lifted slightly as he glanced at the emperor, lost in debauchery. After a moment’s thought, he asked, Has that man’s identity been verified? Was he truly from Jin Province?

Your Excellency, we confirmed it. He was indeed the younger brother of the magistrate of Fengcheng. The situation in Jin Province is severe. They say the Enchantress used sorcery to turn the garrison troops—they rebelled and opened the city gates for her. It’s unnatural. Fortunately, we intercepted all reports before His Majesty saw them. Given the emperor’s temper, many would lose their heads… But we cannot suppress this forever. I urge you to decide quickly and report it at an opportune moment.

Prime Minister Feng set down his cup. No need to rush. A mere woman—what great deeds can she accomplish? Her sorcery may fool ignorant peasants in the provinces, but can it deceive the entire world?

She will never amount to anything, Feng declared. Turning to his subordinate, he lowered his voice. Our priority is to keep a close watch on Yang Mu. He’s been making moves lately. Guard the city gates—allow no suspicious individuals through. Once we deal with Yang Mu, we’ll turn our attention to cleaning up the chaos outside.

Yes, Your Excellency.

Prime Minister Feng brushed his sleeves, adjusting their generous folds. He picked up his cup again, took a sip, and narrowed his eyes contentedly. With his other hand, he tapped the table lightly, humming a tune to the rhythm.

Chang’an remained as prosperous and opulent as ever, immersed in revelry, completely unaware that other regions had become living hells with countless casualties—bandits roaming, rebellions erupting, slaughter and plunder raging, and blazing flames devouring charred corpses in utter chaos.

While Xu Mao was organizing the examination for Madam Du, the letter she had been anxiously awaiting finally arrived in Chang’an, delivered by a courier riding at breakneck speed.

Following Xu Mao’s instructions, the courier first shot an arrow from an elevated position to attract the guards’ attention. Then, he attached the letter to the tail of another arrow and fired this crucial second shot. After releasing the arrow, he vanished without a trace.

The guards immediately drew their blades in alarm: Who dares to shoot covert arrows at the feet of the Son of Heaven?

Some rushed out to search for the archer, while others pulled out the arrow and discovered the letter tied to its end. They promptly retrieved it and hurried back to report to their superiors.

Meanwhile, the soldiers under the Pacifying North Regional Commander, who lay in ambush outside the city awaiting the order to charge in, were startled by this unexpected arrow. They exclaimed in alarm, Who shot that arrow?

It wasn’t us—all our arrows are still nocked on our bows, unused.

Everyone shook their heads, glancing at each other in confusion.

Could it be that circumstances have changed, and the commander has moved early? the soldiers speculated, asking urgently, The imperial guards will soon search this area—what should we do?

With the guards closing in, retreat was no longer an option without exposing themselves. Whether the commander had acted prematurely or not, they could not remain passive.

The captain gritted his teeth, temporarily steadied his troops, and rushed to report to Yang Mu that their plan had gone awry.

Yang Mu, the Suzhou commander and Pacifying North Regional Commander who should not have been in the capital, had been calmly studying maps in the rear. Suddenly, the captain burst in to report that the city gate guards were searching nearby. Startled, Yang Mu rose anxiously and paced back and forth.

Who shot that arrow? Yang Mu fumed. He had planned to infiltrate under cover of darkness to catch the enemy off guard, never expecting such a disruption.

The captain sensed Yang Mu’s reaction was one of genuine surprise, not a deliberate maneuver. Clearly, someone else had interfered.

He hastily knelt, vehemently clarifying, Commander, it wasn’t our men. All our arrows are accounted for, unchanged in number. It was no accidental shot. Someone must have leaked the plan and intentionally used the arrow to draw the guards’ search, forcing us into exposure. I implore you to order an immediate assault on the city to seize the initiative.

There was only one path forward now.

Furious that his careful strategy had been disrupted, Yang Mu kicked a table aside and waved his hand. Issue the order at once—to rid His Majesty of treacherous officials and restore peace to the realm. Charge—!

Forced to act prematurely, Yang Mu bared his fangs at the city gates, unleashing a massacre. He simultaneously spread exaggerated accounts of uprisings across the land, amplifying and dramatizing their severity to shake public morale and justify his actions.

Just as Prime Minister Feng finished reading Xu Mao’s letter and contemptuously tossed it aside, dismissing its contents, a blood-soaked imperial guard stumbled in and collapsed at his feet. With his last breath, the guard tremblingly grasped Feng’s ankle and reported, Your Excellency, disaster! The Pacifying North Regional Commander has rebelled! He’s already leading troops into the city!

What? Prime Minister Feng exclaimed in shock, sitting frozen as he muttered in disbelief, How dare he… Yang Mu has gone mad!

He knew Yang Mu was restless, secretly amassing troops and horses—rebellion was inevitable, only he hadn’t expected Yang Mu to choose this moment to raise arms, catching him completely off guard.

Prime Minister Feng’s body trembled uncontrollably. If Yang Mu marched into the imperial capital now, he would surely use eliminating treacherous officials as his pretext—and Feng himself would be the first target. The old emperor might sacrifice him to appease Yang Mu, offering his life as compromise to preserve the throne.

Realizing the gravity of the situation, Prime Minister Feng panicked. Then his eyes fell upon Xu Mao’s letter, suddenly brightening as if spotting a lifeline.

He decided to redirect the calamity elsewhere.

Feng rushed to the palace, weeping and wailing as he threw himself at the emperor’s feet. Through choked sobs, he accused Yang Mu of treason and presented Xu Mao’s letter, lamenting: Your Majesty, Jin Province and Jiang Province have been lost to that Enchantress for months! Such horrifying events occurred there, yet the capital received no news whatsoever. Yang Mu must have known—not only did he ignore it, but he returned to the capital without summons, bathing the city gates in blood with his sword pointed directly at Your Majesty! His wolfish ambition is plain to see. I beg Your Majesty to immediately issue decrees mobilizing all troops near the capital to crush this traitor Yang Mu!

The emperor, shocked by the rebellion, sprang from his bed and snatched the letter. Lifting his face in disbelief, he demanded: What did you say? Yang Mu has rebelled?

Prime Minister Feng nodded helplessly and urged: Your Majesty must decide quickly—Yang Mu will soon break into the palace!

The emperor, distraught and anxious, pondered countermeasures while holding Xu Mao’s letter. What did you mean earlier about the Enchantress?

Feng replied: This humble servant only recently learned—this Xu Mao used Sorcery in Jin Province to bewitch guards into opening city gates, thus seizing both Jin and Jiang territories. Tales of the Enchantress Xu Mao have already spread beyond the capital.

The emperor pressed his lips together, shooting Feng an icy glare.

The coldness in that gaze made Feng shudder. He bowed lower, hanging his head.

The emperor reread Xu Mao’s letter, then leaped from his bed—not even bothering with shoes—parted the bead curtain, and hurried to his desk to draft a rescue decree.

Beyond the capital’s imperial guards, there were heavy garrisons stationed nearby to protect the realm that could be rapidly recalled to handle crises. But as extra insurance, the emperor counted on Xu Mao’s sorcery. She wanted wealth—he could provide it. The condition was that she must save him, guarantee his safety.

If she truly possessed supernatural powers and could teleport here to rescue him, granting her titles wouldn’t be unreasonable. If she wished, she could become his noble consort—even Empress—standing above all except himself, enjoying every worldly luxury.

Just as the emperor finished drafting the decree appointing Xu Mao as Noble Consort, a eunuch stumbled in, pale as paper, voice trembling: Your Majesty! Your Majesty! Rumors spread everywhere of uprisings across the land! Not only have Jin and Jiang Provinces fallen—Xiangwu and Huaiyang regions are completely beyond imperial control! The imperial guards have mutinied, demanding… demanding…

The eunuch glanced fearfully at Prime Minister Feng, then whispered: Demanding Prime Minister Feng’s execution to purify the court!

Having spoken, he immediately prostrated, burying his head in his sleeves, not daring to move.

Prime Minister Feng’s face changed dramatically. He looked at the emperor, who returned only an indifferent, cold stare.

Every hair on Feng’s body stood up—like a deer targeted by a beast, trapped in mortal danger.

Your Majesty, this humble servant… this is not a strategy to eradicate the root of the problem. Yang Mu is ambitious—even if you kill me, he will not rest easily. Prime Minister Feng swallowed hard, hastily explaining the disadvantages of executing him to the emperor.

Yet executing Prime Minister Feng was the optimal method to quickly appease the imperial guards and alleviate the crisis.

Fully aware of this, the prime minister continued, The imperial guards dared to pressure Your Majesty this time—they must have been instigated by someone behind the scenes. They will rebel again in the future; their loyalty is questionable. I implore Your Majesty not to trust them. Chang’an is no longer safe. This humble servant is willing to escort Your Majesty away from this place.

The emperor hesitated for a moment.

Indeed, the imperial guards must obey the emperor’s commands without any rebellious thoughts. If they could force him to kill a favored official today, they might dare to kill him and take his place tomorrow.

No one could be trusted.

The emperor’s heart was in turmoil as he held the edict appointing Xu Mao as an imperial consort.

Earlier, he had room to retreat and could jest with her casually, but now he found himself isolated and helpless. He absolutely could not act rashly or gamble with this situation.

Whatever Xu Mao wanted, he would grant it. Other matters could be discussed with her in detail once he was safe, with rewards to follow.

The emperor marked the edict, straightened his expression, and picked up his brush to write again.