Crown Prince of the Empire, I quit!

Chapter 1248 Cowardice

"Your Majesty, should we send troops to pursue them?" the general under his command requested.

Qin Ming looked in the direction where Hua Yunhong disappeared and was silent for a moment.

"That's unnecessary," he said slowly. "He has nothing left, he's all alone, like a lost dog. Just send orders to all the counties and prefectures, post arrest warrants, and offer a reward for his capture."

He knew Hua Yunhong. The man was arrogant and had spent his life pursuing power and revenge. Now that he had fallen into this state, living might be more painful than death. Moreover, a small, defeated army wouldn't cause any trouble in the now largely pacified Daqian territory. A large-scale pursuit would be a waste of manpower.

The focus of the empire should shift from war to reconstruction and appeasement.

"Clean up the battlefield and appease the people of the capital. Announce to the world that the remaining remnants of Shenmu have been completely wiped out."

Qin Ming's voice was a little tired, but also full of unquestionable determination. "I... should return to the capital."

In the deep autumn of the northern border, the chill wind already carried a force that scraped at the bone. The dust of the capital had not yet been completely cleared by Qin Ming's triumphant return procession, but the empire's war wheels had already, under his will, efficiently and ruthlessly turned towards the reconstruction of the post-war order.

The decree for relief was dispatched swiftly, over 800 miles, to every prefecture and county. Like a flood, the imperial treasury's silver, money, and fodder poured into the war-ravaged capital. The list of fallen soldiers was solemnly copied, and the relief funds, personally escorted by soldiers in black armor, were delivered to the weeping widows and orphans. In the wounded camp, imperial physicians and renowned local doctors gathered, providing the finest remedies and the most meticulous care. His Majesty even visited in person, his silent gaze sweeping over every face contorted by pain. Though silent, his words rallied the troops more than any eloquent speech.

Civilians, organized by soldiers and officers, repaired the damaged city walls with haste. The government provided building materials to rebuild burned-out houses. After the imperial edict declaring tax reductions was posted, the frightened marketplace gradually returned to its former bustle. Iron-fisted and gentle—the twin wings of Qin and Ming's control over the empire. Within the court, a reckoning was also underway. Powerful individuals involved in the rebellion were uprooted, their property confiscated, and their heads hung on the city gates. Generals who defected in battle were publicly executed, their families implicated. Those who defended the territory, regardless of their background, were promoted and rewarded. A series of swift and decisive measures, like precise surgery, swiftly cut away the decaying flesh and stabilized the empire.

However, the Empire's nerves remained tense as it looked to the north. The news there was more disturbing than expected, and more... subtle.

Though the former royal palace now flew the black dragon flag, every brick and tile still clung to an alien atmosphere, a sense of disorientation and panic permeating the air. Inside, the charcoal fire burned brightly, yet it couldn't dispel the chill that penetrated deep into the bones.

The former Shenmu councilors, led by veteran minister Yao Chang, were like ants on a hot pan, their composure long gone. They had just received a stern letter of inquiry from the Beiting Protectorate (actually Meng Zhi's residence), questioning the remnants of Hua Yunhong and the rebellion in the capital, demanding a thorough investigation and a deadline for an explanation. The pressure was overwhelming.

At that moment, a slight commotion erupted outside the palace gates, which were quickly suppressed. The heavy door was pushed open a crack, and a leader of the guards hurried in with a panicked look on his face. He even forgot about etiquette and walked straight to Yao Chang, whispering a few words.

The teacup in Yao Chang's hand fell to the ground with a "bang" and shattered. He stood up suddenly, his face instantly pale as paper, and his body swayed, almost unable to stand steadily.

"You...what did you say?! Say it again!" His voice became sharp and changed in pitch.

Before the guards could answer, a figure staggered into everyone's sight, like a dead leaf blown into the hall by the cold wind.

It’s Hua Yunhong.

If it weren't for the vaguely discernible outline and those narrow, though hollow, eyes, few would have recognized him as the once gaunt and refined King of the Sacred Tree, who had later turned mad and paranoid. His clothes were tattered, stained with mud and dark red blood, his hair a mess of gray, like a wild man. His cheeks were sunken, his cheekbones prominent, and his lips were puckered white from dryness. Most disturbing of all were his eyes. The flames that once burned with ambition and resentment were now completely extinguished, leaving only boundless fatigue and a dead, gray desolation, as if he had seen through everything in the world, yet as if nothing was worth his attention anymore.

He ignored the horrified gazes within the hall, as if he had seen a ghost in broad daylight, and stumbled toward the center of the hall. His steps were unsteady, but he stubbornly walked toward the now-vacant Panlong Throne that had once belonged to him. Withered fingers reached out, trembling, and extremely slowly, they stroked the cold, gilded armrest. The carved patterns of the sacred wood seemed to prick his fingertips.

Finally, as if drained of all his strength, he slowly and dejectedly slumped down on the steps before the throne, burying his face in his trembling hands. The only sound in the entire hall was his heavy, suppressed breathing.

There was a deathly silence. Everyone was speechless at the sudden appearance of this living "ghost".

After a long while, Yao Chang was the first to come back to his senses. He staggered forward a few steps, tears streaming down his face, his voice hoarse and broken: "Your Majesty?! It's really you...you...how...why are you back?!"

This sound seemed to break the spell, and the hall was suddenly filled with suppressed exclamations and gasps.

Hua Yunhong slowly raised his head, his eyes sweeping over the crowd with a blank expression. His lips moved a few times before he uttered a hoarse sound like the friction of a grinding wheel: "We lost... all... lost..."

These four simple words, yet they seemed to contain an endless amount of despair, hammering down on everyone's heart. The last glimmer of hope regarding the outcome of the battle for Gyeonggi was completely shattered.

"Your Majesty!" A middle-aged official suddenly knelt on the ground, his voice filled with tears and fear. "You shouldn't have come back! Now that you've returned... how can the Beiting Protectorate let this go? The Daqian Emperor has just pacified the capital and is now clearing out the rebels! You are... you are forcing us, the last remaining blood of Shenmu, into a dead end!"

Panic broke out instantly like a plague.

"Yes, Your Majesty! Now that the sacred tree's former homeland has been returned to Daqian, we are all its subjects. It is already difficult for us to survive. Your appearance..."

"The Daqian Iron Cavalry will arrive in no time! We will all be crushed to dust!"

"Your Majesty! Why did you come back?"

Cries, complaints, and whispers of fear filled the hall. Far from being a source of hope, Hua Yunhong's return became a guillotine hanging over everyone's heads, poised to fall at any moment.

Yao Chang listened to the chaos around him, looking at his former master, slumped on the steps, seemingly lost in spirit. A mixture of sadness and the fear of reality filled his heart. He took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing his surging emotions. He walked over to Hua Yunhong and slowly, heavily, knelt down, touching his head to the ground.