"Master, the Jianhong is an immortal sword—how could mere mortal iron compare? But the steel-forging techniques I've collected from the mortal realm are far superior to those currently used in the Great Yan Dynasty..."

The officials could no longer process the rest of the words. All they heard was that the young master disdained weapons forged from ordinary iron—she didn’t even want to look at them!

Wuwuwu, she didn’t want to look!

Wuwuwu, such a treasure, and she actually refused to see it!

How could someone speak such icy, heartless words with a mouth warmed to thirty-seven degrees?!

Lu Qi clutched his chest, barely holding back from fainting.

But tears still streamed down his face. He wanted to drop to his knees and beg Yue Fuguang—If you don’t want to see it, there are others who do!

Yet he didn’t dare. Eavesdropping on the thoughts of a deity—even one undergoing tribulations—was still eavesdropping on a deity.

Revealing this secret wasn’t something he, or even his entire nine-generation clan, could bear the consequences of!

Yue Fuguang watched as Emperor Mingxi’s eyes reddened with urgency and Lu Qi silently wept, feeling a fleeting pang of guilt. Had she been too cruel?

The bait was too tantalizing—she’d practically reduced them to tears!

Of course, this guilt lasted only a moment. Things too easily obtained were never truly cherished, so she had to raise the stakes for these esteemed officials.

As her colleagues began trembling again, some even swaying on their feet, others disdainfully stepped forward to address the emperor.

"Your Majesty, the Beili envoys will arrive in the capital tomorrow. Should we adhere to last year’s standards for their reception?" asked an official from the Court of State Ceremonial.

He hadn’t wanted to ask, but this year’s Beili reception duties fell to him.

Normally, following precedent would suffice, but after the recent Beili spy incident—which implicated a marquis and countless hidden agents—the emperor’s displeasure with Beili was palpable. Without clear guidance, he had no idea how to proceed!

He’d reported to his superior, You Mingmin, the Minister of State Ceremonial, expecting a decision during today’s court session. But barely any time had passed before Minister You succumbed to another... episode.

Beili’s envoys?

[Master, have you forgotten? Next month marks Emperor Mingxi’s fortieth birthday. Every year, neighboring nations send envoys to congratulate him during the Longevity Festival. The Great Yan Dynasty also dispatches envoys to present gifts in return.]

"Ah, I see. The Great Yan is still too weak. If it were stronger, it could be the suzerain state, with all nations paying tribute—how exhilarating that would be!"

[It is quite weak. This emperor won’t live much past forty. Counting the days, the Longevity Festival is only twenty days away. Have you prepared your gift?]

Gah!

Gah!

Someone let out a strangled noise, like a duck’s dying croak.

Yue Fuguang pretended not to hear. The sound was faint anyway, and the two culprits were immediately muffled by their colleagues.

Newcomers, clearly. They couldn’t handle the shock. Unlike Emperor Mingxi and the veterans who’d grown accustomed to these divine revelations—so composed!

Emperor Mingxi: After hearing so much, I’m numb! What intrigued him more was—what would the immortal envoy gift him?

The officials: Hearing of His Majesty’s impending death again is unsettling, but we dare not react!

"Do I have to give a gift? I didn’t know!"

[In the past, you’d only receive gifts. But now, as a nominal subject, you must present one to the sovereign.]

"You have plenty of treasures, right? Just pick one—any would suffice as a national heirloom."

[I do, but mortals can’t wield immortal artifacts.]

Emperor Mingxi: I’d take one even if I couldn’t use it! The divine envoy needn’t worry—he wasn’t picky!

The Yu Father and Son: It feels like our child is about to be taken advantage of by the emperor again. We need answers—urgently!

Their urgency was met with the divine envoy’s next words:

[Since Emperor Mingxi aspires to be a legendary ruler, why not gift him some technology? Any of the mortal-compatible knowledge we possess would surpass their current level by leagues.]

The system wasn’t wrong. The technological advancement here was comparable to the Qin-Han era in her homeland.

Worse, this world lacked the intellectual flourishing of the Hundred Schools of Thought. Ideas and techniques were stagnant, a muddled blend of Legalist, Confucian, and Daoist fragments—unsystematic and bizarre.

Yue Fuguang blinked innocently at Emperor Mingxi, ignoring his anxious expression.

With a guileless smile, she delivered a verbal dagger:

"But he grows foolish in his later years. I’m not inclined to give him anything. Let me think on it."

Emperor Mingxi: Foolish in my later years? How?! Explain!

His inner turmoil raged, but outwardly, only a flicker of red and white crossed his face.

He even spared a glance at his eldest sons—the crown prince and the second, third, and fifth princes.

Did the crown prince’s death relate to his future folly? Which son would seize the throne afterward, only to lose the empire?

[Speaking of the Beili envoys—isn’t the Ninth Prince’s real father among them?]

The divine envoy’s remark silenced the debate over Beili’s reception standards.

The hall froze.

What did this mean? The Ninth Prince’s real father? Wasn’t his father seated right above them?

A few dared to glance upward.

The emperor remained motionless, his expression unreadable.

Emperor Mingxi wasn’t choosing to stay calm—he was simply too stunned to react.

His most beloved son, the Ninth Prince—had another father? Was he the stepfather?

He’d doted on the boy more than the crown prince these past two years. How could he not be the father?

His mind raced, yet the possibility of Concubine Xian Zhou’s infidelity—of raising another man’s child—never crossed it.

The officials, however, weren’t so oblivious.

Royal scandal! They yearned to hear more but feared the consequences.

The shrewd ones edged away from the Zhou family—Concubine Xian’s father, Zhou Yan, and her brother, Zhou Qingyu.

The Zhou father and son exchanged glances. The message was clear: This is targeted. We’re doomed.

Zhou ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌‌ ‌ ‌‌ ‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌‌ ‌ ‌‌ ‌ ‌‌ ‌ ‌‌ ‌ ‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌ ‌‌‌ ‌ ‌‌ ‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌ ‌ ‌‌ ‌ ‌‌‌ ‌ ‌‌ ‌ ‌‌ ‌ ‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‍Qingyu fought to keep his legs from buckling.

Zhou Yan shut his eyes in despair, awaiting the divine envoy’s death sentence—for his family, his clan.

"Isn’t the Ninth Prince’s father Emperor Mingxi? Who else could it be?"

[Master, did I forget to mention? The Ninth Prince is the product of Concubine Xian Zhou’s affair.]

Thud!

With that revelation, countless hearts in the court stopped dead.