Chapter Twenty-Two: Establishing the Sovereign

Ambition never falls; resolve soars higher than the heavens. Among all the heroes of the realm, none burn with fiercer passion than I.

No sooner had Zifan led his troops into the palace than the "Ten Attendants" received the news. Realizing their plot had once again failed, Zhang Rang, head of the eunuchs, was beside himself with rage. His once-calm face was now ashen, his composure shattered. Some of the eunuchs, sensing danger looming ever closer, felt as if their spines had been ripped from their backs; they turned limp, shrinking with fear, paralyzed and helpless.

“Now that things have come to this,” Zhang Rang murmured to those eunuchs hastily preparing to flee, his eyes flickering with a complex emotion, “we have no choice but to act decisively. In this moment, we must fight for our lives. If we are to die, then let it be with honor. The world may be vast, yet there is nowhere for eunuchs such as us to hide...”

Indeed, a servant remains a servant, and a master remains a master. No matter the time or circumstance, a servant can never become the master. The eunuchs most admired the Tang Dynasty's Qiu Shiliang, who wielded power in the court, serving six emperors, enthroning two, dominating for over twenty years, and claiming the lives of two kings, one consort, and four chancellors. His legendary retirement words, known as the “Foolish Emperor’s Policy,” were extolled: “The emperor must not be idle; if idle, he reads, meets with scholars, accepts remonstrance, grows wise, curtails his pleasures, and our favor and power fade. The best plan for us is to encourage indulgence—horses, hawks, hunting, music, and luxury—so the ruler finds endless joy and shuns affairs of state. Then, all power and favor will be ours.” The eunuchs knelt in awe!

But in all of history, how many eunuchs achieved such heights? Since ancient times, eunuchs have been agents of chaos, their threat even deeper than that of seductive women. Women may wield beauty, but eunuchs bring harm by other means. No matter their loyalty, they bear the blame for every ill, and in the end, are reviled. Eunuchs existed solely to serve the emperor and his kin; their office required castration, rendering them incomplete men—one reason for the disdain they suffered. To enter the palace as a eunuch, one had first to be purified.

For each eunuch, the greatest pain was this bodily loss. Their deepest wish was to live as normal men, to marry and raise a family. Though fathering children was impossible, taking a wife was sometimes allowed. Especially for those of high rank, who were ever beside the emperor and, at times, more influential than the prime minister, many high officials and concubines would curry their favor. Thus, power and wealth were theirs in abundance.

Yet this mutilation was only to prevent these men—who roamed freely among the palace beauties—from sowing scandal, and to ensure the emperor’s bloodline remained pure. So, being “birdless, light of body,” eunuchs were considered selfless, with no ties to bind them, and would serve with utter devotion.

It was well known that among the three thousand beauties of the harem, favor waxed and waned. To prevent cuckoldry, the emperor would have those serving his consorts castrated, nipping any threat in the bud and forestalling chaos in the inner court.

All for the sake of eliminating future troubles, they were forced to submit to this fate...

Hearing these words, the eunuchs’ faces grew even more desolate. They cast aside their bundles—gold cups, jewels, crystal, diamonds, all manner of rare treasures fell like rubbish to the floor. No one stooped to pick them up. After all, these incomplete men, scorned within the palace, faced the same disdain outside. The world was vast, but there was nowhere for them to go...

“Ancestor, what should we do now? Please, show us a way out...”

Zhang Rang’s large, dark eyes, so often thoughtful and fervent, now gleamed with a savage and hateful light, chilling to behold. His pupils narrowed, a sharp gleam flashing in their depths. “Qian Shuo, it has come to this. If we are to turn the tide, we must sacrifice the pawn to save the king—fight for even a sliver of hope. May I borrow your head for this?”

Qian Shuo’s fierce eyes widened. His was the face of a true northerner: bold, powerful, his gaze burning. His body was taut with explosive energy. Suddenly the fire faded; he did not fear death. Yet to see the throne handed over was to betray the late emperor’s intentions. He, Qian Shuo, had always been a blade in his sovereign’s hand. Now, with blood about to be shed, if he could not stain his sword with the enemy’s blood, then it would have to be his own.

To follow the emperor into the afterlife—was that not a worthy fate? There, beneath the earth, he could fight at his ruler’s side once more. He smiled and advanced, sword in hand.

“No... no... please, don’t kill me!” Seeing Qian Shuo’s gaze fall on him, Zhao Zhong was stricken with terror and dropped to his knees with a thud.

“I don’t want to die! Spare me, General Qian, we are both eunuchs—give me a chance to live...”

“Hahaha...” Zhang Rang laughed. “Then I shall go ahead with His Majesty, and wait for your good news in the underworld. Don’t let me down.”

Blood stained the surroundings.

Zhang Rang shook his head, the wind sweeping gently across his brow. In his sharp eyes glimmered a hint of bloodlust, his resolve hardened. He spoke softly, “We are all eunuchs. My life is worth little and I do not fear death. I will avenge you, come what may.”

“You spineless fools!” Zhang Rang mocked, “All these years with me and you’ve learned nothing. If your heads had any weight, I’d send you along with him!”

“Now that Qian Shuo is dead, all crimes must be pinned on him. That is the only way we can save ourselves. Did you hear me?” His voice was harsh. “It was Qian Shuo who forged the imperial edict, Qian Shuo who plotted to kill the Grand Marshal, Qian Shuo who moved the Western Garden Guards without permission. Remember these words—if you slip up, not even I can save you.”

Offering Qian Shuo’s head alone was not enough. “Watch and learn,” Zhang Rang said, then smashed his fist into his own nose. Blood spurted at once. He tore his bright robes, put on a look of utter despair, his pain so real it was almost pitiable. Truly, there’s nothing more tragic than falling prey to a schemer.

The rest followed suit, tearing their clothes, mussing their hair, wailing but too afraid to really hurt themselves. Thinking of their heads about to roll, they could only close their eyes and punch their noses, cries of pain echoing to the sky.

In the end, a wailing crowd of beggars, wild with panic, rushed toward the Empress Dowager He’s quarters, pleading as they ran. These groveling words came naturally to them, and this time, their fear was genuine—their acting was all too real...

Inside the Hall of Supreme Harmony, hundreds of armored soldiers, blades at the ready, stood in silence. Zifan gripped his sword, standing behind Cao Cao—he was now a blade himself, intimidating the highest ministers.

With armored troops in the hall, the ministers who had moments before argued eloquently and tried to sway opinions now bowed their heads in silence. In this world, the law of nature is simple: might makes right.

The hall was calm. All talk of safeguarding the court’s security was empty pretense; no one was fooled. These men had spent their lives maneuvering in the court; they knew each other too well. Now, to speak ill of the young prince would be to invite immediate execution.

“All is ready—only the east wind is lacking.”

“To enthrone Prince Liu Bian, the first step is the hardest!” cried Yuan Shu, Yuan Shao, and the other generals, swarming forward to pressure the rest.

The others, ever quick to adapt, fell in line. Those who had backed the Empress Dowager redoubled their praise; the neutrals followed suit, insisting only the eldest prince could inherit the throne. Even those who had supported Liu Xie, the younger prince, defected and pledged loyalty to Liu Bian.

Seeing this, Cao Cao wasted no time. From his chest, he produced a dragon robe, which he respectfully handed to Grand Marshal He Jin, whispering, “Success or failure hinges on this moment.” At this perilous juncture, He Jin gritted his teeth, legs trembling, palms sweating. Under the expectant eyes of all, he draped the yellow robe over his nephew’s shoulders.

“Long live the emperor!” He Jin fell to his knees. Below, Zifan, Cao Cao, Yuan Shu, Yuan Shao, and the rest of the ministers echoed the cry.

The young prince, Liu Xie, trembling with fear, ascended the throne coveted by all...

Now, with a new emperor enthroned, it was time to settle accounts.

Grand Marshal He Jin, seething with anger and sword in hand, set out to hunt down the “Ten Attendants.” But just then, Zhao Zhong came running, trembling, and presented a bundle to He Jin, falling to his knees even at a distance, holding the bundle above his head in mock reverence.

“It was Qian Shuo who forged the imperial edict, Qian Shuo who plotted to kill the Grand Marshal, Qian Shuo who moved the Western Garden Guards without permission. Now, we have taken Qian Shuo’s head and offer it to the Grand Marshal, sparing you the trouble of sullying your hands.”

“Qian Shuo...”

Who forgets first, when all is lost? The homeland is but a memory. The zither’s strings are silent, the dancer’s sleeve has faded from the stage. When fleeting splendor is spent, who remains but you and your solitude? Spring departs, beauty withers; flowers fall, and both blossom and soul are lost to time. Still waters run deep, the melancholy song endures; through three lifetimes of joy and sorrow, reunion and parting, the fires of chaos burn on, sung by scattered lights and fading voices, telling tales of a world in turmoil.