A suffocating silence descended upon the grand banquet hall, broken only by the nervous coughs of courtiers and the faint, almost imperceptible whimpers of Min Haotian in Shen Zhiyu's arms. Every eye was fixed on Zhiyu, who, moments ago, had been a picture of quiet composure, now stood trembling, his eyes ablaze with a fury that mirrored Min Yulin's own. The sheer audacity of Minister Fang's accusation, delivered with such venomous intent, had finally snapped something within the young Shen prince.
Zhiyu's hands, clutching Haotian tighter, shook with a barely suppressed rage. He felt the cold, judgment-filled gazes of the Min court like physical blows, the accusation of being an "outsider" who had "tainted" their Crown Prince, who had caused the Emperor's favored son to be disfigured, burning hotter than any fever. He remembered his own parents' betrayal, the destruction of his kingdom, the days of starvation, the horrific proposal of being a concubine. He had endured all of that with a quiet strength, a stoic resolve. But to be called a "whore," a "seductress," an "outsider" who had weakened Yulin, was an insult too far. It invalidated his suffering, erased his lineage, and fundamentally misunderstood the profound, unspoken connection he shared with Yulin and Haotian.
His gaze swept over Minister Fang, then locked onto Empress Han Zhenlan, whose lips curved in a faint, triumphant smirk, believing her plan to destabilize Yulin had just been furthered. Zhiyu felt a surge of adrenaline, a cold, clear clarity in his mind. He would not be silent. He would not be a passive victim. Yulin had fought for him; now, he would fight for himself, and for the unspoken dignity of their fragile family.
He took a deep breath, steadying himself, his voice, when it came, cutting through the heavy silence like a sharp blade. "Minister Fang speaks of shame?" Zhiyu's voice, though soft, carried a surprising resonance, clear and unwavering. Haotian, sensing the change in him, quieted, looking up at Zhiyu with wide, curious eyes. "He speaks of dishonor brought to the Imperial House?" Zhiyu continued, his eyes still fixed on the minister, "Perhaps he should look closer to home before casting stones."
A ripple of murmurs went through the hall. Such a direct challenge from the supposedly meek Omega prince was entirely unexpected. Emperor Min looked up, startled, his expression a mixture of confusion and dawning concern. Empress Han's smirk faltered, replaced by a flicker of annoyance.
"This prince," Zhiyu declared, his voice gaining strength, his gaze sweeping over the assembled court, "remembers very clearly the discussions in the Shen court regarding the illegal trade of protected rare woods and smuggled silks. A trade that flourished, conveniently, under the protection of certain influential Min officials. Officials who lined their own pockets while honest merchants suffered." He paused, letting the implication hang in the air. The courtiers exchanged nervous glances. Black markets and smuggling were rampant, but rarely spoken of in open court, and certainly never linked so directly to high-ranking officials during a banquet.
Zhiyu's eyes, bright with a newfound resolve, fixed once more on Minister Fang. "And this prince also remembers the primary facilitator of this illicit trade on the Min side: Minister Liu." He gestured vaguely towards where Liu had been beaten. "The very minister whose tongue was so... eloquently silenced yesterday." Zhiyu's voice was laced with a chilling irony. "Minister Liu, whose 'honor' Minister Fang so bravely defends, amassed a fortune through exploiting our borders, undermining our economy, and even engaging in the disgusting trafficking of young omegas and betas from the impoverished southern prefectures, selling them into unspeakable fates to degenerate old men."
The hall erupted in gasps, louder this time. The accusations were horrifying, whispered about in dark alleys, but never confirmed, never stated publicly. Minister Fang, despite his lack of a tongue, sputtered, his bandaged face contorted in a furious, impotent rage. The interpreter stood frozen, unsure if he should even translate such explosive accusations.
Min Yulin, who had been standing silent and watchful at the head of the hall, now moved. He took a single, deliberate step forward, his gaze unwavering, and fixed on Minister Fang. "He speaks the truth," Yulin's voice cut through the stunned silence, cold and sharp as his blade. "Minister Liu's 'business' was indeed discovered during my recent investigations. A vile network of corruption that extended deep into the court, shielded by powerful figures who benefited from his depravity." His eyes flickered to Empress Han, a silent accusation.
Then, Yulin added, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous growl, "As for bastard First Prince," he nodded towards Chengyou's empty seat, then towards Cheng'an, who shrank back, his face white, "he should have known his place as concubine's son." The words were delivered with a brutal disregard for propriety, a direct, public insult to Empress Han and her lineage, tearing away at her manufactured dignity. He reiterated the insult Yulin had used to Empress Han just the night before: 'concubine Han', further stripping her of any imperial title in his eyes.
Emperor Min Tianyou erupted from his seat, his face purpling with rage and humiliation. "Yulin! That is enough! How dare you speak to the Empress in such a manner, and in public! You accuse Minister Liu without proof, and you insult your own brother! Control yourself!" He bellowed, slamming his hand on the table, rattling the fine porcelain. He was caught between his decaying authority, his fear of Yulin, and his desperate need to defend the Empress, his 'first love', and her family.
Empress Han's face was a mask of incandescent fury, her eyes blazing with hatred for both Zhiyu and Yulin. She clawed at her robes, her nails digging into the silk.
Yulin didn't even glance at his father. His gaze, still fixed on Minister Fang and then Empress Han, remained cold and unyielding. He had made his point. He had given Zhiyu the platform, added his weight to the accusations, and cemented his utter contempt for the Empress and her lineage.
Zhiyu, emboldened by Yulin's unwavering support, continued, his voice gaining a fierce confidence. "These are not mere accusations, Your Majesty. This prince has compiled ledgers, gathered testimonies from those who suffered under Minister Liu's cruel hand. Proof exists, carefully documented, hidden within the Shen Imperial Library, now, thankfully, under the control of the Min Empire." He looked directly at Emperor Min. "This Prince can provide the evidence to expose this entire network, implicating every 'loyal' official involved." It was a bold bluff, a gamble that the Emperor would be more interested in avoiding public scandal and maintaining the illusion of control than in defending a corrupt ally.
A tremor of fear went through the court. Zhiyu wasn't just speaking; he was threatening to unravel a vast network of corruption that reached high into the imperial government, potentially implicating many more than just Minister Liu. The Emperor, caught off guard by the depth of Zhiyu's information, paled further.
Yulin, his stance radiating an almost palpable power, then turned, his gaze sweeping over the assembled court, his eyes lingering on the pale, terrified faces of Empress Han's 'follower dogs', those who had participated in the whispers and slights against Zhiyu and Haotian. He allowed his eyes to settle on Concubine Lin Qiuxia and Concubine Zhang Yuelian, who had been particularly vocal in their veiled insults, their faces now contorted with fear. He also glanced at Noble Consort Cao Xuerong, a more neutral figure, but one who had done nothing to stop the flow of malicious gossip.
His voice, cutting through the stunned silence of the hall, was low, resonant, and utterly devoid of mercy. He reiterated his vow, not as a private threat, but as a public, undeniable decree.
"As every one of concubine Han's follower dogs are here," Yulin stated, his gaze sweeping across the room, encompassing every one of them, "I will say this again: at my return, if either Zhiyu or Haotian have even a scratch on them, if a single hair on their heads is harmed, if they suffer a moment of disrespect, or if any of you dare to scheme against them in my absence, I will make sure not a single member of his family survives." His final words were delivered with an unblinking, chilling intensity that promised absolute, ruthless annihilation. His eyes briefly met Zhiyu's, a silent message passing between them: this was for them, for their safety, a shield forged in fire. Zhiyu felt a strange mix of terror and profound gratitude.
Yulin's chilling vow hung heavy in the air, a final, unshakeable promise of retribution, as he turned, his gaze locking with Zhiyu's one last time before he moved towards the doors, preparing to leave the palae, and the two most precious lives he guarded, behind.