Inside the Palace of Eternal Longevity.
Time seemed to freeze.
Yet what they saw was the corpse of Mao Wenlong—flesh withered and clinging to white bone, emitting a thick, foul stench—sitting bolt upright in the coffin. Deep within his hollow eye sockets, two nearly imperceptible gloomy lights seemed to flicker, sweeping across the ordinary mortals before him whose souls had already scattered in terror.
"G-ghost... A g-ghost!"
No one knew who screamed first.
The high ministers of the court, who usually maintained an air of moral dignity and cited classical texts, now made utter fools of themselves. Some went limp and collapsed to the ground, filth streaming down their trouser legs; some scurried away with heads in hand, instinctively trying to flee; even more were deathly pale, teeth chattering—and this was already considered rather dignified.
Wen Tiren was closest to the coffin.
He watched Mao Wenlong's head turn toward him and was instantly so terrified that his soul nearly fled his body, scrambling backward in panic.
Han Kuang was advanced in years. Unable to catch his breath, he nearly fainted, only barely supported by Qian Longxi beside him, who was also shaking like a sieve.
The military nobles, such as Zhu Chenchen, Duke of Cheng, though also trembling with fear, could at least remain standing.
In the chaos, the crowd surged toward the hall exit like headless flies.
At this moment, Emperor Chongzhen expressionlessly flicked his sleeve.
Whoosh.
Whoosh! Whoosh!
A whirlwind arose from thin air. The heavy palace doors were violently slammed shut by an immense force, the crossbar falling into place on its own, severing the path of escape.
Before the screams of despair could be uttered—
Shhk! Shhk! Shhk!
The dozens of candle stands on the surrounding walls and between the hall's beams ignited on their own, almost simultaneously. Flames leaped, illuminating one deathly pale face after another.
"During my secluded cultivation, I received the compassionate mercy of the True Martial Great Emperor Who Suppresses Demons of the Northern Pole Xuantian. He took my divine soul and guided it before the Lingxiao Dharma Throne, where I listened to the profound sounds of the Great Dao."
Emperor Chongzhen's gloomy, calm voice, like a whisper, reached the ears of every minister who had yet to recover from their shock:
"What I have shown you today is nothing more than some insignificant immortal magic learned from beneath the Great Emperor's throne—communing with the underworld, inquiring and verifying past events, that is all."
He paused, then said in a condescending tone:
"You ministers have all read the books of sages and worthies. You should know that matters of ghosts and gods exist within the mind. Why panic so at some unusual phenomena?"
The True Martial Great Emperor Who Suppresses Demons?
The Lingxiao Dharma Throne?
Immortal magic?
The information was too shocking for the crowd to accept immediately. But regardless, the means displayed by the Emperor were already beyond what mortals could achieve.
Emperor Chongzhen's gaze swept across the ministers, silent as winter cicadas, and finally landed on an old official with white hair and beard who was still able to maintain his composure.
"Jin Shijun."
Jin Shijun, the Minister of Justice who had been named, trembled all over.
He was fifty-six this year, quite senior in standing. He had been dismissed during the Tianqi era for opposing Wei Zhongxian and was only reinstated last year.
Chongzhen remembered that in the history of his previous previous life, Jin Shijun had spoken out righteously for Qian Longxi and was therefore mistakenly considered part of the Donglin faction by some. But in truth, this man was upright by nature, honest and incorruptible, by no means a fame-seeker. Later, having seen through the dangers of officialdom, he refused promotion to Minister of Works in the sixth year of Chongzhen, retired to his hometown, and never surrendered to the Qing for the rest of his life.
—By the way, Jin Shijun and Jin Zhijun were two different people. The latter surrendered to the Qing court and proposed the vicious "Ten Submissions and Ten Non-submissions" strategy to Dorgon.
At this moment, Jin Shijun forcibly suppressed the raging waves in his heart and walked to the foot of the imperial steps:
"Your subject is here."
"You are the Minister of Justice, in charge of the empire's penal affairs. Today, you shall preside over the interrogation. Ask this party, Mao Wenlong, exactly how he died back then."
Chongzhen said indifferently:
"I and all the civil and martial officials of the court shall bear witness."
Jin Shijun's scalp went numb.
Have him interrogate a corpse that had been dead for half a year and had now "come back to life"? This was simply unprecedented since the founding of the Great Ming—
No, it was a marvel never seen in all of history!
But an imperial edict was hard to defy.
Jin Shijun could only face the coffin, striving to ignore the nauseating stench of decay, and fix his gaze on Mao Wenlong's blurred face:
"Mao Wenlong!"
The corpse's head turned extremely slowly toward Jin Shijun, "gazing" at him with hollow eye sockets.
"This official questions you by imperial decree. You must answer truthfully."
Jin Shijun forced himself to remain calm and asked in a loud voice according to trial procedure:
"Mao Wenlong, by whom were you killed?"
A hoarse, inhuman voice squeezed out from Mao Wenlong's throat, which had been sewn up after his beheading:
"It... it was Yuan... Yuan Chonghuan... wielding the Imperial... Sword..."
Though faint, the voice was like a thunderclap exploding beside everyone's ears.
A dead corpse had spoken?
Mao Wenlong had really spoken?
Jin Shijun also continued asking, cold sweat streaming down:
"Why did Military Commissioner Yuan kill you?"
The corpse fell silent for a moment, as if recalling, or perhaps driven by some force, and again emitted a hair-raising voice:
"This subject... garrisoned Dongjiang... did not obey... Yuan Chonghuan's dispatch... wasted provisions and pay... resisted... unified command..."
The speech was disjointed, but the meaning was essentially clear.
Jin Shijun wanted to ask further, but the corpse no longer reacted, simply sitting bolt upright.
But this was already enough.
Jin Shijun turned around, first looking at the various parties within the hall, then bowed to Emperor Chongzhen and said:
"Your Majesty, Military Commissioner Yuan's killing of him... may perhaps be permissible under law."
These last four words were spoken with extreme difficulty.
Because this "testimony" was far too extraordinary.
The expressions of the ministers varied, especially Wen Tiren and Wang Yongguang, who had originally planned an all-out offensive against the Donglin faction.
In Zhu Youjian's previous previous life, "how to evaluate Yuan Chonghuan" had been a highly controversial topic. Those who revered Yuan Chonghuan affirmed his loyalty and valor, dying for his country as a key general in the late Ming resistance against the Qing; after his death, the Liaodong war situation continuously deteriorated. Opponents emphasized his strategic errors and political naivety, such as selling grain to win over Mongol tribes, only for it to fall into Later Jin hands, and arrogantly killing Mao Wenlong, and so on.
But now—
Zhu Youjian had descended, and the original wheels of history had already changed course, steering toward a brand new path called the cultivation world.
Purple Mansion Chongzhen cared nothing for the rights and wrongs of mortals.
"Yuan Chonghuan's crime of arrogantly killing a great general, along with his other crimes yet to be investigated, shall all be postponed for retrial."
As soon as Chongzhen finished speaking, Mao Wenlong's corpse fell back into the coffin like a puppet with cut strings. The foul stench and chill seemed to weaken somewhat as well.
Under ordinary circumstances, how could Wen Tiren let this go? The censor Gao Jie and others had impeached Yuan Chonghuan on three major crimes; they had only discussed one—"arrogantly killing Mao Wenlong"—while "allowing the enemy to penetrate deep" and "colluding with the enemy and plotting rebellion" remained unresolved. They should have clung to this relentlessly and continued their attack—who knew how long "postponed for retrial" would take? Would the Donglin faction remain in power during that period?
But now, no one cared about Yuan Chonghuan's guilt anymore.
Whether Han Kuang, Wen Tiren, or the eunuchs and imperial guards attending on both sides, they all looked at each other, seeing in each other's eyes terror, confusion, doubt, and a hint of...
Indescribable excitement.
—Returning from death?
—Immortal magic?
This was far more important than the danger to the capital, frontier warfare, or factional strife.
Finally, Zhu Chenchen, Duke of Cheng and leader of the nobility, egged on by the gazes of the crowd, steeled himself and stepped forward:
"We are dull-witted. Regarding Your Majesty's words just now, that you were shown favor by the True Martial Great Emperor Who Suppresses Demons and learned immortal magic... is this true?"