Everyone had departed the hall save—the guards, the Chief Grand Secretary, and the masked eunuchs in white, who remained behind with the Emperor.
The Chief Grand Secretary turned to the Emperor and he exhaled.
"Your Majesty… why deviate from the plan? Surely it is a bit too much of a jest to grant a slave of the Third-Tier such a decree."
"Mezillan," The Emperor called out, his voice calm and unreadable. "How well do you think the nobles would receive the slave if he manages to climb up the ranks?"
The Chief Grand Secretary blinked, momentarily caught off guard. "Your Majesty believes that the slave has that much potential?"
"I sensed something, but I'm not sure what. But it is certain that he is no demonic cultivator."
The Emperor leaned forward on his throne and the beaded strings on his crown tilted.
"Do you know what this court lacks, Mezillan?"
Mezillan paused and said nothing.
"Friction. All these polished officials, these nobles with their lineages and titles—they rot from the inside but polish their exteriors well. They need something to start the cleansing, to start the fire, and I have provided that something."
"But still—" Mezillan began but was quickly cut off.
"Is it wrong for an Emperor to use his subjects to achieve a goal?"
Mezillan sighed once again. "As you will, Your Majesty."
"What about the green snakes in our green garden?" Mezillan questioned.
"Let them continue to slither around. At the very least, this much would put their focus on the boy. If he's able to survive, then it will be his fortune. If he dies… all is well as fate doesn't play favorites."
The Chief Grand Secretary remained silent.
"I have made a small gesture and shown everyone that I favor a lowly slave. Whether this gesture is sincere or not, it's for them to deliberate…"
The Emperor leaned back on his throne before he continued. "Let them test him. Let them try to destroy him. I want to know which ones strike in the open… and which prefer the shadow. A loyal subject will favor those I favor. The will of the master should be the will of his subjects."
Mezillan looked up with the faintest trace of unease in his gaze.
"Your Majesty, how is he to survive when you have banned him from cultivating Qi?" To cultivate the mind is way too…
"Also he's way too young. Without Qi, he'll be walking amongst wolves with bare skin."
The Emperor's gaze underneath the canopy of beads, turned distant, as though he was looking through time itself.
"A wolf only knows its fangs. But a man who has nothing left, with the will to survive, will crawl and roll—build his way out with bones from his past… You think too much Mezillan. Would you like to take a break from your duties?"
"No Your Majesty, I keep silent."
….
Solaan went through the passage he came in from, and throughout his walk from the Central Area back to the Eastern Wing, he kept on thinking of why the Emperor did what he did.
More than that, he couldn't stop thinking about the man himself. The pressure and command behind his voice, his presence.
That power.
Qi…
A foreign term, but it had to be what these people cultivated. That would explain why he couldn't sense Neili in anyone here—nor could they sense it in him. Whatever path this world walked, it wasn't the one he came from.
Solaan was already thinking of running away from the palace.
But according to the slave's memories, people with slave marks cannot run.
Rather than just a law, it was a reality. Though the slave's memories had nothing of an explanation as to how, Solaan was able to figure it out on his own.
The mark on his forehead was more than just a mark. It was also one of the reasons why he found it hard to resist the suppression when he stepped onto the white path in the hall.
Looking at the edict in his hand. He couldn't help but be curious as to what it meant to cultivate his mind.
No one dictates to me what I'll cultivate and what I won't.
If I can't run for now, I'll make the best out of my situation until I'm strong enough to leave on my own. I'll at least need to return to my peak before considering this.
Becoming a provisional scholar…
He was going to do it. Solaan wasn't scared of a challenge, especially not one of this nature.
If anything, he welcomed it. Anything that he could do to become stronger.
A feeling that he hadn't experienced in quite a while filled his chest with ecstasy. The same feeling he got when he started cultivation for the first time, and when making breakthroughs.
Of the few things he found joy in, growing stronger, was one of the greatest to him.
Another thing that Solaan noticed and got him wondering was the way the officials in the hall interacted with others, and how they interacted with the Emperor.
Although it didn't look like he had been paying attention to them, when in truth, his mind had been on high alert, and everyone there was considered a danger.
He could tell that there were political trifles amongst themselves. Solaan had never been one to willingly participate, or enjoy politics.
If anything, he disliked how two-faced it made people. Even when he was still a youngling of the Khan clan, he refused to take up any official positions.
Just from a single Morning Court, he could tell that there were layers upon layers in almost everything said and done there.
It was like everyone was simultaneously playing a game of chess against themselves. Games that would cost others their livelihoods and bring upon fatal fates.
It made one feel like they could decide the life and death of those underneath them.
Secretly looking to the sides, he could tell that a few skillful people were tailing him.
If this were a game.
Then he would learn the rules, even break a few. Just until he can walk out safely on his own.
And thus began Solaan's journey in this world…