2: The true face of the salted fish prince in the dark night

Li Chengqian picked up his teacup, gently skimmed off the foam with the lid, and blew on it. His movements were as elegant as a painting. "The demise of the Turks is due to Father Emperor's heavenly might and the strategic planning of the officials in the imperial court. What does it have to do with you or me? We, as Juniors, should just mind our own business."

Qin Huaiyu opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but didn't know where to start.

He always felt that His Highness the Crown Prince made sense, but also felt that something was amiss.

How could such a great achievement be dismissed so lightly?

He scratched his head, somewhat dejectedly drained the tea in his cup, and smacked his lips. "Your Highness, your temperament is too placid. If it were Prince Wei, he would probably have already written ten or so poems praising His Majesty and sent them to His Majesty."

His good fourth brother, Li Tai, would indeed do that.

And that was precisely the effect he wanted.

Only a Crown Prince who was engrossed in pleasure, uninterested in politics, and gentle in nature could make his Father Emperor, who sat high on the imperial throne, feel a little more at ease.

His heart was burning with anxiety, yet his face was calm and composed. He even had the leisure to joke with Qin Huaiyu. "What? You also want to learn from Prince Wei and write some sentimental poems?"

"Forget it," Qin Huaiyu pouted, "I don't have that skill. I only know how to wield a sword and spear. Your Highness, in a few days, let's go horseback riding outside the city? It's spring, perfect for hunting some game to taste."

"Good."

Li Chengqian nodded, but his gaze inadvertently drifted out the window, looking towards the depths of the Imperial Palace, in the direction of the majestic Zichen Hall.

He knew that at this moment, a different scene must be unfolding there... Zichen Hall.

The pinnacle of power in the Great Tang Empire.

At this moment, the atmosphere inside the hall was suffocatingly oppressive. In the heavy silence, everyone's thumping heartbeats could be heard.

Upon the Dragon Throne, Li Shimin, dressed in dark casual clothes, had a grim expression. His usually majestic face was now clouded with gloom.

His fingers unconsciously tapped the armrest of the Dragon Throne. Each tap made Fang Xuanling and Du Ruhui, who stood below, tense up.

Before him, on a long table, lay an urgent military report from the northern border, delivered at eight hundred li per day.

The handwriting on it carried a scent of blood.

"Speak up, all of you."

After a long while, Li Shimin finally spoke, his voice low and hoarse, like two rusty iron plates grating against each other.

"Overnight, a hundred and fifty thousand troops vanished into thin air. Khagan Jieli's head lies in the royal tent in Mobei. Minister Fang, Minister Du, what do you make of this?"

Fang Xuanling bowed and stepped forward, his grizzled beard trembling slightly, his face as pale as paper.

This prime minister, renowned for his strategic mind, found his brain utterly blank at this moment.

"Your Majesty, this matter... is inconceivable."

He carefully chose his words, his voice dry. "I have searched through historical records, but have never seen such... methods. A hundred and fifty thousand skilled archers are not a motley crew; among them are many elite wolf cavalry. To annihilate them all overnight, leaving no survivors... This power, I fear..."

He stopped, the rest of the words he dared not say, nor could he utter them.

That had already exceeded the realm of Mortals.

Was it the power of ghosts and gods?

Du Ruhui, known for his decisiveness, also had a solemn expression, fine cold sweat beading on his forehead.

He interjected, "Your Majesty, I believe this is even more terrifying than when the Turks besieged the Wei River."

His words made the air in the hall grow even colder.

"During the Alliance of the Wei River, we still knew who the enemy was, how many troops they had, and what their intentions were. But now... we don't know who they are, we don't know where they are, and we certainly don't know what they want."

Du Ruhui looked up, his eyes filled with deep worry and fear.

"This is a... sharp sword hanging over the head of the Great Tang. We don't even know when this sword will fall, or on whose head it will fall."

"Sharp sword?"

Li Shimin sneered, stood up from the Dragon Throne, and slowly paced.

The imposing aura emanating from him was almost tangible, pressing down on Fang and Du, making it hard for them to breathe.

"Well said! It is a sharp sword!"

Li Shimin suddenly turned, his eyes like lightning, staring fixedly at his two trusted ministers.

"But I want to ask you, where did this sword come from? Did it appear out of thin air?"

"My Great Tang, when did it acquire such a power that even I am unaware of? Hmm?"

The last question, like a clap of thunder, exploded in the hall.

Fang Xuanling and Du Ruhui immediately knelt, saying in fear, "Your Majesty, please calm your anger!"

They knew that the Emperor was truly enraged, and truly felt fear.

As an Emperor who had seized the throne from his brothers through iron and blood, Li Shimin maintained the highest vigilance against any potential threat.

The Turks were a threat, but he could see them, touch them.

He could strategize, deploy troops, contend with them, and ultimately defeat them.

But what was this current situation?

Was it a natural disaster?

Or a man-made calamity?

If it was man-made, then what exactly did this person, or this force, intend to do?

Did they destroy the Turks to show goodwill to the Great Tang?

But this method of showing goodwill was itself the ultimate display of power!

If they could wipe out a hundred and fifty thousand Turks overnight, did it not also mean that they could appear at the gates of Chang'an City overnight?

Countless thoughts flashed through Li Shimin's mind.

Feudal princes?

Impossible, which feudal prince possessed such strength?

Remnants of the previous dynasty?

Even more impossible, they had long been thoroughly purged.

Jianghu Schools?

That was a joke!

Then... his gaze grew even deeper, like a bottomless cold pool.

He thought of the aristocratic families hiding in the shadows, of the local magnates who feigned obedience, and even... of his own sons who were gradually growing up.

A thought, like a venomous snake, slithered into his heart.

Could it be that someone was secretly accumulating power, reaching a level he could not even imagine?

This power was currently aimed at the Turks.

Then next time, who would it be aimed at?

Inside the hall, there was a deathly silence.

Li Shimin stood with his hands behind his back, looking at the bright spring light outside the hall, but there was no warmth in his eyes, only a chilling gloom.

This immense victory brought him no joy.

It hung like a huge shadow over the Great Tang, and over his heart.

He slowly spoke, his voice carrying a bone-chilling coldness.

"Issue my imperial decree, ordering Li Jing and Qin Qiong to enter the palace immediately."

"Also, have the Hundred Cavalry Division and the Bad People investigate for me!"

"Dig three feet deep, and find out the true nature of this force for me!"