66: I am just waiting for justice.

A Shu Mountain Sword Immortal at the gates of Chang'an City?

These words, when combined, formed a terrifying absurdity that sent shivers down everyone's spine!

Above the imperial court, silence instantly fell, even breathing sounds disappeared.

Li Taixu and others, who had just been wailing for the execution of the Crown Prince, were now frozen in place, their indignant expressions solidified into blank stares, their mouths agape, yet unable to utter a sound.

Compared to the legendary Shu Mountain Sword Immortal, what was the death of one Cui Renshi?

Li Shimin was struck as if by lightning; he stood motionless before the Dragon Throne, his mind a blank.

The personal fury that had burned away his reason was instantly extinguished by the four icy words, “The nation is on the verge of collapse.”

He was no longer a father.

He was the Emperor of the Great Tang!

Li Shimin!

He suddenly sobered up, a bone-chilling coldness rushing from his tailbone straight to the crown of his head.

He understood, he finally understood, why Chengqian dared to be so reckless!

So, this was his true trump card!

Colluding from within and without!

What did he want to do?

What exactly did he want to do?!

Was he trying to force an abdication?!

Amidst this deathly silence, an old and calm voice slowly resounded.

The Commander of Bad Boys Yuan Tiangang, who had been standing in the corner, isolated from the world, slowly walked out.

He still maintained his unperturbed demeanor; even if the sky fell, it would not cause him to waver in the slightest.

He bowed slightly to Li Shimin on the Dragon Throne, his voice not loud, yet clearly reaching everyone's ears.

“Your Majesty, allow your subject… to go and see.”

Yuan Tiangang’s figure, like a withered leaf, silently drifted towards the palace gate.

He walked very slowly, each step falling on the heartbeat of everyone present.

On his unchanging face, there was neither sorrow nor joy; he was not walking towards a crisis that could overturn the Great Tang, but rather taking a stroll in his own backyard.

Li Shimin’s gaze followed him.

That heart-burning, bone-gnawing fury had truly receded.

It wasn't extinguished, but rather forcibly suppressed into the deepest part of his chest by a greater, colder fear, solidifying into ice.

He finally calmed down.

This calmness was more terrifying than the thunderous rage from before.

Because it meant that he was no longer a betrayed father, but an emperor calculating gains and losses.

His mind was clearer than ever before, so clear that he could feel the coldness of blood flowing through his veins.

Shu Mountain.

Sword Immortal.

These four words, like four great mountains, crashed down upon his imperial throne.

He recalled the legends that had circulated among the people for thousands of years, and the vague records in historical texts.

He had always thought that they were merely the fantasies of ignorant men and women, or the deliberate mystifications of former dynasty sorcerers.

But now, fantasy was at the city gates.

He slowly sat back down, the Dragon Throne emanating a bone-chilling coolness.

He could feel his body trembling slightly, but he used all the will of an emperor's life to control this tremor beneath the wide sleeves of his Dragon Robe.

His gaze finally shifted from Yuan Tiangang’s retreating figure, slowly back to the center of the great hall.

Back to his son.

Li Chengqian still stood there.

His posture was tall and straight, his face calm, and even a faint, compassionate curve hung at the corner of his mouth.

He did not look at Li Shimin, nor did he look at the trembling officials.

His gaze penetrated the many halls of Taiji Hall, falling outside Chang'an City.

He was looking at his Sword.

At this moment, Li Shimin understood.

What did “colluding from within and without” mean?

What did “forcing an abdication” mean?

All wrong.

Chengqian, he was not trying to force an abdication.

He was… going to take everything from him, openly and honorably, in front of the entire court and in front of his Imperial Father!

This was no longer rebellion.

This was judgment.

Inside the great hall, there was a deathly silence.

Li Taixu, who had just been crying and wailing, shedding tears to seek justice for Cui Renshi, now had a face as pale as paper, his lips trembling, unable to utter a single word.

He looked around at his aristocratic colleagues for help, only to find that everyone had their heads bowed, wishing they could burrow into the ground.

The blood of the Qinghe Cui Clan had not yet dried.

Compared to the slaughtering blades of ten thousand Shu Mountain Sword Immortals, what was the head of one Cui Renshi?

The Five Surnames and Seven Clans, these behemoths that had been deeply entrenched in the body of the Great Tang for hundreds of years, felt a fear from their Soul for the first time.

Their proud lineage, connections, and wealth were as fragile as a piece of paper before such transcendent power.

They finally shut their mouths.

Just then, the moment Yuan Tiangang's foot stepped out of the Taiji Hall's threshold.

“Om—” A strange humming sound abruptly appeared in everyone’s ears.

It was not the sound of a bell, nor a drum, nor even stringed instruments.

It was the sound of a Sword.

One Sword hum.

Immediately following, there was a second, a third… “Om om om om—” Thousands of Sword hums converged from all directions, piercing through the thick palace walls, piercing through everyone’s eardrums, finally merging into a single, pure, yet vast as a sea of smoke, grand melody.

This sound was not high-pitched, nor piercing, but it carried an irresistible penetrative power; only this one sound remained between heaven and earth.

The candlelight in the hall flickered wildly amidst the Sword hums, casting distorted, ghost-like shadows on the walls.

Some timid civil officials had already gone weak in the knees, collapsing to the ground with a “thud,” their faces devoid of color.

Even battle-hardened military generals like Qin Qiong and Cheng Yaojin subconsciously gripped the weapons at their waists, their palms slick with cold sweat.

Their instincts were frantically warning them.

That was Killing Intent.

Killing Intent that had solidified into substance, enough to shake mountains and rivers!

Yuan Tiangang’s figure disappeared outside the palace gate, but the lingering Sword hums surged into the great hall like a tide, filling every corner.

Li Shimin sat motionless on the Dragon Throne.

The Sword hums were an invisible file, grinding at his nerves again and again.

He forced himself not to think about what the sound represented.

He stared intently at Li Chengqian.

“Chengqian.”

His voice was terribly hoarse, like two rusty iron plates rubbing together.

“What… exactly do you want to do?”

Li Chengqian finally moved.

He slowly raised his eyelids, and for the first time, looked directly at his father on the Dragon Throne.

His eyes were still calm, as calm as a bottomless lake.

“Imperial Father,”

He spoke, his voice not loud, yet clearly overriding the pervasive Sword hums, “Your son wants to do nothing.”

He paused, scanned the trembling officials in the great hall, and finally fixed his gaze in the direction of Xuanwu Gate.

“Your son, is just waiting.”

“Waiting for justice.”

...Outside Taiji Hall, was another world.

Yuan Tiangang stood in the vast square, looking up at the sky.

The sky over Chang'an City was still that familiar azure, with white clouds drifting leisurely.

But he could “see” an invisible Qi, like a giant dome, enveloping the entire Imperial City.

That was a net woven from the Sword Intent of tens of thousands of peerless divine Swords.

The Sword hums emanated from every node of that Qi dome.

He stretched out his withered hand, wanting to touch that invisible Qi.

With a slight movement of his fingertips, a crisp “ding” immediately echoed in the air, as if two divine weapons clashed in the Void Realm.