The Marquis Mansion’s Elite Class
Chapter 394

Before Luo Jingfeng left, Zong Zhao reminded him from behind, "Don't go to the Ministry of Rites. He can step into the light on his own."

Though they both wished for the boy to achieve good results, it shouldn’t be through deceit.

Luo Jingfeng snorted and said, "Do I need you to remind me? Just venting, that’s all. Who’d go pull strings for him? It’s thankless work… that stubborn little rascal."

After Luo Jingfeng left, the courtyard fell silent again.

Zong Zhao calmly set down his chopsticks, sat quietly for a while, then rose and went to the study desk in his room. There, he picked up the memorial he had written at dawn—alongside the evidence he had gathered.

The palace, the imperial study.

Eunuch Huang dismissed everyone. The Emperor sat at his desk reviewing the memorial. When he saw the names of the accused, his brow twitched, a flicker of unreadable emotion passing through his eyes.

The Emperor spoke, "Zhao Yumin, Ma Congzhang, Zong Qiyun… if I recall correctly, these three were all close to your father. The last one is your uncle within five degrees of kinship—your father’s cousin, both grandsons of the same grandfather."

Zong Zhao replied, "Indeed."

The Emperor placed the memorial on the desk and said sternly, "You accuse these three, as generals of their faction, of causing your younger brother Zong Yan’s death ten years ago?"

Zong Zhao affirmed, "Correct."

The Emperor stared at him for a few breaths, then suddenly laughed. "Zong Zhao, Zong Zhao… you truly live up to being the most trusted by me and Heng'er. You knew to bring this to me privately instead of making a public accusation, sparing everyone the embarrassment."

Zong Zhao remained silent.

The Emperor rose from his desk and walked slowly toward him. "Their blatant conspiracy against you and Zong Yan is vile, unforgivable. But with the Luo family’s rise in recent years, exposing such a scandal now would only make the people doubt my governance and weaken imperial authority. You’re clever—you know even if you accused them openly, I could dismiss it, let it fade away."

Of course, Zong Zhao knew what kind of man he was dealing with. That was why he stood here now, keeping it from everyone, demanding the Emperor’s justice.

He couldn’t wait another year.

Night after night, he lay sleepless, haunted by visions of Zong Yan drenched in blood, sobbing about the pain—while those villains walked free, even greeting him casually, as if certain he lacked the evidence to act.

Lowering his head, Zong Zhao closed his eyes, suppressing his fury. "How does Your Majesty propose this matter be handled?"

The Emperor’s smile vanished, replaced by solemnity. "In my judgment, those who defy the court and the law, who slaughter the loyal, deserve death."

Zong Zhao’s eyes snapped open, locking onto the Emperor’s.

For an instant, the Emperor saw astonishment in that gaze—Zong Zhao was shocked he would say such a thing.

It displeased him.

He prided himself on being a just ruler; such words should be expected. Yet Zong Zhao’s reaction made him feel exposed, as if this junior saw through every shameful deed he’d ever done.

The Emperor’s expression darkened. "But I cannot publicly condemn these three. If you want them dead, do it yourself. I’ll ensure the Three Judicial Offices turn a blind eye and refrain from investigating."

This way, imperial stability would remain intact, and the decorated general would hand him leverage. Once Zong Zhao toppled the Luo family, this very leverage would let him control the Zong clan at will.

Zong Zhao bowed. "This subject understands. Thank you for Your Majesty’s permission. I take my leave."

The Emperor smiled. "Go. Once this matter is settled, focus on dealing with Luo Jingfeng swiftly. Do not disappoint my expectations."

"Yes."

Outside the palace gates, Zong Zhao’s face was terrifyingly grim.

The classics taught him: virtue brings reward, vice brings retribution; all wrongdoing meets the law’s judgment.

Yet the Emperor taught him: imperial stability comes first. Kill in secret, break the law knowingly.

He knew exactly what the Emperor was thinking. This was his chance to avenge Zong Yan—and the Emperor’s chance to hold something over him. Whether he came to the palace today or not, the Emperor would learn of it. At least now, the Three Judicial Offices would stay out of it.

"If justice never comes, why should those men keep living?" Zong Zhao murmured.

His gaze drifted coldly to the sky above the city gates—clear, boundless. Nearby, people hurried about their lives, each granted the chance to savor life’s beauty.

Zong Yan would never have that chance again.

He had been the one who loved life most fiercely.

"Nephew—ah, no, it’s General now! What brings you here? Another summons from the Emperor?" Zhao Yumin, a burly military man with a booming voice, had just left the Ministry of War when he spotted Zong Zhao walking alone. Delighted, he halted his sedan chair to greet him.

Zong Zhao stopped. His fists clenched, then loosened.

"Uncle Zhao," he called.

Zhao Yumin beamed. "Hah! That’s my boy! Wealth and rank haven’t changed you. Anyone else with your achievements would’ve forgotten us old-timers long ago."

Zong Zhao, never one for small talk, exchanged a few polite words before Zhao Yumin departed, calling back, "Come drink at my place soon! I’ve got a ten-year vintage saved just for you!"

Zong Zhao didn’t reply, standing motionless.

Unnoticed, Zhao Yumin climbed into his sedan, bragging to his attendants about how the great general still showed him respect—a privilege unmatched in the capital.

A quiet alley, empty.

In high spirits, Zhao Yumin had ordered a shortcut home, eager to boast and celebrate with a drink. He even dreamed of rising further in the military ranks.

"Whoosh—"

An arrow tore through the air, carrying the weight of countless days and nights of hatred. It pierced the sedan’s curtain with lethal precision, spearing through Zhao Yumin’s throat and pinning him to the back wall.

"Ah—General!"

"General! Check on the general!"

"He’s… not breathing…"

"Dead… he’s dead! Dead!"

Zhao Yumin’s throat was utterly destroyed—no chance for rescue. He died mid-laugh, the smile still on his lips, felled by a single arrow.

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