Nine dragons fight for the throne, I don't want to sit on this throne

Late in the night of March, the imperial city was shrouded in silence.

It's chilly in spring. The cold wind, carrying the lingering winter atmosphere, blows through the palace walls.

Outside the Hall of Mental Cultivation, several palace lanterns swayed in the wind, casting flickering light and shadows.

Zhao Yu walked quickly on the bluestone slabs, and the soles of his boots made a slight sound when they touched the ground.

He walked outside the hall, bowed, and said in a low but clear voice: "Your Majesty, Lord Ling has arrested Zhao Ming and has taken him to the Ministry of Justice prison."

The hall was silent, with only the occasional crackling of candlelight.

After a moment, Chu Ning's voice came from inside, with a hint of suppressed coldness: "What did Zhao Ming say?"

Zhao Yu raised his head slightly and looked through the half-open palace door, only to see the vague figure of the emperor.

"He hasn't spoken yet, but I think he probably knows a lot."

As soon as he finished speaking, the door of the Yangxin Palace was suddenly pushed open.

Chu Ning strode out, his bright yellow dragon robe particularly eye-catching in the night, but his face was even gloomier than this spring night.

"In that case, I will go to the Ministry of Justice prison myself."

Zhao Yu was startled and quickly dissuaded him: "Your Majesty, it's already three o'clock in the morning. Can we go tomorrow?"

"Ling Haoran can't interrogate him."

Chu Ning interrupted coldly: "Zhao Ming has been operating in the palace for many years and has long been a tough nut to crack. If I don't go, he won't say a word!"

After saying this, he didn't wait for Zhao Yu to persuade him again, and shouted sternly: "Come here, prepare the horses!"

The Ministry of Justice Prison is located in the southwest corner of the imperial city, and its thick stone walls block out all sounds from the outside world.

The damp air was filled with the smell of blood and decay. The light of the torches cast swaying shadows in the corridor, as if countless ghosts were dancing on the walls.

In the innermost torture room, Zhao Ming was tied to a cross wooden frame with iron chains. His eunuch clothes had been stripped off, leaving only a thin white undershirt covered in dust and blood.

The corner of his mouth was broken, and there was a hideous wound on his forehead, with blood slowly sliding down his cheek.

Minister of Justice Ling Haoran stood with his hands behind his back, staring at Zhao Ming with a glare as sharp as a knife.

"Eunuch Li, you should be aware of my methods. If you tell the truth now, you can still avoid physical pain."

Zhao Ming raised his head with difficulty, a hint of sarcasm flashing in his turbid eyes.

He grinned with his bloody lips and suddenly burst into laughter, the laughter echoing in the gloomy cell, making people's hair stand on end.

"Ling Haoran, Ling Haoran, you were the prince's father-in-law back then, but now you've fallen to the point of working for your enemies. How pathetic!"

Ling Haoran's face suddenly turned pale.

He hated it most when others mentioned the past - his daughter was originally the Crown Princess, but she chose the current emperor in the battle for the throne. After the succession, she entered a nunnery to practice Buddhism and spent the rest of her life in seclusion.

Zhao Ming bringing up the past at this moment was tantamount to uncovering the deepest scar in his heart.

"Snapped!"

A loud slap hit Zhao Ming's face, causing his head to tilt suddenly and blood to flow from the corner of his mouth.

Ling Haoran's fingers trembled slightly from the force, and his eyes were burning with anger.

"shut up!"

Zhao Ming laughed even more wildly, as if he felt no pain.

"Why, have we hit you in a sore spot? If you hadn't switched sides back then, how could the Crown Prince have suffered such a crushing defeat? And how could Chu Ning have sat on the throne?"

He spat out a mouthful of blood foam, his voice hoarse but every word piercing the heart.

"Ling Haoran, you could have become the emperor's father-in-law, but now you can't even enter the cabinet! Do you think Chu Ning really trusts you?"

"I told you to shut up!"

Ling Haoran was furious and slapped him again.

Zhao Ming's cheeks swelled up quickly, but he still grinned, with a crazy glint in his eyes.

"You don't dare to kill me... because you know that if I die, no one will ever know those secrets!"

Ling Haoran's chest heaved violently, and he waved his hand fiercely: "Begin the torture!"

The yamen runners quickly brought the torture instruments - a red-hot iron glowed dark red in the charcoal basin, a whip soaked in salt water hung on the ground, and a row of steel needles of varying thicknesses were neatly arranged on a tray.

Zhao Ming's eyes swept over these tools, but the smile on his lips did not diminish at all.

"Let's start with the flogging." Ling Haoran said coldly.

The sound of a whip breaking through the air suddenly rang out, Zhao Ming's body suddenly tensed up, and a blood mark instantly appeared on his back.

After ten lashes, his undershirt was torn and the wounds were horrifying.

Sweat mixed with blood rolled down, but his laughter never stopped.

"Add more iron." Ling Haoran's voice seemed to be squeezed out from between his teeth.

The moment the red-hot iron touched Zhao Ming's chest, there was a slight "hiss" sound, and the smell of burnt flesh immediately filled the air.

Zhao Ming finally let out a muffled groan, veins bulging on his forehead, but he still clenched his teeth tightly.

"Will you tell me?" Ling Haoran stepped closer. "Who are your accomplices? Where are those assassins hiding?"

Zhao Ming's breathing was as heavy as a bellows, but he still grinned: "Lord Ling... is this all you can do?"

Just as Ling Haoran was about to order a heavier punishment, hurried footsteps suddenly came from outside the cell.

Immediately afterwards, the prison door was pushed open, and Chu Ning strode in with a cold look on his face, followed closely by Zhao Yu.

"Your Majesty!" Ling Haoran bowed quickly.

Chu Ning raised his hand to signal him to stand up, but his eyes were always fixed on Zhao Ming.

Zhao Ming raised his head with difficulty and met the emperor's eyes, without a trace of fear in his eyes.

"Zhao Ming," Chu Ning's voice was terrifyingly calm. "I'm here to hear you speak in person."

Zhao Ming suddenly laughed, his voice hoarse as sandpaper: "Your Majesty, why did you come to this filthy place in person? I am just a dying man..."

"The person behind you is worth my trip."

Chu Ning walked forward slowly, reached out and pinched Zhao Ming's chin, forcing him to look directly at him: "I will give you one last chance."

The cell fell into dead silence, with only the crackling sound of the burning torch being particularly clear.

Zhao Ming's Adam's apple rolled, and he suddenly whispered, "Your Majesty, you actually already know the answer, you just want to confirm it with me, right?"

"Continue the torture." Chu Ning suddenly turned around: "I want him to know what true retribution is."

At this moment, Zhao Ming suddenly started coughing violently, and a mouthful of black blood spurted out.

His face quickly turned pale and his body began to twitch uncontrollably.

"Oh no! He took poison!"

Zhao Yu rushed forward and grabbed Zhao Ming's jaw, but it was too late.

Zhao Ming's pupils had dilated and his breathing was getting weaker.

"Your Majesty... Your servant will not betray you..."

Zhao Ming used up his last bit of strength to force out a twisted smile, then tilted his head and fell silent.

Chu Ning stared at Zhao Ming's body, his fists clenched so tightly that they made a creaking sound.

After a moment, he turned around abruptly: "Investigate! Thoroughly investigate everyone he has come into contact with recently!"

Ling Haoran responded quickly, while Zhao Yu frowned and looked at the black blood remaining at the corner of Zhao Ming's mouth, and whispered:

"Your Majesty, this poison takes effect very quickly. I'm afraid he took it long before he was arrested."

Chu Ning didn't answer.

He strode out of the cell, his back looking long and lonely in the firelight.

The night wind lifted the corners of his clothes, as if dragging him into endless darkness.

In the distance, the cry of a crow pierced the night sky, like an ominous omen.