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

At the beginning of the Yin hour, white flags hung low in the Qianyuan Hall, and seventy-two eternal lamps swayed in the breeze, illuminating the hall in a solemn and hazy manner.

The bed of the late Emperor Chu Huai was surrounded by ice jars. A chilly air filled the hall, but it could not conceal the faint scent of sandalwood and herbs.

Chu Ning stood alone in front of the dragon bed, gazing at the peaceful face on the bed.

Chu Huai was wearing a bright yellow funeral robe, his hands folded in front of his chest, and a string of Bodhi beads wrapped around his fingers - that was the thing he recited most often in his later years.

The Ministry of Internal Affairs used high-quality rouge to apply to the emperor's face, making his complexion look lifelike. Only the slightly bluish color of his lips revealed the signs of death.

"His Majesty!"

Minister of Rites Deng Hongwen knelt beside him, holding a gilded tray with a jade pendant on it. "It's time to accept the offerings for the late emperor."

Chu Ning took the exquisitely carved white jade cicada and felt a cool touch on his fingertips.

He leaned over and slowly took the jade cicada into the emperor's mouth, symbolizing the immortality of the soul and reincarnation.

There was a faint sound of rings and pendants coming from outside the hall.

Empress Shen Wanying brought Wu Zhao and the princes and princesses in to pay their respects. The eldest prince Chu Tian looked up at Shen Wanying:

"Mother, is the Royal Grandfather asleep?"

Shen Wanying squatted down and held the child in her arms: "Yes, but... he won't wake up again."

Her voice was calm, but her eyes were slightly red.

Eight-year-old Chu Xiuning hid behind her wet nurse, her little hands tightly grasping the corner of Wu Zhao's clothes.

"Xiuning, come..." Wu Zhao guided softly, holding her daughter's little hand and lightly touching the late emperor's sleeve.

Chu Xiuning couldn't help but pull her hand away: "Grandpa Huang's hands are so cold."

The sound echoed in the hall, and several elderly relatives could not help but wipe away tears with their sleeves.

When the last relative finished paying his respects, Deng Hongwen sang: "Close the coffin——"

Eight guards lifted the agarwood coffin lid.

Chu Ning watched his father's face gradually being swallowed by the shadows, and suddenly reached out and pressed on the coffin.

As everyone held their breath, they heard the young emperor whisper, "Father... rest in peace."

The muffled sound of the coffin lid closing echoed in the hall, symbolizing the true separation between heaven and earth.

Outside the hall, the first ray of morning light penetrated the clouds and shone on the glazed tiles of the Qianyuan Hall, as if adding a golden finale to this farewell.

At three quarters past three in the morning, before daybreak, the imperial city was already filled with solemnity.

Thick morning mist enveloped the palace walls, and the wind chimes on the eaves rang softly in the breeze, as if playing funeral music to bid farewell to the late emperor.

Minister of Rites Deng Hongwen, wearing a dark court robe, a black gauze hat, and holding a jade sceptre, stood in front of the Hall of Supreme Harmony with a solemn expression.

"The auspicious time has arrived—" With a long shout from the ceremonial officer, the heavy palace gate slowly opened.

Chu Ning was wearing a plain white dragon robe, a crown with a white tassel on his head, a black linen belt around his waist, and was walking in front with a solemn expression.

Behind him, Empress Shen Wanying and Vice Empress Wu Zetian were both wearing plain white phoenix robes, silver hairpins on their heads, and had sad faces.

The eight-year-old Princess Chu Xiuning was held by Wu Zhao, her little hand tightly grasping a white flower. She lowered her head with her ignorant big eyes, not daring to look around.

The five-year-old eldest prince Chu Tianze was holding Shen Wanying's hand, with tears in his eyes. Although he was young, he also imitated the adults and looked serious.

Royal family members and civil and military officials lined up in order. The team stretched for several miles, like a long white dragon, slowly moving towards the imperial mausoleum.

Deng Hongwen stood in front of the hearse, holding the funeral text, and said in a loud and solemn voice:

"On the second day of the fourth month of the second year of Yongchang in the Great Chu Dynasty, the Emperor Taizong passed away in Qianyuan Hall. He was posthumously named Huai Gaozong. Today, his coffin is being returned to the mausoleum. I pray that the late emperor's holy spirit will forever bless our country!"

As soon as he finished speaking, eight commanders of the imperial guards carried the golden nanmu coffin and walked slowly forward.

The coffin is covered with bright yellow brocade with dragon patterns, and black tassels hang from the four corners, symbolizing the emperor's dignity.

In front of the coffin were the late emperor's favorite jade pendant and sword, as well as a memorial that he had personally reviewed.

Chu Ning led the clan members to kneel on the ground and perform the ritual of three kneelings and nine kowtows. Deng Hongwen said loudly:

"Bow once—"

"Goodbye——"

“Three bows—”

Every time he kowtowed, Chu Ning's forehead touched the ground heavily, as if he wanted to pour out all the complicated emotions in his heart.

His father, the emperor, once wanted to kill him, but also gave him the throne.

He once ignored him, but was brutally murdered by a villain before his death.

All kinds of emotions kept flooding into his mind at this moment.

When Chu Ning came to his senses, the hearse was driving out of the imperial city, and the streets were already filled with people kneeling on both sides.

They spontaneously wore mourning clothes, held white banners, and sobbed softly.

"Your Majesty..." An old woman knelt on the ground, tears streaming down her face.

"Rest in peace, His Majesty..." The vendors put down their business and stood in silence.

The imperial guards led the way, and ceremonial officials scattered paper money along the way. The white paper flew all over the sky like snow, swirling in the wind and finally falling all over the long street.

Chu Ning was riding on his horse, his eyes swept across the crowd, and he saw countless pairs of tearful eyes, and his heart was slightly shocked.

Even though the retired emperor has been incompetent in recent years, in the hearts of the people, he is still the king who once worked hard to govern the country.

It was two days later when we arrived at the imperial tomb.

We didn't encounter any problems along the way and arrived at the imperial tomb smoothly.

Deng Hongwen presided over the ceremony again and read the sacrificial text aloud. Then Chu Ning personally lit the first incense stick and inserted it into the bronze tripod in front of the mausoleum.

"Father..." Chu Ning whispered, his voice almost inaudible.

Shen Wanying and Wu Zhao stepped forward and presented white chrysanthemums.

Then Chu Xiuning took the initiative to step forward, placed the small white flower in her hand in front of the mausoleum, and said timidly:

"Grandpa Emperor...Rest in peace."

The eldest prince Chu Tian ignorantly imitated the adults and kowtowed awkwardly, causing the clan members beside him to nod slightly.

Finally, Deng Hongwen shouted: "Seal the tomb——"

The heavy stone door slowly closed, sealing Emperor Huai of Chu's coffin underground forever.

Chu Ning stood in front of the mausoleum for a long time without moving.

He knew that from this moment on, the kingdom of Da Chu was truly and completely in his hands.

Half an hour later, the funeral procession slowly drove away from the imperial mausoleum. The heavy wheels rolled over the bluestone road, making a dull sound.

Chu Ning sat upright on the imperial carriage, his face as pale as paper. The grief and hard work of the past few days finally turned into waves of dizziness at this moment.

He raised his hand and rubbed his temple, and his fingertips felt something cold.

"Is Your Majesty feeling unwell?" Zhao Yu, who was accompanying him, keenly noticed something was wrong and quickly handed him some warm ginseng tea.

Chu Ning reluctantly raised his hand to take the teacup, but the moment his fingertips touched, the teacup fell to the ground with a "pop".

The scalding tea splashed on the hem of his robe, leaving a dark mark.

His vision suddenly blurred, and Zhao Yu's anxious face in front of him gradually distorted into a shadow.

"Your Majesty..."

Before Zhao Yu could finish his exclamation, Chu Ning felt dizzy.

His body fell forward uncontrollably. Before he fell into complete darkness, he vaguely heard Shen Wanying's heart-wrenching cries and Wu Zhao's shrill voice ordering the imperial physician.

There was a sudden chaos in the imperial carriage.

Shen Wanying didn't care about her manners and rushed forward to embrace Chu Ning in her arms, and found that his forehead was as hot as fire.

Wu Zetian pulled back the carriage curtains and shouted to the accompanying imperial physician, "Quick! His Majesty has fainted!"

Her nails dug deep into her palms, but she felt no pain at all.