Xuanqing Guard

Once Shen Hao left, Jiang Cheng got up and opened the windows in the Public Office wider, letting out that bothersome fragrance inside.

"Neither man nor woman—does someone like that think he can make something of himself? Dream on!" Jiang Cheng muttered to himself. Naturally, he wasn’t targeting Shen Hao, who had just departed, but rather the person who had idled in his Public Office for an entire hour before Shen Hao entered.

He disliked them, even felt repulsion, but Jiang Cheng dared not chase the person away—instead, he had to play the part with a smiling, cautious demeanor.

Precisely because of his irritable mood, Jiang Cheng had let some sarcasm slip when speaking with Shen Hao, though he didn’t know whether Shen Hao noticed.

Especially when he uttered, "The way things are going just gets stranger and stranger." That came entirely from his own feelings, particularly when they touched upon the Royal Family at that moment; he couldn’t help but say it aloud.

The Royal Family truly had become increasingly prominent these past two years.

Jiang Cheng still recalled how the Royal Family used to be associated with "transparency." The Emperor, perched atop the pinnacle, was always benevolent and kind to the people and his ministers, but he was exceedingly harsh with the Royal Family. Any hint of displeasure brought strict punishment—their days were spent trembling in fear.

Yet in recent years, even if Jiang Cheng didn’t pay much attention to the changes among officials, his position allowed him to know bits and pieces; he found the Emperor was gradually relaxing the old, stringent restraints on the Royal Family, even seeming indifferent or unconcerned at times.

Isn’t this just two extremes?

Jiang Cheng couldn’t make sense of it, but outside, everyone had their own theories about the Emperor’s transformation, secretly calculating their moves.

He’d discussed this matter with Pang Ban before. Pang Ban didn’t mince words, telling Jiang Cheng bluntly that by his judgment, the Emperor was doing this with intention—likely to assess the various abilities of his sons, the Princes.

Jiang Cheng agreed with this view, and his own suspicions were even more radical than what Pang Ban said—though perhaps Pang Ban had hinted at it without being explicit. That is, Jiang Cheng felt the Princes were making their final preparations.

Anyone with eyes could see the Emperor was already very old; he was one of the longest-lived rulers in Jingjiu Dynasty history, yet he hadn’t designated a Crown Prince. When the controls were strict before, it was manageable—now, letting go outright, how could nothing happen?

Previously, there were Princes sending Copper Rods to Local Government Offices, claiming to "visit." A Prince has neither office nor jurisdiction nor authority, and even the titles "Prince" or "Royal Highness" are just honorifics, not part of Jingjiu Dynasty’s system—what qualifications did they have to use a term like "visit," which clearly implies subordination?

But the Princes used it all the same, openly summoning local officials and recruiting talent without restraint. In the past, such behavior could be condemned as "plotting improper acts," and crushed, Prince or not. Now, nothing happens, and many imitate it.

Of course, only the Princes dared behave this way; ordinary members of the Royal Family didn’t have the guts or backbone.

Jiang Cheng knew that even units like the Xuanqing Guard, the Emperor’s personal troops, had been eyed by the Princes; they’d even gone to Fengri City to recruit his disciple—Shen Hao—but Shen Hao refused them openly.

As a comparison, take the previous Xuanqing Guard Commander of Fengri City, Wu Changhe. This Households Officer, sent directly down from the Commander’s Office, was a Prince’s man, regarded then as the leading figure for Princely influence in Xuanqing Guard. Many believed Pang Ban had sided with the Princes—otherwise, why assign Wu Changhe, clearly the Prince’s man, to a vital city like that?

At the time, Jiang Cheng felt uneasy; Fengri City Thousand Households Station was where he had risen, and tradition held it should be his recommendation to succeed him. Pang Ban assigned someone directly—an affront to Jiang Cheng. But this annoyance didn’t last: Wu Changhe, through repeated blunders in the Sword Emperor’s Tomb incident, was stripped of all ranks and even imprisoned. Given Xuanqing Guard’s reputation, Wu Changhe was likely little more than bones by now.

Seeing Wu Changhe’s fate, all prior speculation about Pang Ban instantly reversed.

Turns out Pang Ban wasn’t siding with the Princes at all—he was waiting to draw a line with them! See, Wu Changhe could have spent his days idling in the Commander’s Office, living indefinitely, acting as eyes and ears; being a Xuanqing Guard Households Officer under a Prince looked prestigious. But assigned to the provinces, with too much to handle, trouble followed—and trouble meant not just loss of position, but loss of life.

Wu Changhe’s example shocked the Princes, made clear Pang Ban was still Pang Ban—ruthless, unyielding, inflexible, and merciless. The great prize of Xuanqing Guard would never be easy for them to take.

So things quieted down for a long time; Xuanqing Guard had peace, and Jiang Cheng kept to the rules, shadowing Pang Ban—never acting clever on his own.

But when military tension started to rise in the south, the atmosphere in the Imperial City shifted again—the Princes, who’d ruled out any attempts for Xuanqing Guard and focused only on the provincial system, once again turned their gaze (and hands) toward it.

This was the cause of Jiang Cheng’s recent discontent.

Before Jiang Cheng came to head the Jingxi Town Governor’s Office, it already had Prince’s men placed inside, and in quite high positions—this had always been Jiang Cheng’s sore spot. He was no Pang Ban, lacking the nerve or right to touch a Prince’s appointee.

Luckily, the Prince’s men under Jiang Cheng’s command were sensible, knew their place, and never made his work difficult; in fact, they quietly made some of Jiang Cheng’s initiatives easier.

For example, Xue Houxuan, currently serving as Households Officer of the Black Banner Battalion in Jingxi Town Governor’s Office, was an appointee of the Eldest Prince. This man had a fine, clean face—"the vase," as he was known, so his manner was no mystery. Jiang Cheng always kept a respectful distance; when dealing with the Black Banner Battalion, he always went through Xue Houxuan’s process. But Xue Houxuan was tactful, played his role well, and always behaved properly.

But after Vice Minister Xu Hong of the Ministry of War was imprisoned, the Imperial City exploded, and Jingxi Town Governor’s Office—handling the case—became the focus of attention. To shield his subordinates from fallout, Jiang Cheng bore all the pressure himself, worn body and spirit. Now, those interested in Xuanqing Guard began probing again.

Nobody dared approach the Commander’s Office; Pang Ban was too bloody-minded—if one tried for meat, one might be butchered instead. The slightly softer Governor’s Office became the new target.

Before Shen Hao entered, Jiang Cheng had been meeting with a Prince—and not just any, but the Emperor’s firstborn, Prince Jing, Yang Cheng.

Prince Jing’s purpose was simple: he wished to secure more advancement opportunities and chances for his people to earn merit. He said that, since in the Governor’s Office they couldn’t be of help to Jiang Cheng, why not send them where manpower was truly needed...

Where needs people now?

The south!