Chapter 17: The Massacre of the Meritorious Officials!

Consort Qi was eager to see Lu Xuan.

Han Xin shared the same desire.

Having been granted the title of "Peerless King," standing shoulder to shoulder with the Empress, Han Xin felt fully satisfied. This honorable royal title made him experience what it meant to be second only to the emperor, with even the various regional kings sending envoys to congratulate him.

This was exactly what he had longed for.

Han Xin was reclusive by nature but far from foolish. He understood that his solitary disposition meant he had few close friends. Coupled with his unparalleled military prowess, Liu Bang inevitably regarded him with caution. Han Xin had already sensed the invisible imperial executioner's blade poised above his head.

At the slightest hint of defiance, the blade would fall.

Such a fate could perhaps be explained, but Han Xin had no intention of justifying himself. Since the unification of the Han dynasty, he had vaguely foreseen his future end, which troubled him deeply.

But now—

He had lost military command with dignity.

Not only was his life guaranteed, promising a peaceful end,

But also his vanity was gratified.

Han Xin was grateful to the one who had proposed this arrangement to His Majesty.

Yet no matter how much he inquired, Liu Bang and Zhang Liang remained enigmatic, only saying that he would know the truth in three months.

“Then I shall wait three months,” Han Xin said, already tipsy, drifting off to sleep.

The next morning.

With civil and military officials in attendance, Emperor Liu Bang formally bestowed upon Han Xin the rare title of the Han dynasty’s sole "Peerless King," allowing him to deliberate on state affairs daily. Uniquely, Han Xin was permitted to sit beside the emperor, on equal footing with the crown prince.

After the court session ended and the ministers dispersed,

Liu Bang, without even removing his imperial robes, headed toward the Linhua Hall, summoning Zhang Liang along the way.

“It’s been several days since I last saw Lu Xuan; I find myself somewhat missing him,” Liu Bang admitted.

“Has Lord Liu learned anything during this time?” Zhang Liang bowed his head slightly. “I have not asked any questions. I have only accompanied Lu Xuan, communicating with him and casually inquiring about matters from his era.”

It was not for lack of desire to ask, but for fear.

To ask recklessly would invite calamity.

Obtaining information about the future from Lu Xuan required the emperor’s presence; otherwise, knowledge known only to him and not to His Majesty would violate the code of ruler and subject.

Born into Korean nobility, Zhang Liang understood this principle well and dared not overstep.

“Very well,” Liu Bang glanced at Zhang Liang but said nothing. The two walked slowly to the side chamber of Linhua Hall.

It was still the same quiet little room.

The scent of herbs filled the air, pure and untainted, refreshing with every breath. There was no unpleasant medicinal odor in Lu Xuan’s chamber.

The sound of footsteps echoed.

Inside, Lu Xuan’s ears twitched.

“Uncle Ji, you have finally arrived,” he called out.

“What kept you busy these past days?”

From across the room, Lu Xuan’s voice reached them. Liu Bang’s expression faltered momentarily before he opened the door, sat on Lu Xuan’s bed, and smiled warmly. “Lu Jun, you can even recognize my footsteps.”

“How could I not? During these days of blindness, my hearing has sharpened considerably,” Lu Xuan replied earnestly. “For instance, your footsteps, Uncle Fang’s, are steady and slow, like a refined young nobleman from a scholarly or aristocratic family.”

“But Uncle Ji’s steps are sometimes careless and at other times heavy and forceful, full of strength.”

Liu Bang and Zhang Liang exchanged a glance, slightly surprised.

Inwardly, they raised Lu Xuan’s danger level.

“I grow more grateful. Lu Jun, you are extraordinary. If you enter the court, you will surely accomplish great things,” Liu Bang laughed heartily.

Lu Xuan quickly shook his head.

“I have no desire for office. I only wish to present inventions and historical policies from the future to the emperor. As for personal gain, being wealthy and honored for life suffices.”

Lu Xuan had never aspired to be an official; he thought living with wealth and honor was enough.

Since arriving in the Ming dynasty, he simply wanted to offer knowledge of future Jurchen threats and later technologies, helping the Ming dynasty connect with the world and avoid falling too far behind.

He certainly did not want to be caught in the whirlpool of court politics.

People from the future were sometimes indeed stronger than ancient ones, in terms of insight, understanding, and thought. But Lu Xuan did not believe he could match the ancients in cunning, tactics, or intrigue.

Those who served in the court were brilliant minds, rare geniuses unmatched by many—truly the most outstanding talents of their era. He was just an ordinary history student from the future, knowing history did not mean he could outwit them. That would be naïve.

Liu Bang nodded slightly but thought otherwise.

No matter how eloquent Lu Xuan’s words, he did not fully believe them.

Or rather, Lu Xuan might truly not want to be an official or seek power.

But unfortunately,

If you possess the ability to influence power and sway the emperor’s thoughts and will,

Then you must die.

Liu Bang did not dwell too much on this matter, burying it deep in his heart. He finally voiced the question he had long wished to ask but had no chance due to Han Xin’s affairs.

“Lu Jun, you once told me the crown prince died early from illness.”

“What kind of illness was it? Is there a cure?”

“If it could be cured, that would be a great achievement.”

Liu Bang’s words were gentle and persuasive. This was his most pressing concern; for years, he had felt guilt toward Liu Ying and did not want the boy to leave him prematurely.

Lu Xuan found Uncle Ji’s words reasonable.

Indeed, considering Zhu Yuanzhang’s hopes for Zhu Biao, curing him would be a great feat.

After some thought, he spoke carefully:

“The crown prince’s illness is complicated. His upbringing was relatively oppressive, and growing under a rigid, high-pressure educational environment imposed great mental strain, weakening his resistance.”

“Moreover, historically, the crown prince and the emperor had very different personalities, which added to the prince’s stress and contributed to his illness.”

Halfway through, Liu Bang interrupted.

“Lu Jun, are you certain this is recorded in the historical records?”

“I agree the prince’s upbringing was oppressive.”

“I also agree their personalities were different.”

“But the differences in their opinions—that seems questionable.”

Liu Bang looked at Lu Xuan skeptically. Reflecting on his own memories, Liu Ying’s environment had indeed been stifling.

Their personalities were certainly unlike.

He was carefree and bold, able to relate to ministers even as emperor, and in his youth, loyal and unrestrained by rules.

Liu Ying was gentle, kind, meticulous, observant of rituals and propriety, and regarded rules as absolute.

However, he and Liu Ying did not have conflicting opinions.

After the Han’s founding, the war-torn Central Plains and surrounding regions were filled with lingering strife, barren fields, and suffering people.

His philosophy was to share hardships with the people, and Liu Ying agreed with his vision of governing through recovery and rest.

That was the only point where they agreed. So why was Lu Xuan’s account incorrect?

“There were indeed differences; I am not mistaken,” Lu Xuan insisted, noting Uncle Ji’s doubt.

“The crown prince was benevolent and lenient, but His Majesty was decisive and ruthless. The prince often admonished the emperor against excessive slaughter of meritorious ministers, while the emperor hoped the prince would embody the ruthless spirit of a sovereign. This caused many conflicts between father and son.”

“For example, regarding several major cases and the handling of meritorious ministers, their opinions diverged even more.”

At this, Zhang Liang’s expression darkened, his head bowed lower, filled with unease.

Handling meritorious ministers and large-scale executions—

Was this something His Majesty would truly do in the future?

He knew the emperor could be resolute and reckless at times, but he had never imagined it would come to this.

Liu Bang’s face shifted repeatedly, ignoring Zhang Liang’s emotional unrest, his heart sinking.

It seemed the very thing he dreaded had come to pass.

He had truly killed many meritorious ministers.

Had Lu Xuan not appeared here, history would have unfolded as before, with Han Xin, Ying Bu, Zang Tu, and others meeting their demise in succession.

And Liu Ying would undoubtedly have disapproved, fearing it would chill the hearts of many meritorious ministers and bring future criticism, thus urging his father to refrain from mass executions.

But would Liu Bang listen to Liu Ying?

Everything was falling into place.

Amidst his complex thoughts, Liu Bang fixed his gaze on Lu Xuan and said, “Lu Jun, please continue.”