Volume One: The World Focuses on the New East Chapter 6: The First Decentralization Conference at the Dai Commandery—Doubts Among the Attendants

“Your Majesty, I am Feng Yi, serving as Assistant Governor of Dai Commandery. Recently, I heard news of the capital’s fall and that Prime Minister Guo Kai lured the royal family into surrender. Today, in terms of timing, circumstance, and principle, many doubts remain. He, as prime minister of a state, proved unworthy; I, albeit only an assistant governor of a single commandery, have dutifully kept to my post, never daring to slacken. Now that the office of prime minister is vacant, I implore the assembled ministers to clarify the proper rites and laws—this concerns the very foundation of the state, and I beg you not to avoid the question. Has Your Majesty ascended the throne? By what title shall we address you? As ‘Prince’ or as ‘King’? Will Handan’s ministers and people accept this? As for the late King Daoxiang’s appointing Prince Qian as successor to the throne of Zhao, how should his intentions be judged now, after his passing?”

As he finished, the gazes of the fourteen others gathered below converged upon him—not with the reverence of stars attending the moon, but blazing with anger, as if they wished to tear him limb from limb. The most dreaded suspicion—that Dai’s officials harbored disloyalty—had at last been voiced. Even the discontented governor cast a look of astonishment; he had never imagined that his colleague, the literary assistant famed for his skill with words and his passion for lofty ideals—always stirred by the Odes and the Annals, often pounding the table in fervor—would, at this crucial moment, prove bolder than himself, daring to openly challenge these ‘guests from Handan’! They might soon see heads roll, and he himself could be implicated.

These were all refugees from the royal capital, traveling north under the banner of Zhao’s central government. Legally, his own office had been appointed by them; personally, he was close to several among their number. Yet now it seemed there was no saving Feng Yi—only by sacrificing him could the officials of Dai hope to avoid a purge…

But before the governor, alarmed and preparing to denounce his subordinate, could utter a word, the hot-tempered chief minister seated to the left leapt up, seized the assistant governor by the collar, and demanded, with furious vehemence, how he could utter such treacherous words—biting the hand that fed him, betraying Zhao for all to hear—without regard for the presence of his lord. Zhao Congjian shouted for silence, but by then the ‘words of a child’ no longer sufficed to cow the court.

In this world, where the law of the jungle remains unbroken, self-interest is the only true motivation. Usually, the dignified gentlemen filling the hall might maintain their composure when questioned by their inferiors. But when their core interests are threatened, these pampered and arrogant creatures immediately lose all reason, raging like beasts. This is why the retinue of retainers is essential: ‘Wealth clouds the eyes,’ and a life of comfort leaves one unable to see matters clearly.

Witnessing this, Zhao Congjian gained a visceral understanding of the sheer power of the noble clans in the early classical era. Such arrogance! To strike a minister of the king in open court, relying solely on shared royal blood as license to meddle in affairs of state! Even so-called reforms to limit the power of the royal house only stripped away the overlap between family head and sovereign, hindering illegitimate heirs from claiming the throne, but could not prevent their pervasive influence elsewhere. To see such history unfold before one’s eyes is enough to leave lesser men bewildered for life, lost amid the clashing tides of fashion and opinion, aimlessly drifting through their remaining years.

Meanwhile, many of the court glared furiously at the new monarch; the royal clan made only a show of intervening, while even the ‘secret collaborator’ found new resolve, using the challenge to Prince Jia’s legitimacy as an excuse to chastise Feng Yi, venting their dissatisfaction with the prince upon his loyal official.

One must always consider whose dog one beats—and now Zhao Congjian’s face burned hotly as another voice echoed in his mind:

“It would have been better not to stir up trouble. I’m just an ordinary person whose soul has transmigrated into this body. If I weren’t inhabiting Prince Jia, none of this would have happened. But if I’d simply become a commoner in this age, even the most basic equality and civil rights would be denied me, for here, might alone is the law.”

“What’s so bad about being a puppet king? Why insist on standing out—are you even worthy of the Zhao name? This is the moment of national peril! Wouldn’t it be easier to lie low, eat and drink, and wait to be captured and sent to Guanzhong into comfortable captivity?”

“Let them be, this bunch of self-important men, each boasting of his virtue. I need to pick a side and truly stand with the people, listening to the voices at the bottom.”

…

As the situation spun out of control, the seven ministers on the right could do no more than awkwardly watch from the edge of the fray, unable to intervene, much less separate the chief minister from the royal clan. More embarrassingly, Zhao Congjian still did not know the name of the assailant.

When mind and body are divided—like an ordinary man’s soul inhabiting the body of a noble youth—it is only natural to feel paralyzed by self-contradiction; surely, many transmigrators have felt the same. He felt weak and powerless, wishing he could confide in his parents back home, but realized they were ordinary folk, incapable of offering advice in such a grand affair. Otherwise, he’d have been born a rich second-generation heir. He even considered ending his life, but doubted he’d return to the modern world—such a vivid dream might have consequences beyond imagination.

Death? Could he just pull out a Gatling gun and mow them all down? Of course not!

But think: what had made these loyalists choose him? The power of bloodline and legitimacy! This living vessel, brimming with vigor and dignity, was the only true ‘nuclear weapon’ able to guarantee their interests through the coming storm. If they really wished to abolish central power and seize control as a full-blown aristocratic republic, he could simply die—forcing them to face the people of Dai and all the untamed border folk, roasting in the fire of chaos. Let them see the consequences—let the market plunge!

Having grasped this, Zhao Congjian’s gaze darted among the ministers, finally fixing on the deputy minister seated leftmost: Prince Qian’s sword. These Handan courtiers, tense and wary, had not removed their swords during the council, prepared for any crisis—now, that would become his weapon. Seizing power by force in Dai had always been their backup plan. As the chief minister at last released Feng Yi and drew his sword, Zhao Congjian dashed over to grab Prince Qian’s scabbard, wrestling for the blade. But as a twelve-year-old, he lacked the strength; Prince Qian quickly realized and stopped him, exclaiming in shock, “Your Majesty, what are you doing?”

All eyes in the hall turned instantly to the new monarch. Zhao Congjian, ignoring appearances, saw he could not draw the sword, so he pressed his neck against the half-bared blade, making a rather ludicrous figure as he angled his head toward the ceiling and shouted, “Struggling for power like beasts—you make me ashamed to be your lord! I would rather join the honored ancestors of Zhao!” With that, he twisted his neck against the sword. Prince Qian, terrified of being charged with regicide—a crime punishable by extermination of his entire clan—wrenched the blade aside, tearing a rent in Zhao Congjian’s silken robe.

At last, the ministers stopped fighting. They had all lost control.

When their struggle for power endangered the monarch’s dignity, the very legitimacy of rule was cast into doubt, the future fraught with unpredictable peril. That single word—‘beasts’—deeply wounded the ministers’ pride, forcing them to abandon violence and return to debate.

Then Zhao Congjian boldly gave voice to the famous declaration that would echo through history, commanding those on the right and left to kneel in obeisance: “Zhao is not the possession of any one house or clan. Our nation’s troubles will not end by simply driving out traitors. To restore good governance, we must welcome the talents of the countryside and distant regions alike! Henceforth, all ministers, local and central, shall have the right to speak!”

His words, ringing and forceful, once more rallied those outside the royal clan, shifting the winds yet again. The significance of admitting Dai’s governor, commandant, and assistant governor became immediately clear.