Beside the imperial carriage.
Two burly imperial guards moved without the slightest hesitation.
They turned and strode toward the collapsed figure.
Zhao Gao was still lying on the ground.
He had just managed to recover a breath after the burning pain of the chili powder, his entire body weak and drained.
He heard the emperor’s summons.
He thought the emperor was ordering him to return and rest.
Struggling, he tried to push himself up, even attempting to straighten his disheveled appearance.
But—
Two iron-clamp-like hands seized his arms from both sides.
There was not the slightest trace of mercy in their grip.
“Agh—”
Zhao Gao let out a pained cry.
He was forcibly hauled up from the ground.
Not helped.
Dragged.
His feet scraped across the ground, leaving two miserable trails.
“Let… let go…”
He tried to struggle, tried to shout.
But his throat felt like it was burning; only ragged, broken “huffing” sounds came out.
The guards ignored him completely.
They dragged Zhao Gao forward as if he were a dead dog.
Under the fearful yet distant gazes of the court officials.
Under the cold stare of the three thousand divine strategist troops.
Zhao Gao was dragged back to the field ridge.
Thud.
He was thrown heavily at Ying Zheng’s feet, kicking up a cloud of dust.
Zhao Gao lay stunned from the impact.
He raised his head—his swollen, reddened face filled with terror and confusion.
“Your… Your Majesty…”
He wanted to ask why.
But Ying Zheng did not give him the chance to speak.
The emperor’s tall figure stood there like a silent iceberg.
He simply raised his hand.
And slammed the bamboo slip straight into Zhao Gao’s face.
Smack!
A sharp crack echoed.
The edge of the bamboo slip cut a bloody line across Zhao Gao’s forehead.
Blood trickled down his swollen cheek.
Zhao Gao was completely stunned.
He ignored the pain.
With trembling hands, he picked up the bamboo slip that had fallen to the ground.
He opened it.
And saw just one line.
“Zhao Gao, during the eastern inspection tour, secretly met with envoys of the remnants of the Six States three times…”
Boom!
It felt as if ten thousand thunderclaps exploded inside Zhao Gao’s mind.
His face instantly drained from a liver-colored red to a deathly pale!
“No…”
“No!!”
He suddenly raised his head and looked at Ying Zheng, his eyes bulging.
“Wronged!!”
He squeezed out those two words from his broken, rasping throat with all his strength.
Like a mad dog, he dropped to his knees and slammed his forehead against the ground again and again.
Bang!
Bang!
Bang!
“Your Majesty! This minister is wronged!”
“I have been absolutely loyal to you—heaven and earth can bear witness!!”
“It was them! They framed me!!”
While kowtowing frantically, he pointed toward Li Si in the distance—and Ying Zheng’s own son, Ying Ziye, behind the emperor.
His roar was shrill, desperate, like a beast driven into a corner.
At that moment—
A soft, childish voice, full of innocence and curiosity, came from behind Ying Zheng.
Ying Ziye peeked his little head out.
He looked at Zhao Gao, who was smashing his head against the ground, his big eyes filled with confusion.
He tugged at the emperor’s dragon robe.
“Father.”
“Why is Zhao Gao uncle’s voice like that?”
“Does his throat hurt a lot? Is he feeling very uncomfortable?”
Those words were not loud.
But they were like a red-hot iron rod, branding Zhao Gao’s heart.
Uncomfortable?
I’m fucking dying here!
All because of you little bastard!
A surge of monstrous hatred flashed in Zhao Gao’s eyes.
But he did not dare to say it out loud.
Ying Zheng lowered his head and glanced at his son, saying nothing.
Then he raised his gaze again and looked at Zhao Gao.
That look no longer carried anger.
Only an absolute, frozen emptiness.
He waited until Zhao Gao’s screaming gradually weakened.
Then he spoke slowly.
His voice was completely calm.
“Third month, seventh day.”
Zhao Gao’s body suddenly stiffened.
“Qufu.”
Zhao Gao’s breathing stopped.
Ying Zheng stared at him, enunciating each word.
“Who did you meet?”
There was no interrogation, no rage.
Only the calmest statement.
Yet these three questions, in their quietness, struck like three massive mountains crashing down onto Zhao Gao’s skull.
His mind went blank.
Third month, seventh day… Qufu…
He remembered.
That day, the Xiang clan people had indeed reached him through a secret channel.
How did they know?
The Black Ice Platform!
It was the Black Ice Platform that betrayed him!
No… no, that’s not right!
The Black Ice Platform was only loyal to the Emperor!
It was Li Si! That little bastard!
They must have taken control of the Black Ice Platform!
Cold sweat instantly soaked through Zhao Gao’s inner robe.
He could not admit it.
Even if it killed him, he could not admit it.
Because admitting it meant a dead end.
His mind raced furiously.
He had to find an excuse—an airtight excuse!
Yes!
Zhao Gao suddenly raised his head, forcing out a smile that looked more like a grimace.
With his broken, raspy throat, he tried to defend himself.
“Your Majesty… I… I remember now!”
“That day, I… I did meet someone!”
“But it was not an envoy of the remnants of the Six States!”
He pointed toward the wooden stake where Chunyu Yue had been executed.
“I… I was secretly investigating the movements of the Confucian scholars!”
“I heard that those Confucians were holding private gatherings in Qufu, criticizing court policies, and even… even criticizing His Highness the Crown Prince!”
“I was worried they might harm the Crown Prince, and afraid of alerting them, so… so I dismissed my attendants and secretly met an informant to question him!”
“Everything I did was for Your Majesty—for the Regent Prince!”
After speaking, he slammed his head hard to the ground again.
“Please, Your Majesty, investigate this clearly!!”
It was a near-perfect explanation.
It accounted for the secret meeting and painted him as a loyal minister protecting the throne.
It even managed to subtly smear the Confucians and Ying Ziye again.
After speaking, Zhao Gao lay prostrate on the ground, a flicker of hope rising in his heart.
The Emperor was naturally suspicious.
As long as there was even a sliver of doubt, he still had a chance to turn things around.
However—
He did not hear Ying Zheng’s response.
Instead, a cold voice rang out from the side.
Li Si stepped out from the ranks and bowed to the Emperor.
Then he turned to Zhao Gao.
“Minister Zhao.”
Li Si’s voice was calm and without emotion.
“This minister has a few questions.”
Zhao Gao’s heart sank.
Li Si looked at him and asked slowly:
“First. If you were investigating Confucians, why meet in such a remote tavern for a secret meeting lasting a full quarter of an hour?”
“As the Chief Minister of the Imperial Carriage, a close attendant to His Majesty, do you really need such extreme caution to meet a mere informant?”
Zhao Gao’s face turned paler.
Li Si did not wait for an answer and continued.
“Second.”
“And the most crucial point.”
His voice suddenly sharpened.
“According to the Qin law, all Black Ice Platform agents and palace attendants on official duty must record their itinerary, purpose, and results, and report every three days!”
“Why is it that in the Black Ice Platform archives, there is only a record of your departure on the seventh day of the third month?”
Li Si stared directly at Zhao Gao.
Each word fell like a hammer.
“One record… and nothing else?”
“Is there no record of you summoning informants or investigating Confucian scholars—no documented reason, no recorded results at all?”
“Minister Zhao, can you offer this minister—and His Majesty—an explanation?”
BOOM!!
Zhao Gao’s mind completely exploded.
He was finished.
He was utterly finished.
He had forgotten this crucial point!
He thought he had done everything flawlessly, yet he had left a fatal flaw in the most basic procedure!
Li Si’s two questions had completely sealed off all his escape routes!
“I…”
“I…”
Zhao Gao opened his mouth, but not a single word came out.
He felt all his strength being drained away.
Cold sweat poured out of him like a raging stream—from his forehead, his back, everywhere.
His entire body collapsed there like a pile of rotten mud.
On the field ridge, there was a deathly silence.
Only Zhao Gao’s heavy, desperate breathing remained.
Ying Zheng looked at him.
At this servant who had followed him for decades, the one he trusted most.
The coldness on his face slowly faded.
What replaced it was a depthless calm.
He stepped forward.
One step.
Another step.
Slowly walking up to Zhao Gao.
He stopped.
His towering figure blocked out all the sunlight.
Zhao Gao knelt in the shadow, trembling violently.
Ying Zheng did not look at him.
He simply gazed into the distant fields, his voice eerily calm.
“Zhao Gao.”
Zhao Gao’s body shuddered.
“For your years of service to me…”
Ying Zheng paused slightly.
“I will give you one chance.”
He slowly lowered his head, looking down at the insignificant figure beneath his feet.
“If everything written in this bamboo slip is a frame-up…”
His voice was very light.
Yet it cut through Zhao Gao’s last psychological defense like the sharpest blade.
“Do you have any evidence to prove your innocence?”
Zhao Gao suddenly raised his head.
He met Ying Zheng’s eyes.
Those eyes held no anger.
No killing intent.
Only an endless, indifferent void.
At that moment, Zhao Gao’s pupils contracted to their limit.
He knew.
He was finished.
Completely finished.
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