Chapter Three: King Zhou Attends Court!

Shang Rong was an elderly man with a beard and hair as white as snow. His face was solemn, yet not at all at odds with the air of benevolence he exuded—this was the renowned sage of the Shang Dynasty.

“Your minister pays his respects to Your Majesty.” As the Grand Preceptor in charge of rituals and music, Shang Rong would never allow a single slip in etiquette or speech.

When he greeted Jiang Yuan, his manner was respectful but devoid of any flattery or sycophancy, nor was there the slightest trace of contempt—everything was perfectly measured.

Jiang Yuan, his eyes half-shut, opened them to look at Shang Rong, only to be surprised to see a small line of text hovering beside the old man. This must be a function of the system, providing a concise overview of Shang Rong.

Character: Shang Rong

Position and Title: Prime Minister of Shang, Sage

Realm: Mortal

Possessions: The Classic of Music, The Book of Rites

Cultivation Techniques: None

Loyalty: 100

Favorability: 30

Tyrant Points Obtainable: 300

What the—?!

Jiang Yuan was stunned—a mere mortal could yield 300 Tyrant Points? So the 50 points the system gave him at the start were practically nothing?

“Damn system, get out here!” Jiang Yuan cursed inwardly.

“If the host has any questions, feel free to ask, but please mind your manners,” came the system’s cold reply.

“Manners, my foot! I’m supposed to be a tyrant—why should I care about manners? Explain to me how I can get those 300 points from Shang Rong! And why did you only give me 50 at the start?” Jiang Yuan complained.

“Though Shang Rong is but a mortal, as the Prime Minister of Shang, his rank and influence are immense. Naturally, the Tyrant Points you can obtain from him are higher,” the system explained.

“So how do I get those 300 points?” Jiang Yuan asked eagerly.

Fifty points had been enough to help him break through to the Celestial Immortal realm—imagine what 300 would do! If not for the need to maintain his image as the Human Sovereign, Jiang Yuan would have shouted with glee.

“That’s for the host to discover. The most direct method would be to kill Shang Rong,” the system suggested.

“Are you stupid, or do you think I am? If I kill him, won’t the Shang Dynasty fall into utter ruin? I can tell the difference between a single meal and a lifetime’s supply. If I ruin the dynasty, what’s the point of being a tyrant?” Jiang Yuan would never follow such a hare-brained suggestion.

The only reason the Shang Dynasty still lingered, refusing to die, was because loyal elders like Shang Rong and Bigan continued to prop it up.

The system fell silent again. After cursing the damn thing, Jiang Yuan looked at Shang Rong, who still remained bowed before him. Despite his age, the old minister clung fast to decorum.

Jiang Yuan, as king, had not bade him rise, so Shang Rong maintained his posture of respect.

“Rise, Prime Minister. You are already advanced in age and frail in body; henceforth, there’s no need to kneel when you see me,” Jiang Yuan said, unable to bear seeing the old man remain motionless.

“Many thanks for Your Majesty’s grace.” Shang Rong finally stood and looked at Jiang Yuan, a flicker of surprise in his eyes.

Now, Shang Rong’s information had changed: loyalty remained at 100, but favorability had risen from 30 to 32.

Jiang Yuan sighed inwardly. It was clear these old ministers were loyal to the dying Shang Dynasty, not to him, the solitary king.

Before he could dwell on this, the system’s icy voice sounded in his mind.

“Ding! For showing respect to virtuous ministers, which does not align with tyrannical conduct, 3 Tyrant Points have been deducted. This is a formal warning!”

Jiang Yuan nearly cursed aloud in front of Shang Rong. He had just earned 7 points, only to lose 3—didn’t the damned system understand the virtue of respecting the old and cherishing the young?

Still, he felt no regret. If he wanted to gain Tyrant Points, he first had to be a tyrant; if he was no longer king, of what use would the points be? He could earn more points later, but winning hearts was not so easily done.

“What brings you to the Star-Picking Pavilion to seek me out, Prime Minister?” Jiang Yuan’s voice was calm, but brimming with imperial authority.

“Your minister humbly requests that Your Majesty attend court,” Shang Rong said, dropping to his knees once more.

This time, Jiang Yuan did not immediately bid him rise, wary that the system might deduct more points for no reason.

“Oh? How long has it been since I last attended court?” Jiang Yuan asked.

“Your Majesty, it has been a full six months.” Shang Rong’s tone carried a trace of agitation, as though disappointed in his king.

“Since you know I haven’t attended court in half a year, why come to plead with me now? Is there nothing you can say here and now?” Jiang Yuan’s voice turned cold.

He did this on purpose, wanting to test different methods of obtaining Tyrant Points.

Sure enough, the system chimed in.

“Ding! For berating the Prime Minister without asking the reason, which conforms to tyrannical behavior, 8 Tyrant Points awarded.”

Jiang Yuan immediately felt invigorated. He had finally made up for his earlier losses! Still, he thought it best not to repeat this often, or perhaps to target someone else—Shang Rong’s favorability had dropped from 32 to 26.

“Your Majesty, this matter brooks no delay. The ministers are all waiting in the Nine-Section Hall,” Shang Rong said, bowing his already stooped frame even lower.

Jiang Yuan, unable to bear it, feigned impatience. “Prime Minister, rise first. Let me consider it.”

“Unless Your Majesty agrees, your minister will not rise!” Shang Rong’s resolve was unwavering.

“Fine, fine. Since you’re making things difficult for me, and I have tarried long enough in this pavilion, I’ll treat it as a stroll to clear my mind. Wait for me at the Nine-Section Hall. Once I have bathed and changed, I’ll be there shortly,” Jiang Yuan said, pretending to give in.

In truth, he had planned to attend court all along.

“Your minister withdraws.” Shang Rong’s face showed a flash of joy as he respectfully took his leave.

Once Shang Rong had left, Jiang Yuan could not wait to check the system and opened the introduction to the Divine Art of Creation and Destruction.

Divine Art of Creation and Destruction: First Level (A divine technique left by the Spirit of Creation; upon reaching the highest mastery, even if a sage dies, I remain; even if heaven and earth perish, I endure.)

What in the world?!

Jiang Yuan could hardly believe his luck—the system had granted him such an incredible technique! Was it possible that he could one day surpass the sages themselves?

“System, I love you!” he exclaimed.

“At this point, the system must apologize. The host may be a good person, but the system is neither male nor female, and has no physical form.”

Jiang Yuan had no time for the system’s quips. He shouted loudly toward the hall’s entrance, “Summon my ministers! I shall attend court!”

…

In the city of Chaoge, the great bell tolled, sending shockwaves of surprise among the people.

It had been six months since this bell last resounded! Its peal today meant that their king would finally attend court.

The city was abuzz with anxiety and anticipation, uncertain whether this was good or ill. After all, King Zhou had once been considered a wise ruler.

But since Daji’s arrival in the palace, and with the corrupt ministers Fei Zhong and You Hun whispering in his ear, he had neglected governance, and the strength of Shang had visibly declined.

With the northern barbarian demons rebelling, it was impossible to know whether this court assembly boded well or ill.

BOOM!

The bell’s reverberations coiled over Chaoge, like thunder shaking the heavens.

“The king arrives!”

The high, sharp voice of the chief eunuch rang out as Jiang Yuan strode into the Nine-Section Hall, moving with the bearing of a dragon and the stride of a tiger.

Civil and military officials lined the sides, nervous and uneasy. No one knew what temperament the king would display after six months’ absence—the fate of Doctor Mei was still fresh in their minds.

“Long live the king! Long live the king! Long live the king for ten thousand years!”

Clad in imperial robes, Jiang Yuan ascended the dais, his expression calm as he scanned the assembly, his spirit soaring. With a grand sweep of his sleeve, he declared,

“Rise, my beloved ministers.” His voice was powerful, full of vitality.

The ministers thought there was something different about their king today. His appearance had not changed, but the overwhelming aura he radiated, the commanding presence, was unmistakable and awe-inspiring—enough to strike fear into their hearts.

This, at last, was the majesty befitting the Human Sovereign.