Chapter 9: The Verbal Battle in the Court Begins

On a snowy night, a figure knocked on the grand red gate before him.

After a moment, a voice called from inside, “Who is it at this late hour?”

“It’s me, Wang Shiyong!”

The door opened swiftly, and Wang Shiyong hurried inside.

“Minister Tang, Minister Tang! A grave matter has occurred! A grave matter!”

Tang Ke was reading in his study when his men informed him that Wang Shiyong had come urgently.

Wrapping a cloak around himself, Tang Ke stepped out.

Though stripped of the prime ministership, Tang Ke still held official rank—since in the Song Dynasty, rank and office were separate—and retained his connections and prestige.

“Ah, Bo Lai, what brings you here so late?”

“Minister Tang, something serious has happened. Guo Jing has been executed, and Sun Fu has been thrown into the Ministry of Punishments’ prison!”

Tang Ke’s heart jolted. “Is that true?”

“Absolutely. The emperor personally executed Guo Jing before the city tower and ordered Sun Fu’s arrest.”

Tang Ke frowned deeply in thought.

“Minister Tang, Guo Jing was recommended by He Li and Sun Fu together. The emperor killing Guo Jing is a repudiation of both He Li and Sun Fu.”

“What do you mean?”

“I believe the emperor may be seeking peace. Many in court favor negotiation. The Jin army has besieged the city for some time with no strategy to repel them. Peace seems the only option. Next steps might be...”

Wang Shiyong paused.

“Continue.”

“The emperor may soon raise funds within the city to reopen peace talks with the Jin, offering them a sum of money. This obviously requires someone to coordinate and manage the affairs.”

Wang Shiyong glanced at Tang Ke and added, “I also received news before coming: there will be an early court session tomorrow.”

“An early court session tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

“It seems the emperor is about to make another change,” Tang Ke’s eyes flickered with hope.

Twenty-five days ago, Tang Ke still held the position of Deputy Prime Minister. At that time, He Li, then interim prefect of Kaifeng, vociferously advocated for war. Public sentiment favored battle, forcing Tang Ke out and He Li into office.

Tang Ke had hoped He Li possessed some profound strategy, like Li Gang earlier that year, who united the people to defend the city. But instead, He Li brought in a charlatan.

Even the peace advocates Tang Ke and Geng Nanzhong could not tolerate it.

Tang Ke’s political stance was peace, followed by relocating the capital to Chang’an.

One cannot simply brand Tang Ke’s peace faction as shameless; the military gap between Song and Jin was indeed vast.

Historically, Tang Ke was a competent official—responsible in local governance during youth and flood relief on the Yellow River later.

He was undoubtedly a benevolent and conscientious official.

Yet he was ill-suited for central government or military affairs—the very man who drove General Zhong Shidao to death from frustration.

“Minister Tang, everyone eagerly awaits your leadership!” Wang Shiyong urged.

Tang Ke said, “At tomorrow’s court session, observe quietly. If He Li is dismissed, then...” He trailed off.

“I understand what you mean,” Wang Shiyong said.

Snow fell steadily, blanketing the prosperous capital.

Zhao Ning’s sudden arrival had shattered the old order, stirring ambitions among various factions.

Clutching Zhu Lian, Zhao Ning passed his first night after crossing into late Northern Song peacefully.

He knew the challenges ahead would be immense, so preserving rest was essential.

Early the next morning, Zhao Ning donned a dragon robe.

The Song Dynasty, associated with the Fire element and known as the Flaming Song, had dragon robes of a deep crimson—not merely “red” but called jiang color.

The robe was made of crimson gauze, trimmed in black with cloud and dragon patterns to denote authority and rank.

Dressed, Zhao Ning strode toward the Chuigong Hall.

The original occupant, Zhao Huan, was frail, and Zhao Ning wondered how this body could bear such heavy responsibility.

He resolved to strengthen himself.

It was nearly three in the early morning, before dawn—the Song court customarily convened at this hour.

Though a man of the 21st century, Zhao Ning was no stranger to early rising and did not mind.

Entering the hall, ministers were already gathered outside in waiting.

Zhao Ning had two preliminary intentions:

First, to declare resolute support for war, suppressing peace advocates to prevent sabotage.

Second, to raise funds—by any means necessary.

He even hoped they would dare to confront him.

That was why Gao Qiu had been reinstated.

After formalities, ministers entered, bowing respectfully: “May Your Majesty be well.”

“I am well,” the emperor replied, seated, ministers arrayed on either side, the Chancellor and Privy Council officials at the front.

The Song court did not practice kneeling—this was a Mongol invention. All stood, addressing the emperor as “Your Majesty.”

Anyone still calling him “Your Excellency” likely had something wrong with their head.

Zhao Ning scanned the assembly. “Does anyone wish to speak?”

He Li was about to rise, but Wang Shiyong stood first. “Your Majesty, I have something to say.”

“Speak.”

“I have heard that Guo Jing’s so-called magic was fraudulent, unable to repel the enemy and deceiving Your Majesty—a grave crime!”

The hall fell silent instantly.

News of this had spread overnight; nearly everyone at court was aware.

Though Wang Shiyong outwardly criticized Guo Jing, he was really condemning the war faction’s incompetence, absurdity, and deceit of the sovereign.

The emperor sat silently, dignified, but secretly pleased.

Seeing no response from the emperor, others held back.

Wang Shiyong continued with righteous indignation:

“Guo Jing, a charlatan, was appointed commander against the enemy—an outrageous error!”

His tone rose, stirring the peace faction’s emotions.

Whispers broke out.

The emperor’s voice rang out: “Silence!”

Calm returned to the hall.

Zhao Ning had anticipated no need for the Censorate’s intervention; a faction was poised to challenge He Li.

This was characteristic of the Song court.

Did they truly think He Li incompetent? Certainly not.

They sought to use this chance to oust He Li, elevate themselves, and gain political favor.

In chaotic times, opportunists lurked in the shadows.

Minister of Personnel and Hanlin Academician Mo Chou stepped forward. “Your Majesty, I also have words.”

“Speak.”

Mo Chou was also a peace advocate.

The peace faction contained all sorts.

Men like Tang Ke believed it was impossible to fight the Jin now; first relocate the capital, develop resources, then decide.

Historically, after Dongjing fell, the Jin installed Zhang Bangchang as puppet emperor, coercing officials to sign allegiance.

Mo Chou, as a Jin-scholars’ champion, signed without hesitation, addressing Zhang Bangchang as “Your Majesty”—even Zhang was uneasy.

Tang Ke, however, poisoned himself out of shame.

Mo Chou said, “Your Majesty, your divine insight saw through Guo Jing’s deception. Had you not arrived in time, Guo Jing might have opened the gates for the Jin invaders—an unimaginable disaster!”

“To have such a ridiculous event in the capital, I believe the people deserve an explanation!”

Seated calmly, Zhao Ning inwardly mused: Song officials were no fools; their words were sharp, their tactics deft.

Mo Chou’s call to explain to the people was a veiled demand for accountability—namely, He Li’s removal.

This was political artistry: invoking the people’s cause to justify ousting He Li.

When Tang Ke was pushed out, public outrage at the peace faction and the Censorate’s impeachment made it effortless.

Now He Li had committed a grave blunder; his dismissal was inevitable.

The peace faction would launch a strong counterattack for power.

Both Wang Shiyong and Mo Chou were core figures among the peace advocates.