The side hall suffocated under silence.
Even the thin ribbon of incense smoke rising from the bronze burner seemed forced into stillness—straight as a line, frozen midair, afraid to disperse.
The Empress Dowager descended from her phoenix throne.
No attendants supported her. None dared.
Step.
Another step.
Each footfall landed precisely upon the strongest, most central tiles of the hall—light, yet unshakably steady. A reminder without words:
She was not new to this palace.
This power had been hers for decades.
Rooted.
Unmovable.
She stopped three paces before Qing Tian.
Close enough to kill.
"You truly are the Emperor's finest blade."
Her voice was soft.
But it sliced like steel grazing skin.
For the first time, the Empress Dowager did not conceal the murderous intent in her eyes.
It was not rage.
It was recognition.
"You investigate my Buddhist Hall."
"You pry open ledgers."
"You interrogate my consort."
She leaned forward slightly, lowering her tone.
"And next?"
"…Will you investigate me?"
The hall died into deeper silence.
Consort Shen collapsed to her knees, face ashen, lips trembling, not daring even to sob.
All eyes turned to Qing Tian.
This was the precipice.
One retreat—
was death.
Qing Tian did not move.
She understood: this was not the moment for loyalty.
This was the moment to stand.
"I do not investigate people."
Her voice was calm.
Steady.
Like a nail driven into stone.
"I investigate grain."
"Medicine."
"Lives."
A flicker crossed the Empress Dowager's brow.
Barely visible.
But real.
Qing Tian continued.
"The offerings of the Buddhist Hall…"
"…carry Your Highness's name of mercy."
"That mercy is a monument in the hearts of the realm."
She lifted her gaze, meeting the Empress Dowager's eyes without flinching.
"But if that mercy…"
"…is stolen and forged into a weapon of murder—"
A pause.
"…then whose face is being struck?"
The air tightened.
Qing Tian's voice turned colder.
"That would mean…"
"…someone is using you as a shield."
The words landed like a thunderclap.
Invisible hands seemed to shove Consort Shen directly into the flames.
Consort Shen's entire body jolted violently.
Her composure shattered.
"N-No… not me…"
She shook her head frantically, voice breaking.
"It was… it was someone from the Empress Dowager's—"
SMACK.
A brutal slap cracked across her face.
The Empress Dowager's senior matron stood behind her, palm still raised.
"You wretched creature!"
"How dare you implicate Her Highness?!"
Blood blossomed at the corner of Consort Shen's lips.
But the blow did not restore her sanity.
It destroyed it.
She collapsed forward, pounding her forehead against the floor in mad desperation.
Once.
Twice.
Again.
"Your Majesty! Save me!!"
Her voice fractured into hysterics.
"It was the Empress Dowager's people!"
"They gave me the powder!"
"They said— they said if Qing Tian died—"
Her breath hitched violently.
"—the kitchens would return to the Buddhist Hall!"
"Everything would belong to the Empress Dowager again!"
Gasps rippled through the hall.
Officials recoiled instinctively.
This was no longer jealousy.
No longer poison.
This was—
power.
Qing Tian's heart lurched.
This truth was darker than she had imagined.
She had believed Consort Shen greedy.
Ambitious.
But the Empress Dowager—
wanted far more than grain.
She wanted the Imperial Kitchens.
The artery the Emperor himself controlled.
She intended to wrench it from his hands.
The Emperor rose.
That single motion shifted the gravity of the room.
His gaze turned glacial, sweeping past Consort Shen… then locking upon the Empress Dowager.
"Mother."
The word was quiet.
But edged.
The first time he had spoken to her like this.
"In front of everyone."
"…Do you seek my kitchens?"
The Empress Dowager held his stare.
For a fleeting instant, something unreadable passed through her eyes.
Then she spoke.
"Emperor."
Her tone softened—no longer sharp, but heavy with the authority of someone long accustomed to ruling behind curtains.
"Do not trust her so completely."
She lifted one slender finger.
Pointing at Qing Tian.
"She is merely a woman who rose from the kitchens."
"If she dares to shake the Buddhist Hall…"
Her voice dropped into something colder.
"…then one day, she will dare to shake you."
The words struck like venom.
Not a threat.
But the cruelest seed a mother could plant in an emperor's mind.
Doubt.
Suspicion.
Fear.
In that instant, Qing Tian understood everything.
This was never her war with Consort Shen.
This was war—
between Empress Dowager and Emperor.
And she stood at the center of the battlefield.
A single misstep—
and both sides would crush her.
Qing Tian slowly lowered herself into a full kowtow.
Forehead touching the tile.
But when she rose—
her eyes were clear.
Resolute.
"Your Majesty."
Her voice did not waver.
"I request, in the name of the Director of Imperial Dietetics…"
"…a joint investigation by the Three Judicial Offices into the Buddhist Hall's accounts."
"If I have fabricated even a single line—"
She held the Emperor's gaze.
"I will pay with my life."
The hall plunged into absolute stillness.
Everyone understood.
She was forcing the Emperor to choose.
The Emperor fell silent.
A silence that stretched like eternity.
Then—
he spoke.
Low.
Clear.
Final.
"Granted."
One word.
And the old balance shattered.
At that exact moment—
the Empress Dowager's hand trembled.
Just once.
But Qing Tian saw it.
And knew—
blood would follow.