Pang Ban’s words were charged with murderous intent—far more direct than the civil servants’ proposal to add a Military Supervisor within the Xuanqing Guard. He cited the corruption and collusion exposed across the regions during this "Jingxi" operation as reason, seeking a command to purge the Dynastic apparatus from the Local Government Offices all the way to official workshops and shops—a thorough cleansing of the entire civil servant group’s core.

It is easy to imagine: with the Xuanqing Guard’s methods, as long as the Emperor agrees, the civil servant group in the Jingjiu Dynasty will be slaughtered till they’re utterly mangled, and very likely even drag down the likes of Bai Changqing—those bosses—as well.

Everything’s interconnected. To Pang Ban, the civil servant group’s habit of stalling is nothing but a sieve full of holes. If only after the Wen Family affair they’d conducted a swifter self-check, things wouldn’t be so passive now. On purpose, he instructed Jiang Cheng to hack away with a quick blade only in Fengri City, while "watching and waiting" elsewhere—so the civil servant group would expose themselves internally,

Gathering strength, gathering strength, gathering strength... Pang Ban had always been storing power, waiting for this chance.

The Great Court Assembly isn’t just the civil servants’ anticipated moment to strike back; it’s also been Pang Ban’s long-prepared opportunity to defeat his enemies.

He flung out several stacks of irrefutable evidence; the stench of decay couldn’t be ignored by anyone. What was revealed in these cases alone was enough to corroborate what Pang Ban said: it’s rotten to the core, it must be cut out.

This is more persuasive than a thousand words.

A bunch of people already reeking to high heaven have the gall to point fingers, meddling and trying to stop others from cleaning up their own rot? Where’s the logic in that?

"Your Majesty, this humble servant believes that Lord Pang speaks truly. The local offices have long gone without pruning; decay is inevitable. All that’s needed is a bold and sweeping rectification. If the Xuanqing Guard acts as the pruning knife, this humble servant believes it is fitting."

The one echoing from the ranks isn’t anyone else—it’s Yang Yansi, National Pillar General, standing at the head of the military positions.

As the foremost military officer, Yang Yansi has his own confidence. He harbors no goodwill toward those civil servants who play word games in the Temple Hall, but alas, circumstances are stronger than men, and more often than not he has no choice but to lower his head. Days have been smoldering with frustration.

Even earlier, witnessing the civil servants aiming their sharp words at Xuanqing Guard once more, he felt a hint of desolation—foreseeing the Xuanqing Guard ending up like the military.

But things changed rapidly. Pang Ban not only didn’t fall behind—instead, he hurled out a countermeasure with brute force. Compared with the civil servants’ glib talk, the Xuanqing Guard’s evidence was iron-clad, facts and proof always out-muscle empty blather.

What’s more satisfying than watching your rivals in court kicked when they’re down?

And furthermore, the Emperor’s attitude on the stage: he uttered not a word, even tacitly approved Pang Ban suppressing the civil servants with cultivation, not letting them clown around. What does that signal?

So, after Pang Ban’s impassioned speech, Yang Yansi stood up at once to echo him. He disliked Pang Ban and the Xuanqing Guard alike, but both together couldn’t begin to match his disgust at those civil servants across the aisle.

Once Yang Yansi spoke out, the whole military ranks responded in kind—a chain reaction. All other military positions stepped out, dropped a knee to the ground, and expressed their views to the Emperor on the stage. Without exception, each supported the Xuanqing Guard stepping in to clean up the local official bureaucracy.

Pang Ban kept a smile, watching it all unfold, slightly nodding toward Yang Yansi in gratitude. In fact, Pang Ban had anticipated all of this in advance.

It’s true the Xuanqing Guard stands alone—this is by Pang Ban’s deliberate design over the years. Being Your Majesty’s Personal Guard, they cannot get close to anyone—not even a hint of eye-contact. But this doesn’t mean some things must be fought entirely alone. Just like now: find the right opening, and once the result benefits someone, they’ll jump in to help, past grievances forgotten.

Left Minister Ye Lansheng, holding in his anger, rage surged within him. He hadn’t expected Pang Ban to dare use cultivation pressure in the great hall, not only suppressing their objections but inciting the military positions to shift with the wind. Now, the situation was tumbling rapidly toward chaos.

After much effort, when Pang Ban finally released his oppressive aura, Ye Lansheng was just about to argue, but was interrupted—not by Pang Ban, but by the Emperor on stage.

"Previously you said the military was arrogant, so I appointed Military Supervisors per your suggestion. Then you complained of the Xuanqing Guard’s lack of oversight, so I questioned Pang Ban. Pang Ban himself established a Black Banner Battalion to inspect their ranks. You claimed civil servants value integrity, and have self-discipline and self-improvement, so I’ve always trusted and indulged you.

But as it appears now, you’re just double-tongued, covering up faults with words. You catch others’ mistakes two at a time, but when it’s your turn, you’re soft-hearted and find endless excuses.

What sort of reason is that?"

The Emperor spoke, his tone noticeably colder, gaze as sharp as a blade. As his eyes swept over, Ye Lansheng shivered, hastily dropping to both knees. Along with him, the left-side queue led by Qi Zhanzhan also shrank down.

"Forgive us, Your Majesty! We are well aware of our faults and will conduct a thorough investigation and judgment, never letting the black sheep walk free!" Ye Lansheng hadn’t seen the Emperor give such a look in ages. This was the Emperor’s habitual gesture when his anger flared—debate must be avoided, only admitting fault is the way to survive, or else the consequences will be dire.

As for the Xuanqing Guard business, it could only be addressed at more length later.

Bai Changqing and Ma Xuanlin, standing behind Ye Lansheng, also knew that today’s matter called for self-preservation first, any other plans later. Though internally dissatisfied, the Emperor had spoken to this extent—what else could they do?

Pang Ban’s voice rose again, interjecting: "Left Minister is busy with daily affairs—afraid he hasn’t the time to keep an eye on all those pests below. Xuanqing Guard is quite skilled at catching bugs, and accustomed to dealing with villains. Left Minister needn’t trouble himself; Xuanqing Guard can ease your burden."

"Hmph! No need for Lord Pang to fret."

Beside him, Ma Xuanlin again requested that the Ministry of Justice take charge of this internal government office rectification, and volunteered to make a military pledge.

Usually in such situations, the civil servants would display their ultimate weapon: "crying."

No joke—civil servants weeping and wailing in the Temple Hall isn’t anything new; it’s just the adult, advanced version of acting pitiful for sympathy. They just want to use their misery to wring partiality from the Emperor.

Some military officers have tried it, but product quality and genuine emotion never match the civil servants’ vivid, moving displays. So over time, "crying" became a vocational skill for the civil servant group.

Of course, Ye Lansheng and Bai Changqing types don’t need to sob anymore—they’re past that stage, unless it’s truly life or death, they don’t need to wield that skill.

Right now, plenty among the civil servant ranks were bawling—runny nose and tears—crying outright.

But this time, the Emperor didn’t respond as quickly as usual, merely watching those below sob and fuss, as if enjoying a performance.