Although Samuel Brooks and Andrew Brooks were by no means good people, even if they had the guts to do anything, they never set their sights on the women in the palace—or rather, they didn’t dare to. So, they had no interaction with her whatsoever. Politically speaking, since her parents had both passed away and she had no siblings, no matter what schemes the two Zhangs plotted, they had nothing to do with her.

The two men who seemed to wield boundless power were, in the end, nothing more than two pitiful creatures in the palm of the Empress’s hand.

Although the snow in the sky had not yet stopped and the weather was still bitterly cold, as one approached the Changsheng Hall of Yingxian Palace, a large crowd could be seen gathered at the entrance. Among them, a middle-aged man surrounded by people stood out conspicuously. As soon as Eric Blake recognized him as the Crown Prince George Thompson, she saw him glance over in this direction, then break away from the crowd and hurry down the steps.

“San-niang, Grace, you’ve come at just the right time! The Empress Mother… the two Zhangs are both dead, but now she refuses to give in at all. What should we do, what should we do?”

From behind Abigail Adams and Grace Harper, Eric Blake watched this future emperor, who was flustered like a headless fly, and couldn’t help but sneer inwardly, feeling a bit sorry for Charles Brooks and the others.

No matter how you looked at it, he didn’t seem like a man with his own opinions. Of course, it was precisely because of men like him that clever women had opportunities to seize, wasn’t it?

Chapter Five: Even the Aging Empress Is Not Easily Deceived

When daylight fully broke, the snow had stopped. A red sun hung high in the sky, yet brought little warmth. The heavy snow that had fallen all night covered the ground in a thick layer, hiding the bloodstains and countless messy footprints.

A new atmosphere pervaded Yingxian Palace. With the execution of the Samuel Brooks and Andrew Brooks brothers, there were hardly any old faces left inside or out—only new people standing respectfully with lowered heads. Of course, the purge was far from over. Just after dawn, Philip Grant hurried off to deploy the Southern Office troops, preparing to suppress any possible disturbances; Peter Clark went to arrest the remaining followers of the two Zhangs; Charles Brooks and Stephen Reed were responsible for contacting other officials and arranging matters such as the Crown Prince’s ascension.

Although almost everything was under control, there was one unresolved issue that troubled everyone deeply—there was no imperial seal, and no edict. Nearly everyone who dared to directly request these from the Empress had been scolded out of her presence. Now, the only ones lucky enough to remain in the Changsheng Hall were Abigail Adams and Grace Harper.

Of course, there was also someone else lurking nearby, watching the commotion.

Eric Blake watched with great interest as Abigail Adams and Grace Harper took turns trying every possible method to persuade the Empress. However, it had to be said that her grandaunt, who had held power for so many years, possessed extraordinary tenacity. She would refute what she could, and for what she couldn’t, she simply remained silent, maintaining an unprecedentedly tough stance. Even when Abigail Adams appealed to emotion and Grace Harper reasoned with her, neither could make her yield. In short, the supreme Empress seemed to have fixed on one principle.

“I am still the Son of Heaven of Great Zhou. It’s one thing for them to have killed the Samuel Brooks and Andrew Brooks brothers, but as long as I am alive, I will never abdicate to the Crown Prince!”

See? Isn’t this the stubbornness of an old child? She really couldn’t understand how the Empress, so wise and brilliant for most of her life, could end up like this in her old age. Even if she refused to pass on the throne or affix the imperial seal until her dying breath, in the end, they could just issue a forged edict. Once the Empress passed away, who could question its authenticity? After all, Her Supreme Majesty the Empress was already eighty-two years old.

At eighty-two, and after her recent illness known throughout the realm, it wouldn’t be strange for her to die of natural causes at this time, would it?

After exhausting themselves with fruitless persuasion, Abigail Adams finally couldn’t hold on any longer and stormed out in anger. Although she had once been the Empress’s most beloved daughter, her first husband was killed, and she had been repeatedly framed—no matter how strong she was, she still harbored deep resentment toward her mother.

With her departure, Grace Harper was left even more powerless. Despite drafting imperial edicts for years, she hardly dared to go against the Empress’s wishes—the only time she had ever defied an order, she was punished with facial tattooing. Now, standing on the opposite side of the Empress, even though she knew victory was certain, she still felt an inexplicable sense of dread.

Noticing Grace Harper’s dazed expression, Eric Blake stepped forward and gently patted her back, softly reminding her, “Auntie, you’d better go outside and rest for a while. I’ll keep watch here for you.”

After a night of anxiety and the exhausting efforts to persuade the Empress, Grace Harper was utterly drained. She hesitated for a moment, then agreed. Glancing at the Empress, whose eyes were tightly shut, she shook her head helplessly and turned to leave. As her footsteps faded away, the bedchamber became utterly silent, not a sound to be heard.

Eric Blake had never bothered to try persuading the Empress. One should know one’s own limits—if even her own daughter and closest confidante couldn’t succeed, what made her think she could? If anyone thought that the Empress’s loss of power meant they could do as they pleased, that would be truly foolish. So, she leaned against a brocade stool at the side, closed her eyes to rest, and scenes of galloping through the long street yesterday suddenly flashed through her mind.