The Almighty Dominance (by Sunshine) novel Chapter 657

The imperial palace in Chang’an had never felt smaller.

Sunlight slanted through high windows draped in crimson silk, falling across the dragon throne where a nine-year-old boy sat lost in robes far too large for him.

Liu Xie’s feet did not reach the floor. His small hands gripped the carved armrests and his eyes kept flicking toward the man who truly ruled the empire.

Dong Zhuo filled the hall the way a storm fills the sky.

He occupied the seat beside the throne rather than the throne itself—an open declaration that the boy was emperor in name only.

Gold thread strained across his shoulders. A single finger tapped the lacquered wood in a slow, deliberate rhythm that made every courtier in the chamber hold his breath.

Li Ru entered without hurry. The advisor’s footsteps were soft on the polished stone, his dark robes immaculate, his posture precise.

In one hand he carried a rolled report sealed with the mark of their southern spies. He stopped at the proper distance, bowed deeply, and waited for permission to speak.

“Report,” Dong Zhuo said.

Li Ru straightened.

“My lord, the new Governor of Yan Province has reached his chosen capital at Changyi. Our agents were present for his formal entry. What they witnessed has already spread through every teahouse and barracks between here and the southern border.”

“Bai Xiaochun rode at the head of five thousand Wudang disciples. The streets had been prepared for a governor’s procession—banners, incense, officials in ordered ranks.”

“Instead, the avenue was lined with women. Thousands of them. Young and old, beautiful and plain, wives and daughters and even grandmothers pushed forward by their own families. Merchants and clan heads had paid bribes to place their women in the front rows. Some offered their wives outright, hoping for favor in return.”

A faint rustle moved through the listening officials. Dong Zhuo’s finger stopped tapping.

Li Ru continued without inflection. “Bai Xiaochun halted his horse. He pointed at a young woman in emerald silk and ordered her brought to his new residence. Then he raised his voice so every citizen could hear and declared he would build a mansion large enough to house one thousand mistresses. He announced he would marry a thousand women and become a living legend. His exact words were, ‘I love women.’ Several men in the crowd cheered.”

Dong Zhuo stared for a long moment. Then a low, rolling laugh broke from his chest. It grew louder, echoing off the carved pillars until the boy on the throne flinched.

“He truly lives up to the name,” Dong Zhuo said, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. “A thousand wives. The little governor wants a harem that could empty a province.”

Li Ru inclined his head. “There is more, my lord. Bai Xiaochun has refined the rumor himself. He publicly stated he will accept no woman older than twenty-five and no woman already married. His selection is limited to those between twelve and twenty-five. He called younger beauty unmatched and said nothing else could compare.”

In the Xia Empire, a girl became eligible for marriage the moment she experienced her first bleeding. Twelve was legal. The law had stood for centuries. Still, hearing it stated so plainly in the imperial hall made several officials shift their weight.

Dong Zhuo laughed again, harder this time. The sound was genuine, but his eyes remained cold.

“He upgrades his own legend while he builds it. Bold. Or mad.” He leaned forward, the chair creaking. “And his army? His new soldiers from the conquered provinces? What does the governor do with thirty-five thousand men who just watched their master’s head mounted on a spear?”

Li Ru’s tone did not change. “He has demobilized the majority. Most were ordered to return to their villages and fields. Those without homes or families were offered new purpose under Wudang training, but the bulk of the force has been sent back to farming. He appears to place his full trust in the Wudang Sect’s disciples and whatever methods they employ. He does not seem interested in maintaining a large standing army of his own.”

Dong Zhuo sat back. For several heartbeats the only sound was the soft crackle of incense burners. Then he shook his head, still smiling.

“A governor who conquers two provinces in a single campaign and immediately sends his soldiers home to plant rice. Either he is the greatest fool the empire has ever seen, or he is something far more dangerous wearing a fool’s mask.” He waved a hand. “Enough. Let the southern boy play with his women and his sect. We have real threats to consider. What of Yuan Shao?”

Li Ru’s expression did not shift, but the air in the hall tightened.

“Yuan Shao has formed a coalition to ‘rescue’ the Emperor. Seven warlords have already pledged themselves. They are gathering forces and supplies. Their stated purpose is to march on Chang’an and remove you, my lord.”

Dong Zhuo’s smile faded. He rose slowly. The boy on the throne shrank back without meaning to.

“We still do not know what this Bai Xiaochun truly is,” he said at last.

“A man who seizes two provinces in days could be a cunning player wearing the mask of a fool. Or he could simply be lucky, propped up by the Wudang Sect and nothing more. Either way, I want our people watching him closely. If he shows any sign of siding with Dong Zhuo, or if he begins reaching for real power beyond his borders, destroy him.”

His advisors exchanged glances but said nothing. Yuan Shao’s orders were never repeated twice.

Far to the south and east, in the crowded headquarters of the Yellow Turbans, the same report landed like oil on fire.

The great rebel army numbered more than two million souls—peasants, refugees, and broken men who had lost everything to taxes, floods, and the corruption rotting the capital.

Their leaders gathered in a vast torch-lit hall thick with the smell of sweat, smoke, and unwashed bodies. A single runner read the news aloud from a crumpled scroll.

When he finished, a heavy silence held for three heartbeats.

Then the leader of the local command rose. His face was gaunt from hunger and hardship, but his eyes burned. He slammed a fist onto the rough wooden table hard enough to make the cups jump.

“That arrogant bastard of a governor,” he snarled. “While our people starve and die in the fields, while families sell their daughters for a handful of grain, this dog sits in his new capital and declares he will build a palace for a thousand whores.”

“He takes two provinces and immediately sends his soldiers home to plant rice and chase women. He steps on the common people without a second thought, drunk on his own desires. This is the face of every corrupt official who has ground us into the dirt!”

A low growl rolled through the crowd.

The leader’s voice rose, raw and fierce. “We will not let this insult stand. We will strike his provinces. We will burn his so-called mansion to the ground and show every governor in this rotting empire what happens when they treat the people like cattle. Bai Xiaochun thinks he can play at ruling while the rest of us suffer? Let him learn the price of his arrogance!”

The roar that followed shook the rafters. Thousands of voices rose at once—fists pounding tables, feet stamping earth, the raw, desperate sound of men and women who had nothing left to lose. Torches flickered wildly. Outside the hall, more voices took up the cry and carried it into the night.