Chapter 56: Accident

Disasters always come one after another.

At this moment, Li Jingxing felt the profound truth of this statement with every fiber of his being.

His wife had died, his political career had suffered a fatal threat, and just as he had finally managed to catch his breath from the crisis, a new tumultuous wave came crashing down.

Having kept vigil at the mourning hall for the entire night, he now felt a sharp, throbbing pain in his temples.

Yet, he could not afford to show even the slightest trace of defeat outwardly.

He had meticulously combed his hair with hair gel, and the dark circles under his eyes had been flawlessly concealed by his subordinates' expert makeup skills. Only the faint bloodshot remnants in his eyes silently spoke of the exhaustion from the previous night.

However, he did not intend to completely hide this well-measured sense of fatigue.

Li Jingxing was well aware of the image he needed to project at this moment.

He had to appear deeply troubled and hardworking, yet without looking aged due to excessive haggardness.

An overly aged appearance would likely lead the Sovereign to believe he could no longer shoulder the heavy responsibilities of the Prime Minister.

The grief of losing his wife, he could bear.

The agony of early retirement and being exiled from the center of power, however, was something he feared he could not endure.

Standing solemnly outside the door of the Imperial Study, he watched the heavy wooden door slide open silently, and immediately stepped forward in a hurried pace.

Crossing the pristine marble floor, he stopped right in front of the soft woolen carpet, bowed deeply, and said, "This subject pays respects to the Sovereign."

"Rise."

Bai Yujing waved his hand and asked with a hint of curiosity, "Coming to see Me so early in the morning, what urgent matter is at hand?"

"According to the news just sent by Director-General Zhao," Li Jingxing's voice carried an imperceptible hoarseness, his newly straightened body leaning slightly forward again as he assumed an extremely humble posture, "exactly sixty administrative districts have thus far submitted notifications for parades and rallies to their local police departments.

They demand my resignation, believing that I am incapable of handling the increasingly severe economic issues.

This subject humbly begs the Sovereign to grant permission for my resignation."

In his heart, he was ten thousand times unwilling to resign, but circumstances dictated submission.

Sixty administrative districts, with the gathered scale of protesting crowds reaching a staggering thirty-seven million people.

According to the intelligence transmitted by the Internet Director, although some accounts had intentionally stirred up public sentiment online at first, being able to provoke such a large-scale, organized response in reality was enough to show that a massive number of people were dissatisfied with the cabinet under his leadership.

Rather than waiting for the situation to completely spiral out of control and awaiting the Sovereign's reaction, it was better to take the initiative and retreat in order to advance.

Bai Yujing did not reply immediately; he tapped open the internal affairs system and swiftly browsed through the parade filings reported by the national police headquarters.

Sure enough, without exception, these sixty districts were all economically prosperous administrative districts.

Especially the Second Administrative District, where protests had erupted across all subordinate states, bringing the total number of people to an astounding five million.

He instantly understood the root cause of these people's dissatisfaction.

When formulating the overall development strategy for the Blue Star, his vision had been to concentrate resources, allowing a portion of the administrative districts to develop first so that they could eventually drive the backward ones.

This strategy was proposed by him personally, and successive cabinets had continuously executed policies within this framework.

From the initial ten developed administrative districts, to twenty, and now to sixty.

These developed administrative districts, nourished by preferential policies, had long since taken the benefits they received for granted, and naturally no longer wished to see resources flowing to those backward administrative districts.

Especially as the empire's infrastructure improved daily and transportation became exceptionally convenient, a massive population flooded into the developed regions to seek employment and make a living.

Many residents in the developed districts began to resent these "outsiders," believing they were usurping job opportunities and public resources.

Extremists even viewed them as "beggars coming to the door."

Bai Yujing closed the page, raised his head, and said, "Enough. I am not a muddle-headed ruler.

If you are truly at fault, there is no need for anyone to remind Me; I will dismiss you myself.

However, you have committed no wrongdoing, and I will never lightly dismiss a Prime Minister simply because of protesting voices from below."

He paused and issued an order: "Have the Imperial Palace press release room prepare immediately; I will address the nation via a televised speech to clarify this matter."

Hearing the Sovereign protect him so clearly, Li Jingxing was deeply moved within; the cold and hard shell of his political persona seemed to be instantly shattered.

In a daze, it felt as though he had returned to the age of twenty, back to his days as an idealistic and passionate university youth.

His eye sockets grew hot, and his voice choked as he said, "Sovereign, how can we let Your Majesty personally step forward to bear the public's wrath?

Please let this subject deliver a televised speech to handle it instead."

"The policy direction was set by Me, so naturally the consequences should not be borne by you."

Bai Yujing rejected Li Jingxing's proposal decisively.

What he detested most in life was taking the blame for others, and similarly, he would never allow anyone else to take the blame for him.

...

As the capital of the Second Administrative District, Huasheng City was a dazzling spectacle of neon lights whenever night fell.

Overlooking the streets from the floor-to-ceiling windows of a skyscraper, the crowds flowed like weaving threads, and the car headlights merged into a flowing galaxy.

Qinglan Daoist leisurely held a goblet, gently swirling the deep red wine within.

He immensely enjoyed the feeling of looking down upon all living beings from a high vantage point, which always gave him a superior experience akin to that of a deity.

"Master, I'm done."

The bathroom door opened gently, and accompanied by curling steam and a soft voice, a blonde woman wrapped in a white bath towel stepped out barefoot.

The soaking in hot water had given her cheeks and the skin all over her body a healthy pink glow, resembling a ripe and alluring honey peach.

Qinglan turned around, a meaningful smile blooming on his face as he asked, "The fortune-turning ritual cannot tolerate a single speck of impurity. Are you shaved clean?"

The woman's face flushed slightly, and she replied in a voice as soft as a mosquito's, "All... clean."

She deliberately raised her arms to let this "Master" clearly see her smooth underarms, and then, with a light flick of her fingers, the bath towel slipped down, openly exposing herself to Qinglan's scrutinizing gaze.

Seeing such a submissive gesture from this young heiress, a trace of "gratitude" towards the Sovereign far away in the imperial capital inevitably welled up in Qinglan's heart.

It was precisely the Sovereign's continuous high-pressure policies, constantly "slicing off the flesh" of the powerful and wealthy, that drove a portion of them to become increasingly superstitious and panicked.

They craved the blessing of deities in the dark to preserve their wealth and privileges so they would not be stripped away by the Sovereign.

This mindset—preferring to pray to gods rather than abide by the law—allowed the Feathered Cult to cultivate a loyal and devout following among the elite class.

Of course, during external activities, they never used the name of the Feathered Cult, instead cloaking themselves in various religious disguises to cleverly paralyze the monitoring of official organizations.

Qinglan's public identity was that of an "enlightened eminent monk" who excelled in fortune-telling and feng shui, capable of defying the heavens to alter a person's destiny.

"Go turn on the television. At this hour, the imperial capital's morning news should be starting soon."

He instructed.

Doubt lingered in the woman's heart—did performing such a "ritual" require watching the news?

Yet she dared not ask further. Obeying his command, she stepped forward, bent down to pick up the remote control from the coffee table, and turned on the giant LCD television in the living room.

Qinglan also began to take off his kasaya, preparing to perform the "fortune-transfer" for this young lady to bless her father's career with booming success, while also completely covering up the scandal of her running someone over while driving drunk not long ago.

However, the moment the television screen lit up, what greeted her eyes was not the expected news broadcast, but a striking, constantly ticking countdown.

Ticking down from ten to nine...

This scene instantly froze all of Qinglan's movements, banishing his amorous thoughts into thin air in a split second.