"Is there anything else you want to say?" The morning light scattered about easily, and cast shadow after shadow in the square before the Shengru Palace. Jiang Changbai wore the full, bright yellow Emperor's robe, and sat atop the Dragon Throne, her expression cold and remote. Yet the one kneeling before the steps of the palace, head lowered and not speaking, was Xie Qianbing. "It was this minister who was ineffectual; I beg Bixia to punish me," Xie Qianbing said, her complexion as pale as paper, biting her lower lip, her hands curled into fists, her nails deeply embedded in her palms. But she truly didn't feel any pain; in her eyes, almost level with the ground, was entirely self-recrimination and guilt. Jiang Changbai sighed, her tone easing somewhat. "From the time We ascended the throne, We trusted and relied on you to a degree We fear has rarely been seen since the establishment of the Great Li. We broke the established tradition to promote you to ...