Consort De had initially believed that after stepping into this new world, she would remain unflappable no matter what happened—content to be a detached observer, untouched by the chaos around her.
But reality proved she had overestimated herself.
How could she possibly stay calm?!
Was Yu Miaohua really this bold? She actually wanted to destroy the late emperor’s memorial tablet!
Though the suggestion had come from the divine, Yu Miaohua’s reaction made it clear she was utterly delighted by the idea.
Consort De grabbed the arm of Yuan Huirou—who, after sharing a secret with her, had swiftly risen from friend to close confidante—and whispered urgently, "Shouldn’t we stop her?"
Yuan Huirou remained unperturbed. "If Miaohua is doing this, she must have her reasons. Perhaps it’s for a reward. The tablet is just an object—if it’s broken, so be it. The late emperor was magnanimous; he wouldn’t mind."
Consort De: "..."
That made it sound as though the late emperor would be petty if he took offense.
Not only was the Noble Consort audacious, but the Noble Consort’s allies were equally fearless.
Why did it feel like she was the only one making a fuss? It gave her a strange sense of being outdone.
Her gaze drifted toward the court officials nearby, and upon seeing several ministers with expressions as dark as spilled ink, she felt a wave of relief—good, she wasn’t alone.
Meanwhile, Lv Wanjiang, the newly initiated Left Vice Censor-in-Chief, flushed red with indignation and turned to Jiang Kangyou. "How can they disrespect the late emperor like this? The Noble Consort shouldn’t do this—it’s utterly improper!"
Since everyone around him could hear the divine dialogue, he only needed to keep his voice low enough to avoid being overheard from afar.
Jiang Kangyou, however, thought the Noble Consort’s actions were brilliant.
With a smile, he replied, "The divine suggested it. If the late emperor had any objections, he would have voiced them. Since he didn’t, it means he consented—willingly making this sacrifice."
Lv Wanjiang: "..."
He shouldn’t have bothered arguing with Grand Preceptor Jiang. Everyone knew the history between Jiang Kangyou and the late emperor—of course he wouldn’t speak in the late emperor’s favor.
After a long pause, Lv Wanjiang finally managed, "What if the late emperor has already reincarnated and can’t object even if he wanted to?"
Jiang Kangyou countered, "If he’s reincarnated, then it’s even less of an issue. Besides, this could accumulate merit for him—perhaps even bless his next life with greater fortune."
Yuan Xinji chimed in, "Most people wouldn’t even get such an opportunity. We have the Noble Consort to thank for this."
Lv Wanjiang was a good man, just a bit rigid in his thinking—though as a censor, that very rigidity was his strength.
Other ministers nearly laughed aloud: Grand Preceptor Jiang and Grand Tutor Yuan could spin anything. By their logic, destroying the late emperor’s tablet was a favor, and he ought to be grateful to the Noble Consort.
Yu Weixu, the Noble Consort’s own father, stood quietly on the sidelines, doing his best to stay unnoticed.
He couldn’t help but marvel at how bold his daughter had become—daring to destroy the late emperor’s tablet.
Then again, looking at Jiang Kangyou and the others… well, they were the ones who had spoiled her. He distinctly remembered her being much more obedient as a child.
Lv Wanjiang, outnumbered and outmaneuvered, finally gave up when he noticed the amused smirks of those around him.
He sighed inwardly: If only the late emperor had done more decent things while alive, maybe more people would defend him now.
…Wait, how could he think such a thing?
His face burned even hotter, and he felt his arguments crumble further.
Meanwhile, the other officials were fixated on Prince Zhuang and Princess Consort Zhuang.
What exactly was this "dragon’s tail" they spoke of? Something about dragons and wind…
Soon, they would witness it firsthand.
After Yu Miaohua exchanged for the "dragon’s tail," the system set it into motion.
A thunderous roar echoed from the heavens, as though a colossal beast were growling from beyond the clouds.
Everyone looked up in horror. "A dragon—it’s a dragon!"
In the distance, beneath the clouds, a twisting column of wind materialized, surging toward them like a black serpent.
"It’s the dragon’s tail!"
The Director of the Imperial Observatory paled, recalling historical records. He nearly bolted on the spot.
The year before the previous dynasty’s collapse, the capital had also witnessed a "dragon’s tail"—a disaster that leveled buildings, caused immense damage, and claimed hundreds of lives.
People had called it divine retribution, a warning from the heavens.
Was judgment descending upon them now?
The Director’s legs trembled, but they might as well have been nailed to the ground—he could only watch helplessly as the dragon’s tail drew nearer.
Yuan Xinji, noticing his terror, reassured him, "Relax. The Noble Consort is still here."
Those words worked like a miracle cure. The other terrified ministers immediately calmed.
Prince Zhuang, Pei Lingjun, was equally unbothered. He even remarked to his son, "So this is the legendary dragon’s tail. It does look fierce—see how it’s uprooting trees?"
"Who’d have thought we’d get to witness it up close?"
If only it could sweep the emperor away too, he mused.
But he knew that was just wishful thinking.
Then his expression twisted into shock and disbelief.
Wait—why was the dragon heading straight for them?
Was it targeting them?
The previously amused imperial clansmen scattered in panic.
As the gale roared closer, Pei Lingjun’s mind went blank. In desperation, he shoved his younger daughter, Pei Yuesheng, forward.
Pei Yueli, witnessing this, nearly screamed. She lunged for her sister, but it was too late.
Others who saw it sneered in disgust.
Natural disasters didn’t stop just because you sacrificed someone. And that was his own daughter—even beasts wouldn’t harm their young. All his doting had been an act.
Pei Yuesheng tried to run, but her ankle twisted from the push, leaving her helpless.
She had always known her father’s true nature, but facing it now still chilled her to the bone.
Was this how she would die?
Pale-faced, she braced herself and shut her eyes.
"Aaaah—!"
But the expected maelstrom never came. Instead, she heard a familiar scream.
"Prince Zhuang—he’s been swept into the wind!"
Her father?
Pei Yuesheng’s eyes flew open just as Pei Yueli rushed to her side, pulling her up. "Are you alright?"
"I’m fine," she murmured, staring at the swirling black tempest.
Inside it, a figure flailed, shrieking incessantly.
Pei Yueli forced a sorrowful expression. "Father… he’s been taken by the wind!"
Though she tried her best, the corners of her lips still curled upward uncontrollably—that smile simply couldn’t be suppressed. Not laughing out loud was the last shred of her courtesy.
Out of so many people, the wind chose no one but Prince Zhuang. Truly, heaven’s justice was clear for all to see.
The crowd in the square had stopped running.
They too noticed how the wind’s path was eerily precise, deftly avoiding others each time it threatened to sweep them up. The only unavoidable consequence was the dust it kicked up, leaving everyone covered in grime.
But since no one was hurt—and they’d gotten quite the spectacle—they endured it.
Princess Consort Zhuang was stunned.
She had seen it clearly: the wind’s serpentine tail had dodged countless others, targeting only the prince as if he alone were its prey.
Divine retribution…
The princess consort recalled the fake "heavenly punishment" they had once planned for the empress—a scheme that had fizzled out—and cold sweat drenched her back.
She wanted to cry but had no tears left. They hadn’t even acted against the Noble Consort! Weren’t they clearing obstacles for her? How could this be divine retribution?
Since Prince Zhuang had already been swept away, surely the wind wouldn’t take her too, right?
Trembling violently, Princess Consort Zhuang was consumed by terror.
Who could help her?
Wait—the Noble Consort!
Clutching at this lifeline, she opened her mouth to call out—but only a scream escaped.
The wind had taken her too.
…
[Host, these two are such good runners! I’m exhausted chasing them, and I still have to avoid hitting anyone else!]
The system boasted to Yu Miaohua.
[Good job. Are they still alive?]
[Of course I didn’t kill them! But you know how tornadoes are… When they land, they’ll be puking everywhere.]
[Are you sure they’ll end up at the Ancestral Temple?]
[Relax, my targeting is precise! A small matter like this is easy. At worst, a few roof tiles might break.]
[Host has completed Main Mission 5.7: Teach Prince Zhuang’s household a lesson by showing them what real divine retribution looks like. Mission rewards have been issued~]
Yu Miaohua was relieved. The weather manipulation skill was indeed useful—she’d never spend points on it herself, but as a mission reward, it was perfect.
[Host, take your time walking. No rush—I can keep them spinning a few more rounds before heading to the temple.]
The system was considerate, adjusting for Yu Miaohua’s walking speed. Unfortunately, this kindness didn’t extend to Prince Zhuang and his wife, who would now remain airborne longer.
[Are you sure this won’t cause problems?]
[They won’t die. At worst, they’ll vomit up their lunch. Think of it this way, Host—they’re getting a free aerial acrobatics show! Others would pay for this thrill.]
[True. They should be thanking us.]
Yu Miaohua felt she’d been more than fair, prioritizing their safety. These two villains had tried to sabotage her unshakable friendship with the empress, after all.
She pulled out a handkerchief, dabbing at nonexistent tears as she feigned concern. "Prince Zhuang and Princess Consort Zhuang have been swept away by the wind! We must hurry to save them."
The ministers who could hear her inner dialogue were speechless.
They had seen everything.
The deities’ meticulous care for the Noble Consort contrasted sharply with their ruthless treatment of Prince Zhuang and his wife.
To accommodate Yu Miaohua’s leisurely pace, they’d prolonged the prince’s torment—a level of cruelty that bordered on madness.
Some ministers, witnessing this for the first time, wondered: What had Prince Zhuang done to earn the Noble Consort’s ire?
Meanwhile, the Empress Dowager and others, who viewed Yu Miaohua through rose-tinted lenses, nodded approvingly. Miaohua might be mischievous, but her heart was pure. See how she worries for Prince Zhuang’s life? Without her reminder, would the deities have spared him?
[Hey, System, why is everyone staring at my head? Is there something on it?]
[Nope. Host’s beauty and poise are flawless. See how their eyes are practically glowing with longing? They probably lack a sense of security and hope you, the divine maiden, will protect them.]
[Makes sense.]
After today’s ordeal, they must be badly shaken.
With this in mind, Yu Miaohua flashed a practiced, serene smile—one radiating compassion. The system even added a soft moonlight glow, turning her into a picture-perfect magazine cover.
"Don’t be afraid. The tornado is gone—it won’t return. We’re safe now."
"Tornado? Fitting name," a minister murmured.
Pei Jiamao, Prince Zhuang’s second son, looked frantic. "Noble Consort, please save my father and mother!"
That the tornado had targeted only his parents… Once word spread, the Zhuang household’s reputation would be ruined.
The thought turned Pei Jiamao’s face as pale as paper.
Pei Yuesheng couldn’t resist adding, "This is heaven’s punishment. How could the Noble Consort interfere? Don’t pressure her."
Pei Lingyue silently disagreed: Oh, Yu Miaohua absolutely could interfere. Today’s spectacle was her doing.
But he had to admit—he loved every second of it.
Well played.
Pei Jiamao glared at Pei Yuesheng. "Are you gloating? Have you forgotten how Father and Mother doted on you?"
"You mean the kind of ‘doting’ where they throw their daughter to the wolves when trouble comes?" Prince Zhao scoffed. "Your father used her as a scapegoat, and you begrudge her resentment?"
"Maybe this tornado is heaven’s way of settling the score. Karma’s a bitch."
As the elder, Prince Zhao’s rebuke left Pei Jiamao too cowed to retort.
Pei Lingyue interjected, "The wind seemed headed for the Ancestral Temple. Let’s go—we can’t risk damage to the temple."
Mainly, he wanted to see if the late emperor’s memorial tablet would topple. Missing that would be a shame.
As for the temple itself? He wasn’t too concerned. They could always rebuild.
With the emperor’s decree, no one objected.
The ministers mused privately: Ordinarily, they loathed attending imperial consorts’ investiture ceremonies—too tedious. But Yu Miaohua’s were different. Each one delivered unforgettable drama.
Spectacular. Absolutely spectacular! They’d happily watch a hundred more shows like this.
Such was the privilege of a divine maiden.
Palace attendants lit lanterns to lead the way as the procession advanced toward the Ancestral Temple.
The temple’s limited space meant only officials of the fourth rank and above could enter, leaving the rest to linger outside, disappointed.
The system’s timing was impeccable. The moment Yu Miaohua’s group stepped inside, the tornado deposited Prince Zhuang and Princess Consort Zhuang.
After half an hour in what felt like a washing machine, the couple was dizzy beyond belief.
As their feet touched solid ground again, they wondered—was this real?
Had they actually survived?
When they were swept up, they had already prepared themselves for death—never expecting to actually survive against all odds.
Was this truly not a dream?
Having spun in the air for so long, they still felt the ground beneath their feet swaying.
Pei Lingjun opened his eyes, barely making out the surroundings that resembled the Imperial Ancestral Temple.
He nearly wept with joy—it must have been the protection of their ancestors that allowed him to live.
As for Princess Consort Zhuang, the moment she was set down, she was already vomiting uncontrollably.
Pei Lingjun had been fighting the urge to vomit himself, but the sound of her retching pushed him over the edge, and he too began to heave.
A sharp thud echoed.
Something seemed to have fallen to the ground.
Pei Lingjun was solely focused on relieving the nauseating discomfort—his mind fixated on the idea that if he just emptied his stomach, he’d feel better.
In his daze, he vaguely noticed something drop near his feet.
He couldn’t be bothered to look, nor did he have the presence of mind to identify it. His mouth opened, and the contents of his stomach spilled onto the ground beside him.
Panting heavily…
He felt as though he’d been reborn, the discomfort gradually easing as his senses returned.
Though he had defiled the Imperial Ancestral Temple, he had, after all, narrowly escaped death. Surely the Emperor wouldn’t punish him too harshly.
Pei Lingjun even considered boasting that he’d been blessed by the late Emperor.
Just then, a voice of authority thundered.
"Prince Zhuang, how dare you disgrace the late Emperor!"
The furious roar snapped Pei Lingjun back to clarity. Instinctively, he defended himself, "Your Majesty, my loyalty to the late Emperor is as clear as the sun and moon. What crime have I committed? Even if I am at fault, at least let me know why before condemning me."
Pei Lingyue struggled to maintain a look of profound disappointment. "Look down and see for yourself what you’ve done!"
Pei Lingjun lowered his gaze, immediately averting his eyes at the sight of his own vomit—but beneath it, something gleamed. A wooden tablet?
A wooden tablet? What kind of tablet would be in the Imperial Ancestral Temple?
He refused to entertain the only possible answer.
Pei Yueli, however, wouldn’t let him escape the truth. She decided to "kindly" enlighten him.
"Father, you just vomited all over Grandfather’s memorial tablet."
"Grandfather couldn’t endure the humiliation—the tablet split apart."
She didn’t care whether the tablet had broken from the fall. As far as she was concerned, it had cracked from sheer disgust. She’d seen it with her own two eyes.
