The Witch in the Woods: The Transmigration of Hazel-Anne Davis
Chapter 113: The Unraveling of The Court

Chapter 113: The Unraveling of The Court

The court was unusually tense that morning.

Ministers shuffled into position more quietly than usual, their silken sleeves brushing low as they bowed to the throne. The whisper of fabric was the loudest sound in the room, save for the steady strike of the morning bell. Gone were the smug glances and murmured wagers. Gone was the heavy perfume of competition.

Only unease lingered now—bitter and clinging, like smoke after fire.

The Emperor sat at the head of the hall, his expression unreadable behind a curtain of stillness. He hadn’t yet spoken, and that silence weighed heavier than thunder. His hand rested on the arm of his dragon-carved chair, fingers tapping slowly—once, twice, then pausing, as if weighing the beat against something only he could hear.

Crown Prince Zhu Mingyu stood to his right, just a step behind and half a breath out of sync. His normally calm face was tense with confusion, eyes darting between the ministers like he expected someone—anyone—to speak first.

The Minister of Punishments had not arrived.

That fact alone would have been unusual.

But it wasn’t just his absence that soured the air.

It was the note delivered just before the court doors had opened.

A slip of parchment. No signature. No seal. Just a single sentence:

"The roots of rot run deep."

Then came the second note, delivered by a breathless eunuch. It had been soaked in blood.

"The Minister sleeps with his sins exposed."

The Emperor had not responded to either message. He had merely stared at the parchment, then set it aside.

Now, as the final chime of the bell faded, he finally lifted his hand.

"Where is Minister Yuan?" he asked, his voice calm, but with an edge like honed steel. "Has he not reported for court?"

No one answered immediately.

Then, from the far side of the chamber, one of the palace guards stepped forward, kneeling. "Your Majesty," he said, his head bowed so low it touched the floor. "Minister Yuan... was found dead this morning. In his manor."

The silence snapped taut.

"How?" the Emperor asked after a moment. Still measured. Still emotionless.

The soldier swallowed. "His body was discovered just before dawn. He had been... decapitated, Your Majesty. His body pinned against the wall facing the courtyard."

Gasps erupted throughout the court. Even seasoned ministers stiffened in place.

Zhu Mingyu turned, his expression twisted in disbelief. "What?" he demanded. "Why wasn’t I told?"

The guard lowered his head further. "Apologies, Your Highness. The information reached the palace only moments ago. It was deemed... delicate."

"Delicate?" Zhu Mingyu repeated sharply. "He was the Emperor’s minister and uncle to one of the royal concubines. This is an act of treason!"

Still the Emperor did not react.

He leaned back slowly into his throne, eyes closing for a moment as if he were listening to a wind no one else could hear.

"Who found the body?" he asked.

"The head servant of his manor. He is the only one allowed in Minister Yuan’s personal chamber. The rest of his people didn’t know what happened until the body was found. The front gate was still locked, the guards reported that no one had come or gone, and there were no signs of a struggle."

"And his head?"

The soldier hesitated. "We don’t know where his head is, Your Majesty. No one could find it, only his body."

The implications landed hard. Ministers shifted in their robes, already calculating how far the scent of scandal might travel.

It was then that the doors to the court burst open again.

"Announcing the arrival of General Yuan Han and Commander Yuan Lixing—of the Southern Frontier Army!"

The two men who entered walked as if they owned the very marble beneath their feet.

General Yuan Han was thick-necked and grim, his graying beard well-oiled and bound at the tip in gold thread. Beside him, his son, Commander Yuan Lixing, moved with the sharpness of a blade unsheathed—lean, controlled, and furious behind the eyes.

They dropped to their knees before the throne.

"Your Majesty," Yuan Han began, "we arrive under heavy hearts. Our brother—the Minister of Punishments—was murdered within his own home, and his body desecrated. We ask that justice be delivered swiftly and the perpetrator revealed."

"And," Yuan Lixing added, rising to his feet without being granted leave, "we demand to know why no warning reached the family before today. You have allowed an honored member of our clan to be executed in his sleep, and not a single summons was sent?"

"Mind your tone," Zhu Mingyu snapped, his eyes narrowing as he stepped forward. "You have no place to make demands from His Majesty."

"My tone?" Yuan Lixing sneered. "A man’s body was nailed to his wall. His family—my father and I—were not even given the courtesy of mourning rites before court convened."

Zhu Mingyu stepped forward, voice rising. "No one in the palace knew—"

"Convenient," Yuan Han interrupted, lifting his head but not his eyes. "Especially for the Crown Prince, who so recently dismissed the fact that my daughter was forced to have an abortion from your wife. Clearly, you want us gone, you are the one targeting our family. Who is next to die? Me? My son? The Imperial Concubine Yi? The Third Prince? Everyone with Yuan blood is at risk, and you know nothing at all."

A fresh wave of murmurs rippled through the court.

Zhu Mingyu turned pale. "My wife was investigated and cleared. I have nothing against your family. If you don’t believe me, feel free to start an investigation of your own."

"By the men you paid," Yuan Lixing spat. "And now my uncle is dead. Tell us, then, who has the power to bypass his guards and his servants? Who has the confidence to kill so openly and walk away without consequence?"

The Emperor’s voice broke through the rising storm. "Enough."

All heads turned.

His eyes were open now. Sharp. Lethal.

"Minister Yuan is dead," the Emperor said slowly. "And the manner of his death is a warning—not just to the court, but to me. That I allowed a viper into my garden. That I failed to see the rot beneath the gold."

Zhu Mingyu opened his mouth again, but the Emperor raised his hand.

"Not a word. This disgrace falls on all of us."

He turned back to Yuan Han and his son.

"Your brother was protected by the Crown and elevated by the court. If there is guilt in that, then let it be mine. But justice does not always wear robes. Sometimes, it moves in silence."

Yuan Han’s expression remained grim. "Then I ask Your Majesty plainly—will this death go unpunished?"

"No," the Emperor said. "But neither will it be rushed."

A long pause.

Then, finally, he added, "The matter of inheritance will pass to his eldest son. And Lady Yuan will remain under the Crown Prince’s roof—until the investigation is concluded."

Zhu Mingyu flinched. That wasn’t what he wanted.

Yuan Han bowed low again, as did his son, though with far less grace.

"We thank Your Majesty for your fairness," the General said. But Yuan Lixing’s gaze lingered on the Crown Prince, hard and cold. "Let’s hope she’s treated better than our uncle was."

Then they turned and exited the hall—dragging silence in their wake like a sword across stone.

When they were gone, the ministers erupted again.

Everyone had an opinion. Everyone wanted a piece of the narrative. But at the center of it all stood Zhu Mingyu, blindsided, reeling.

For once, he had no control. No leverage.

And no idea how deep the roots of this plot had truly grown.