At this moment, the Fourth Prince Rhine finally gently closed the dossier.
This is the signal; itâs his turn to act.
Inspector General Mei Si almost immediately stood up: "The reason for everyoneâs debate is simply because the Emperor is missing, and the imperial power is suspended."
He then threw out a statement potent enough to ignite the whole room: "I propose to restore the Electoral Prince system, where the Eight Great Clans jointly elect an Imperial Guardian."
Mei Siâs voice was steady, yet it seemed to make the air in the Imperial Hall freeze instantly.
Mei Siâs gaze swept across every noble representative and Prince in the hall, his tone unchanged: "This system once maintained the balance of power during the most perilous times of the Empire.
And so today, with the Emperor not returned and the Regent King weakened, we can establish a guardian elected by the Eight Clans to temporarily exercise imperial power, stabilize the states, coordinate various regions, and ensure the Empire is not fragmented."
The pace of speech was not fast, yet it struck like a hammer on the heart of everyone present.
On the surface, this speech looked very gentle, as if suggesting a rational middle-ground plan.
But everyone in the Imperial Hall understood.
This isnât a temporary substitute for imperial power but a legal alternative established in advance for the Emperorâs absence.
Itâs not mediating factions but pulling the Eight Great Clans back to the core of imperial power.
Itâs not a temporary expedient but a reboot of the system.
This is an extremely offensive matter, but the reason Mei Si dared to stand up at this moment was not due to his position but because he already held enough chips.
Before the meeting, Rhine offered him benefits that were difficult to refuse: independent scrutiny rights of the Inspector General for Empire officials, primary adjudication rights on the provincial autonomy proposal, and a confidential fund allocated from secondary fiscal accounts.
But these are just surface chips; what truly made him nod was another portion of promised future belonging to his family that Rhine whispered.
Mei Si, now nearing the twilight of his years, had been unable to endure long travels and prolonged affairs for several years; he understood more than anyone present that he couldnât last for many more years.
His pursuit was no longer for the position itself, but for a security that could prevent his family from being swallowed in the next round of power reshuffle in the Imperial Capital.
Rhine offered him this, promising to preserve the nobility title of the Mei Si family in future restructurings and allow his descendants into the core of the Inspector General.
In the possible future restructuring of the civil servant system in the Empire, reserving two inheritable positions for the Mei Si family.
These carefully crafted promises wouldnât alert any factions, yet were enough to ensure a family could still stand on the Imperial Capitalâs steps after the chaos.
For a man nearing twilight, this was his last legacy he could leave behind.
It was precisely because of this that he was willing to propose a motion at this moment capable of shaking the Empireâs foundations.
The air in the hall was completely frozen, and every pair of eyes was waiting.
Not waiting for Mei Si to say more, but waiting for others to express their positions.
The first sounds came from nobles leaning closer, whispering tentative exchanges.
Their voices were not frantic but were the skilled techniques nobles used when facing enormous changes.
They were not arguing but swiftly assessing risks:
"Restoring the old system... means weâll be constrained by the Eight Great Clans again?"
"If imperial power is pushed by the Eight Clans, how much voice do we provinces have left?"
"Is this a plot the Eight Clans had set up in advance?"
They werenât afraid of the redistribution of imperial power; they were afraid once the old system is restored, the hard-earned autonomy space of the local provinces over nearly a hundred years would be swiftly swallowed.
The negotiating power of emerging territories would be pressed to a minimum, and all power balances would tilt back towards the Eight Great Clans.
This fear is a clear judgment of future interests.
The silence of the Eight Great Clans was not hesitation but the most typical "watchful suppression" of power tiers.
Any statement from them would be interpreted as a declaration of interests by other clans.
Thus, they must be steady and cautious, indicating their stance with the smallest gestures.
Eleanor maintained an ambiguous smile, neither supporting nor opposing, keeping herself within the safe boundaries of all choices.
Raymontâs representative exchanged a glance with Simmonsâ representative, signaling "interest."
Diazâs representative and Kadariâs representative remained silent, maintaining a diplomatic posture.
Holdenâs representative and Beresâs representative furrowed their brows, with the old nobility instinctively resisting institutional rewriting.
As for the Edmund Familyâs representative, he was dozing off; the old man hadnât received any instructions from Louis and couldnât make a statement.
Their silence itself was the heaviest pressure of the Imperial Capital.
As these silent attitudes continued to pile up, they were enough to cause the entire balance of the Imperial Hall to begin to tilt.
The tension in the air wasnât emotion but the sound of the interest structure starting to fracture.
Just as this pressure extended to the end of the noble seats, someone finally couldnât resist testing the boundaries.
The Western Territory representative stood up, still polite in tone but precisely pushed the issue to its core: "Lord Mei Si, does this mean the major provinces will once again be controlled by the Eight Great Clans?"
This wasnât anger but a border test, confirming whether the Eight Clans would use the old system to make a comeback.
Then the third corps commander added fuel: "If the old system is resurrected, will the military expenses and grain taxes of the local provinces still be decided by the Eight Clans?"
This was the second test, more incisive, and closer to the pain point.
These two doubts combined, truly started to tilt the focus of the Imperial Hall.
Finally, a noble from the Western Territory couldnât hold back, slapping the stone table: "The era of the Eight Great Clans has passed!"
This slap on the table was the true breaking point of the Imperial Hall.
Sound waves rolled open under the dome, the echoes shattered into chaotic reverberations, not a roar but a shared nightmare of the entire provincial system.