Minister Qian Wansan stared down from his elevated balcony at Chief Legal Counsel Shen Qiaoqiao.
His bronze pipe shook slightly between his fingers, spilling fine grey ash over his silk cushions.
“Legal Counsel Shen,” Qian scoffed, forcing a greasy chuckle that sounded hollow in the vast hall. “You may carry ancient books and wave a shiny gold mallet, but you are still standing on imperial stone. The court writes the law. The court executes the law. If His Majesty declares his own debt canceled, your legal arguments are nothing more than sparrows chirping in a gale.”
Shen Qiaoqiao smiled, her dark eyes sparkling with cool amusement. Two faint dimples showed on her cheeks.
“Minister Qian,” Shen Qiaoqiao replied, her voice soft yet carrying to every corner of the room. “You are quite right. The imperial court wrote the secular tax codes. The court appointed your tax collectors. But tell me, did Emperor Ji Wudao forge the Planetary Heavenly Dao Contract Altar?”
She extended her golden gavel, pointing toward the center of the trading floor.
Beneath decades of grime, discarded parchment, and dusty market kiosks stood a massive octagonal platform of deep blue basalt. Nine dragon pillars surrounded the stone dais, their surface etched with primordial lightning runes.
