The Witch in the Woods: The Transmigration of Hazel-Anne Davis Chapter 140: Hyenas Preparing A Trap

The sun had barely crested the palace walls, and already the Hall of Governance stirred with anxious footsteps and hushed conspiracies. Ministers arrived in waves, silk hems brushing the polished stone floors, their expressions set in feigned civility. But behind each lowered gaze and respectful nod was a strategy being sharpened to a blade.

Minister Bai arrived first.

He bowed perfunctorily to the Emperor’s absent throne, then took his place near the head of the chamber, adjusting his sleeves with care. He looked every inch the grieving father, the indignant official, the concerned patriot. But inside, he simred. This wasn’t just about revenge. It was about order. About reminding the Crown Prince that wearing a title was not the sa as having power.

"He will not be able to explain this away," Minister Bai muttered under his breath to the man beside him.

Minister Zhao smirked. "He shouldn’t have touched our daughters."

Behind them, Minister Hui joined the circle of loyal dissenters, eyes glinting with quiet anticipation. "Is everything prepared?"

Minister Bai pulled a lacquered scroll case from his sleeve and set it on the bench beside him. "Detailed accounts. Nas, dates, market shifts. Prices that rose only after the Crown Prince’s n began stockpiling grain and salt under aliases. And the most important piece..."

He tapped the second case. This one was red.

"...thirty sealed agreents signed by the households of the concubines he accepted. Thirty ministers, each offering their daughters—and with them, political favor."

Minister Zhao folded his arms. "If that doesn’t reek of a private kingdom, I don’t know what does."

"Let the Emperor think his heir is building an empire from the inside," Minister Hui said darkly. "Let him wonder how long until that empire no longer includes him."

There was a pause.

Then Minister Bai asked, too casually, "And the girl?"

"Lady Zhao iling has... rembered sothing," Hui replied smoothly. "She’ll arrive with her mother when court begins. Covered in bruises. Tearful. Very persuasive."

Minister Zhao raised a brow. "She’s not exactly clever."

"She doesn’t need to be," Minister Bai replied, waving a hand in dismissal. "She just needs to cry loud enough."

A murmur of agreent followed. Across the hall, the junior scribes began to take their positions. The Chancellor and Vice Minister of Rites entered, as did several of the Emperor’s more neutral advisors. But the core conspirators—those who had quietly ruled in the shadow of a puppet monarch—stayed close.

A eunuch entered the hall a mont later, voice high and clear.

"His Majesty approaches!"

The room shifted like a breath being held. Robes were adjusted, eyes lowered, and scrolls tucked beneath sleeves. Every man dropped to his knees just as the Emperor was escorted to his throne—his face worn, his hair silvered, but his gaze still sharp beneath the weight of his crown.

He seated himself without ceremony.

"Rise."

The ministers stood, their movents unified and asured.

The Emperor looked around. "What is so urgent that half the court is gathered before the sun has ward the earth?"

Minister Bai stepped forward. "Your Majesty, forgive our early summons, but it is a matter of grave concern to the Empire... and to your lineage."

The Emperor’s gaze narrowed. "Speak plainly."

Minister Bai bowed. "We believe the Crown Prince has begun consolidating power with the intention of forming a separate court within your own. He has accepted concubines not as a matter of tradition—but as strategic anchors to bind the highest houses to his will."

A murmur swept through the chamber.

Another minister stepped forward. "Your Majesty, I have here a record of increased salt prices in the southern and eastern provinces. The rchants involved are tied to shell companies recently purchased by n affiliated with the Crown Prince."

More docunts followed. Scrolls laid out with great care. Evidence—fabricated and massaged—of manipulation. Of regional power shifts. Of warehouses full of grain, allegedly hoarded for personal gain.

The Emperor remained silent.

It was only when Minister Hui knelt and raised his voice that the final piece fell into place.

"And yesterday morning, Lady Zhao iling was removed from the Crown Prince’s manor after suffering terrible injuries at the hands of his wife. Lady Zhao was too frightened to speak before. But last night, she told her mother what happened."

A muffled sob echoed through the doorway as Zhao iling entered, veiled, her arms wrapped tightly around her middle.

The Emperor’s face twitched at the sight of her. "Remove her veil."

A servant complied.

The bruises were carefully arranged—just enough to look plausible. Just enough to sell fear. She fell to her knees with a gasp.

"I was wrong, Your Majesty," she whispered. "I thought I was safe in the Crown Prince’s house. But... she... she threatened . The Crown Princess... said she’d kill anyone who tried to take her place."

"Why did you wait to speak?" the Emperor demanded.

"I was scared," iling whispered. "And I thought... I thought he would protect . But he did nothing."

The court was quiet.

The Emperor turned to Minister Bai.

"And you believe the Crown Prince is preparing to overthrow ?"

"With all due respect, Your Majesty," Minister Bai said, lowering his head again, "we believe the signs are there. The question is whether you wish to act before the blade is drawn—or after."

The Emperor’s fingers drumd against the jade inlay on his throne. "You bring salt and bruises and market shifts. But where is the motive? Why would he do this now?"

Minister Zhao stepped forward. "Your Majesty, the Crown Prince has been increasingly isolated. He has turned to that woman for counsel. She has a history of war. Of murder. She controls demons, poisons, and soldiers. This isn’t a case of idle suspicion."

The Emperor didn’t respond.

But the storm in his eyes was beginning to gather.

No one noticed the shadow that passed briefly across the upper balcony—a royal guard leaning in to listen. Nor did they see the court historian raise an unseen eyebrow and slowly dip his brush into fresh ink.

The trap was nearly sprung.

But no one had asked where the Crown Prince was.

Because Zhu Mingyu was already walking through the second gate, robes of court hung perfectly from his shoulders, his hair fastened with understated gold.

He looked every inch the perfect son.

Calm. Elegant. Dutiful.

And entirely aware.