The Hall of Literary Brilliance stood silent as the morning sun filtered through ornate latticework, casting geometric shadows across polished floors. Court officials gathered in strict hierarchical formation, silk robes rustling nervously as they awaited the Empress's arrival. Tension hung palpable in the air—rumors of impending changes had spread through the Forbidden City overnight like wildfire through dry grass.
Sam stood apart from the formal arrangement, leaning casually against a carved pillar. His simple dark attire contrasted sharply with the elaborate court dress surrounding him, yet no official dared comment on his sartorial choices. Silver eyes scanned the assembly with predatory assessment, cataloguing minute expressions and whispered exchanges with perfect recall.
Senior Minister Lin Yaozi kept glancing toward the main entrance, sweat beading visibly on his forehead despite the morning's pleasant temperature. His fingers fidgeted with jade office tokens, a nervous habit Sam had observed developing over recent weeks. The man's corruption ran deeper than most—embezzling funds meant for northern border defenses, selling military commissions to merchants' sons, even maintaining a network of informants within the palace itself to monitor imperial activities for personal advantage.
The perfect example.
A gong sounded, its resonant tone silencing all whispers instantly. Double doors swung open to reveal the imperial procession—eunuch officials leading the way, followed by the Empress herself attired in formal yellow robes embroidered with imperial dragons.
Youzhen moved with practiced grace to the elevated dais, seating herself on the throne with perfect composure. Only Sam's enhanced perception detected her slightly elevated heart rate and the minute tension in her shoulders—signs of anticipation rather than nervousness.
She had embraced the plan completely.
Court protocol proceeded with ritualized precision—announcements of imperial presence, recitation of auspicious phrases, ceremonial offering of incense to heaven. Throughout these preliminaries, Youzhen's expression remained impassive, a mask of imperial serenity that betrayed nothing of the violence about to unfold.
When the formal opening concluded, Youzhen spoke, her voice clear and composed: "Before addressing scheduled matters, We must attend to an urgent concern affecting the empire's security. Master Zhu will elucidate."
A ripple of unease passed through the assembled officials. This deviation from protocol—allowing an outsider to speak first during formal audience—violated centuries of tradition. More concerning still was the way the Empress yielded her voice to the silver-eyed foreigner who now straightened from his casual posture and approached the central court space.
Sam moved with unhurried confidence, positioning himself where all officials could observe him clearly. His voice, when he spoke, carried effortlessly through the vast hall without apparent effort.
"The empire faces external threats requiring immediate response," he began conversationally. "Unfortunately, the effectiveness of that response is compromised by internal rot."
Minister Lin twitched visibly at these words, drawing Sam's attention. Their eyes met briefly—predator acknowledging prey—before Sam continued.
"Corruption has hollowed imperial defense capabilities from within. Military garrisons report full strength on paper while selling positions to merchants' sons who never serve. Supply depots claim complete inventories while warehouses stand half-empty. Treasury funds allocated for border fortifications vanish between issuance and deployment."
Each statement landed like a physical blow among the assembly. These were open secrets—practices known to all but spoken of by none. To hear them articulated so bluntly in formal audience violated every unwritten rule of court discourse.
"Such systematic betrayal cannot be addressed through conventional means," Sam continued, his tone hardening. "Therefore, Her Imperial Majesty has authorized extraordinary measures to excise this cancer before it kills the body entire."
Lin Yaozi took a half-step backward, an unconscious retreat that immediately drew Sam's silver gaze.
"Senior Minister Lin," Sam called out, voice suddenly sharp as a blade. "Please join me in the court center."
Blood drained from Lin's face, leaving him ashen beneath his formal hat. For a moment, it seemed he might refuse—might break protocol by rejecting the summons. Then, with visible reluctance, he moved forward, feet dragging slightly on polished stone.
"Minister Lin has served three emperors with apparent distinction," Sam informed the assembly as the official approached. "His reputation for administrative efficiency is well-established. Quite remarkable for a man who began his career with no family connections and modest means."
Lin bowed stiffly, maintaining formal propriety despite obvious distress. "This humble servant has endeavored to serve the Dragon Throne with complete loyalty," he managed, voice slightly hoarse.
Sam smiled—a cold expression that never reached his eyes. "Indeed. Your loyalty is precisely what we'll examine today."
Without warning, Sam's hand shot out, fingers closing around Lin's throat with inhuman speed. The minister's eyes bulged in shock as Sam lifted him effortlessly, feet dangling above polished stone as the assembly gasped collectively.
"Let's begin with the northern garrison funds," Sam suggested conversationally, as if discussing tea preferences rather than holding a senior official by the throat. "Three hundred thousand taels allocated for fortifications and troop provisions. You diverted sixty percent to private accounts, then falsified inspection reports to conceal the shortfall."
Lin's hands clawed ineffectively at Sam's iron grip, feet kicking uselessly in air. His face purpled as oxygen deprivation set in, yet Sam maintained precisely enough pressure to prevent unconsciousness while ensuring maximum discomfort.
"The practice became quite systematic, didn't it?" Sam continued, addressing both his captive and the horrified assembly. "Five years of steadily increasing embezzlement. Quite impressive record-keeping, actually—your private ledgers detail every transaction with meticulous precision."
A confused murmur rippled through the officials. Lin's private accounts should have been inaccessible—hidden in secret locations known only to himself and most trusted associates.
"Oh yes," Sam confirmed, reading their collective confusion. "I've examined all your hidden records. Not just yours, Minister Lin, but everyone's. Every secret account, every hidden document, every whispered conspiracy captured in correspondence."
He released his grip suddenly, allowing Lin to collapse gasping onto the floor. The minister crumpled in an undignified heap, dignity forgotten as he struggled to refill oxygen-starved lungs.
"While you catch your breath," Sam suggested pleasantly, "perhaps I should share some specifics with your colleagues?"
He withdrew a folded document from within his robe—a detailed accounting of Lin's activities spanning years of service. Sam read selected entries, each more damning than the last: military supplies diverted to private warehouses for resale; garrison positions sold to merchants' sons who never served; inspection reports falsified to conceal strength deficiencies; bribes accepted to influence court appointments.
Lin's face shifted from oxygen-deprived purple to shame-induced crimson as his crimes were catalogued before peers and subordinates. When Sam finished reading, silence hung heavy in the hall—the collective held breath of officials wondering who might be named next.
"Her Imperial Majesty," Sam announced into this silence, "has determined that such betrayal requires exemplary response."
He turned to Youzhen, who sat perfectly composed on her throne, showing no outward reaction to the unprecedented proceedings. "With your permission, Empress?"
Youzhen inclined her head slightly—imperial authorization granted without words.
Sam returned his attention to Lin, who had pushed himself to his knees but remained hunched in defeated posture.
"Minister Lin Yaozi," Sam pronounced formally, "your crimes against the empire warrant death. However, simple execution would insufficiently address the systemic nature of the corruption you exemplify."
A current of fear passed through the assembly—officials exchanging alarmed glances as the implication settled: this would not be a conventional punishment.
Sam's hand shot out again, this time gripping Lin's head between powerful fingers. "Therefore, you will serve as educational material for your colleagues."
Before anyone could react, an unnatural silver light began pulsing beneath Sam's palm. Lin's scream—high and piercing—echoed off ornate ceilings as his body convulsed violently. Officials nearest the spectacle stumbled backward, horrified fascination preventing full retreat.
"I am accessing Minister Lin's complete knowledge," Sam explained conversationally over the man's continued screams. "Every transaction, every conspiracy, every partner in corruption—all becoming visible to me."
Lin's eyes rolled back, showing only whites as his body thrashed against Sam's implacable grip. Blood began seeping from his nostrils, then his ears, then his eyes—thin crimson streams that contrasted starkly against his pallid skin.
"Fascinating network," Sam commented, ignoring the minister's deteriorating condition. "Three hundred and forty-two officials implicated across seventeen provinces. Quite impressive reach for a single individual."
Several officials near the rear of the hall made discreet movements toward exits, only to find guards blocking all escape routes—imperial troops positioned strategically before proceedings began.
"Minister Lin's memory contains detailed records of all accomplices," Sam announced to the assembly. "Names, dates, specific transactions, amounts diverted, falsified documents—everything required to identify every participant in systematic corruption."
He released his grip suddenly, allowing Lin to collapse once more. The minister fell limp—still conscious but fundamentally altered. Blood continued seeping from facial orifices, eyes unfocused and vacant as drool leaked from slack lips. Whatever Sam had done had left him physically intact but mentally devastated.
"Now for the exemplary portion of today's demonstration," Sam declared, his voice hardening.
Without apparent effort, Sam lifted the unresisting minister with one hand, holding him suspended several feet above the floor. With his free hand, he made a simple gesture—fingers spreading wide then closing slowly.
Lin's body responded to this motion, limbs spreading eagle-fashion in midair, held by invisible force. His vacant expression shifted to renewed terror as awareness of his situation penetrated his damaged consciousness.
"Minister Lin diverted funds meant to fortify our northern borders," Sam reminded the silent assembly. "Meaning soldiers face Manchu invaders with inadequate weapons, armor, and provisions. His actions directly endanger China's sovereignty and countless lives."
Sam's spread fingers began closing incrementally. As they did, Lin's right arm twisted unnaturally—slowly rotating beyond natural range of motion. Bone creaked audibly before snapping with a wet crack that echoed through the silent hall. Lin's scream—somehow more animal than human—accompanied the sound.
"This approximates the experience of soldiers fighting with substandard weapons because their allocated funds were diverted to private accounts," Sam explained clinically. "Except their suffering occurs on muddy battlefields rather than polished palace floors."
Several officials turned away, unable to watch as Sam's manipulations continued methodically. Lin's left arm followed the same treatment, then each leg in turn—bones snapping precisely at major joints while the victim remained conscious throughout.
"The nervous system is fascinating," Sam lectured as he worked, addressing the horrified audience with academic detachment. "I'm stimulating specific pain centers while preventing unconsciousness. Minister Lin is experiencing maximum sensation without the mercy of shock or faintness."
One elderly official collapsed to his knees, overcome by the spectacle. Others remained rigidly upright, terror-frozen expressions fixed on the demonstration. Near the dais, a younger secretary vomited quietly into his sleeve, unable to control his physiological response yet equally unable to look away.
Throughout it all, Empress Youzhen maintained perfect composure on her throne, neither flinching nor intervening as Sam systematically dismantled a man who had served the imperial court for decades. Her face betrayed nothing—not disgust, not satisfaction, not even grim necessity. Only Sam's enhanced perception detected her rapid heartbeat and the minute tremors in her hands concealed within voluminous sleeves.
When Lin's limbs hung at grotesque angles—bones shattered beyond any possibility of healing—Sam paused, allowing the significance to settle across the assembly.
"Minister Lin's corruption extended beyond military funds," he continued conversationally. "He also sold imperial positions to unqualified candidates, undermining administrative effectiveness across multiple ministries."
With another gesture, Lin's shattered body rotated horizontally in midair, as if laid on an invisible table. Sam's fingers traced patterns above the suspended form, and in response, Lin's expensive court robes split open, exposing his torso.
"Administrative corruption weakens China from within," Sam explained, "much like disease attacking vital organs."
He made another subtle gesture. Lin's abdomen split open bloodlessly—skin, muscle, and connective tissue parting like curtains to reveal gleaming internal organs. The minister's screams reached new heights as cool palace air touched surfaces never meant for exposure.
Several officials fainted outright at this development. Others stood frozen in horrified fascination as Sam continued his methodical demonstration, identifying each organ and its symbolic relationship to government function.
"The stomach, representing resource distribution," Sam lectured, telekinetically lifting the organ slightly from its cavity. With precise pressure, he compressed it until it ruptured, contents spilling into the abdominal cavity. Lin's screams took on a gurgling quality as digestive acids began damaging surrounding tissues.
"The liver, representing purification of harmful elements," Sam continued, moving to the next organ. This too he destroyed with calculated precision, ensuring maximum pain while preventing immediate death.
One by one, Sam systematically failed each major organ while maintaining Lin's consciousness through psionic manipulation. Throughout this grotesque anatomy lesson, he continued drawing parallels between physiological function and governmental responsibility, creating a macabre educational display for the assembled officials.
When only the heart and lungs remained functional, Sam paused again, surveying the assembly. Many officials had lost control of bodily functions, urine staining expensive silk robes as terror overwhelmed dignity. Others remained rigid in formal stance, faces ashen and eyes glazed with shock.
"Before concluding this demonstration," Sam announced, "I should clarify its purpose beyond simple punishment."
He gestured toward wall niches where imperial guards had positioned large baskets containing blank scrolls, brushes, and ink.
"By midday today, each of you will submit written confessions detailing all instances of corruption, embezzlement, bribery, or dereliction of duty throughout your service. Complete honesty will be rewarded with merciful treatment. Attempts at concealment will result in demonstrations similar to Minister Lin's, but conducted privately where screams can continue without disturbing court functions."
Sam smiled coldly at the assembly. "For those considering suicide as an alternative, understand this: your families—all generations, from eldest grandparent to youngest infant—will suffer progressively worse fates should you choose that coward's path."
He turned back to Lin's devastated form, still hovering with exposed organs glistening in morning light. "Now to complete our lesson."
With a simple closing of his fist, Sam telekinetically crushed Lin's heart and lungs simultaneously. The minister's body convulsed once, then went limp—death finally granting mercy where Sam had withheld it.
The corpse remained suspended for several seconds—a grotesque display confirming the consequences of corruption—before Sam casually gestured, causing it to collapse into a bloody heap on polished stone.
"Court is dismissed until tomorrow," Empress Youzhen announced, her voice perfectly steady despite the carnage before her throne. "Minister Lin's remains will be displayed at the ministry entrance as a reminder of imperial expectations. All confessions must be complete by midday as instructed."
Officials backed away from the throne, maintaining protocol despite their terror. No one dared look directly at either the Empress or her silver-eyed enforcer as they filed out, leaving bloody footprints across once-immaculate floors.
When the hall emptied, Youzhen finally allowed her rigid posture to relax slightly. She looked at Sam, who stood contemplating Lin's remains with detached interest.
"Was such extremity truly necessary?" she asked quietly.
Sam glanced up, silver eyes unreadable. "Absolutely. Fear is the only language bureaucracy universally understands. Lin's example will generate more honest confessions in six hours than a month of conventional investigation."
"And you can truly access their memories as you claimed?" Youzhen pressed, gesturing toward the bloody remains.
"I can," Sam confirmed, "though it's unnecessary in most cases. Your officials will confess everything voluntarily now, believing I can verify any omissions. Perception becomes reality in matters of terror."
Youzhen nodded slowly, imperial pragmatism reasserting itself. "And the confessions? What happens to those who admit their crimes?"
"That depends entirely on you," Sam replied, moving closer to the throne. "Mass executions would destabilize the administration when you most need functional government. Selective punishment of worst offenders while demanding restitution from others would balance justice against practicality."
He smiled—a genuine expression that momentarily softened his features. "You're learning quickly, Empress. The question shows you're already thinking beyond today's demonstration to its practical application."
Youzhen acknowledged the compliment with slight inclination of her head. "I requested this intervention because the empire faces existential threat. My duty transcends personal distaste for methods."
"An admirable perspective," Sam agreed, "and precisely why I agreed to help rather than simply watching your dynasty collapse. You understand necessary brutality—a rare quality in sheltered royalty."
He glanced toward the bloody mess awaiting cleanup. "Now prepare yourself for an administrative deluge. By midday, you'll have more confessions than your scribes can process in a week."