Tang Yuan felt a profound sense of unease. His grandfather had escorted him only to the door before retreating, leaving him alone to face the Supreme Emperor, whom he was meeting for the very first time. His heart was truly fluttering with anxiety.

"Have him seated. Someone, bring a chair," seeing his wretched state, His Majesty the Emperor couldn't help but chuckle a couple of times, waving his hand in a kindly manner.

"Yes, thank Your Majesty," Tang Yuan braced himself with his plump hands and managed to get up. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he cautiously moved to sit down.

But whether intentional or not, the chair the eunuch brought was a quan yi (round-backed armchair), and it was rather small. Of course, for a person of normal build, sitting down would have been easy, perhaps even roomy. However, for Fatty Tang, it was a truly agonizing squeeze.

Fatty Tang sharply recalled his grandfather’s instruction: In His Majesty’s presence, if offered a seat, never sit down presumptuously; you must only perch on the edge, just half of your rear end! Absolutely remember this! But now, Fatty Tang desperately wished he could just manage half a buttock’s worth of space. The problem was, this armchair seemed too small to even accommodate half a rear end. No wonder others could only manage to perch on the edge—this thing was simply too diminutive.

With a grunt and a struggle, he finally wedged half of his bulk in. The armchair immediately looked fully occupied, with rolls of fat spilling out around the perimeter.

"Hahahaha," the Emperor finally couldn't contain himself and burst into laughter. Tang Yuan managed a strained chuckle, feeling the sweat slowly bead up on his forehead.

"Tang Yuan," the Emperor stopped laughing, asking casually yet pointedly, "I hear you are the managing director of the Noble Hall?" Deep within his eyes, a faint, chilling glint flickered silently.

"Yes, Your Majesty, this humble subject... this commoner... I..." Fatty Tang was drenched in sweat, stuttering so badly he couldn't form a coherent sentence. He considered calling himself a "humble subject" (xiaochen), but that seemed inappropriate as he held no official post; he thought of saying "commoner" (caomin), but he wasn't one either; he almost settled on "this humble one" (zaixia), but that was the lingo of the martial world; and calling himself "I" (wo) was far too disrespectful.

For a moment, he was completely choked up.

"It’s fine, just speak as you feel comfortable," His Majesty the Emperor replied gently. "Tang Yuan, can you tell the Crown—tell me—whose idea it was to conceive of such a brilliant method as the last auction at the Noble Hall?"

"This... well, Your Majesty, hehe..." Fatty Tang's mind raced. Damn, no wonder the Boss was so serious and kept repeating his instructions. It turns out this is the big shot we’re dealing with. The Boss is truly brilliant...

"Actually, Your Majesty, it was because back then, ahem, I was quite young and foolish, I made a mistake and was expelled from my family by my grandfather. At that time... I was determined to achieve something significant to show the old man that his decision to cast me out was wrong," Tang Yuan scratched his head sheepishly. "But I didn't know how to do anything except make money."

"Are you saying this idea was yours?" His Majesty the Emperor's face darkened instantly, and a heavy, silent pressure, the very aura of imperial might, descended upon Tang Yuan.

This was not the spiritual pressure of a Profound Qi master; this was pure, unadulterated sovereign authority! Even the Great Master Jun or the Eight Supreme Beings couldn't replicate this presence.

"J-just a small matter, Your Majesty, this is really just a minor business venture," Tang Yuan was instantly soaked through, feeling a prickly, feverish heat all over his body, yet he held his ground, maintaining a resolute front.

The Emperor stared at him, silent for a long moment, his fingers tapping lightly on the Dragon Throne, producing crisp dong, dong sounds that were unnervingly clear in the vast, quiet hall. Tang Yuan felt each tap strike directly onto his heart. His own pulse hammered like a war drum, his body went weak with cold sweat, but he gritted his teeth: Hold on, I must hold on...

"Nothing much? Just a business? Tang Yuan, do you... know your crime?" His Majesty the Emperor narrowed his eyes slightly, leaving only a sharp slit through which he observed the Fatty's expression.

"I... I am guilty, Your Majesty, but I don't know where I have erred," please, please enlighten this humble one," Tang Yuan grew even more nervous, utterly unsure how to address himself. Suddenly, he recalled the self-address used by the servants in the brothels he frequented. After consideration, he decided it was rather suitable for the current situation, and so he spoke those words.

However, in his panic, he could only mimic the original tone perfectly, even exclaiming "Grand Master" (daye)—a term he picked up from the brothel routine. The way those young servants spoke to their patrons, regardless of fault, they would invariably rush to admit wrongdoing, taking the blame even when innocent, all with impeccable deference.

This arrangement had an unintended consequence: the Fatty had effectively become a grand pimp, and His Majesty the Emperor, completely unknowingly, had been cast as the patron...

"Where have you sinned? Your auction has thrown the entire capital into chaos and pandemonium!" The Emperor snorted, continuing to exert his pressure. The esteemed Emperor, of course, had no idea he had inadvertently been dubbed a "Grand Master."

"At that time, Your Majesty, I truly didn't think that far ahead. I only intended to make an honest living—ahem, I mean, I was planning to earn a few coins to support myself from all the 'Grand Masters' present. There was absolutely no forced buying or selling, everything was purely consensual..." Tang Yuan’s sweat traced a clear line down his face.

"All you Grand Masters..."

The moment this phrase left his lips, the Emperor was instantly enrolled as one among the masses of patrons, and among those patrons were his own three sons. Tang Yuan, blissfully unaware, had inadvertently fostered a closer bond among the four of them—a fellowship of shared experience.

"Let's put aside other matters. Just the very word you introduced, 'Noble' (Guizu), has ignited an escalating rivalry among the wealthy families of the capital, causing commodity prices across the entire city to surge rapidly. Because you clearly specified that only those with an invitation were considered nobles, it has severely provoked intense disputes within every trade sector, sparking private animosities. Now, the salt merchants, the textile merchants—every trade in Tianxiang City—is engaged in open conflict, and there have already been several bloody incidents! Thirdly, you have even stirred up political instability..." Regarding this last point, the Emperor naturally could not elaborate, but merely mentioning it was enough to terrify Tang Yuan.

So the Boss had such grand plans and contingencies hidden behind the scenes! Truly... an idol! I thought it was just about the money, I was so foolish; my level is simply too low. How else could I be the one out front, weathering the storm, while the Boss sits safely behind, directing everything? That's what true strategy is—calculating thousands of miles away amidst seeming inaction.

Seeing the confusion on Tang Yuan’s face, the Emperor was even more certain that this scheme was not his idea, or at least, he was not the mastermind. He slowly rose from the Dragon Throne and walked a couple of paces, standing three zhang away from Tang Yuan with his hands clasped behind his back. "Tang Yuan, you are the grandson of the Marquis of Loyalty and Valor. Even if you are the most dissolute and ignorant, your future prosperity and wealth are guaranteed. Why risk burying your own bright future and that of the Tang family by taking the fall for someone else? Do you think that is worthwhile?"

A psychological tactic! A blatant attempt at breaking his spirit! The Emperor was absolutely certain that any descendant of a noble house facing such a threat could not remain calm. Therefore, after uttering these words, his eyes were fixed like nails upon Tang Yuan's face.

But the Emperor could never have imagined that Great Master Jun had already drilled Tang Yuan through this exact line of reasoning several times beforehand, anticipating a possible exposure. While Great Master Jun lacked the so-called 'Imperial Aura,' his killing intent was far superior. A mere flicker of imperial presence could not break the Fatty.

In truth, if the Emperor had engaged in simple small talk, given Fatty Tang’s character and cultivated composure, there was no way he could have deceived such an old fox; some small flaw would have eventually surfaced, and from that small point, the whole façade would have crumbled, leaving the Fatty defenseless.

But now, with nearly a thousand people waiting in the Hanxiang Hall, the Emperor sought a swift conclusion and jumped straight to this critical point, perfectly guiding the conversation into the trap designed by Great Master Jun.

For Tang Yuan, this question was akin to a high school student, failing most subjects and knowing nothing, being forced to memorize an entire set of exam papers right before the college entrance exam, only to discover on test day that those were the exact official questions—the complete set.

The Boss is truly divinely prescient! Tang Yuan thought with profound admiration.

"Your Majesty, you do not know the full story. Allow me to explain everything. When my ancestor banished me, perhaps I deserved it—there is nothing to say about that. But at that time, I was so severely beaten by my grandfather that I could barely move, and I was thrown out with nothing. I was completely destitute, with no path forward and no door to enter. It was then that my good brother, the Third Young Master of the Jun family, Jun Moxie, appeared. He rescued me from my predicament and saved me from my despair. He didn't hesitate but took me back to the Jun residence to recuperate. This kindness, this debt..." Fatty Tang’s face was alight with emotion, a picture of deep gratitude.

"You mean to say the idea was actually from the Third Young Master of the Jun family?" His Majesty the Emperor was genuinely annoyed now. This Fatty was rambling and diverting, and it was terribly irritating!

"Your Majesty misunderstands. Please let me finish. When I entered the Jun residence, my good brother treated me with the utmost hospitality—fine food, fine clothing, meticulous care in every aspect. Though I am merely a profligate son with no particular talent, I understand gratitude. But now, living under someone else's roof, how could I repay him? I pondered my only slight advantage: a bit of business acumen. And then, an inspiration struck, realizing a great similarity between myself and Young Master Jun."

Your similarity? Being wastrels? Prodigal sons? Good-for-nothings? What else?

"Your Majesty knows that popular rumors label my good brother and me as the top two wastrels in Tianxiang City. It was precisely from this reputation that I found a glimmer of inspiration. Recalling our glorious past, I didn't value money; I squandered it recklessly, often bidding extravagantly for things of little worth, spending fortunes lavishly. Looking around the capital, there are quite a few sons like my Third Young Brother and myself. If we designate ourselves as the 'Wastrels,' calling ourselves 'Nobles' (Guizu) would be quite appropriate, wouldn't it? If you aren't a wastrel, how can you be a noble? This struck me as a way to generate wealth, since these individuals clearly do not value money."

"Coincidentally, some time ago, I had the good fortune to meet the foremost master of the Way of Wine, Senior Song Shang. He approved, and the Noble Hall secured the secret vintage brew of this senior. Amidst all these coincidences, today’s situation has come to pass. If Your Majesty still has doubts, Tang Yuan is willing to answer every question for you!" The Fatty spoke in one breath. Perhaps the words finally flowed smoothly, or perhaps the Emperor’s current demeanor was exactly what Great Master Jun had predicted, but Fatty Tang had completely lost his former terror.

Since the questioning had reached this point, His Majesty the Emperor was certainly not going to let him off lightly, demanding details on every single matter.

With the entire script already prepared in his mind, Fatty Tang was completely unfazed, answering fluently. Every explanation was logical, reasonable, and impenetrable. When recounting the painful memory of being cast out by his family, the Fatty even executed the brilliant script designed by Director Jun, showing just the right amount of vulnerability, weeping bitterly and howling with grief.

A mass of fat, scattering sweat and tears, howling hysterically before him... what kind of feeling was that?

(The author is not feeling well today; the second update will be slightly later. (To be continued))