Quedu
On his way into the palace, Zhong Xiwu ran into Grand Secretary Xu An. To call it a chance encounter would be inaccurate, as Xu An was standing directly in the middle of his path, clearly waiting for him.
“Greetings, Your Highness,” Xu An said, offering a formal bow. “Is Your Highness heading into the palace to see His Majesty?”
“Yes. Does Master Xu have something to discuss with me?”
Xu An sighed with troubled frustration. “The Censor-in-Chief had a bitter falling-out with His Majesty just moments ago. If Your Highness goes in now, I’m afraid it will only displease His Majesty.”
Zhong Xiwu naturally understood his meaning and prompted smoothly, “And what was the reason?”
“His Majesty used Yunchen as an example, asking the Censor-in-Chief to offer his perspective on powerful ministers holding the reins of government while the imperial family stands isolated and stripped of authority. The Censor-in-Chief argued that Yunchen’s predicament requires sweeping reforms and a break with the past to find a way out of a desperate situation. When His Majesty questioned him regarding imperial lineage, the Censor-in-Chief stated that after a decisive struggle, only the victor is entitled to rule. Enraged, His Majesty docked the Censor-in-Chief’s salary for a month.”
Zhong Xiwu remarked objectively, “Only the Censor-in-Chief would dare speak to His Majesty in such a manner.”
There was no help for it; the current Censor-in-Chief was the empress’s younger brother. Deeply enamored with the empress, the emperor was constantly swayed by pillow-talk. Coupled with the immense influence of the empress’s clan, even uttering blasphemous remarks was brushed off with nothing more than a month’s salary forfeiture.
“Your Highness would be wise not to go in. His Majesty’s temper is blazing right now, and you’ll likely only walk away bruised.”
Zhong Xiwu replied, “I thank Master Xu for the warning. Though I wonder, what were Master Xu’s own thoughts on the matter while present?”
Naturally, such topics could not be discussed openly within the inner courtyards of the imperial palace. However, after glancing around to ensure no inappropriate observers were near, Xu An spoke with complete candor: “This minister believes matters have not yet reached an incurable stage. Selecting the worthy and capable sends ripples through the entire structure; if internal strength is lacking, one must cast their gaze far into the future. Your Highness maintains frequent contact with the martial world and is the personal disciple of Old Master Wei, rendering you fully worthy of being called a man of talent.”
Zhong Xiwu warned him, “Master Xu ought to choose his words carefully. Before long, this may involve far more than just a month’s salary.”
Xu An remained unruffled. “The same applies to Your Highness. You stand entirely alone, with no powerful family at your back—only the path stretching out before you. Your virtue and talent are your sole assets, and they happen to be precisely what this new era demands.”
Coming from anyone else, such words would constitute a treasonous offense punishable by the execution of nine familial generations, yet Xu An calmly laid them out piece by piece.
Zhong Xiwu did not disagree that Xu An was right. His mother had been nothing more than a palace maid who clawed her way up through scheming; she passed away shortly after giving birth to him, and only the emperor’s lingering affection kept his life from becoming entirely unlivable. Yet within the imperial court, he still lacked any solid footing.
Even after subsequently taking Wei Heng as his master and earning the moniker of the “Drunken Jade and Waning Mountain” upon gaining minor renown, he remained far too insignificant compared to the scale of an entire nation.
“I have taken Master Xu’s words to heart,” Zhong Xiwu murmured, gazing up at the magnificent, towering pavilions of the imperial city as he drifted into deep contemplation.
Whose talent would it be that could save Yunchen?
“Your Highness.” Once Xu An had departed, the dark guard who had been trailing Zhong Xiwu in secret finally revealed herself. “The Gentleman remained in Yishui City for three days before our men lost all trace of him. It’s likely the Sword Sage senior detected their presence.”
The imperial courtyards wound endlessly around one another. Standing in place, Zhong Xiwu found himself unable to see where his next step ought to fall. “Recall the surveillance. There’s no need to keep following.”
The female guard felt a wave of internal puzzlement. Given the high regard in which the prince held the Gentleman, he would never let go so easily. Why was he suddenly choosing to let go now?
“The might of a Sword Sage is not something we can provoke. They were likely discovered the moment they stepped foot inside Yishui City. Tan Congye is issuing a warning to us; regardless of his underlying motives, we cannot push any further. Yishui City, so that was his intent.” Zhong Xiwu whispered under his breath, “He has his own plans.”
A carriage rattled steadily along the imperial highway, its pace growing increasingly swift as the rugged stones along the road forced sharp, echoing screeches from the iron-rimmed wheels.
Without warning, the galloping horses were hauled to an abrupt, violent halt, prompting an angry shout from inside the carriage: “What is the meaning of this?”
“Your Highness, our path is blocked.”
Throwing his weight back against the reins, the driver forced the startled horses to rear on their hind legs, kicking up a thick cloud of dust.
Roughly a dozen figures blocked the road ahead. All of them wore black garments and wielded weapons; save for their leader, whose face remained uncovered, every single man had his features obscured by black cloth.
“I wonder why Your Excellency has chosen to block my path?” Zhong Xiwu asked in a low, cold voice.
The leader possessed delicate, refined features, yet the weapon in his hand was exceptionally fierce—a broad, curved saber engraved with the visage of a ferocious wolf upon its hilt. Slinging the massive blade across his shoulder, he spoke aloud, “This road is closed today.”
Zhong Xiwu let out a soft laugh. “This is an imperial highway, since when did it belong to you to close? The weapon in your hand hardly looks like the standard style of Yunhu. Who on earth are you?”
The saber-wielding leader burst into laughter. “As expected of the Drunken Jade and Waning Mountain. Rumor has it you are Old Master Wei’s prized disciple, already a third-rank swordsman capable of reaching this realm by age twenty, truly a formidable opponent. Yet discovering our true identity is not quite so simple.”
Zhong Xiwu’s expression darkened. The moment he departed the imperial palace, he had begun making preparations to head toward Wuzhou. He knew that once Ying Laixian returned from Yunchen, he would inevitably make a stop in Wuzhou, and this imperial highway was the fastest route leading straight there, yet someone had stationed themselves here to block it far ahead of time.
Impatient, the leader flicked his hand, and the masked men at his side swarmed forward. Stepping into the fray, Shuyi raised his sword to counter them in a one-versus-many stalemate.
With a cold sneer, the saber-wielding leader closed the distance, arriving directly before the carriage in a flash. Just as his heavy blade cleaved through the carriage doors, a silvery-white sword shot out from within, deflecting the strike with a violent clash that sent a shooting pain straight up the leader’s thumb and forced him into a rapid retreat.
Zhong Xiwu had maintained absolute secrecy regarding his itinerary on this journey, accompanied by only a single subordinate. Vaulting out of the carriage, he watched as the large vehicle was instantly shattered into splinters by the subsequent sweep of the curved saber.
“Oh? Fourth rank?” Zhong Xiwu settled his grip upon the silvery-white longsword. “You’ve gone to quite extraordinary lengths. You block the road to Wuzhou because of the Changye Temple treasure currently causing such an uproar in the martial world? If my guess is correct, the old ruins of Changye Temple have already been thoroughly excavated several times over, yet it appears you failed to secure any useful clues.”
The saber-wielding leader lunged directly at Zhong Xiwu, accelerating with every stride as the wind howled wildly around his blade, bringing it crashing down in an overhead arc aimed straight at Zhong Xiwu’s head.
Instead of dodging, Zhong Xiwu stepped forward, flicked his right wrist to send his blade tracing a fluid arc, and vaulted into the air to effortlessly evade the blow. His sword snapped forward with viper-like agility toward the leader’s face, and within the span of a breath, the two had already exchanged over a dozen rapid blows.
“Mere fourth rank, yet you hope to deal with me? You are still far too lacking.”
The massive curved saber seemed to weigh nothing at all in the leader’s hands. “Naturally it is difficult. Wuzhou is currently overrun by various martial sects; if members of the imperial court intervene in this mess, I wonder how the Drunken Jade plans to explain himself to the man sitting upon the Dragon Throne.”
“You’re courting death!”
Zhong Xiwu’s swordplay grew increasingly rapid. The longsword suddenly split into twin flashes of steel, weaving left and right to pierce straight for the leader’s glabella. Though the man was a full rank lower than Zhong Xiwu, he seemed unnervingly familiar with Zhong Xiwu’s combat patterns, parrying the onslaught without showing signs of strain.
Reaching down to his waist, Zhong Xiwu drew an additional short, broken blade. He rarely spent time engaging in actual combat, yet he possessed an extensive array of weapons; though the world praised the Drunken Jade for his pure demeanor and peerless gentlemanly conduct, his fighting style bore not the slightest resemblance to a gentleman.
The short blade emitted a chilling, bone-piercing aura. The leader’s expression shifted in shock as the ambient daylight abruptly twisted, the airflow violently churning and shifting entirely in direction.
Astonishment painted the leader’s face. “I never imagined you had actually mastered sword qi!”
For a swordsman, executing a thousand strikes did not guarantee the cultivation of true sword qi; ‘qi’ belonged to the realm of internal cultivation, inextricably linked to a practitioner’s breath and vitality. Furthermore, forging a distinct form of sword qi required relentless, grueling tempering through fire and blood.
Zhong Xiwu was only at the third rank, how on earth had he already manifested sword qi?
“The Drunken Jade possesses extraordinary innate talent. If you insist on pushing toward Wuzhou, we naturally cannot stop you, but what will the sovereign within the imperial palace of Quedu make of it?”
Zhong Xiwu withdrew his sword, fixing a cold gaze upon the leader. The man’s words carried undeniable weight; his thoughts had been consumed entirely by Ying Laixian, driving him to rush toward Wuzhou ahead of time. But if the imperial court became entangled in the murky waters of the martial world, his imperial father would likely find it difficult to entrust that supreme seat into his hands.
Unless he acted under the explicit banner of the imperial court, executing orders by imperial decree.
The Ancient Frozen Realm, three thousand miles away from Wuzhou.
In the dead silence of the pitch-black surroundings, even the faint sound of breathing remained entirely audible. The waning moon slanted gradually downward, pressing an overwhelming, suffocating pressure across the landscape. Suddenly, a flash of silver light tore through the ink-black darkness, parting the veil of an entirely different realm as a refreshing, invigorating floral fragrance gradually diffused into the air. Light and shadow illuminated the space, revealing a breathtaking paradise hidden away from the world.
A youth dressed in pristine white stood upright within the courtyard. His demeanor was refined and scholarly, gentle as jade with soft, tender features, to the point that even falling flower petals seemed drawn to drift near him.
Clutched in the youth’s hand was an open letter. Though already unfolded, he remained frozen, staring blankly at the rippling surface of the courtyard pond. A sudden gust of wind ruffled the glittering water into gentle waves, snapping the youth from his trance as a faint smile touched his lips.
Luchu stood quietly off to the side, knowing the letter had undoubtedly been penned by that person. For years, the young master had maintained a constant correspondence with him, even going so far as dispatching his personal elite guard to stay by the man’s side. Such a massive gesture spoke volumes about how deeply cherished that individual truly was. Over time, the close guards had all come to understand a single unwritten rule: any letter originating from that person must be delivered directly into the young master’s hands at the very first moment.
“Luchu, dispatch men to intercept those parties heading along the Yunchen road. Remember, ensuring his safety is our absolute priority,” the youth’s voice was honey-sweet and extraordinarily gentle.
“Understood.”
Luchu accepted the order without hesitation; such occurrences were commonplace, as the young master frequently dispatched operatives to clear away obstacles and resolve troubles for that person.
“Our scouts report that the Drunken Jade’s party lost all trace of him once they reached Yishui City; it is likely they met with misfortune. The young master has very few personnel available to spare at present, and the road to Yunchen is fraught with danger.”
The youth held the letter in his hands, rereading it over and over with absolute concentration, as if determined to etch every single character into his heart.
“As long as they don’t approach Yishui City, any obstacles outside of it can be cleared away. Once he enters Yunchen, there will be people protecting him. My only concern is that unforeseen variables might arise along the journey, and I worry he might be hurt. Make all necessary arrangements ahead of time; the moment he returns from Yunchen, I will go to find him.” Carefully, the youth folded the letter back into its original crease.
Luchu murmured, “I only fear that the Sect Master will not approve.”
Gazing across the surface of the pond, the youth watched the sunset paint the distant clouds in dark, fiery hues, their reflections shimmering upon the water like an indelible stain. “I am going regardless. Father is still in seclusion; if anyone can help him, it is only I.”