Chapter 11: The Pearl of Stillness

Night had fallen, the pitch-black sky studded with countless stars, darkness blanketing the world.

Cheng Guang lay on his bed, his entire body covered in blood-crusted scabs. At the slightest movement, they flaked away like peeling bark, revealing skin beneath as pale and flawless as jade.

He rose and walked to the mirror at his bedside, scrutinizing his reflection. Once, his eyes had been ink-black, but now a faint violet aura shimmered within them. Every gesture seemed to stir the energies of heaven and earth, lending him an air of nobility beyond compare.

His handsome yet pallid face had grown more defined, the muscles beneath his skin tightening subtly—strong, but not overly bulky.

Clenching his fist, Cheng Guang sensed that his strength had become many times greater than before. Even though he had yet to begin any cultivation and had only exchanged his bloodline, his power was now far beyond that of an ordinary mortal.

Only now did he understand why Wu Ling, despite never having trained, still possessed such tremendous strength.

Those born with royal blood were fated to stand leagues above common folk.

If he were to compete against Wu Ling in strength again, Cheng Guang was confident he would utterly crush her.

“Cultivating the Spiritual Path is different from the Martial Way,” he murmured. “In martial practice, one need only grind away at the body’s vital energies, clear the acupoints, and condense true essence in the early stages. But the Spiritual Path is otherwise—its secret methods known only to the royal family. If I wish to cultivate the Spiritual Path, I must first uncover how it is done.”

He was still the heir apparent, but out of caution, he had always kept a low profile and refrained from drawing on the resources of the estate.

Yet now, with Cheng Zhihai soon to return, there was no hiding his identity any longer. In these circumstances, he was unwilling to forgo any chance to increase his strength, no matter how slight.

“I’ll pay a visit to the library tomorrow,” he decided.

Within the Duke Protector’s estate stood a library filled with manuals and secret texts seized from the martial sects Cheng Zhihai had vanquished.

Perhaps among them lay the method to cultivate the Spiritual Path.

If the library proved fruitless, Cheng Guang would have to devise a way to extract the secret from one of the royal scions themselves.

With this in mind, he left his room and bathed in the courtyard lake.

Because he was a stand-in, Qingluan had specially arranged for the servants to be reassigned, reducing the risk of exposure. Thus, he harbored no hope of anyone preparing a hot bath for him.

After washing simply in the lake, he returned to his room, sat at his desk, and picked up pen and paper, recording his thoughts as he pondered his next move.

Escape was no longer an option.

The only thing left was to solidify his position as the legitimate heir, so that when the true scion returned, he would find his birthright already stolen.

The thought of that moment amused him.

For a stand-in to become the true heir might seem far-fetched, but upon closer consideration, it was not impossible.

First, very few people actually knew he was a stand-in.

One was the Emperor of Great Zhou—but Cheng Guang reasoned that the Emperor would not expose him. If that had been his intention, Cheng Guang would likely already be dead.

In fact, in a way, his role as stand-in had actually served the Emperor’s interests more than once. For his own benefit, the Emperor was unlikely to reveal the truth.

Even without these mutual interests, the Emperor would hardly trouble himself with someone so insignificant. If Cheng Guang truly were the heir, perhaps he might warrant a second glance, but as matters stood, he was not worthy of notice.

Apart from the Emperor, only Qingluan knew he was a stand-in. She was even less likely to betray him; in a sense, they were allies fighting on the same front.

The last person was the real heir.

So, only three people in the world knew his secret.

And none of the three were likely to betray him—at least, not before the real heir returned. As long as Cheng Guang kept silent, no ordinary person would ever discover the truth.

The only real difficulty lay in deceiving Cheng Zhihai.

His original essence had not been damaged. Should Cheng Zhihai attempt to heal him, he would immediately sense something amiss. There would be no hiding it then.

Cheng Guang furrowed his brow, fingers pressing lightly to his forehead as he pondered his options.

Lost in thought, he was suddenly startled by a cold, mechanical voice echoing in his mind:

[Year 34 of the Holy Era, seventh month, eighth day. It is your second day at the Heaven-Human realm. Having defeated the Empress of Great Zhou, you are too exhilarated to sleep.]

[Returning home, your thoughts drift. You recall that years ago, your father Cheng Zhihai treated your body, repairing your essence. But you know the truth: your essence was never truly damaged. It was merely the cost of fusing a royal bloodline to pursue the Spiritual Path.]

[Though you possess the blood of Great Zhou’s royal family, you are not one of them. At birth, your royal blood was stripped away and cast into the blood pool, to nurture other royal scions.]

[From childhood, your frail body could not cultivate the Spiritual Path, and even your martial potential was greatly limited.]

[To set you on the Spiritual Path, your grandfather, Duke Protector Cheng Shiyuan, kidnapped a scion of another dynasty in your youth, stripped their royal blood, and forcibly fused it into your body. The damage to your essence was merely a side-effect of this forceful fusion—the foreign royal blood rejecting your body. Normally it was bearable, but once cultivation began, the pain was excruciating.]

[To help you practice the Spiritual Path, Cheng Zhihai tried countless methods. You suffered unspeakably for more than a decade, until at last Cheng Zhihai, at the cost of his own life, was able to suppress the rejection caused by your royal blood, allowing you to cultivate.]

[Within a hundred years, you reached the Heaven-Human realm, and even, as if in a dream, defeated the Empress of Great Zhou.]

[Deeply moved, you decide to burn extra offerings at your father’s grave.]

[Novice Mission 2: Burn some pocket money for Cheng Zhihai at his gravesite.]

[Mission reward: Breath-Concealing Pearl (Heaven Rank).]

After hearing the system’s message, Cheng Guang’s eyes widened, a look of wild joy crossing his face.

So, the heir’s original essence was never harmed. The supposed assassination was merely a cover for the fusion of a royal bloodline.

There was a well-known law regarding royal bloodlines: even if one were to strip a royal’s blood, it could not be transplanted into another—except by birth, rejection would be extreme. Otherwise, the royal families of the great dynasties would not be the most exalted beings under heaven, but instead preyed upon as living treasures.

Because of this risk of rejection, few dared to offend an entire dynasty by stripping a royal’s bloodline and grafting it onto themselves.

Back then, Cheng Guang, not being royal by birth, had his blood stripped and cast into the blood pool to nurture others. He grew up frail, unable to tread the Spiritual Path, and even his martial potential was crippled.

The Duke Protector, defying all conventions, secretly kidnapped another royal scion, stripped their bloodline, and force-fused it into the heir’s body—simply to keep the heir from becoming a true invalid.

Now, with the ancient Xia royal bloodline fused within him, Cheng Guang had—by some twist of fate—found the right answer by accident.

Though royal bloodlines differed greatly, to anyone but the bearer, there was no way to distinguish which dynasty a bloodline belonged to.

In other words, he had already passed the bloodline test.

In the future, playing the role of the heir, he need not fear exposure because of his blood.

Even the heir’s original wounds were resolved, thanks to his acquisition of the ancient Xia bloodline.

There was no more rejection in his body, no lingering wounds.

At this thought, Cheng Guang felt a sudden lightness in his heart.

If not for the difficulty of explaining how he had overcome the rejection of the royal bloodline, he would now face Cheng Zhihai without a trace of anxiety.

Even so, he felt much more at ease.

So what if he was a stand-in?

Whatever the original had, he now possessed; what the original lacked, he had even more.

If that was not true identity, what was?

As long as he dealt with the true heir in the end, then even if he was a fake, he would have to be considered real.

Twisting the brush between his fingers, Cheng Guang’s mind began to form a plan for the future. His mood lighter, his gaze fell on the system’s latest task.

The Breath-Concealing Pearl.

Heaven rank.

This seemed to be a rare treasure, and of no low grade at that.

Cheng Guang knew little of such artifacts. The world contained countless treasures, each neither forged by human hands nor born of nature—no one knew their true origin.

They seemed to appear out of thin air.

Each treasure possessed unique powers and was graded according to its abilities.

Heaven rank was apparently quite high.

Cheng Guang decided to consult the library for information about such treasures tomorrow.

The task of burning offerings for Cheng Zhihai, however, was somewhat troublesome. It sounded simple enough, but Cheng Zhihai was not dead—there was no grave to visit.

Was he supposed to build one himself?

If so, the scene would truly be a spectacle of filial piety.

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