Chapter 70: Heh, As Expected of My Child!

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Cheng Guang’s features were noble and elegant, yet at this moment, his gaze was as cold as ice. Though a bright smile graced his lips, those nearby—Lin Cheng, Qingluan, and the others—could not help but feel a bone-chilling coldness emanate from him. Anyone could see that Cheng Guang’s mood was far from pleasant. The maids and servants kept their distance, as if even the air was thick with an ominous foreboding. None dared to even breathe too loudly, for fear of angering this honored young lord. None could withstand the wrath of the heir. In this instant, many in the Garden of Ten Thousand Marvels were filled with dread. Their gazes toward Cheng Liunian brimmed with murderous anger, wishing nothing more than to kill him on the spot.

Who was this madman who dared provoke the heir so brazenly? Did he truly not care for his life? They could not comprehend how Cheng Liunian dared speak to Cheng Guang in such a way. Yet Cheng Liunian himself was not as fearful as the others imagined. Staring straight at Cheng Guang, he seemed to deliberately provoke him, even spitting in his direction. Before the spit could leave his mouth, Lin Cheng’s brow twitched; he strode forward and stomped Cheng Liunian to the ground. His foot pressed hard against Cheng Liunian’s rough, unremarkable face, grinding it into the earth and smearing it with dust. Cheng Liunian gasped for breath, his face flushing red and veins bulging. He had to swallow back the phlegm he had meant to spit.

“If you’re so eager to die, don’t soil the heir’s hands. Tell me, and I’ll gladly oblige you,” Lin Cheng growled, his usually simple face now twisted with menace, cracking his knuckles as his foot continued to grind Cheng Liunian’s face into the dirt.

Cheng Liunian’s complexion turned ashen, his face shrouded in a darkness. Clenching his fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white, his eyes blazed with a searing rage. Yet he did not look at Lin Cheng, who held his face to the ground, but instead fixed his eyes on Cheng Guang. Teeth gritted, chest heaving, body taut, every muscle strung tight as a bowstring, ready to snap. His fingers clawed desperately at the earth, his body trembling as he tried to rise. But Lin Cheng’s foot on his face was as an immovable mountain, pinning him utterly, leaving him only able to twitch feebly like a beached carp.

After a moment, Cheng Liunian’s fists unclenched, and he began to laugh. He laughed loudly, wildly. “Ha! If you have the guts, kill me now! Come, kill me!” His laughter was raucous, tears sparkling at the corners of his eyes—whether from laughter or from the depths of humiliation and despair, even he could not tell. His eyes never left Cheng Guang, as if secretly hoping Cheng Guang would end his life.

At that moment, the very air seemed to freeze, all sounds fading away until only Cheng Liunian’s heavy breathing remained. Many were stunned by his words. This menial servant, was he seeking death? Having offended the heir, his death would hardly be a clean one. Yet Cheng Liunian hoped for nothing more than for Cheng Guang to kill him. He had exhausted his means of preserving his life, lost any way to contact the Duke Protector or Cheng Zhihai. Cheng Guang could kill him at will now. If Cheng Guang were to strike him down, his aim would be achieved. Though the royal blood of Great Zhou had been drained from him, he had once possessed it. Should he die, an omen would shake Tianlong. Then, not just the Duke Protector’s estate, but all the capital would sense the disturbance. Cheng Guang’s true identity would be exposed, and his own doom would follow.

Yet, Cheng Liunian was swiftly disappointed. No matter how thick Cheng Guang’s killing intent, he did not act. Instead, with a faint, restrained smile, he replied, “If you wish for death, it can be easily arranged. But I’ll not let you die so easily now.” As he spoke, his smile faded, his gaze settling indifferently on Cheng Liunian, deep and unreadable.

“Lin Cheng,” he called softly.

“Yes, my lord?” Lin Cheng replied at once.

“Take him to a room and lock him away. Watch him well—don’t let him take his own life,” Cheng Guang instructed calmly.

As he saw the wild, grim look on Cheng Liunian’s face twist into terror and panic at his words, Cheng Guang chuckled, shaking his head before rising and leaving.

Cheng Liunian was dumbfounded. Why had Cheng Guang not killed him? How had Cheng Guang guessed he might attempt suicide? He had resolved to throw caution to the wind; after all, Cheng Guang was just a groom. Using his own death to draw attention and exchange his life for Cheng Guang’s hardly seemed worthwhile. Yet now, he did intend to die. The physical beatings were nothing compared to the humiliation, which was unbearable. Once, he could strike or kill servants as he pleased—now those same servants trampled him underfoot. The sight before him made his eyes burn with rage; even in death, he wanted to drag that groom who had humiliated him into oblivion.

The only thing that still tied him to this world was Bai Shuxuan. Yet now, her demeanor toward him was cold and detached, as if facing a stranger. But when she looked at Cheng Guang, her usually frosty eyes seemed to glow, sunlight flooding the ice and melting it into a pool of spring water. This sight hurt him more than death itself. He truly wished to die, believing that by provoking Cheng Guang, he would be killed to eliminate future trouble. But Cheng Guang’s patience astonished him. Not only did he not kill him, Cheng Guang ordered he be imprisoned and watched to prevent suicide.

Now he had no way to prove his identity. No matter how noble his birth, he had changed so much that no one would recognize him as the Duke Protector’s heir. The fact that the groom dared bring him openly back to the estate only proved the point. Cheng Liunian’s face turned ashen, then purple, then black, his expression shifting rapidly. As he opened his mouth to speak, Lin Cheng answered Cheng Guang with a grin, “Of course, my lord!” With that, he stomped on Cheng Liunian’s face once more.

A thunderous pain exploded in Cheng Liunian’s head, and with a ringing in his ears, his overstrained mind snapped. His eyes rolled back and he lost consciousness. Lin Cheng hooked his foot under Cheng Liunian’s waist, flipping him up and grabbing him by the collar like a chick, carrying him toward the attic.

After Lin Cheng left with Cheng Liunian, the servants dared not even glance at their young lord’s face, silently cursing: Who was this lunatic that dared speak to the heir this way? The heir was truly merciful not to have Lin Cheng kill that insolent servant. Any other noble would have killed him a hundred times over.

Only when Cheng Guang had walked away did some servants dare lift their heads, exchanging wary glances before returning to their tasks in silence.

...

Cheng Guang returned to the pavilion, sipped a cup of tea to calm himself, then practiced martial arts in the courtyard. After a brief cultivation session, he bathed with Qingluan’s assistance and changed into fresh robes.

“My lord, how do you intend to handle him?” Qingluan asked softly as she smoothed the folds of his robe and straightened the silk sash.

Cheng Guang’s gaze was calm. “I cannot kill him now. But I will make him wish for death. Alive, he is too great a threat; dead, he is of no value. Keeping him in a living death serves our interests best.”

He spoke simply, not explaining further, and Qingluan, clever as she was, did not press him. She only needed to know his general intentions. A living death—how could that be achieved? As long as the heir retained his will, he would never submit and might cause trouble. In that case, it might be better to kill him outright; even if he had some means of survival, arranging an ‘accident’ was not impossible—just more troublesome. As long as the plan was flawless, even if the Duke Protector noticed something amiss, it would not be traced back to them. Perhaps that would be for the best.

Qingluan lowered her beautiful eyes, deep in thought, a gentle light flickering in their depths. She was no fool; to become the heir’s personal maid in the Duke Protector’s estate was no easy feat. Though she had played little direct role in solving this crisis, she had nonetheless been thinking and planning for Cheng Guang. But lacking enough information, she could not see the whole board and so could not devise the perfect solution. It was not her fault—she was limited by what she knew.

Just as in this situation, she could not guess how Cheng Guang would render the true heir half-alive. Cheng Guang did not concern himself with her thoughts. As she dressed him, he closed his eyes, his mind’s eye focusing on the divine image suspended in his consciousness. After his recent cultivation, he felt he could perceive the figure within the divine image more clearly and grasp more of its abilities.

Cheng Guang’s gaze dropped, a flicker of contemplation in his eyes. Once dressed, he strode from his chambers toward the attic where Cheng Liunian was held. He soon arrived, and before entering, heard Lin Cheng’s voice inside.

“You little brat, how dare you show such disrespect to the heir? The heir may let it go, but I, Lin Cheng, am not so generous. Ha, take this!” The sounds of a beating echoed, along with muffled cries of pain.

Cheng Guang pushed open the door and entered. The room, once a cluttered storeroom, was narrow and cold, the air thick with dampness. Chains now hung from the walls. Cheng Liunian’s wrists and ankles were shackled, the coarse iron biting into his flesh, leaving him suspended in midair. Lin Cheng was still methodically beating him.

Cheng Guang glanced once and signaled for Lin Cheng to stop.

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Lin Cheng knew his limits—his blows were meant only to cause pain, not death. The heir had not ordered the man killed, and no matter how much Lin Cheng despised this servant, he would not overstep. There were lines and boundaries, after all, and the usually simple Lin Cheng showed surprising delicacy in such moments.

Hearing Cheng Guang’s voice, Lin Cheng turned, his face breaking into a respectful grin as he greeted, “My lord, you’re here.”

Cheng Guang nodded and turned his gaze on Cheng Liunian, who now hung limp, little more than a battered heap of flesh, breathing faintly but otherwise indistinguishable from a corpse. The once-powerful body was now covered in bruises of every hue—a grotesque palette of pain. His once handsome face was swollen and deformed, blood and dirt crusted at the corners of his mouth like a tragic painting.

Cheng Liunian stirred at the sound of the iron door, his blood-encrusted eyes opening sluggishly to stare dazedly at Cheng Guang. Far worse than the physical pain was the blow to his spirit. His world seemed shrouded in darkness, his heart torn and lifeless. Just one look at Cheng Guang and rage threatened to consume him. He tried to struggle, but could only twitch feebly, the chains tearing his wrists and drawing blood. He opened cracked lips, his voice hoarse, preparing to spit curses.

But Lin Cheng stepped forward, stuffing a foul-smelling rag into his mouth. “Don’t soil the heir’s ears,” he said.

Cheng Liunian’s curses were reduced to meaningless groans. No matter how furiously he cursed, Cheng Guang’s calm expression never changed—perhaps he did not understand, or perhaps he simply didn’t care. Or maybe… Cheng Guang saw him as no more than an ant. Who would be troubled by an ant’s curses? Soon, Cheng Liunian quieted, his eyes burning with hatred as he stared at Cheng Guang. He seemed to say nothing, and yet everything.

Cheng Guang looked at him in silence, then turned slightly. “Lin Cheng, leave us.”

Lin Cheng blinked, then nodded and left quickly.

In the windowless, sealed room, only Cheng Guang and Cheng Liunian remained. They stared at each other in silence, the only sound the faint hiss of the dim oil lamp.

After a while, Cheng Liunian sneered at Cheng Guang, showing no fear. He knew Cheng Guang would not kill him, only imprison him here to endure endless pain and helplessness. But as long as he retained his mind, he would have his chance for revenge—this hope alone kept him from breaking.

Under Cheng Liunian’s gaze, Cheng Guang approached and stood before him, not too close, not too far. He reached out a hand and lightly tapped Cheng Liunian’s forehead. A surge of internal energy coursed forcefully through his meridians, bringing a fresh wave of agony that made Cheng Liunian’s eyes roll back. Blood seeped from ruptured veins as Cheng Guang probed his body.

Ruined and depleted—a true cripple. And unlike Bai Shuxuan, there were no protective marks within his body. If Cheng Guang now altered his very soul, Cheng Liunian would be left with nothing, not even the ability to prove his identity to the Duke Protector or Cheng Zhihai. It was almost laughable—unable to prove oneself to be oneself.

Cheng Guang recalled that in his previous life, such magical absurdities were not uncommon. Reining in his thoughts, he focused on Cheng Liunian, who was barely conscious.

Cheng Liunian struggled to look up, his eyelids glued with blood, glaring at Cheng Guang, his eyes bulging with hate. Cheng Guang ignored his expression, raising a finger to lightly touch his forehead, his eyes flickering with a strange pink light. The Eyes of Enchantment activated.

Cheng Liunian stared into Cheng Guang’s eyes and suddenly froze, his hatred turning to terror. “What… what is this!?” he thought, feeling a mysterious force flooding from Cheng Guang’s eyes into his mind, seizing his reason.

At the same time, Cheng Guang’s powerful spirit, guided by his cultivation at the Yang Spirit level, pressed relentlessly upon Cheng Liunian’s soul. Without risking Cheng Liunian’s life, his spiritual force washed over Cheng Liunian’s soul again and again, reshaping it as if breaking it apart and assembling it anew.

Cheng Liunian’s world went black, his consciousness fading. There was nothing but darkness and cold, his soul dragged into an abyss of pain and helplessness. He tried to shut his eyes and escape, but the spiritual force became claws, rending both body and soul. In this hopeless moment, he felt a loneliness like never before, and thought instinctively of Bai Shuxuan, yearning for even a word of comfort. But only the cold wind of despair filled the void, leaving him nowhere to run. He trembled, the chill rising from his heart, feeling himself slip away, powerless to resist as pain and despair overwhelmed him.

Soon, his consciousness vanished entirely.

Cheng Guang withdrew his hand, lips pressed together, sweat beading on his brow. He felt utterly drained, his face ashen, arms falling limp at his sides. Altering Cheng Liunian’s mind had taken a great toll. First, Cheng Liunian’s soul was so frail from lack of cultivation that even a slight misstep could kill him. Cheng Guang had to be as gentle as when dealing with Bai Shuxuan’s enchanted body, shaping Cheng Liunian’s soul precisely until it suited his needs.

Second, Cheng Guang’s goal was not only to control Cheng Liunian’s mind but to erase his memories, leaving him a complete blank. Erasing memory was far beyond the ordinary Yang Spirit realm, normally requiring the Out-of-Body realm. Cheng Guang had planned to wait until he broke through before attempting it, but the divine diagram he now possessed had greatly strengthened his soul, so he decided to try. To his surprise, it succeeded—though his spirit was left thoroughly depleted and would take days to recover.

He massaged his brow, weary but relieved. At last, the trouble brought by the true heir was resolved. From now on, the true heir would cause no more problems, and Cheng Guang could focus on his own cultivation—his ultimate goal to reach the pinnacle of the world, to stand above all.

For most, such ambition would be delusional, but Cheng Guang was confident. As he rubbed his brow, he suddenly wondered, “Why hasn’t the system issued a new task?” By past experience, system tasks were always announced precisely at midnight after completion, but this time, nothing. Had he missed it during cultivation? No—it should have been obvious. Perhaps the task schedule had changed, perhaps the novice period was over.

If so, it was both good and bad. The good: future rewards might be richer and more precious. The bad: tasks might become much harder. But whether hard or easy, it mattered little to Cheng Guang. Even if he failed a task, the penalty was minor, and he had already reaped much from the system—if he could not complete a task, so be it.

Time slipped away as he pondered. Eventually, the long-unconscious Cheng Liunian slowly opened his eyes, confused, unable to understand why he was here. He looked around, seeking something familiar, but could not find himself. Suddenly, he turned to Cheng Guang, as if searching for answers.

Cheng Guang had no intention of enlightening him. After a careful spiritual probe to confirm there was no deception, he turned and left, opening the iron door.

Outside, Lin Cheng greeted him respectfully, eyeing the side room curiously but asking nothing. After a moment’s hesitation, he asked, “My lord, what should we do with this man?” In Lin Cheng’s view, it would be best to kill him, but the heir had shown no such urge. Lin Cheng could only guess that the heir intended to prolong the man’s suffering.

Cheng Guang straightened his robe and replied, “Send him to a farm outside the capital as a stable hand. Don’t let him have it easy, and make sure he doesn’t escape. Lin Cheng, see to it.”

With that, Cheng Guang departed.

Lin Cheng blinked, then nodded hastily. After Cheng Guang left, he went into the room and dragged Cheng Liunian out. The once arrogant and wild man was now timid and cowering, not daring to look around, even trying to ingratiate himself with Lin Cheng.

“Big brother, big brother—easy, easy,” Cheng Liunian pleaded.

Lin Cheng glanced at him in annoyance. “You’re lucky the heir is merciful and didn’t have me kill you. For the way you offended him, a hundred deaths would not suffice.”

Cheng Liunian only stared, not really understanding. Lin Cheng, suspecting he had lost his memory, explained patiently. Cheng Liunian listened, fear growing inside him.

“So the heir is so noble… and I—a mere servant—cursed at him…” he muttered, then added gratefully, “Thank goodness the heir is kind, or I’d be dead by now. Big brother, should I apologize to him?”

Lin Cheng snorted, “Apologize? You’re not even fit for that. You’re alive only to atone for your sins.” Seeing how slowly Cheng Liunian moved, he simply grabbed him by the collar and strode off toward the estate gates.

The heir had said to find a farm outside the capital and set him as a stable hand under guard. Lin Cheng thought of White Deer Manor—familiar territory. He would send the wretch there and instruct the manor lord to “take good care” of him. With this in mind, he dragged the stiff, cowering Cheng Liunian off.

...

Lin Cheng left the Duke Protector’s estate with Cheng Liunian, as quietly as he had come. No one knew that the true heir, disguised as a servant, had made a silent circuit of the estate.

Meanwhile, Cheng Guang returned to the pavilion, where Qingluan served him tea to ease his fatigue. She did not inquire about the true heir’s fate—she trusted Cheng Guang to leave no loose ends. Now that the true heir could no longer cause trouble, Qingluan herself relaxed. Seeing his cup empty, she poured him more tea, then hesitated before asking softly, “My lord, do you need Qingluan in your chambers tonight?”

Ever since the return of the true heir, a sense of crisis had hung over them both. Cheng Guang had not been in the mood for intimacy, nor had she. But now, with the crisis past, Qingluan found herself wanting to draw closer to him. Especially when she saw Bai Shuxuan, kneeling at Cheng Guang’s feet, her lips tightening in silent annoyance. A new sense of rivalry sparked within her.

Rarely had Qingluan been so forward—she had never before asked Cheng Guang directly for such intimacy. Blushing, she lowered her head and fidgeted with her sleeve, her demure shyness inspiring affection.

Cheng Guang could not help but laugh at her beauty, her delicate brows curved like crescents, almond eyes shining with charm. His heart skipped a beat. He was about to take her hand and lead her to his chambers in answer when he felt his robe being gently tugged.

Looking down, he saw Bai Shuxuan kneeling at his feet. She wore a light purple gauze dress embroidered with peonies, her figure graceful as a willow in the water. The dress swayed around her like drifting clouds. Raising her lovely face, she pouted, “My lord, I want to go too. You can’t let Qingluan have you all to herself.”

Her cherry lips formed a playful pout, her fair hands clenched into tiny fists like budding peach blossoms. In the moonlight, her beauty and coquettishness were irresistible.

Cheng Guang laughed. “Very well, all together then!”

He was about to lead Qingluan and Bai Shuxuan to his bedroom when a page called from outside, “My lord!”

Hearing the voice, Cheng Guang turned, saw the page at the gate, and walked over.

The page, a young man in a simple blue tunic and loose trousers, bowed respectfully. “My lord, a guest has arrived. The master asks you to come.”

“A guest?” Cheng Guang raised an eyebrow. “Who?”

The page shook his head, “I don’t know, my lord.”

Not pressing further, Cheng Guang nodded to Qingluan—business first, pleasure later. He straightened his robe and composed himself. Having just dealt with the new heir, he felt a strange guilt at facing Cheng Zhihai. Life in the world was never simple.

He made his way to the main hall. Before he even entered, he heard hearty laughter within—Cheng Zhihai’s voice. “Hahaha! It is our great honor to have you visit, senior. With you teaching Guang’er martial arts, his path will be smooth indeed.”

Another voice replied, “You flatter me, Zhihai. I am no better than your father—Old Cheng is the true expert. What I know, he knows; what he knows, I cannot teach. We’re the same.”

Cheng Zhihai laughed again, “My father is too busy to guide Guang’er himself. With the border wars flaring up, the Northern Expedition Army is restless. Having you here is a great blessing.”

Hearing this, Cheng Guang was puzzled. Who was this guest, honored so by Cheng Zhihai, his presence considered such a privilege? Even if it was mere politeness, it showed the guest’s status was extraordinary. Composing himself, Cheng Guang stepped into the hall.

As soon as he entered, Cheng Zhihai looked up, smiling and beckoning, “Guang’er, come greet your Grandpa Deng!”

Grandpa Deng? Who was that? Cheng Guang wondered, but kept his expression polite, bowing to the old man and studying him closely.

The old man’s clothes were shabby and dirt-stained, his skin deeply wrinkled with the passage of years. His eyes were deep and empty, like an ancient well, holding both endless desolation and unfathomable wisdom. His pallor was ghostly, like a clay statue weathered by countless storms. Heavy eyelids drooped, nearly covering his eyes, and his presence was strangely oppressive. Yet at Cheng Guang’s salute, his somber face softened, his eyes brightening slightly.

Old Deng had not expected the Duke Protector’s heir to be so respectful, and his opinion of Cheng Guang rose. Come to think of it, the heir did look somewhat like Liunian—but compared to the true heir, Liunian was vastly inferior.

Old Deng mused but did not make a show of it. He stood and smiled at Cheng Guang, “No need for such respect, young lord. I’m just a useless old man, nothing special, only a few tricks.”

His smile turned his wrinkles into a blooming chrysanthemum, his gray hair wild as withered weeds, contrasting with the warmth of his expression.

“You may call me Old Deng,” he added.

Cheng Zhihai frowned, about to protest, but Cheng Guang smiled, “You are my elder, sir. It is I who am taking liberties by calling you Grandpa Deng.”

At these words, Old Deng felt a sudden warmth toward Cheng Guang, impressed by his courtesy. To find such humility in a young noble of Great Zhou—how rare. If more of the elite were like him, the rift between the powerful and the common people would not be so great.

He pondered this as Cheng Zhihai, too, was surprised and gratified by his son’s tact. In just a few words, he had charmed the eccentric Old Demon Deng into beaming with delight.

...

[An extra chapter today—another ten thousand words tonight.]
(End of chapter)
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