Chapter 74: I Will Remember This Grudge! (Special thanks to Shen Yuan Wu Jin for the generous reward and an extra chapter!)

Before the person arrived, his voice did.

Qiao Songshan came rushing in, sparing Cheng Guang the need to step out in welcome. The aura about him was even more imposing than when they’d first met; in the days since, his cultivation had clearly advanced.

The moment Qiao entered, he wailed dramatically and made as if to throw himself at Cheng Guang’s legs—only to halt abruptly when he caught sight of Bai Shuxuan, who sat at Cheng Guang’s side, as docile as a cat beneath his hand.

His eyes widened. He screeched to a stop so suddenly that he tripped and tumbled to the floor. He stared blankly at Cheng Guang, then at Bai Shuxuan in his arms, both astonished and incredulous.

“Boss, did you buy Bai Shuxuan?”

Qiao Songshan was ignorant of Bai Shuxuan’s true identity; he assumed she was merely the famed courtesan of Wanhua Pavilion.

Cheng Guang had no intention of explaining. He simply nodded, then looked at Qiao Songshan with a peculiar expression. “What brings you here today?”

Qiao grinned sheepishly. “Boss, after I accompanied you to the brothel last time, my father dragged me off to train. The martial contest between Great Zhou and Great Wei is coming up, and my father wants me to participate, so I can bring honor to Zhou. If I perform well, even without the formal martial examination, I might be granted an official post.”

Cheng Guang cast him a sidelong glance. “Do you actually care about that?”

Children of nobility are born with official ranks. Even without the examinations, inheriting the family estate would guarantee a life of wealth and privilege. The Marquis of Divine Valor’s title alone was enough to inspire envy in countless others.

Qiao Songshan shook his head, face drawn. “I don’t care, but my father does. Apparently, this year’s martial contest is more grand than ever, and many important figures will be watching—including one with whom my father is not on the best of terms. His son is participating too. So… I’ve been ordered to compete—at the very least, I can’t lose to him.”

Cheng Guang gave a soft “oh.” Petty squabbles between grandees didn’t interest him.

“Someone your father dislikes—does your mother know him too?” Cheng Guang asked teasingly.

Qiao scratched his head, perplexed. “Yeah, Boss, how did you know? It’s Marquis Wang of Pingjiang. I always called him Uncle Wang; he used to visit when I was little.”

Seriously? As Cheng Guang’s mind spun up a soap opera, Qiao added, “Back then, my father and Uncle Wang both courted my mother. Later, my father privately challenged Uncle Wang to a duel—whoever lost would step aside. But when Uncle Wang secluded himself to cultivate, my father went ahead and proposed. My mother agreed quickly, and I was born soon after.”

That last bit was entirely unnecessary.

Qiao sighed. “When Uncle Wang emerged from seclusion, ready for the duel, he was first met with my parents’ wedding feast. Since then, he and my father have been at odds.”

Cheng Guang listened in astonishment and couldn’t help but remark, “Your father is truly shameless.”

First, he tricked the man into a duel, then stole his bride while he was painstakingly cultivating for the fight. The poor fool never saw it coming.

Qiao sighed again. “I think my father went too far, too. Maybe out of guilt, he’s always avoided Uncle Wang. But now, with the contest, there’s no avoiding it, so he’s channeling all his competitive energy into me. I just got back to the capital, and he’s already kept me locked up for ages. If my cultivation hadn’t broken through to the Divine Ability realm, I’d probably still be stuck at home.”

Cheng Guang knew Qiao’s skill; his martial art was the Tyrant Spear, of excellent quality. He took a sip of tea and looked at Qiao. “So you’re here today to ask for my help?”

“No way! My old man is still tough as nails. If I provoke him and he comes after me, I’m done for.”

Such filial piety.

So you’d do it if you could beat him, is that it?

At this, Qiao remembered his real purpose for coming. “By the way, Boss, the students from Great Wei’s Martial Academy arrived in the capital today. The Wei envoys are hosting a banquet to welcome them. It’s quite a lively scene. Want to come take a look?”

Cheng Guang considered. “All right. It wouldn’t hurt to see.”

With the contest only days away, there weren’t many students from Wei’s academy he could openly observe. This was a rare chance to see them all gathered together.

He intended to see whether those in the academy whose martial records were marked “unknown” were part of the same group, or if there was some other connection he hadn’t noticed. If he could uncover the black-robed men’s secrets before the contest, he’d be less likely to be betrayed from within.

Qiao beamed when Cheng Guang agreed and prepared to lead him out.

“They say the Empress of Great Wei will attend the contest as well. But she rarely shows her face in public and always appears behind a veil. Even if she comes, we probably won’t get to admire her beauty.”

He clicked his tongue in regret.

The Empress of Wei...

Cheng Guang had heard her name often in recent days, not just from Qiao but even from Old Deng.

“Songshan, who exactly is the Empress of Wei?” Cheng Guang asked as he rose.

Qiao was momentarily surprised. “You don’t know? Well, I suppose you never leave the house except to visit brothels; you don’t pay attention to outside affairs.”

Damn it, if I didn’t know your temperament, I’d think you were mocking me.

Cheng Guang’s mouth twitched. “Just tell me what you know.”

Qiao nodded. “The Empress of Wei is, well, the emperor’s wife.”

“You don’t have to spell it out. I’m not an idiot,” Cheng Guang sighed, despairing at Qiao’s intelligence. How could such a sharp-witted father produce such a dull son? Even Lin Cheng was smarter.

Qiao looked innocent. “But you told me to say what I know.”

Never mind. Diagnosis confirmed.

“Go on,” Cheng Guang said.

Qiao eyed him oddly, then began recounting all he knew about the Empress of Wei. Cheng Guang struggled to suppress the urge to silence him, but listened patiently.

In short, the Empress of Wei was the true power behind the throne. Three years ago, the aging emperor divorced his former empress, now known as Noble Consort Lin, and married Yu Lu, the current empress. Since then, the emperor had withdrawn from public affairs, leaving Yu Lu in full control. Many of Wei’s loyal ministers resented being ruled by a woman and protested with their lives, but Yu Lu suppressed all opposition with an iron fist, purging the entire court. Anyone who dared defy her was swiftly eliminated.

Yu Lu herself was apparently quite young—no more than twenty-something. At twenty, she was already empress, her cultivation unmatched, holding the court in the palm of her hand. By contrast, Cheng Guang at twenty was still playing the part of a stand-in.

Damn it. Worse yet, he still hadn’t eliminated the crown prince. If he died, the resulting natural phenomenon would be impossible to explain. Cheng Guang needed to find a way to conceal any anomalies if he killed the prince without arousing suspicion. Perhaps the Nine Dragons Thieving Heaven reward from the system mission would do the trick—a powerful restriction might not only block certain actions but also seal off an area, suppressing any sign of the prince’s death.

As Cheng Guang pondered, he left the mansion with Qiao Songshan.

The banquet for the Wei envoys was held at the Thousand Flavors House, a grand estate with white jade beast statues flanking the gates. The doors were tall and wide, inlaid with ancient bronze studs and decorated with beast motifs—an imposing sight.

Many carriages were parked at the entrance, most bearing the banners of Wei. One carriage in particular, an ornate jade coach, caught Cheng Guang’s eye.

It sat there in silence, crafted from the finest ebony, its frame carved with intricate dragon and phoenix patterns. Golden tassels on the roof swayed gently in the breeze, like the ceremonial procession of a monarch. The six horses that drew it were no ordinary steeds; they radiated an air of mystery and power. Their bodies were sleek and muscular, covered in jet-black manes like spirits from molten rock, wild and enigmatic. Sparks flew from their hooves as they struck the ground, evidence of their extraordinary bloodline.

In some ways, these horses were the equal of his own dragon-horned steed. And there were six of them at once. Who could command such a carriage?

Cheng Guang recalled Qiao’s earlier mention of the Empress of Wei attending the contest. Could she be inside?

He thought it highly likely. Apart from the Empress, no one else could command such grandeur.

Lowering his gaze, Cheng Guang turned away from the carriage.

“Aren’t we going in, Boss?” Qiao asked, seeing him staring.

Cheng Guang shook his head. “Let’s go in.”

“Your Highness,” said a smiling servant who greeted them at the door. “This way, please.”

The Thousand Flavors House was vast. The banquet for the martial academy students only occupied a single courtyard. Many other officials used the venue for important feasts—the food was superb, and its reputation unmatched in the capital. Cheng Guang even suspected it might secretly belong to the emperor, just like the lucrative Wanhua Pavilion.

He turned to the servant. “Where are the students from Wei’s Martial Academy?”

“In the southeast courtyard, sir,” the servant replied, leading the way.

“Boss,” Qiao whispered as they walked, “not just officials are here today. I heard the head of our own Zhou Martial Academy brought their top talents too. They say it’s for students to make friends before the contest, but really both sides want to size each other up.”

Cheng Guang listened absently.

The Thousand Flavors House was a labyrinth of courtyards, rockeries, and winding streams, rivaling even Wanhua Pavilion in beauty and luxury.

The banquet had already begun. Lanterns illuminated the garden, filling it with the fragrance of flowers and trees. Eight-immortal tables were set with a dazzling array of delicacies and fine wines, a feast for the senses. The air was thick with the mingled scents of food and flowers.

Around the courtyard, troupes of gorgeously dressed dancers prepared to perform. Their beauty was otherworldly; as the music began, they danced with ethereal grace.

Cheng Guang’s gaze did not linger on the dancers. Instead, he swept his eyes over the students from Wei’s Martial Academy—all clad in matching blue uniforms, fashioned not from silk but from the silk of the Yuling Spider, a rare beast of Wei, making them both durable and expensive. The intricate patterns on the uniforms formed the character “Wei.”

Nearby stood a group of Zhou Martial Academy students in white, their presence jarring. Both sides exchanged hollow pleasantries, asking after each other’s parents and expressing special concern for the well-being of female relatives. The air was thick with flowery, insincere words.

Though the contest appeared to promote friendship—like the sporting events of his previous life—once interests were at stake, friendship meant nothing. Winning was everything.

Cheng Guang’s eyes passed from one student to the next, matching faces to the dossiers in his mind.

“Wei... Li Shibu... skip...”

“Wei... Geng Xijian... skip...”

“Wei... Zhong Sun Fenglin... skip...”

When his gaze landed on one man, his eyes narrowed. The man’s face was pale as snow, utterly bloodless, as though he lived forever out of sunlight. He was tall and broad-shouldered, his body as hard and cold as ice. His eyes were deep and black, devoid of emotion; his lips perpetually downturned in a look of disgust or boredom. A deep scar ran from the corner of his right eye to his mouth—a hideous mark.

At a glance, Cheng Guang recalled his name: Qiu Xiaomo, fourth-year student at Wei’s Martial Academy, martial arts unknown, Fifth Grade—Open Spirit Realm.

Qiu Xiaomo kept his distance from the other students. Even as the others exchanged pleasantries, he rarely spoke or smiled, silently polishing his blade, radiating an air of menace.

Cheng Guang did not stare, lest he arouse suspicion. He shifted his attention to the other students whose martial arts records were “unknown.” Their cultivation, backgrounds, even birthplaces varied greatly. The only thing they shared was their silence. They took no part in the banter, and even when insulted or mocked, their expressions remained unchanged.

To the uninformed, they might seem merely introverted. With so many students, it was normal to have a few who didn’t fit in.

But Cheng Guang knew better. Their silence was not out of shyness, but contempt. There was an arrogance in their bearing, a cold indifference in their eyes that spoke of disdain for those around them.

Consider this: these students were the best of their generation from the two greatest kingdoms. Even so, these few looked down on them all.

Such innate superiority was not born of rank or status, but from something deeper.

Who were they, really? Their backgrounds must be more complicated than he’d imagined.

Only about a third of those marked “unknown” were present. Cheng Guang did not dare act rashly; if he startled them, the rest would escape. Even if he arrested them all, lacking evidence, he’d only provoke outrage, unable to explain how he’d uncovered their identities.

He might even expose himself to the very organization he feared. They’d already tried to assassinate him once; if they realized he knew their plan, he’d become their primary target.

The best strategy, then, was to let them believe they operated in secret while he observed from the shadows. He couldn’t save everyone, but he would do what he could.

He finished his circuit of the courtyard, now nearly certain that those with “unknown” martial arts were the black-robed men. That would explain why they vanished so easily after the last contest, right under the noses of the Lamp Division—because they’d brazenly walked out, blending in with the crowd.

Cheng Guang smirked. This time, he’d give the masterminds a taste of their own medicine.

He rose to leave with Qiao Songshan. As they exited, they saw someone approaching: Wu Ming, his eyes red and swollen, as though he’d just wept bitterly. He froze at the sight of Cheng Guang but, unable to turn back, looked away as if fascinated by something off to the side.

Cheng Guang found the scene amusing and said nothing. Clearly, Wu Ming too had been “moved” by the Empress of Wei.

Qiao, lacking any sense, greeted him cheerfully. “Greetings, Your Highness... Huh? Have you been crying?”

Wu Ming said nothing, mortified.

Cheng Guang had warned him not to stare at the Empress, but he’d ignored it, thinking her youth and cultivation made her unremarkable. Yet, after just a second’s glance—without even taking in her full figure—he was nearly blinded, as if staring into the sun. He’d barely held back tears until he left, but now they flowed freely.

He’d thought hiding in a secluded corner would spare him further embarrassment, but running into Cheng Guang and Qiao only made things worse—especially with Qiao’s tactless remark.

Fine, he’d remember this. Wu Ming mentally added Qiao Songshan to his little black book of grudges, exchanged hurried farewells with Cheng Guang, and left quickly, his pace reminiscent of a man fleeing the scene of a crime.

Cheng Guang shook his head in amusement, dismissing idle thoughts, and parted ways with Qiao before returning alone to the Duke’s residence.

He now had a fairly clear picture of the black-robed men’s identities—mostly those marked “unknown” in the martial arts register. Whether there were others, he could not say. Perhaps even the instructors were involved; if so, that meant the conspiracy had infiltrated the very heart of Zhou’s power structure. The academy’s instructors were all veterans of the realm wars, men of great achievement and authority. If they too had been compromised, who knew how deep the rot went?

Where there is one cockroach in the light, there are countless more in the shadows.

The more he thought, the more disturbed he became.

In the days that followed, he did nothing else but scrutinize every student—whether or not their martial art was listed. Out of caution, he even had the Lamp Division investigate the instructors and some high officials. Most were unremarkable, but one or two had been acting suspiciously, disappearing at odd hours and returning home the next day.

To an outsider, such behavior might only suggest a night at the brothel. The Lamp Division missed nothing, but only Cheng Guang, with his insider knowledge, could spot the anomalies.

This was the privilege of foresight.

As Cheng Guang prepared meticulously, time flowed swiftly by, and the day of the contest arrived.

As darkness faded, the sky grew light—at first a hazy gray, then brighter as dawn broke, until the morning sun bathed the earth in gold.

Bai Shuxuan stretched lazily, opened the window, washed, dressed, and headed for Cheng Guang’s chamber. Her attire was plain but elegant: a pale blue gown embroidered with white cherry blossoms at the hem, a delicate jade-studded belt at her waist, her hair piled high and adorned with a silver hairpin that swayed as she walked.

She entered softly; sunlight filtered through the window, and the room was scented with incense—Qingluan had already lit candles and prepared the morning wash.

A flicker of jealousy crossed Bai Shuxuan’s heart, and she felt a surge of competition. She approached the bed quietly.

“Your Highness, time to rise,” she said gently, her voice soft as a morning breeze.

Cheng Guang turned over, feigning sleep. Bai Shuxuan smiled and called again, “Your Highness, it’s time. The contest is today.”

At last, Cheng Guang opened his eyes to her smiling face and tender words. He stretched and yawned. “So the day has come. Today, you two are to stay home and go nowhere.”

Qingluan, tying his belt, paused in surprise. “Your Highness, you don’t want us to go with you?”

He nodded. “Something unexpected could happen. I’ll go alone.”

Qingluan murmured, “Unexpected?” She wanted to ask more, but Cheng Guang showed no interest in further discussion, closing his eyes.

Qingluan pouted, lips flushed in irritation. Hmph. The young master was being cryptic again.

Bai Shuxuan smiled. “Don’t take Qingluan; take me instead?”

She leaned in, her fragrant hair tickling Cheng Guang’s nose. He eyed her thoughtfully. The task system said the restriction would block the use of vital energy—but not demonic power. If Bai Shuxuan were there, might she be unaffected?

His eyes lit up. With Bai Shuxuan, he’d have another layer of protection. He nodded. “Very well, you may come.”

“Yes!” Bai Shuxuan cheered, skipping about, her laughter bright as silver bells. She shot a triumphant glance at Qingluan, who turned away in silent protest.

After a brief preparation, as Cheng Guang was about to leave, Qingluan pressed a sachet into his hand.

“What’s this?”

Qingluan blushed prettily. “A protective charm from Ziyun Temple in the capital. I’ve worn it since childhood. They say it works. Since you mentioned danger, I thought you should take it.”

Cheng Guang was touched. He patted her head, tied the sachet to his belt, and left.

Once Cheng Guang and Bai Shuxuan had disappeared from view, Qingluan turned back to the garden, tending the flowers in silence.

With His Highness gone, the residence felt lonely indeed.

He didn’t take me, but he took Bai Shuxuan. Hmph. I’m really angry now.

She squatted down, poking holes in the earth with a stick—though her strength faded with the thought that it might, somehow, hurt Cheng Guang.

...

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(End of chapter)