Anye stepped forward and knelt in formal greeting. “Dove Group’s Anye pays respects to my lord. The Third Miss has been returned to the Chancellor’s residence. This subject has already coordinated with Liu Ying, who has gone to watch over her at the residence. Hidden watch posts have been set around the Chancellor’s residence — the young lady is quite safe.”
Liu Jue suddenly kicked out, lightning-fast, straight at Anye. Anye startled and slid smoothly back three feet, yet remained in his kneeling posture. Liu Jue laughed loudly. “I hear you’re the finest fighter in the Black-Clad Cavalry — how do you compare to me?”
Good — he hadn’t asked about the Third Miss first thing. Only a lord like this deserved to lead the Black-Clad Cavalry. Anye answered respectfully, “My lord and I are evenly matched, but should my lord master the seventh level of the Flying Snow technique, Anye would no longer stand a chance.”
Liu Jue was startled — even his own father knew nothing of this Flying Snow technique. His teacher had died on the snow mountain long ago — how could Anye possibly know of it?
Warmth showed in Anye’s eyes. “Allow this subject to rise and explain.” He stood and formed a series of hand seals before him — precisely the opening form of the Flying Snow technique, a move Liu Jue had never even used. Anye paused, then said softly, “My teacher was found by the old Prince himself. At the same time, he also took me as his disciple.”
Something caught in Liu Jue’s chest. His father had gone off to the border city, leaving him, only a few years old, in the care of the household — he had thought back then that the old man simply didn’t care for him. Later, his teacher had suddenly appeared, calling him a martial arts prodigy, come specially to pass on secret techniques. As he grew older, Prince Anqing returned once a year, always teasing and playing with him each time. That was when the bond between father and son had gradually deepened.
Liu Jue slowly turned to look at his father, his heart stirred deeply. He had arranged everything — including A’Luo. He hadn’t told him, afraid he’d act rashly. He bowed to Anye. “This is the first bow I’ve given a Black-Clad Cavalry death-warrior. It won’t happen again. Tell me — going forward, will you be my subordinate, my fellow disciple, or him?”
“Anye is simply Anye. The Black-Clad Cavalry will always be the Black-Clad Cavalry. My lord must not forget — once one joins the Black-Clad Cavalry, one cannot leave it, in life or in death,” Anye answered solemnly.
“If you wanted—”
Anye cut him off. “Doesn’t my lord want to ask about the situation in the palace?”
“How does the palace situation stand?” Liu Jue asked in a low voice. Anye clearly understood his meaning, yet was unwilling to leave the Black-Clad Cavalry, unwilling to give up his identity as Anye for a life lived openly in the light. Those eyes carried loyalty to the princely household, and warmth surged in Liu Jue’s chest. A surge of pride rose from within — this was his subordinate, and also — his brother!
“Wang Yanhui and Liu Fei had a pact. Clearly Liu Fei was never going to honor it — she took her own life to earn Liu Fei’s mercy in sparing the Wang clan from extermination. Truly an extraordinary woman. She used the Third Miss as leverage against Liu Fei,” Anye glanced quickly at Liu Jue, “In this subject’s view, Liu Fei is deeply calculating, but his feelings for the Third Miss run deep as well. Also — the day my lord left the canyon, the Dove Group reported that Wang Yanhui’s forty thousand elite troops had all fallen entirely into Liu Fei’s hands not long after.”
Liu Jue and Prince Anqing both fell into thoughtful silence. Then Liu Jue suddenly laughed. “Your son is going to go see A’Luo now. Father, once Zili is enthroned, our household should hold a celebration too. Want to hold a grandson soon?”
Prince Anqing chuckled. “Indeed — marry A’Luo into the family, hold a grandson, ha ha!” His eyes lit up at the thought of that girl, his mood brightening along with it.
Anye bowed lightly. “This subject takes his leave!” His form flickered and vanished.
After Anye left, Liu Jue pursed his lips. “And here I thought you’d given me all the good ones — you were hiding a treasure like this.”
Prince Anqing’s eyes widened. “Treasure? If it were you, and a pearl dropped in front of you, you’d be too lazy to bend down and pick it up. When I found him, he was fighting over scraps from the slop bucket. Such a small child, squeezed in among a crowd of beggars — right as I happened by, a piece of meat or something went flying up, and heh, he jumped the highest of them all! I looked over, and there were his eyes — bright, so bright, both stubborn and proud — much like when you and I fought over A’Luo!”
Liu Jue snorted with stifled laughter. “A’Luo is slop from a bucket? I’ll remember that — she’ll hold it against you.”
Prince Anqing raised his hand and rapped him on the head. “Let me finish! He looked up, saw me staring, froze for a moment, chewing on that scrap of meat, thoroughly satisfied. I couldn’t help it — I had my attendant bring him over. I asked him, how old are you? He held up his hand — five. I had my attendant buy him a few meat pastries. I asked offhandedly, where’s your family? Tears welled up in his eyes but didn’t fall. After a long moment, he suddenly knelt and begged to sell himself to me — for just one tael of silver. I asked what he wanted it for. He said he wanted to buy something good for his father to eat. My curiosity was piqued, so I followed him to see.”
Prince Anqing suddenly stopped, gazing out the window in silence for a long while. Liu Jue wanted to ask, opened his mouth, then closed it again. It must have been a scene that shook the old man deeply. Whatever it was no longer mattered — what mattered was what Prince Anqing said next: “Once the situation settles, Anye will simply fade away naturally, as though he never existed.” His tone shifted, turning dismissive. “Look at you, then look at him — I think he treats his old man better than you do. Better temperament too, more filial. Nothing like you.”
“Hmph, and here I thought — what kind of father are you, deliberately trying to make your son anxious? Let me tell you — I’m not anxious anymore. I’m going to marry A’Luo, and let her deal with you instead!” Liu Jue said, laughing loudly as he leapt out of the pavilion, his heart already racing with eagerness to see A’Luo.
Zili wandered the Jade Dragon Palace for a long while. Everything here was so familiar to him, and yet felt strange. In his heart he repeated over and over: Father, Zili has done it. Father, will your heart finally rest easy? Father, have you seen Mother yet? She has been waiting for so, so long. At this thought, Zili drew out his jade flute and played a mournful tune. The sound of the flute drifted like his heart, circling in the air, touching neither heaven above nor earth below, unable to find any place to land — no sense of belonging anywhere.
He had finally become master of this palace, this Jade Dragon Palace — and yet his heart suddenly felt hollow, as if he alone remained between heaven and earth. The flute’s tune caught; he stopped, gently touching his face — was that wet, slick feeling tears? Grief seized the flute’s melody, seized his heart; longing and warm family feeling all mingled with those tears, falling drop by drop from his eyes, scattering onto his robes. He stood there silently, waiting for the last tear to fall clean — but it hovered instead on his lashes, slowly drying, powerless to slide down.
Zili reached out a finger, touched it, wiped it away — no hazy blur of tears remained; his vision was clear enough to make out a single strand of spider silk hanging from the beam above. He leapt lightly, his finger brushing the silk strand loose; he caught it, examined it in the light — fine yet resilient, feather-light. Threads of longing were just the same — at first only a single strand clinging to the heart; notice it, flick a finger, blow a light breath, and it can be dispelled to nothing. But let it linger too long, and the threads of longing tangle and knot, dense and countless, until the heart wants to struggle free — yet after a few motions, it has no strength left, and can only let itself go breathless, bound tightly together with those threads of longing, until at last one can no longer tell which is the heart and which is something outside it.
Zili flicked away the strand of spider silk from his finger; beneath his calm expression, turbulent thoughts churned like waves. Unconsciously, a bitter smile crossed his face. He closed his eyes, calling silently to his mother’s name, his father’s name, again and again. He breathed deeply, again and again, the resolve on his face growing ever firmer. Believe in me, watch me smile, watch how your son governs the kingdom of Ning to even greater strength and prosperity! Zili said silently in his heart.
Without pausing his steps, he walked slowly into the great hall, seating himself upon the throne. Within the hall, the breeze was cool and still; the setting sun paused at the threshold of the hall’s entrance. Zili turned his gaze toward the world beyond, where the royal palace shone resplendent beneath the sunlight. Was this his life, then? To hold, from deep within the layered shadows of the palace, mastery over that dazzling, radiant world outside. Everyone else lived beneath the sun; even those who had lost everything could take a few steps and stand freely beneath its light, bathing body and soul. Only he must sit sinking upon this immovable seat, wrapping a heart of flesh and blood in iron armor, casting it into fire to melt it down, then quenching it in ice water — tempering it until it became an unbreakable shield. A shield that no spear of scheming and treachery could ever shatter!
His gaze grew ever deeper, reaching powerfully through the palace walls; he closed his eyes, and the map of Ning’s four seas and territories spread before him, a desire to dominate the realm rising within him unbidden. Darkness held far greater power than light, because it could not be seen through or grasped. Darkness also carried the deepest sense of security, because there was no way to strike at it. This — this was what it meant to be a sovereign!
He thought of Wang Yanhui, the corner of his mouth curling into a mocking, sardonic smile. An alliance? Easily seizing military power, having an inside ally — why not? Wang Yanhui, like her father, had never once set foot on a real battlefield. What good was mastery of battle formations? The battlefield shifted in an instant — how could anyone win a war on cleverness alone? That could be summed up in four words: empty theorizing on paper!
She wasn’t even the equal of Liu Jue or Gu Tianxiang. Just because she’d read a few more military treatises than most, she’d let her imagination run wild, thinking she could change her station in life, even dreaming of standing as his equal, marching alongside him to conquer the realm — she must have lost her mind! How could he possibly, as she hoped, make her his Imperial Noble Consort under the pretext of an inside informant? Sending the Crown Prince’s principal consort to spy at his imperial brother’s side — such a vile, contemptible act could never befit a wise and enlightened sovereign of his generation. She had either imagined herself an unparalleled genius, or she simply understood far too little of human affairs.
Even with the ambition to dominate the realm and unify the five kingdoms, he would not act rashly. To go to war without proper cause would only provoke the fury of every other nation — and to crush the righteous fervor of allied forces resisting an unjust army, even in victory, would gravely exhaust the nation’s vitality. Without the right timing, he would never allow her to have her way, relying merely on national wealth and strength to go conquering the four kingdoms.
The only pity was that a woman of such lofty ambition truly was a rare thing. From the moment he’d walked into the Eastern Palace’s main hall, he could already sense she had thought everything through clearly — which was why, cleverly, she had used forty thousand Northern Army troops plus her own life to preserve the Wang clan. Zili smiled. Of course he would not exterminate nine generations of the Wang clan, nor would he harm any official who had followed the Crown Prince. Including the Crown Prince himself, his consort, and the young princess — he would look after them all well, letting them feel gratitude, letting the Crown Prince come to admire him. Was there any better way to win the hearts of the realm than this? The only thing was — the first decree he issued after ascending the throne would be that women of the Wang clan could never again enter the palace as consorts, and men of the Wang clan could never again be appointed to office.