Prince Dongping had never truly taken these young ladies to heart. The women of this world, no matter how beautiful as flowers, no matter what gentle and virtuous skin they wore on the outside, what they were truly like inside—only heaven knew. Just like his mother, who appeared to be such an exquisite beauty on the surface, yet inside was cold and merciless, capable of betraying even his father who had treated her so well.

Thinking of this, his gaze gradually darkened, and his expression turned somewhat unpleasant. Truth be told, he couldn’t help but harbor resentment in his heart. If his mother hadn’t gone so overboard, these matters wouldn’t have been dredged up, and he wouldn’t have to be tormented by these old affairs.

Even now, though Grand Princess Fanshi had thought through all the escape routes and even secured a powerful ally like Master Yuanhui for him, his heart was still filled with trepidation—how could he not feel uneasy? He didn’t even dare to see his father now.

Master Yuanhui saw through his thoughts, pressed his palms together and chanted a Buddhist invocation, his gaze fixed steadily on him: “Your Highness is no ordinary person. You must remember one principle. When trouble comes, only blaming heaven and resenting others is inadvisable. Only by looking forward and moving ahead can you escape from predicament. Right now, even Your Highness doesn’t yet understand the situation clearly, so you absolutely must not draw a cage around yourself first and become unable to walk out. Rather than wasting time here with me, Your Highness should return to the Eastern Palace to attend to His Highness the Crown Prince and fulfill your filial duties as a son.”

Some things couldn’t be avoided forever—sooner or later they had to be faced. Prince Dongping closed his eyes, nodded, and rose from the prayer cushion. Before leaving, he turned back to look at Yuanhui and asked with some suspicion: “Master, why did you choose me?”

Why choose him, when you clearly know that he might very well incur the Crown Prince’s displeasure, yet still stand firmly by his side?

Yuanhui smiled mysteriously, pressed his palms together and chanted a Buddhist phrase: “It cannot be spoken.”

Prince Dongping shook his head, but his mood improved greatly because of Master Yuanhui’s words. Zhou Weizhao had Zhang Tianshi, who claimed he was the person of heavenly mandate recognized by the Daoists. He too had Master Yuanhui—couldn’t he also say he was the person of heavenly mandate recognized by the Buddhists?

What mandate or no mandate—everything still depended on one’s own abilities. He laughed heartily three times, turned back to respectfully perform a Buddhist salute toward Master Yuanhui, then left and personally closed the door behind him.

Yuanjue emerged from behind the screen, staring thoughtfully at Prince Dongping’s retreating figure before turning to look at Master Yuanhui: “I understand Senior Brother’s grand ambitions, but why choose such a prince? In my observation, he is not someone with great talent and bold vision.”

“Precisely because he needs guidance, that’s why I chose him.” Yuanhui also rose from his prayer cushion and followed Yuanjue’s gaze to look at the swaying red plum blossoms outside the window, his eyes clear and limpid: “You’ve also met that other prince. Though young in years, his scheming runs unfathomably deep, and neither joy nor anger shows on his face. To reach this level at his age shows how profound Longhu Mountain’s training has been. Rather than try to reshape someone already formed, better to assist someone who can still be influenced.”

This way his talents would have a place to be used, this way his aspirations could possibly be realized through that prince. People with too much of their own ideas were too difficult to assist—it was like seeking a tiger’s hide.

Yuanjue knew that matters Yuanhui decided could never be changed, so he simply nodded along with his words, then said: “But this prince is equally greedy. Senior Brother doesn’t want to have the Song and Cui families blocking your path in the future, yet from what I see, this prince will not easily let go of the Song and Cui families.”

“That’s why I must act myself.” Yuanhui’s gaze turned dark, and thinking of his mother and sister, the fierce look in his eyes suddenly intensified: “He’ll have no choice, so naturally he’ll have no option but to rely on me wholeheartedly.”

After so many years of painstaking management, he was no longer just an ordinary monk presiding over Huangjue Temple. He already had many useful people under his command and systematic forces at his disposal, wielding them with ease.

The murderous aura on Yuanhui’s body grew heavier and heavier. This was not a good thing for cultivating Buddhist teachings. Perhaps it was because that experience fighting pirates in Fujian back then was too painful, and its influence on him too great.

Yuanjue could no longer clearly remember how Yuanhui had transformed from a monk of great compassion who couldn’t bear to step on even an ant, who wished to emulate Buddha by cutting his own flesh to feed eagles, into this current appearance of overweening ambition.

He sighed silently and stood respectfully to one side, chanting a Buddhist invocation.

“Is everything prepared?” Yuanhui had already turned to look at him, his gaze which usually saw through worldly affairs now appearing somewhat gloomy.

Since Song Chuyi dared to abduct his mother and sister to threaten him, he was no benevolent man or faithful woman either. When she was probing his depths, he had long since thoroughly investigated Song Chuyi’s background as well.

Those several people living in that residence in Tongzhou were all her trusted confidants. He wanted to give Song Chuyi a taste of color and see whether she—this disaster star with a previous life’s vengeful ghost dwelling in her body—was stronger, or whether he was stronger.

Yuanjue immediately responded affirmatively: “Everything is prepared. The people sent have returned to report that they found no trace of Mother or Sister in that residence either.”

Hidden quite deeply indeed. If he didn’t give her a taste of color, she probably truly wouldn’t understand her own capabilities. He inexplicably laughed once: “Set a fire and give them a taste of color.”

Whether the people inside died or not didn’t matter. He still had plenty of backup moves.

If people died, then it was Song Chuyi’s fate as a star of heavenly calamity and solitary misfortune that had begun to take effect, beginning to exert negative influence on those around her.

If people didn’t die, then it was that Song Chuyi’s fate was too harsh, and anyone connected to her would suffer misfortune. Either way, it was all problems brought by Song Chuyi’s fate. No matter what, it was Song Chuyi who would attract so many disasters—she herself was an inauspicious person.

When he entered the palace, he should mention this matter again to Emperor Jianzhang—the snow disasters in Jiujiang and Pingxiang were very likely the result of this star of heavenly calamity and solitary misfortune beginning to exert its power.

Doing this would kill several birds with one stone. Other families’ ill-omened stars at most would only bring misfortune to father and mother, but Song Chuyi’s fate had begun to influence the great trends of the realm. No emperor would tolerate this. In such matters, naturally it was better to wrongly kill a thousand than to let one escape.

No matter how capable the Song and Cui families were, they couldn’t save Song Chuyi. Because the common people suffering disasters throughout the land, and those officials frantically running about in anxiety, didn’t care whether you truly were a star of heavenly calamity and solitary misfortune or not—they only wanted to find an outlet for their rage and an excuse for their careers.

And this was only the beginning. After Song Chuyi died, he would then begin dealing with the Song and Cui families bit by bit. First eliminate Cui Shaoting in Xibei, then start working against Cui Yingshu, then Song Jue. One by one, they all had to die.