After her face had cooled from its blush, Feng Miaojun recalled Zhao Yun’s confidential letter to the King of Yan. Besides reporting on the survey arrangements and progress, it specifically mentioned the first excavation of a celestial god’s temple ruin in the eastern part of the city. The pattern on the first page was the celestial god’s emblem carved on the temple door.
But even though Zhao Yun’s men had excavated every brick and tile from the site, they hadn’t found any clues about the Demon Realm.
So, were the legends truly unreliable?
Most crucially, what did the King of Yan want with the demons? Did he want their help in conquering the world?
After a night of dreams, her questions had only multiplied rather than diminished.
For the next two nights, she diligently cultivated and didn’t sleep.
Holding elemental orbs of both ice and fire attributes in her hands, her cultivation progressed much faster than before. Lately, she felt a natural progression, as if she wasn’t far from breaking through to her next realm.
In her current position, each bit of personal strength she gained meant an additional measure of control over the situation. Thus, after returning to New Xia, her cultivation hadn’t slackened but rather intensified.
One benefit of becoming a sovereign was that precious materials needed for cultivation were rarely scarce. If she wanted to gather certain materials, she only had to write a list, and someone would prepare and deliver them.
As she progressed further on the path of cultivation, many mental techniques and secret skills she had read about in the Smoke Sea Tower years ago gradually became interconnected, integrating with her cultivation method. Now she could see how impressive the original version of “Mortal’s Path to Immortality” handwritten by the Haoli Emperor truly was. As a foundational mental technique, it was like the strongest trunk, allowing other divine abilities to be grafted, sprouting branches, flowering, and bearing fruit, with almost no rejection reactions.
The day after tomorrow would be the fifteenth of March, an auspicious day for New Xia’s Queen to host her annual banquet.
The entire nation would celebrate together.
On this day, New Xia’s common people were exceptionally lively, rivaling the New Year festivities. The people of An Xia had endured a tumultuous decade filled with humiliation before finally welcoming the restoration of the New Xia Kingdom. The new court implemented policies promoting recovery and restoration. In just one year, vitality began to return to civilian life, and smiles appeared on people’s faces.
Humans were truly the most resilient species on earth, like wild grass—even after a prairie fire, with just a spring rain, they would fully regrow across the plains.
In Wuser City, the festive atmosphere was even more intense, with celebrations beginning five days earlier.
In the palace, the sovereign hosted a court banquet, grandly entertaining officials and foreign envoys.
The Queen of New Xia appeared in full regalia, slowly emerging from the flower pavilion, garnering countless gasps and exclamations of amazement.
Could a celestial maiden from the Ninth Heaven be any more beautiful?
Seeing her dignified and elegant demeanor, no one could guess her inner worries—she feared complications might arise at this banquet, especially since many restless individuals were present.
Fortunately, everyone behaved respectfully. From her proclamation to the toast and feast, everything proceeded peacefully without incident. Feng Miaojun breathed a sigh of relief.
At this moment, Zhao Yun stepped forward to offer a toast for the third time.
He smiled with refined grace, but having glimpsed his dreams, Feng Miaojun knew he harbored calculating intentions toward her. Zhao Yun’s opportunities to interact with her would be limited after this; if he intended to make a move, it would be soon.
She secretly heightened her vigilance and sent Fu Lingchuan to deal with him.
Nevertheless, Zhao Yun insisted on drinking with the Queen. His status was extraordinary, unlike other foreign envoys. Before he could reach Feng Miaojun, Fu Lingchuan smiled: “Nineteenth Prince, don’t rush to offer a toast; first settle our wager, then you can proceed.”
Others became interested and asked about it. Fu Lingchuan then explained the wager made in the peach blossom forest, concluding with: “The war report from the Southern Lands just arrived. The Yan army hasn’t crossed the Qinglan River yet. With Her Majesty as a witness, Envoy Lu Ping from Yao Kingdom has won this wager.”
Everyone laughed. Whether ministers of New Xia or foreign envoys, they merely viewed the war between Yan and Xi as entertainment, not feeling its critical importance. Zhao Yun slightly pursed his lips. The Yao envoy, Lu Ping, only seemed to wake from a trance after being patted twice on the shoulder, showing not the slightest joy at winning the bet.
He appeared deeply preoccupied, a stark contrast to his carefree and dashing demeanor from days before. Today, Feng Miaojun’s gaze deliberately and inadvertently swept over him, carefully observing.
She had thought for two days: there might be many who had contact with both her and Zhao Yun, but this Lu Ping was most suspicious.
Could he be Yun Ya in disguise? Given the State Preceptor’s notorious past behaviors, Feng Miaojun thought it highly possible.
But observing Lu Ping’s current appearance, something seemed off.
Fu Lingchuan called him twice before he barely managed to stretch his face into a smile: “Where is the peach blossom wine?”
As for the wine, Feng Miaojun had already had it prepared, and now palace attendants brought it forward.
Forty jin of wine in two urns were placed before Zhao Yun.
Zhao Yun, being a man of character, instantly set aside his displeasure and reached out to break the clay seal on the urn’s mouth: “Very well, I’ll honor the wager and drink!”
Everyone watched intently, ready to see how this Prince of Yan would down forty jin of fine wine.
The Yan Kingdom was powerful and domineering, causing frequent dissatisfaction among other countries that couldn’t be openly expressed. Thus, more than half the people present hoped the Yan Prince would face some difficulty or make a spectacle of himself.
How bloating would forty jin of fine wine be? Certainly more than an ordinary person could drink.
However, Zhao Yun had no intention of drinking until wine dripped from his body. His demeanor now represented the face of Great Yan—how could he lose composure? So, he took out a transparent small pill from his bosom and dropped it into the wine urn.
Those standing close could see the wine in the urn visibly disappearing.
“This is a water pill,” Zhao Yun explained with a graceful smile, meeting everyone’s curious gaze. “In the past, at Yinglong Mountain in the Haoli Empire, there was a spiritual spring whose water had an extraordinary fragrance. Smelling it refreshed the mind, and drinking it calmed the spirit, benefiting cultivation. However, three hours after surfacing, the fragrance would dissipate. The Haoli Emperor enjoyed using this spring, so alchemists developed the water pill, which could capture a hundred jin of water in a single pill, not only making it convenient to transport but also preventing the fragrance from escaping midway.”
As he spoke, not a drop of wine remained in the urn. He retrieved the small pill from the urn, and everyone noticed that its bottom indeed had a layer of light pink liquid, which swayed gently with his movements.
Zhao Yun requested an empty wine bowl. With one hand lightly pressing on the pill, sure enough, wine gurgled out, filling the bowl in two breaths’ time.
That fragrance, that color—it was undoubtedly peach blossom wine, genuine and unadulterated.
He raised the bowl to toast Feng Miaojun, who smiled and accepted. Zhao Yun then drained it in one gulp.
This gesture was intended to verify the authenticity of the audience. Next, he placed the water pill directly into his mouth and closed his eyes.
After a short quarter-hour, Zhao Yun opened his eyes again, then spat the water pill back out and spread it on his palm.
Thus, everyone could see that the pill was indeed empty. The peach blossom wine, which had previously filled half the pill, had been slowly consumed by him. Zhao Yun’s face flushed red, one hand pressed against his abdomen as he smiled ruefully: “Your Majesty’s wine is powerful! Please excuse Zhao Yun for needing to temporarily leave.”
Feng Miaojun nodded, and everyone laughed good-naturedly, showing sympathetic expressions while secretly feeling disappointed that they couldn’t see the Yan Prince’s hearty display of drinking large bowls of wine.