Feng Miaojun felt a stirring in her heart: Zhao Yun had gone to Yingshui City again—had he discovered something? “When did he go?”

“The fifteenth of the eighth month, and the fifteenth of the twelfth month,” Hou Yanbei said. “Last autumn, a cultivator happened to pass by and rested there, but was driven away by people from Yan, leading to an argument. Two cultivators were killed, and only one narrowly escaped to report this. Otherwise, probably no one would know there was still activity there.”

Yingshui City had been abandoned for hundreds of years, rarely visited by anyone. What could be worth Yan’s frequent secret visits? Having heard about the Haoli Empire and Yingshui City’s past from Yun Ya, Feng Miaojun’s first thought was whether the King of Yan might be searching for the vanished Celestial Demons.

Three hundred years ago, Celestial Demons attacked Yingshui City, actually attempting to break through a seal and return to the human realm. The Haoli Empire had succeeded then, with only a few Celestial Demons escaping the net. So the question arose:

After all this time, where were the Celestial Demons now?

Since the human realm had not yet suffered the terrifying disaster of a large-scale Celestial Demon rampage, could one assume that the Celestial Demons were still trapped outside this realm, not yet having returned to the human world?

“What is General Hou’s view?”

“This old minister does not know,” Hou Yanbei answered cautiously. “Yingshui City has been looted countless times over these hundreds of years. There shouldn’t be anything left worth the King of Yan’s attention.”

“I understand. You may withdraw.” Since this matter involved the King of Yan, Feng Miaojun knew he wouldn’t dare speculate baselessly, so she dismissed him.

Watching Hou Yanbei’s silhouette disappear beyond the door, she let out a long breath.

Her handling of the Hou family had ultimately been lenient, but not out of softness. Apart from domestic considerations, she also understood human psychology—when driven to desperation, people would burn their bridges and fight to the death. The Hou family had deep roots in the northwest; if she executed Hou Yanbei and his grandsons and then tried to eliminate the entire Hou clan, who knew how much effort that would require?

New Xia’s peace was hard-won. What she strived to avoid was not only international war but also regional conflicts.

After all, the time left for her and New Xia was quite limited.

As time passed, the harsh winter finally ended, and the weather grew warmer day by day. The Queen’s eighteenth birthday was approaching.

Last year’s celebration had drawn envoys from various countries to Wuseier, with even the Wei Kingdom and Yan Kingdom sending State Preceptor Yun Ya and Nineteenth Prince Zhao Yun as representatives, concentrating international attention on New Xia.

This year, however, Feng Miaojun did not plan such an elaborate affair. She had ample reason to convince the stubborn conservatives in the royal court to keep things simple, as the situation in western New Xia was far from peaceful:

The Hou family had acted to save themselves, persuading the Li family to surrender their military authority. The Shi family, however, was not so compliant. Relations between the two families had escalated to armed conflict, so the Hou family was now suppressing the rebellion on behalf of the royal court. It was natural that the Queen had no interest in organizing a birthday celebration.

Since the Hou family had turned to serve the royal house, the voices of various regional aristocratic families had suddenly quieted. With even the leader suddenly changing sides, everyone realized they couldn’t go against the trend, and most resigned themselves to their fate, settling down.

Feng Miaojun wanted precisely this leading effect, which was far more effective than multiple edicts from the royal court.

During these days, she visited Songxi Retreat several more times. Fu Lingchuan had avoided her twice, but on her last visit, when he tried to leave, she intercepted him at the gate.

She sat in a gray carriage with the door open, and Fu Lingchuan saw the Queen smiling at him.

She wore a light brown tight jacket with small boots, dressed more neatly than him, suggesting she had already made a round through the market. Yet her figure was so stunning that even such simple clothing accentuated her graceful curves, especially her fitted pants that outlined her long legs.

Wherever she was, it felt like spring filled the world.

Such an infinitely beautiful person would instinctively improve anyone’s mood upon seeing her, yet Fu Lingchuan felt endless sighs within, so he asked her a question:

“When you persuaded me to ally with the Wei Kingdom, did you already know I would become the target of public criticism?”

Feng Miaojun smiled slightly but did not answer.

Thus, Fu Lingchuan understood the answer and sighed deeply: “So be it. I agree.”

Feng Miaojun was delighted, her face beaming with joy: “Since that’s settled, cousin should come to court tomorrow.” Administrative affairs were as numerous as cattle hairs, and no matter how diligently she worked, they never diminished. This job was truly beyond her and needed to be managed by professionals.

Though holding great power, Feng Miaojun never forgot her original intention in accepting the throne: to cultivate well, strengthen herself, and find a way to break the curse. Therefore, she could not be troubled by too many mundane affairs.

A cultivator’s primary occupation was, after all, cultivation. Too much karma would muddy the six senses.

When a beautiful woman smiled, she was exquisite and captivating. Fu Lingchuan, however, knew he no longer had the capital to pursue her, and he heartfelt less sorrowful for it. He nodded: “I intend to marry Liu Qingru, the second daughter of Grand Minister Liu Wenzheng. She is gentle and virtuous.”

Feng Miaojun’s phoenix eyes brightened, and she applauded: “Cousin has good taste. Liu Qingru is talented and beautiful. Minister Liu is quite proud whenever he mentions this daughter.”

Fu Lingchuan coughed lightly: “The Grand Minister and I were previously at odds, I fear…”

“Yesterday’s matters are as dead as yesterday itself,” Feng Miaojun smiled. “Rest assured, I’ll handle this matter!”

With the Queen’s guarantee, Fu Lingchuan’s expression relaxed: “In that case, I await Your Majesty’s good news.”

They exchanged smiles, seemingly putting their grievances behind them.

Having achieved her purpose, Feng Miaojun turned her carriage around and headed back the way she came. Fu Lingchuan stood at the gate to see her off, and even long after the carriage had disappeared from view, he remained standing motionless.

After a long while, he heaved a deep sigh, feeling lost.

Yesterday’s matters are as dead as yesterday itself—she was right. With New Xia having such a ruler, revival was in sight. His lifelong wish could be fulfilled, so why should he care whose hand accomplished this grand feat?

After leaving Songxi Retreat, White Board, who had transformed into an earring, couldn’t help asking his mistress: “What did Fu Lingchuan mean when he said he had become the target of public criticism?”

The carriage rolled along, with forests covered in silver snow. Feng Miaojun gazed at the snowy landscape outside the window and said: “The treaty between New Xia and the Wei Kingdom has far-reaching implications. Although its content is merely non-interference, it has affected many people’s interests, both internally and externally. Internally, ministers and citizens seemed willing, but they were coerced by the royal court’s interests. Sooner or later they will realize this, and their anger will need an outlet.”

Humans have a nature of “blame”—they must vent their anger on others. This “other” was Fu Lingchuan.

“You see, I took Fu Lingchuan’s power, and regardless of how justified my reasons were, those with discerning eyes certainly know what happened. Yet few people strongly supported him. After two rounds of purges, they were rooted out. This shows that his past actions were not understood, and he secretly lost popular support.”