Linzi, though vast, could never lack the opulent abodes of its Nine Commander-Generals.

The Xiu Manor, nestled within the heart of Jinxian Ward, was a testament to grandeur, having been meticulously crafted under the watchful eye of a master artisan renowned throughout the dynasty.

Ever since the Emperor-Assassination Case orchestrated by Cui Zhu, Commander Xiu Yuan of the Prisoner-Electricity Army, having been Cui Zhu’s direct recommender at the Yellow River Assembly, was summarily relieved of his command and placed under investigation.

Though not cast into the Heavenly Prison, he was confined to his residence, forbidden from stepping outside its walls. Unlike the mere formality of house arrest, a ruse to cross an unguarded passage, such as employed by Cao Ji, Xiu Yuan’s confinement was absolute. His entire cultivation base had been sealed. Only in deference to his standing as a Commander-General was he spared the indignity of imprisonment.

Yet, several months had elapsed since the Emperor-Assassination Case, and the investigation targeting Xiu Yuan had yielded no breakthroughs. His Majesty had yet to appoint a new Commander for the Prisoner-Electricity Army, leaving Xiu Yuan’s subordinate, the First Chief General of the Prisoner-Electricity Army, in temporary command of this formidable force.

And thus, time drifted by.

On this particular day, a distinguished guest arrived at the Xiu Manor.

It was none other than Yan Tu, who, like Xiu Yuan, held the rank of Commander-General, overseeing the Chopping-Rain Army.

He and Xiu Yuan were known far and wide as close companions. Both hailed from humble origins and had risen through the ranks of the military, ultimately reaching the pinnacle of the Nine Commander-Generals, bound by a deep mutual respect.

The Mad Scholar, Xu Fang, in his more spirited days, penned an essay titled “A Great Man’s Actions Must Journey Afar.” The “afar” and “journey” he spoke of were not distant travels, but rather implicit references to Xiu Yuan and Yan Tu.

Among the Nine Commander-Generals, he held these two in the highest esteem. Of course, these two might never have known who Xu Fang was.

When Xiu Yuan was first dismissed and placed under investigation, it was Yan Tu who submitted nine successive memorials, vehemently arguing for Xiu Yuan’s innocence and imploring the Emperor to see clearly. He even went so far as to block the entrance to the East Hua Pavilion, offering a direct remonstrance to His Majesty!

Moved by Yan Tu’s fervent loyalty and righteousness, the Emperor personally delivered a kick that sent him sprawling from the East Hua Pavilion, and levied a ten-year penalty on his salary…

Within a spartan yet tranquil room.

Yan Tu, still clad in his battle armor, and Xiu Yuan, attired in simple home wear, sat facing each other.

A bow and saber adorned the wall behind them, their reflections mirroring in the neatly tied hair of Xiu Yuan. He sat with an upright posture, his spine straight, and though confined, he had not lost his fierce disposition.

At this moment, he was meticulously boiling tea. Refinement and ferocity, these two seemingly disparate qualities, found perfect harmony within him.

Yan Tu, seated opposite him, presented a stark contrast. With thick eyebrows, wide eyes, a large nose, and full lips, he exuded a somewhat untamed aura. His sitting posture was entirely relaxed, one leg half-drawn up, the other casually extended.

“I say, stop brewing,” Yan Tu said, glancing impatiently at the teapot. “No matter how good the tea you brew, you can never truly blend into the circle of those old Qi families, nor gain their trust. What’s the point?”

Xiu Yuan remained unfazed, continuing his task. He spoke slowly, “Why can I not gain their trust?”

“How many months has it been?” Seeing his demeanor, Yan Tu’s irritation grew. “If they trusted you, how could you, the esteemed Commander-General of the Prisoner-Electricity Army, still be idling at home?”

Xiu Yuan smiled, “The matter is not yet fully investigated. Of course, I cannot leave.”

“Relying on those useless officials at the Capital Patrol Inspection Office!? If they can’t investigate it in ten years, must you, Xiu Yuan, be imprisoned for ten years? If they can’t investigate it in a lifetime, must you be locked at home for a lifetime?”

The water had boiled. Xiu Yuan removed the teapot from the small brazier, meticulously scalded the teacups, and said casually, “It’s always better than being locked in prison, is it not?”

Yan Tu scoffed, “I never knew General Xiu was so adept at self-consolation!”

Xiu Yuan sighed, “Recommending Cui Zhu was indeed my oversight. To disturb the sacred carriage, to almost tarnish the Emperor’s name… That I can still sit here and brew tea with you, Brother Yan, I am already content.”

“Negligence is a crime, and dismissal and investigation are warranted. We have nothing to say about that. But when will the investigation conclude? There must be a timeframe!” Yan Tu said discontentedly. “There’s no movement from the North Yamen, and Zheng Shi avoids me daily. And you, Xiu Yuan, a venerable contemporary True Man, a Commander-General, unable to step outside this house! Day after day, day after day, without end! You have established countless merits for our Great Qi, how can you endure such humiliation?”

Xiu Yuan shook his head, “Zhang Yong cried out before the ancestral shrine, and the Eleventh Prince still fell from favor. Cui Zhu attempted to assassinate the Emperor, how can I be an exception?”

Yan Tu angrily retorted, “How is your matter the same as the Eleventh Prince’s? How can these two things be discussed as one?”

“Perhaps they can, perhaps they cannot.” Xiu Yuan opened a green bamboo canister and used bamboo tongs to retrieve the emerald green tea leaves stored within, carefully placing them into the teacups. He said, “I believe everything has a price. The mistakes I have made, I must bear. The merits I have established, His Majesty will remember… Resting for a few years is not so bad.”

“His Majesty is naturally wise and martial,” Yan Tu said in a low voice. “I only fear someone is blinding His sacred hearing!”

“Since His Majesty is wise and martial, how can he be blinded?” Xiu Yuan completed the final step, then extended his hand in invitation, “Brother Yan, please have some tea.”

The night was held at bay outside the door. Yan Tu gazed at the rising steam from the teacup. Just as he was about to drink, a question suddenly arose in his mind—

At this moment, would the Eleventh Prince have the leisure to drink tea?

“Cough cough cough… Cough cough cough…”

Violent coughing echoed through the palace, traversing the long night.

Feng Gu, the chief eunuch of Longsheng Palace, his face etched with deep wrinkles, watched with a worried expression. The dark circles beneath his eyes seemed to fluctuate in intensity.

On the desk before him, a sheet of pristine white *xuan* paper lay spread out, bearing an unfinished piece of writing.

The young prince, clad in white fox fur, sat before the desk. His left hand was fisted, its back pressed lightly against his lips, as he coughed until his pale face was flushed red. His right hand held a wolf-hair brush suspended over the inkstone. A single drop of ink hung precariously from the tip of the brush, trembling with his coughs, yet refusing to fall.

Only when the coughing gradually subsided did Feng Gu softly advise, “Your Highness, you should still drink a bowl of medicine.”

In the upper left corner of the desk lay a white jade bowl, its black medicinal liquid still emitting tendrils of steam.

“I don’t want to drink it,” Jiang Wuqi said with some difficulty.

He coughed several more times before finally steadying himself.

He remained in that posture, suspending the wolf-hair brush, and turned his head to look out the window.

Unbeknownst to him, faint daylight had already begun to pierce the veil of night.

“There should be news from the Star-Moon Plain,” he said faintly.

As if to answer his words, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed from outside the palace.

Feng Gu subtly shifted his body, already blocking the entrance to the palace chamber.

Not long after, the sound of footsteps faded, and Feng Gu returned to the desk, now holding a letter.

“Your Highness, an urgent military report.”

“Read it.”

Feng Gu opened the letter and began to read aloud, “Victory and defeat have been determined at the Star-Moon Plain. Jiang Qingyang has returned from beyond the heavens, and a single sword stroke decided the fate of the universe. The God of War and Commander Dou E at Que have already signed the ‘Star-Moon Agreement’ at Wanhe Temple.”

After reading the urgent letter, Feng Gu’s face remained impassive, but his eyes held a mixture of respect and admiration.

In his younger years, he had been a confidant of Consort Lei, serving her faithfully. After Consort Lei was assassinated, he took the initiative to request a decree to serve Jiang Wuqi.

For so many years, he had watched Jiang Wuqi grow day by day.

This widely regarded imperial noble endured pain unimaginable to commoners, yet also possessed wisdom beyond their reach.

Just as now.

He knew as much about the intelligence from the Star-Moon Plain as Jiang Wuqi, yet he had no inkling of the direction of the war. Conversely, Jiang Wuqi could accurately predict the war’s conclusion.

Without a profound understanding of the entire battlefield situation, not just the heavenly prodigies on both sides, such a clear deduction of the war’s trajectory would be impossible.

“I still thought that this battle would see Chen Suan or Chong Xuan Sheng shine. I didn’t expect Jiang Qingyang to return again.” Jiang Wuqi paused before continuing, “It seems the anomaly of the Jade Balance Star is also related to him… Speaking of which, how did the Military Affairs Hall handle his matter of leaving the camp midway?”

“It was offset by his merits,” Feng Gu replied.

Jiang Wuqi was silent for a moment, then said, “We must emphasize the punishment of the Zhuang Country in the ‘Star-Moon Agreement’.”

Hearing these words, Feng Gu turned the letter over to examine the detailed articles of the “Star-Moon Agreement”—he knew the earlier articles by heart, which was why he hadn’t looked closely before.

This turn of the page left him somewhat stunned. The agreement between two great hegemonic nations, signed after such a war, where every word required careful deliberation, was now being adjusted for Jiang Wang?

Just how terrifying was this person’s performance on the battlefield?

“Truly…” Feng Gu was at a loss for words for a moment.

“This gentleman is meant to soar!” Jiang Wuqi sighed, then smiled, turning his gaze back to the *xuan* paper.

The drop of ink at the tip of the brush finally fell, rippling in the inkstone pool.

He lifted the brush and finished the last few words in a single stroke.

Then he put down the brush, stood up, and walked out alone.

Feng Gu stepped forward to follow, but was stopped by his raised palm. “You have toiled hard for so many years. This stretch of road, I will walk alone.”

“Your Highness…” Feng Gu remained rooted to the spot, his voice trembling.

The imperial noble, wrapped in white fox fur, walked and asked with a smile, “His Majesty is a sage emperor, the God of War is the current pillar that spans the sea, Jiang Qingyang is the future jade pillar that supports the heavens… The Crown Prince is benevolent and cautious, possessing the demeanor of a monarch; Third Sister is a martial pioneer, majestic; Ninth Brother is clever and divine, his noble qi responding to the stars… Then what about me? What kind of person am I?”

He walked out asking these questions, not waiting for an answer.

There was fundamentally no need for an answer.

Feng Gu stood quietly before the desk, his expression sorrowful.

The Eleventh Prince of Great Qi, what kind of person was he?

Originally, he was the master of Longsheng Palace, the most beloved son of the current emperor, his actions grand and far-reaching, deeply winning the hearts of the populace. He was publicly acknowledged by the court and the common folk as the one who “most resembled the current emperor,” and also the most powerful contender for the heir apparent.

But precisely because of one Zhang Yong crying out before the ancestral shrine, he fell from grace overnight, his voice rarely heard in court or the common folk.

The Zhang family of Fengxian were descendants of meritorious ministers who had helped restore the country. Jiang Wuqi sheltering Zhang Yong was for the sake of the dynasty’s reputation. He had not stinted on any merits, laws, or resources for that person… In the end, he received such a result. m.999xs

How could Feng Gu not be sorrowful?

That imperial noble who once said, “Towards Great Qi, is towards me,” now asked himself, “What kind of person am I?”

The sadness in Jiang Wuqi’s words, how could it not pain the heart of an old servant like him?

But looking at Jiang Wuqi’s back, he could only remain silent.

Silently watching Jiang Wuqi walk out of the palace chamber, silently rolling up the painting Jiang Wuqi had finished, silently like a lonely ghost drifting through the vast palace…

Wandering from the 39th year of Yuanfeng until now.

The highest mountain in Linzi City should be Cloud-Mist Mountain.

On the plank road that wound through the stacked clouds and piled mists, a figure wrapped in white fox fur slowly approached.

It was still the faint light of dawn, and even a mountain as high as this could not fully pierce through the mist.

That slender figure walked amidst the clouds and mist, and although gradually drawing nearer, still gave a feeling of being very distant.

Although the Tianxiang Cloud Pavilion, one of the four great famous pavilions of Linzi, was located here, Jiang Wuqi had not come for its beauty.

Every time he stepped onto the mountain path in the morning light, he climbed to the summit of Cloud-Mist Mountain and sat alone in the stone pavilion.

A pot of flower tea hidden in the clouds, he would sit from sunrise until midday.

Since the day he stood naked before the Purple Extreme Hall clutching the jade tablet, he had spent many days cultivating this habit.

It was less a form of enjoyment and more a form of self-punishment.

For Jiang Wuqi, who had suffered from the cold poison since infancy, being in this high mountain with its biting wind was almost a form of torture.

If in the past he needed these actions to show that the cold poison could not affect him in the slightest, to build confidence among the people of Longsheng Palace, then now that he had fallen from favor, what was the meaning of his presence here?

The Emperor’s heart, the position of heir apparent, could they be obtained by evoking pity?

Someone like Jiang Wuqi should not do meaningless things.

Many people would inevitably think—

Could this Eleventh Prince of the Great Qi Empire be cultivating in this cold place?

Or, was he here searching for some clue?

Upon closer examination, Cloud-Mist Mountain was the place where Zhang Yong, after joining Longsheng Palace, first fought publicly for Jiang Wuqi. His opponent at that time was none other than the now world-renowned Jiang Qingyang.

At that time, Jiang Qingyang emerged victorious with his Eight Sounds Flame Sparrow, and Jiang Wuqi, instead of punishing Zhang Yong for his defeat, maintained his trust, winning over the hearts of the people.

It could be said that at that time, both Jiang Wang and Jiang Wuqi handled the situation very well, achieving a win-win outcome.

Who could have imagined that it would be precisely Zhang Yong who later cast suspicion of rebellion upon Jiang Wang? And it was also Zhang Yong who blocked Jiang Wuqi’s path to the heavens?

The affairs of the world are truly unpredictable, to this extent.

Whether it was Cui Zhu’s attempt to assassinate the Emperor or Zhang Yong crying out before the ancestral shrine, both happened too suddenly, without any prior warning, yet the timing was incredibly precise. Although the trouble they caused was casually erased by the Qi Emperor with a wave of his hand, it cannot be denied that the power of the Equality Country had infiltrated deep enough and was hidden well enough within this Eastern hegemonic nation to accomplish such significant deeds.

It was simply a pity that the people who were stirred into the mix had already been churned into a state of disarray.

Now, Jiang Wang had cleared his name and shone brilliantly in the world. And what of Jiang Wuqi, the master of Longsheng Palace?

The battle at the Star-Moon Plain saw the heavenly prodigies of Qi defeat those of Jing, the future of Qi overcome the future of Jing, and the vast Great Qi’s prestige greatly shaken!

This was a time of flourishing prosperity for the Great Qi Empire. As Jiang Wuqi walked the plank road of Cloud-Mist Mountain in the early morning, what kind of mood was he in?

Today, Feng Gu was not present, nor were any other attendants.

Powerful individuals like clouds gathered in Linzi City, but none would constantly monitor every location.

So, when a hunched old man supporting himself with a staff approached, it seemed unremarkable.

The old man walked very slowly, his steps faltering.

But for someone so unsteady, to walk upon this swaying plank road was inherently an awkward sight.

Jiang Wuqi seemed not to notice the awkwardness and continued to walk forward.

It was too early, and there was no third person on the plank road.

Those who had spent the night on Cloud-Mist Mountain were all nestled in the soft couches of the Tianxiang Cloud Pavilion.

For a time, there was only the mountain wind, and that incessant cough, as well as the sound of the walking stick tapping against the plank road—

“Huhu…”

“Cough cough cough…”

“Dududu…”