The morning’s events within Ta Miao were, at first, suppressed, but complete concealment proved an impossible feat.

Not even a mere Ma Xiong could truly seal it away.

Setting aside all else, even he, within the confines of Linzi City, was beholden to countless individuals who could extract information from his lips, and he dared not refuse.

The first to catch wind of the news were naturally those wielding influence within the Capital Patrol Office.

Someone like Zhong Xuansheng, then, was privy to the details through close proximity to the individuals involved.

The Li family’s receipt of the news wasn’t the swiftest, but neither was it slow.

Jiang Wang had been gone for roughly half a *shichen* when a report arrived. A cross-verification revealed that the intelligence perfectly matched Jiang Wang’s own account.

At that hour, the Li family’s matriarch sat in the place of honor, leisurely sipping tea.

The current Destroy City Marquis, Li Zhengyan, and Li Zhengshu were engaged in a discussion regarding the affair.

Since Li Zhengyan had firmly established himself as the family head, the old madam rarely offered opinions on familial matters.

Her days were largely spent drinking tea, enjoying operas, and occasionally striking Li Longchuan with her dragon-headed cane.

Only when the subordinates relayed that Jiang Wang, prior to facing misfortune at the Nine Returns Marquis’s spirit shrine, had emerged from the shrine of the first generation Destroy City Marquis, having just paid respects…

The old madam couldn’t help but remark, “Truly a good child.”

Li Zhengyan and Li Zhengshu exchanged glances, both smiling.

After departing the Li mansion, Jiang Wang returned to his separate residence on Xia Mountain.

Regardless of the turbulent winds and shifting clouds in Linzi at this moment, or the myriad anxieties plaguing its populace, his own cultivation remained the bedrock of his existence. The results of the Yellow River Assembly were the stepping stone to advancement.

Jiang Wang’s mind was clear throughout. He knew precisely what he sought and diligently strived towards it.

He locked himself away to diligently study the techniques of the Fire Realm.

He had to acknowledge one truth.

Though he had effortlessly defeated Lei Zhanqian, appearing to hold an overwhelming advantage, in truth, the progress of his Fire Source Totem’s cultivation paled in comparison to Lei Zhanqian’s Thunder Source Totem.

The power of the Fire Source Totem was insufficient to maintain balance with the Samadhi True Fire, even with the Fire Realm techniques outlining the construct under his guidance, and despite his utmost efforts to suppress the Samadhi True Fire.

The disparity in quality necessitated a quantitative approach.

Therefore, during this period, Jiang Wang had to allocate more cultivation time to the *Fire Source Canon*. That was, after all, a formidable technique from another world, not so easily mastered.

Fortunately, his Fire Source Totem was not a pure Fire Source Totem, having already intertwined with the White Bone Lotus to form the Blazing Fire Bone Lotus.

Attribute-less star power could transform into all forms of power, naturally including Totem power. The combined strength of the two sides allowed him to barely achieve a semblance of balance.

But to reach the requirements of the Fire Realm techniques as swiftly as possible, it was imperative to invest greater effort into the *Fire Source Canon*.

From day to night, time swiftly elapsed amidst his cultivation.

Cultivation was, of course, arduous.

While others revelled in fine attire and spirited steeds, while others indulged in flowers and wine, he remained perpetually buried, forever trekking.

He endured loneliness and solitude, confronting the instinct for ease.

However, to be able to cultivate peacefully was, in many instances, already a blessing.

News of the Nine Returns Marquis’s spirit shrine incident had, in a hidden tide, swept through the capital.

This night in Linzi, countless souls remained sleepless!

The current Qi Emperor, almost every day, held court.

From *Mao* hour to *Chen* hour, two *shichen* daily, come rain or shine.

He rested only one day in every ten. To this day, it had been fifty-five years.

One could not deny his diligence.

Under his rule, the State of Qi had become, without a doubt, the overlord of the Eastern Domain, surveying the four directions, its prestige extending across the seas.

*Mao* hour marked the commencement of the morning court, thus, in truth, even during the *Yin* hour, the ministers attending the assembly had already mostly arrived. The court discussion scholars of the Political Affairs Hall had even already deliberated upon the day’s political matters in advance.

Even in the latter half of the fifth month, dawn had not yet broken during the *Yin* hour.

The great city of Linzi lay dormant within the long night.

Outside the Purple Extreme Hall, on that vast square, civil and military officials, like ants, emerged from various locations, slowly gathering.

Then, according to their respective ranks and statuses, they silently formed into groups, awaiting the single toll of the Morning Bell.

In years past, countless officials had traversed this square, walked across it an untold number of times.

But today was different.

If one were to gaze from high above, if one’s vision could pierce the veil of night, then one would behold—

Those “ants” gathered on the immense white stone square, regardless of their nobility or lowliness, all deliberately skirted a wide circle, leaving a vast blank space on the square.

In the center of that blank space was a small black dot.

A single small ant.

As daylight gradually broke the boundless curtain of night, this world welcomed the morning glow.

The Morning Bell from the Observatory had already rung.

That one majestic and long-drawn sound spread throughout this three-hundred-li overlord metropolis, its resonance clearing the heart, awakening the spirit, and enlightening the mind.

Linzi, this great city, awoke with it.

Two knife-wielding warriors, each grasping a side, slowly pushed open the enormous doors of the Purple Extreme Hall.

Due to the early hour and the dim light, the Red Sun Pearl suspended within the dome of the Purple Extreme Hall cast down a brilliant radiance.

The grand hall was thus unveiled to the sight of the onlookers.

Civil and military officials silently filed in, but the solitary black dot on the square remained solitary.

Now, the sky had gradually begun to brighten.

This world had become somewhat clearer.

Let the gaze descend once more, let the vision fall again.

Then one could behold, on the increasingly clear square, a kneeling figure.

That was a bare-chested, gaunt figure.

Clad only in a pair of simple trousers, with long, unbound hair, he knelt fixedly on the square outside the Purple Extreme Hall.

The civil and military officials who came to court today all saw him, yet all seemed not to see him.

Not a single person greeted him, not a single person cast a second glance.

Some were concerned, some expectant, some worried, some secretly joyous… but all remained silent.

The one kneeling here was the Eleventh Prince of Great Qi, the Master of Longevity Palace, Jiang Wuqi.

After shedding the fox fur he wore year-round, it was only then that one discovered he was truly remarkably thin.

On his bare back, section after section of his spine was almost entirely exposed, prompting only one thought—skin and bone.

“Cough cough, cough cough.”

On such a vast square, so quiet today, there was surprisingly no private chatter. Only his occasional uncontrollable coughs and the sound of the somewhat chilly early morning wind.

Such a lonely cough.

Inside the Purple Extreme Hall, everything seemed no different than usual.

Memorials were presented, arguments were made. But always… something seemed to be missing.

Today’s two *shichen* of early court were, for many, an utterly agonizing two *shichen*.

The civil and military officials presenting memorials within the Purple Extreme Hall all strenuously feigned nonchalance, but who could remain unperturbed?

The Master of Longevity Palace’s involvement in an assassination plot against the sovereign, in any country, any dynasty, almost invariably signified… torrents of fresh blood.

The grand and magnificent struggle for succession in Great Qi, today seemingly about to eliminate one contender, was a matter concerning the entire state. No one could stand aside.

Perhaps only the emperor, seated high upon the dragon throne, remained, as in years past, without the slightest ripple of emotion.

The emperor’s heart is difficult to fathom.

Regardless.

Torment or expectation.

The long two *shichen* passed, the memorials, delivered with hearts elsewhere, concluded.

Those who were most eager in their past rivalries today inevitably seemed somewhat lackluster. The officials who won arguments showed no satisfaction, and those who lost showed no dejection.

Han Ling, the chief eunuch of the Ceremonial Directorate, stood before the Jade Platform and proclaimed: “Withdraw court!”

From his perspective, the civil and military officials retreated like a tide, surging out of the Purple Extreme Hall, scattering into the vast square, flowing away in every direction.

The only constant was that blank space, and the black dot within it.

His Majesty, the Emperor of Great Qi, did not speak.

Han Ling also seemed to have become a statue.

Not much time should have passed, yet it felt incredibly long.

The Emperor rose.

Han Ling opened his mouth to shout “Prepare the imperial carriage,” but the emperor’s hand pressed down.

As the chief eunuch most intimately close to the Emperor of Great Qi, Han Ling never turned back, but his voice was already stifled.

The Emperor descended from the dragon throne, walking down the Jade Platform.

By this time, it was already *Chen* hour, the time for “morning meal.” Common folk generally ate breakfast at this hour.

Daylight was already bright.

The Red Sun Pearl suspended within the Purple Extreme Hall had already dimmed its light.

The Emperor slowly walked outwards, each step seeming to tread upon the daylight beneath his feet.

When he finally emerged from the Purple Extreme Hall, standing on that high platform.

On such a vast white stone square, no other human shadows could be seen, save for Jiang Wuqi.

That bare-chested, kneeling figure, with unbound hair, gazed at him—his son.

“This child resembles me!”

The Emperor suddenly recalled saying those words once.

Thus, his gaze fell.

First upon the enormous white stone slabs paving the square before his eyes, then upon the knees pressed against the ground, then upon the bare, emaciated upper body, and finally upon that handsome face—had it not been for a lingering illness, this face would have been even more remarkable.

Bare-chested and with unbound hair, Jiang Wuqi knelt on the ground, an image far from dignified.

The Emperor looked into his eyes, then at his mouth, at the piece of white jade held within.

To hold a treasure in one’s mouth was a noble burial rite.

Jiang Wuqi’s action signified that he was already a dead man.

Jiang Wuqi should have been a dead man long, long ago.

So early… even while still in his mother’s womb.

That was a winter night in the 38th year of Yuanfeng, when the Qi Emperor personally led troops on an expedition to quell the disobedient.

And Jiang Wuqi’s mother, Noble Consort Lei, still pregnant with him, suffered an assassination attempt within the Great Qi imperial palace. Before her death, she exhausted all her strength to protect her belly.

By the time the palace’s formidable guardians arrived, the assassin had already self-destructed.

To this day, the mastermind behind the plot remains undiscovered.

When the Qi Emperor finally rushed back, all he saw was the corpse of Noble Consort Lei, and a child whose belly had been cut open.

The Qi Emperor shed tears, saying, “My beloved consort may have abandoned me, yet she did not abandon my child!”

Hence, he was named Wuqi.

Jiang Wuqi, while still a fetus, suffered an injury that should have been fatal. That night, the on-duty palace guardians sacrificed their lives to save him, preserving only a sliver of life.

But it was merely a sliver of life.

Even with the Qi Emperor’s heaven-piercing, earth-shattering abilities, a fundamentally weak, newly born infant could not withstand any of his methods.

From then on, the frost poison permeated his destiny, incurable by medicine. As he grew, the frost poison worsened, embedding itself deeper. The director of the Imperial Hospital at the time determined that this child would not live past ten years.

When Jiang Wuqi was nine years old, the Qi Emperor wished to cleanse his blood and remake his bones, reshaping his body, and thus, using imperial secret methods, remove the embedded frost poison.

At that time, he, only nine years old, asked only one question: “After cleansing my blood and remaking my bones, will I still be a Prince of Great Qi?”

The answer, naturally, was no.

Even if the Qi Emperor loved him, it was impossible to exchange the bones and blood of his other children for his sake.

Thus, Jiang Wuqi chose to refuse.

He would rather die than live a life of mediocrity. He, Jiang Wuqi, even in death, would die with the identity of a descendant of heavenly nobility.

Otherwise, that woman, his mother, struggling so long in the cold night, what was it all for?

Before he was nine, he practiced martial arts to strengthen his body and regulate his constitution.

After nine, he opened his meridians and began cultivating.

He was afflicted with frost poison in his destiny; the frost poison would grow with his cultivation, the stronger he became, the faster he would die. But only by becoming strong did he have the opportunity to change his fate.

This was a paradox.

Regardless of the outcome, both paths seemed to lead to death.

Everyone believed he would not survive, but he did.

Not only did he endure the calamity of his tenth year, but he lived to this day.

Not only did he live to this day, but he also had the emperor personally oversee the construction of the Longevity Palace for him, becoming one of the few most hopeful contenders for the heir position in Great Qi!

He had struggled from birth until now.

He was frail, seemingly on the verge of death at any moment, yet like a candle flickering in the wind for so many years, he still flickered, his light growing ever more dazzling.

Jiang Wuqi kneeling here today signified that he was already a dead man.

How could the imperial heart of the Great Qi Emperor possibly be without ripples?

The Emperor bore the mandate of heaven, ruled over ten thousand, and was born to be a lonely figure.

But could he truly be without emotion?

That expedition in the 38th year of Yuanfeng was the last time the Qi Emperor personally led troops.

After that, he never left the city of Linzi.

His imperial heart is difficult to fathom; did he or did he not contemplate that cold night of years past?

On the square before the Purple Extreme Hall, not a single court minister dared to linger.

The chief eunuch holding the imperial seal from the Ceremonial Directorate stood silently by the door of the Purple Extreme Hall, even his breathing extinguished, displaying no sense of presence.

His Majesty, the Emperor of Great Qi, descended from the high platform, walked before Jiang Wuqi, reached out, and took away the piece of white jade he held in his mouth.

Jiang Wuqi had grown up soaking in medicinal pools from a young age, fearing the cold. And today, bare-chested, he knelt outside the Purple Extreme Hall awaiting judgment.

Every wisp of cold wind, to him, afflicted with frost poison in his destiny, was more painful than a knife cutting flesh.

But his coughing had ceased before the emperor emerged.

He forcefully endured, not allowing a single cough before the emperor.

Although in these years, those unavoidable coughs had become his only way to slightly ease his pain.

He was a strong man.

At this moment, he pursed his lips, saying not a word, yet a tear rolled down the corner of his eye.

This tear was scorching hot.

The Great Qi Emperor held the piece of white jade in his hand, quietly gazing at him.

After a long silence, he asked, “Jiang Wuqi, was it you who ordered people to assassinate me? Was it you who sent people to the Nine Returns Marquis’s spirit shrine, staining my name with blood?”

Jiang Wuqi, his voice thick with tears, replied, “Though it was not done by this son-minister, however… this son-minister bears the crime of negligence!”

The Emperor’s voice was light, saying, “The state has state law, the family has family rules. The crime of negligence is not a capital offense.”

Jiang Wuqi, supporting himself with both hands on the ground, lowered his head, finding it even harder to speak: “Father Emperor…”

The Great Qi Emperor flipped his hand, saying, “I will take this piece of jade.”

Then, with a swing of his great sleeve, he turned and strode away.

Han Ling’s footsteps followed hurriedly.

He shouted: “Prepare the imperial carriage!”

That single cry, across such a vast square, echoed far and wide.