Chapter 27: The Son of King Chen

"Indeed — to sever one's own Heavenly Palace cultivation, what a ruthless man, and all just to completely eliminate the threat of the Heavenly Palace Stone!"

Even as he said it, Pei Su couldn't help but feel a measure of admiration.

In the past, most of his time in the Imperial Capital had been spent among peers of his own generation.

That crowd of equally privileged noble scions, at their age, either frequented High-class Brothels, attended banquets and feasts, or engaged in petty, shallow scheming.

The rare few who were devoted to martial cultivation did little more than venture into the mountains to hunt a few beasts under their elders' guidance, or participate in the occasional arena tournament.

In their conduct and bearing, they all carried that clarity and simplicity unique to young prodigies — much like Zhao Lan, whom Pei Su found thoroughly dull.

But after trading moves with men like Xiao Lin, he had come to understand: of those who had weathered the world's tides for decades, which of them was ever a simple creature?

Even an old farmer past seventy could be as cunning as a serpent. To say nothing of court ministers and jianghu titans — every last one of them harbored deep schemes and calculating minds, navigating the interplay of interests and maneuvering through the finest shifts of circumstance.

Even now, Pei Su found it difficult to imagine how his grandfather and those men had step by step hunted down and killed the Son of Heaven, Li Qian, and joined with the Empress to hollow out the Li clan's dynasty. It was surely far more than the few breezy words Elder Wu had let slip...

"Since the Heavenly Palace Stone had already been rendered useless, how did Elder Wu discover Xiao Lin?"

Banxia's words pulled Pei Su back from his thoughts. He smiled and said:

"By sheer coincidence. Although the Heavenly Palace Stone failed to detect Xiao Lin — who had severed his own Heavenly Palace — it inadvertently revealed someone else who had no business being there..."

"What? Another Heavenly Palace..."

"Yes. And that person is far more interesting to me than Xiao Lin. Elder Wu first followed that individual, and a few days later — guess what — Xiao Lin, even in disguise, couldn't resist approaching them."

"It was only then that Elder Wu realized Xiao Lin had severed his own cultivation. A pity he couldn't hold out longer — otherwise he might truly have slipped away."

Banxia exhaled softly. She hadn't imagined that during the few days they'd spent riding in the carriage, such a twisting sequence of events had unfolded.

"My lord, who exactly is this other Heavenly Palace cultivator?"

Banxia asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

"A bodyguard."

"A Heavenly Palace... bodyguard? Whose bodyguard!"

Pei Su paused for a moment, and thinking of that person, a faintly mocking smile crossed his lips.

"The son of King Chen."

Banxia froze.

The son... of King Chen?

Banxia had heard that name before — or rather, there were few people in all of Great Jin who wouldn't know it.

The only son of Chen Mang, the Chen King of the North: Chen Yao, courtesy name Shiyao.

This man's reputation across Great Jin was comparable to Pei Su's own — except that Pei Su was celebrated by the world as a once-in-a-generation prodigy, while the son of King Chen was...

A world-famous supreme wastrel.

"The son of King Chen — how could he have come to the Central Plains?"

Banxia was astonished.

After all, King Chen was someone the entire Central Plains wanted to see punished.

Though the court and King Chen had laid down arms after the Battle of Tianque Pass and nominally let the matter rest, the seven northern provinces of Yan and Shuo had since become a near-independent domain, a thorn lodged permanently in the court's heart.

Not a single court official had a kind word for King Chen. Among them, Censor Sun Hou had memorialized the Empress no fewer than several times in half a year, vehemently denouncing King Chen's transgressions — until the Empress grew so weary of it that she flatly refused to see him and had him transferred to the Ministry of Revenue as a minor official.

As for the common people of Great Jin, there was even less to be said. The Battle of Tianque Pass had conscripted countless able-bodied men, and untold numbers of families had sent their sons off never to return, their bones buried in foreign soil.

At the mere mention of King Chen, they ground their teeth in fury — they would have drunk his blood and devoured his flesh if they could.

Under such circumstances, how could that wastrel son dare to sneak into the Central Plains?

The corners of Pei Su's mouth curved in a faint, elusive smile.

"We don't know yet. But Xiao Lin approaching the son of King Chen — he's likely trying to use that connection to reach King Chen of the North. That's the only path left open to him now."

Watching Pei Su's expression, Banxia broke into a grin as well.

"Deputy Commander Xiao always seems to find his way to survival by paving it over someone else's ruin — first he dragged Zhao Lan into it, and now he's come for the son of King Chen!"

Pei Su glanced out through the vermilion curtain and noticed the sky was gradually darkening.

"According to the message Elder Wu sent, the son of King Chen and his party appear to be heading for Luodu in Yuzhou. We'll go ahead and wait for them there."

"Luodu!" A flash of delight crossed Banxia's eyes. "Even in the Imperial Capital, the peonies of Luodu are spoken of with admiration."

Near the entrance of the carriage, Jiang Suining quietly stole a glance at Banxia, then lowered her head again, sitting as if on pins and needles.

Could someone please tell her — she had only been at Pei Su's side for a few short days, yet she had already overheard so many momentous affairs that contradicted everything she had known.

Matters touching on the Chen King of the North, jianghu heretical sects, the Imperial Capital's palace...

All she could do was keep as low a profile as possible and refrain from asking about any of the things Pei Su spoke of.

In any case, right now she was simply someone staying by the Heir of the Northern Marquis's side...

Called a handmaid, but in truth more like... a gilded canary, she supposed.

* * *

As Pei Su closed his eyes, the carriage fell into silence.

Pei Su reclined against his seat, and the rumors the world told about the son of King Chen began to surface in his mind.

There had once been three Nation-Guarding Generals in Great Jin: Pei Jun, Chen Mang, and one other — Sima Nankong. Setting aside the Sima family's aged general, Pei Jun and Chen Mang were of similar age, and the Battle of Tianque Pass had ended without a clear victor between them.

Naturally, those who loved to compare could not resist measuring their respective heirs against each other — and the contrast was like heaven and earth.

Pei Jun's son, Pei Su, had been born with an Immortal's Mark on his brow. Rumored to be an immortal reborn in human form, a young immortal of the mortal race, his radiance had enveloped the entire Imperial Capital from childhood onward, and the world marveled at him as a once-in-a-millennium prodigy.

Chen Mang's son, Chen Yao, on the other hand — at his first-birthday grab ceremony, with a table full of swords, blades, brushes, and inkstones laid before him, he had seized a maidservant's sachet and refused to let go. Every guest present had struggled to suppress their laughter, and King Chen had worn a black expression for a full day and night.

And that was only the beginning. As the young lord grew older, the world finally understood what it truly meant to have a tiger father and a dog son — a natural-born wastrel through and through.

By seven or eight years old, he was already frequenting High-class Brothels with a pack of fellow scions, drowning himself in the tender embrace of beauties.

At eleven, he took up the blade — but spent his days slacking and his nights Seeking women, until he had driven away the renowned jianghu master "Willow-Yang Blade" Master Xu, whom King Chen had gone to great lengths to recruit.

King Chen, furious, confined him for three months — only for the young lord to then conspire with a band of wastrels, steal King Chen's military seal, and lead eight thousand cavalry into the Steppe Court, vanishing for a full two months.

Just as King Chen was on the verge of personally leading his iron cavalry back into the Steppe Court to find him, the young lord sauntered back on his own.

It turned out he had gone off in search of the legendary Tianshan snow lotus — all to win the favor of the top courtesan of Liangzhou, Yu Meiren...

A few years prior, when Chen Yao held his coming-of-age ceremony, he had even given himself the courtesy name "Shiyao," which set taverns and High-class Brothels roaring with laughter for weeks — anyone who heard it slapped the table and howled.

Just recently, word had spread that the wastrel young lord had forced a decorated vanguard general in the military camp to kowtow to him thirty-six times. Every onlooker had cursed inwardly, lamenting the cruelty of the world.

King Chen, in a towering rage, had personally expelled him from Liangzhou, declaring that if he dared set foot through the city gates within a year, military law would be applied.

More than a few people had gloated:

The northern domain that King Chen had fought so hard to build would sooner or later be squandered by this Chen Shiyao — one could only wonder what Chen Mang would feel when that day came.

Though Pei Su had never met the son of King Chen in person, their names were frequently spoken together by others.

As the two most famous young lords in all the land, their reputations could not have been more different — one soaring in the heavens, the other buried in the earth.

Whenever they were mentioned in the same breath, it carried a dramatic, almost theatrical contrast.

Both sons of Nation-Guarding Generals, both young lords whose names resounded throughout Great Jin — one blazing with glory, revered by the world; the other a worthless wastrel, mocked by all under heaven.

"A worthless wastrel, is it..."

Pei Su murmured softly to himself, his tone impossible to read — somewhere between amusement and mockery.