Chapter 29: Prelude

Chapter 29: Prelude

Seven riders hauled the vermilion carriage through the veil of night, drawing to a halt before the gates of Luodu City.

Through the bead curtain, Pei Su could make out three figures standing watch at the city gate in the distance.

He stepped down from the vermilion carriage, and the three men were already moving to meet him. The stooped middle-aged man in the center strode forward with a hearty laugh.

"I received word from the Heir of the Northern Marquis some time ago that you would be passing through Luodu. We rushed here at once — how fortunate to have caught you in time, Young Lord!"

Pei Su's gaze drifted across the three men. On the left stood a young man in thin clothing, trembling slightly, yet his face was flushed with excitement.

"The fault is mine, Wang. I have disturbed your peace and left your son shivering in the autumn wind."

Pei Su smiled faintly and offered a light bow.

Wang Xian beamed with eager warmth.

"Not at all, not at all! The Heir of the Northern Marquis gracing Luodu with his presence is an honor for the entire city. My son has long admired the Young Lord — the moment he heard of your visit, he didn't even stop to grab a heavier coat before leaping on his horse and riding out. Ha! Please forgive us for making a spectacle of ourselves..."

As Wang Xian's words trailed off, Wang Shan clasped his hands in a respectful salute, his eyes brimming with admiration.

"I had long heard of the Young Lord's extraordinary bearing, but seeing you in person, I realize no rumor could capture even a fraction of it!"

Behind Pei Su, Banxia and Jiang Suining had also descended from the carriage, though both had concealed their faces and drew no particular attention.

Even so, their bearing and figures gave Wang Shan a start. He quickly lowered his gaze, careful not to let even a hint of impropriety show on his face.

"Young Lord, the wind is strong outside the city. Shall we head in together?"

Wang Xian's smile never wavered — nothing like the cold, calculating demeanor he wore before his subordinates.

"After you."

Pei Su replied with a mild smile, his thoughts drifting back to the intelligence he had gathered on this governor of Yuzhou before arriving in Luodu.

What he had found was rather unexpected — another misfit who didn't quite belong.

Liu Gongyun, the governor of Bingzhou, had transitioned from a battlefield general into officialdom — irregular by any standard, yet with the Northern Pacification Marquis's letter of recommendation behind him, not a soul at court had dared utter a word of objection.

This Wang Xian before him was similarly no ordinary official who had climbed the ranks step by step to reach his position.

To put it bluntly, one might even call it an "exile."

Because his surname was Wang — he was born into one of the Seven Great Clans of the Capital, the Wang family, and from its main bloodline at that. He was the second son of the current Wang patriarch, a young master of unquestionable prestige in the Imperial Capital.

Governing an entire province was a pinnacle that most officials could never reach in a lifetime, and Luodu in particular was a city of great strategic and fiscal importance.

But for a Wang family young master who had enjoyed unrivaled status in the Imperial Capital, having his elder brother at the heart of power in the capital while he himself was sent far away to manage a region on the family's behalf — doing the work of a branch-line son — was nothing short of exile. After all, in the capital, one's cultivation could be bolstered by divine radiance.

It was plain that Wang Xian was not particularly favored by the Wang patriarch, which explained why he made no effort to hide his eagerness to curry favor now.

Pei Su was happy to accept the goodwill. After all, he still needed to set a trap in Luodu for the son of King Chen, who would be arriving before long.

Everything else was of no concern to him.

Others might tread carefully out of deference to the Wang family — but as far as Pei Su was concerned...

What was the Wang family of the Imperial Capital, really?

The Seven Great Clans of the Capital were renowned throughout the realm, pillars of the Great Jin Dynasty, feared and revered by court and commoner alike. But even among the seven, there were differences in standing.

The Wang family sat no higher than the middle of that hierarchy. The Pei Clan, on the other hand, had stood unchallenged at the very top since time immemorial — and that had never once changed.

* * *

"Hmph. I never imagined you would turn out to be Xiao Zhongyong — the very man who stole Dragon-Sparrow!"

Inside a tavern, a dim yellow lantern swayed overhead. Chen Yao sat nursing his drink, idly picking at roasted peanuts, his smile cold.

Across from him, the cloaked elder had let his hood fall — and the face beneath was unmistakably Xiao Lin, the very man who had apparently "breathed his last" before Zhao Lan's eyes not long ago.

Xiao Lin was momentarily taken aback. He had just laid out a rough account of the truth behind Dragon-Sparrow's journey north, and yet this young lord seemed to care only about his identity.

"Young Lord of King Chen, you are still young — perhaps you do not yet grasp what the death of the Son of Heaven truly means..."

"That old emperor's dead and gone — so what? What, am I supposed to go mourn him?"

Xiao Lin fell silent. He understood why the young lord's attitude had shifted so sharply the moment his identity was revealed.

The Dragon-Sparrow he had stolen had once been the blade of this young lord's mother.

That incident at the training ground more than twenty years ago — the one the court was too ashamed to speak of — he had been a participant himself.

But with something to ask of this man, he had no choice but to lower his voice.

"The court today is in the hands of the Empress, who rules from behind the curtain and has hollowed out the Li dynasty. Pei Zhao holds absolute power, and every minister bows to his will. From top to bottom, the whole edifice is rotten. At that training ground all those years ago, I witnessed with my own eyes how Pei Jun struck the Consort of King Chen with a single finger and gravely wounded her..."

"Shut your mouth, old man!" Chen Yao's voice cut through like ice, the usual air of a carefree wastrel suddenly gone cold. "I'm warning you — do not speak of my mother!"

"Ha!"

Xiao Lin looked at the young lord's expression and suddenly laughed.

"Young Lord of King Chen, what good does your anger toward me do? Yes, I was there at the training ground that day — I even stepped forward and fought the Consort myself. But did I want to? The Son of Heaven had issued his command, the ministers were all complicit — who dared refuse? I knew I was in the wrong, so I held back with every move, let your mother defeat me in ten strokes, and became the laughingstock of the day without a single regret — because I still had a conscience. As for those who cast their conscience aside, do you truly not know who they were?"

Seeing that Chen Yao had gone quiet, Xiao Lin felt a flicker of hope and pressed on.

"It was the Great Jin court — they conspired together at that training ground to force the Consort to surrender her blade. It was Pei Jun — he struck her in the abdomen with a single finger and left her gravely wounded. Do you truly not know how your mother..."

Xiao Lin had meant to say "passed away," but seeing Chen Yao's hand unconsciously crush his wine cup, he stopped himself.

He couldn't help but wonder — the Consort of King Chen's death was perhaps inextricably linked to that single strike from Pei Jun.

Then, abruptly, Chen Yao's expression shifted into a lazy smirk.

"You're a sharp-tongued thief, I'll give you that. But some of what you said isn't wrong — the whole Pei family, top to bottom, are nothing but bastards!"

Xiao Lin quietly exhaled in relief.

"I share a blood feud with the Pei Clan. Please, Young Lord, arrange an introduction to King Chen. I, Xiao Lin, am willing to lay down my life in his service!"

"Old Meng, what realm is this man at?"

"Heavenly Palace... a self-severed Heavenly Palace?"

Xiao Lin explained.

"Some time ago, I was hunted by the Pei Clan. I fled with grievous wounds, and to avoid being detected by the Heavenly Palace Stone, I severed my own cultivation down to the eighth tier of the Heavenly Palace Realm. As for Dragon-Sparrow — as I said before — it is now in the hands of the Heir of the Northern Marquis."

Chen Yao considered this for a moment, then slowly shook his head.

"No. If you want to serve under King Chen, go north yourself. I have no intention of returning to the north right now..."

Xiao Lin suddenly recalled the old friend who had once traveled north to betray him, and a chill ran through him.

"No! Without someone to vouch for me, I will never get an audience with King Chen. Young Lord, this matter concerns the fate of the entire realm — I beg you to consider the greater picture!"

Chen Yao still wore that same devil-may-care expression, shaking his head with a grin.

Xiao Lin ground his teeth, fury rising in his chest.

"Why not?!"

Chen Yao leaned back against the wall, both feet crossed and propped up on the table, utterly nonchalant.

"Old Meng, tell him — what exactly is it that I'm here to do?"

The old manservant beside him set down his cup with a cheerful chuckle.

"The young master heard that the land and water of Luodu in the Central Plains nurtures great beauties. He's come to the Zuixian House — said to shelter the finest beauties in all the realm — to pick out a couple of charming young ladies to warm his bed!"