PART 2. BLAST FROM THE PAST
PART 2. BLAST FROM THE PAST
Chapter 11
Flower of Paradise
Chu Qiao had stayed in Chu Jing Palace for almost a year now, and it was summer. Zhong Yu disappeared that night in the blink of an eye. With Viper’s help, Chu Qiao adjusted to life in the old palace and helped rebuild its ruins.
The people of Chu visited the palace, bringing wine and other harvests from the land. They expressed their joy at seeing the lost princess, whom they thought was dead.
Unfortunately, she was the last seed sown by time to grow, as the rest of the noble Chu and Jing families had been slain by the swords of the Western Empire during the rule of the merciless Yuwen Hao. He was the master of the Eyes of God before his adopted son, Yuwen Yue, took over after his death.
Yuwen Hao had no heir until the infant Yuwen Yue arrived at the Green Hills Courtyard, brought by a lady who traveled far from the Xie household to the Yuwen household.
This lady was the niece of Tai Furen, the mother of Yuwen Huai, who was a concubine of the third branch of the Yuwen household at Red Hills Courtyard. Tai Furen came from a gentle lineage, and it was later discovered that the lady who visited her wearing the peony gown, and later found at Jile Pavilion, was Yuwen Yue’s mother.
Yuwen Yue eventually discovered that his mother had suffered a tragic fate at the hands of Yuwen Xi.
Tai Furen told Yuwen Yue the day he crashed the gates of his own Yuwen household at Red Hills Courtyard, “You must listen to stories longer than you spend bypassing the stratagems of my place today.”
The poorest of the poor, who hid in the divine mountains of the East Sea, were the only ones who returned when they heard the lost princess was alive and ready to revive the lost Chu Empire.
The Chu Empire was not only a home for the powerful but also kept the balance of dark forces from the underworld. The Chu Empire housed non-governmental elite spies, also known as underworld spies. They did not work for money but for a mission—to rescue mankind from the brink of darkness and danger.
These spies, often referred to as “angels of grace,” would appear to punish or reward as needed, operating as if they were not raised in flesh and blood but were bestowed with powers from the afterlife passed down since birth.
This story was told to Chu Qiao throughout the year by an old woman who had challenged her upon her first entrance to the Chu Jing inner courtyard after a long absence.
At the age of six, Chu Qiao left the palace for her safety. Her mother took her away and resumed her former life before becoming queen. She returned as Luo He, the leader of the Wind and Cloud Decree, the most powerful underworld elite spy.
Chu Qiao was left with her closest relatives, the Jing family, alongside her half-brothers and sisters: Zhi Xiang (4th), Lingxi (5th), and Xiaoqi (7th), while she was renamed Xiao Lui (6th) to conceal her identity. They resided at Yanbei on the Longji mountains, where Mr. Wu, a native of the small village and a skilled fighter, was born.
Chu Qiao and her siblings were princes and princesses who had been raised in the palace, but on that fateful day when the Western Empire struck, only her mother was able to protect them from the blades. After the king was slain, only Chu Qiao survived the bloodthirsty onslaught of the Wei Empire.
Mr. Wu, also known as Wu Dao Ya, trained the young Chu Qiao for years, but only at night.
Thus, Chu Qiao was prepared to fight, becoming skilled in facing various enemies. She practiced her Katas blindfolded in the cold and dark of night, competing against elite spies.
By day, she was a normal child, but by night, Mr. Wu taught her arts like wushu, gongfu, wuxia, and other self-defense skills necessary to control the powers passed down to her since birth.
Mr. Wu also helped her perfect her meditation, which sharpened her senses and enhanced her flexibility, stamina, and relentless spirit, much like her mother, Luo He.
Mr. Wu and her mother were cousins, both powerful elite spies of the underworld, but Mr. Wu chose a quiet life and retreated to the Yanbei mountains after the Chu Empire was set aflame, leaving behind the forgotten remains of Datong Way.
The face of the Skyshadow gatekeeper should never be revealed, as anyone who sees it will be cursed with blindness until the Supermoon appears once again to restore their sight.
“The Supermoon comes only once in a hundred years. How can it be cured? It’s better not to see the face of this old woman!” Chu Qiao, looking beautiful and pristine in her princess dress adorned with plum blossoms, teased the old woman while wearing her indigo scarf as a veil.
“Another time?” Chu Qiao joked.
“No,” replied the old woman.
“Alright, let’s hear more, then we can rest for the day,” Chu Qiao said in a dull tone.
The old woman told Chu Qiao the story of the Forgotten River, which separates the underworld from the world of the living. Overwhelmed, Chu Qiao struggled to comprehend and repeated, “When someone dies, and they cross the Forgotten River, all memories of their past life fade.”
The old woman cut her off, adding, “But just before reaching the other side, a flower called Higanbana thrives on its shores.”
“What’s the use of Higanbana? Is it different from Hing Ba Na?” Chu Qiao pressed, eager for more details.
The old woman explained, “Secret princess, listen closely. The legend claims that the fragrance of Higanbana brings back all of the dead’s earthly memories one last time before they vanish, just as they cross the Forgotten River.
Additionally, it is said that when unrequited lovers die, these flowers bloom along the path of the departed lovers, but they are never destined to meet again. Remember, these flowers also signify the transition from summer to fall, a beautiful sight.”
The old woman paused, noticing tears welling in Chu Qiao’s eyes, though she tried to hold them back.
Ignoring her emotion, the old woman continued, “It’s a welcome sight, but only if you obey and don’t look at my face.” She mockingly added, “But after so many hot summer days, it’s still not a sign of cooler weather. There’s a beautiful sight behind you, but you won’t have the chance to see it.”
The old woman’s mocking tone irritated Chu Qiao, who asked, “What’s behind me? What is it called?”
“I was waiting for you to ask,” the old woman said in a naturally dull voice that made Chu Qiao even more impatient.
“The flower tattoo on your back isn’t just an ordinary tattoo. Your late mother, Luo He, the former queen of Chu Jing Palace, passed it on to you when you were old enough to control your powers. It’s called the Higanbana, the flower of the afterlife. Its power wanes in summer as its leaves grow, but it thrives in winter when its upward petals bloom in the fall.
The Hing Ba Na, however, is an ancient chant for Feng Yun Faling (the Wind and Cloud Decree) used to accept a reward or consequence upon using its powers. The words were inscribed on white snow paper, given to you by your mother, Luo He, inside a small bottle of Celadon. However, you cannot read what’s written unless you use the consecrated appearing and disappearing powder…”
“…So, another time?” The old woman teased, repeating Chu Qiao’s earlier words to mock her excitement.
Chu Qiao, now frustrated, wanted to kick the old woman, but the woman disappeared like a shadow.
Ready to fight, Chu Qiao prepared herself for martial arts training. “I’ll slap you even if it means going blind for eternity!” she shouted, half-joking, half-angry. “You better come back and finish the story!” she yelled, but the old woman was gone.
Chu Qiao sighed as she found her window open, the old woman having escaped. “Another day!” she said softly, “That old woman is so rude!”
From the shadows, the old woman smiled, hearing Chu Qiao’s complaint. Viper, watching nearby, enjoyed the scene.
The next day, Chu Qiao attended her usual training session and left Diamond Hall for the Chu Palace training grounds.
The people of Chu cherished the memory of King Chu, the father, who had sacrificed his life for peace in the land. The treasures and weapons of the Chu Kingdom had been hidden in the divine mountains of the East. These people remained loyal, as they owed their lives to King Chu, who had saved them with his blood.
Over time, they made a covenant that the treasures left by the noble king would be preserved under the protection of the former underworld spies, only to be revealed when the time was right, upon the arrival of the secret princess. This belief was based on a prophecy passed down through generations, and so far, every prediction had come true, slowly but surely.
Some of the Chu villagers who settled in the divine mountains eventually found the Ximeng continent, where the Qinghai dynasty reigned. However, they could not pass the Great Walls to enter the land, as they were told the king forbade it. In truth, it was the queen who forbade it, leaving the Chu people to fend for themselves, with some even sold into slavery by other empires.
Now ready, Chu Qiao rode her black horse, her indigo scarf marking it as a royal steed of the Chu family. She wore a white and yellow-gold gown with a phoenix embroidered on her chest. Her hair was adorned with jade and crystals, and she wore a pair of dewdrop earrings. She looked as pristine as the clear waters of the Arcadian mountains, her dark brown eyes gentle yet commanding attention.
Each morning, Chu Qiao trained in gongfu to regain her lost skills. Dressed in royal attire, her hair styled the same each day, Viper often tried to disrupt her appearance, aiming to mess with her hair.
The flower tattoo on Chu Qiao’s back had remained visible since the frozen lake incident. Whenever Viper touched her body, she felt the same intense power that burned her hands when she had pulled Chu Qiao from the frozen lake.
Viper nearly lost her hands when they were burned with blue flames. Although she felt no pain at first, the sensation struck when she submerged her hands in the icy lake after securing the princess in a hidden location near the glacial lake.
Viper cried out in agony as the meeting of hot and cold caused unbearable pain, and she never fully understood Chu Qiao’s power until that moment. Days later, her hands healed, returning to their original state, but Viper wore gloves to protect them from the harsh winter.
The drummers were ready. They surrounded the Chu Palace training ground, beating their drums from fast to slow rhythms.
The bass drums produced horrifying sounds, but Chu Qiao had grown accustomed to them.
The secret princess signaled the start of her training. This was the royal training style of Chu Jing.
A hidden obstacle course lay on the ground. At first, Chu Qiao was hit and sustained minor wounds, thinking, “This isn’t fun at all.” But as time passed, she mastered the course, bearing whatever it took to return to her former self.
The drums quickened with each obstacle she completed, signaling the end of her training. As she finished, she entered through a gigantic red door with a gold dragon handle. A large incense basin stood in the middle, with a burning stick of incense almost spent.
Chu Qiao’s task was to maintain her pristine appearance throughout training, her hair still neatly styled except for a small jade crystal that had fallen to the ground—a sign that she had almost been hit on the head.
“Again, you were hit!” Viper remarked as she waited outside.
Chu Qiao placed her indigo scarf over her head, shielding her face from the sun.
After flying kicks, tumbling, grabbing crossbows and arrows, and mastering cold weapons like daggers made of cold iron and beautiful shields, Chu Qiao finally entered an inner chamber within the obstacle course. Inside, she found a prized sword, causing her to drop her bow and rush forward to see it closely.
There, she saw a glistening sword.
Chapter 12
The Master’s Sword
A flashback from the inner door reflected in her dark brown eyes, bedazzled and mesmerized as she gazed at the double-edged sword before her. The tip of the sword had a perfect silver finish, and at the end of its gold-like grip handle were tiny silver bells.
One thing she knew for sure: she had seen this sword somewhere before.
She touched the tiny silver bells, and their crisp sound sent a tingling sensation to her ears.
Suddenly, her memories of the past became vivid.
The tiny silver bells’ sound continued to echo in her ears, and Chu Qiao remembered Xinger, though she wasn’t certain if Xinger and she were the same person. She could recognize Xinger in her memories. Chu Qiao recalled Yuwen Yue holding a contest to select her bedchamber maid.
Xinger won the tea-making ceremony and the writing contest, among others.
Chu Qiao saw Xinger’s first night as her master’s bedchamber maid.
When Xinger was awarded the silver bell…
When Yuwen Yue trained Chu Qiao to commission her as an official spy for the Eyes of God.
When Yuwen Yue gave her the Canhong Jian sword…
When Yuwen Yue and Xinger fought, and he wouldn’t let go of her hand from the castle peak. Xinger was about to fall and chose to let go of his hand…
When Yuwen Yue went to Yuwen Huai’s dungeon and saved her by temporarily killing her with a needle.
Yuwen Yue said, “A woman who cannot be controlled is worse than dead.”
Chu Qiao also saw the graves of her siblings, Ling Xi and Zhi Xiang, and the tomb of Xinger, where Yuwen Yue had thought she was burned to death. From the ashes, Yuwen Yue found the ring her master had given her, leaving the young master of the Green Hills Courtyard devastated for days.
She also remembered Yuwen Yue giving Xinger her first mission, but then the master rescued Xinger.
Next, they were locked up in a cave with the shop owner, Zao Baocun. The old man revealed that the sword Yuwen Yue gave her, the Canhong Sword, was actually a lover’s sword, paired with Yuwen Yue’s Po Yue Jian sword.
Yuwen Yue, unaware of the sword’s history, blushed and made no comment. Zao Baocun teased them, but Yuwen Yue was too tired and looked sick.
“That’s it! I knew it! This is the Po Yue Jian sword!”
She looked at the sword again, touched its blade, and suddenly closed her eyes as the memories continued to flood her mind. She didn’t realize she had this power until now.
After several minutes, she opened her eyes, tears falling as she saw a part of Xinger’s memories and Yuwen Yue in connection to the sword, but she chose not to continue.
“Who are you, Yuwen Yue? Did you really love Xinger all this time? Why is this sword locked up in here?” Chu Qiao paused before she let go of the sword.
Suddenly, she felt a rush. She needed to get out of the obstacle course, or she would fail the challenge with the tall incense stick waiting outside as her timekeeper. She couldn’t stay longer. She marked the four sides of the spot so she could return without getting lost in the maze-like obstacle course.
“Mimi Gongzhu, did something happen inside?” Viper asked, intrigued, as Chu Qiao had been unusually quiet for hours. She sensed something was bothering her.
Chu Qiao was browsing through an ancient text in a hidden mini-library located underground in her diamond hall.
Along the path to the secret library, big lion heads were attached to the old palace walls. They would automatically light fires when a switch was pressed, illuminating the path until one reached a door made of iron and cold stones resembling ice.
The library was constructed of pure limestone, with no exit door, only the Canhong (dark red) entrance door. It had been locked down after detecting a fire in the outer palace, which preserved the hidden library from destruction.
Chu Qiao usually spent her time here, reading about the kingdom’s history. It was her personal hideout, a place she could navigate while evading the obstacles inside.
Viper was busily preparing their afternoon tea, still waiting for Chu Qiao to respond to her inquiry.
Chu Qiao looked at her, then returned to her book. Viper sensed that the long silence had something to do with an object hidden somewhere in the Chu palace training ground.
Impatient, Viper asked, “Is it about the lost Po Yue Jian sword?”
Still, no answer came, as if Chu Qiao hadn’t heard her.
Viper asked again, for the third time, “Did you find it?”
Feeling responsible to answer, Chu Qiao responded with a question: “Why? Did you hide the sword?”
Viper, now caught off guard, was like an open book, unable to conceal more secrets.
“Does the sword belong to you or someone else?” Viper replied.
“I believe it isn’t mine, but I saw it earlier.” Chu Qiao’s voice was cold and sarcastic, as there were only questions, no answers.
Viper, sensing Chu Qiao’s irritation, apologized: “I’m sorry, Princess. I asked because the Po Yue Jian sword belonged to the son of the Qinghai King. The sword had been protected by our ancestors for generations, and it was only taken out when the King presented it as a gift to his son, whose name, Yue, was engraved on the sword. The King saw his son as the moon, while he was the sun. The son ruled the night while the father ruled the day.”
Chu Qiao stood and approached Viper. Sensing the tension, Viper tried to step aside, but Chu Qiao grabbed her arm. Viper could no longer keep her secrets.
“Where can I find the Qinghai King? Is he still alive?” Chu Qiao’s face was close to Viper’s, her eyes sleepy yet filled with sadness and coldness.
Caught off guard, Viper didn’t immediately answer. She hadn’t expected Chu Qiao to ask about the Qinghai King. She thought Chu Qiao would inquire about the King’s son instead.
“The Qinghai King is still alive, but he’s cursed, which led to the empire’s decline,” Viper said, summarizing the history in one sentence before continuing, “As for his whereabouts, we don’t know. He’s been taken somewhere, and until the curse is broken or his son returns, the Qinghai King remains locked away.”
Chu Qiao, now fully focused and intensely curious, asked again, “Who cursed the Qinghai King?”
“It was the Queen.”
Chu Qiao thought, “She’s a witch.”
“Sort of,” Viper replied, as if she knew what Chu Qiao was thinking.
“The prodigal son has much to do to save his enchanted father. How is he doing?” Chu Qiao asked, now calmer.
The Qinghai baby prince was believed to have been abducted by his own maidservant mother. According to the underworld spies, the maid was from the Xie household. She took the prince and the sword and fled the palace. The Qinghai King was furious when his spies returned empty-handed. He ordered the Xie household to be burned down.
Viper hesitated to continue, but Chu Qiao, like a hungry tiger, was ready to devour every detail of the past.
“It was later discovered that the mother escaped to the Wei Empire. The Qinghai King couldn’t send his guards because he didn’t want word to spread that both the Po Yue Jian sword and his crown prince were missing. To avoid being seen as weak or incompetent, he discreetly sent underworld spies to find them. Even the smartest spies failed to track down the prince and the sword.”
“What does this have to do with the Chu Jing Kingdom?” Chu Qiao asked, her curiosity sparked.
Viper responded, “Your mother, Luo He, advised the King that it would take a long-term plan to resolve the issue. If the King didn’t want to announce that his son and sword were missing, he had to trust the subtle plan. Mr. Wu, one of the King’s advisors, argued that the prince wasn’t dead since no body had been found.
Your father, Chu Teng Gao, was equally concerned about the lost Po Yue Jian sword. The bloodline of the Ximeng continent was tied to it. If the sword were lost, chaos would follow—and it did. Other empires set out to find the sword and claim it. Whoever possessed the sword would wield great power because it was forged in cold fire, fortified by the bloodline of King Yue of ancient times. It was said that any ruler who held the sword could command the world. The sword was called ‘The Gentleman of All Weapons.'”
Viper continued, “At the time, the blackout strategy worked as a temporary fix, but eventually, the news leaked. The Qinghai Empire was attacked by the Wei Empire and started to fall. Before the empire collapsed, the Chu Jing Kingdom—Qinghai’s moon—defended the Sun and prevented its total destruction.
Chu Jing, like the moon, always watches over the underworld at night, casting its light over Chisui Lake and Chaosu Lake. But eventually, even the moon faded, waiting to rise again and light the dark night.”
After hearing the story, Chu Qiao, like a drunken master, wanted more.
“Viper, is that it? Is that where Qinghai fell and Chu Jing ended? Will the sun and the moon never shine again? What about the stars—are they scattered?”
There were questions, but no answers, as Viper nodded and ended with the prophecy.
“Secret Princess, there’s one more thing. I heard as a child that it was prophesied that the moon from Chu Jing would wax again, but only after forming an alliance with the ruler of Southern Liang. The ruler would abdicate, and Chu Jing would rise. The fierce dragon from the north would tear apart Chu Jing, but the child of the west Lion King would snatch victory from the dragon’s mouth. Qinghai, the sun, would shine again, and the moon would return to its rightful place.”
Chapter 13
Little moon of the Sun
“You cannot do this to my son, no!” said the maiden slave as she drew the sword from its sheath and pointed it at the palace guards.
“Lady Yueshen, it is the Qinghai King’s order to take him to the Queen’s palace,” said the palace guards, as they began to approach the cradle where the baby prince lay.
Shua!Lady Yueshen struck one of the guards who was about to snatch the baby prince from his cradle. The guard’s wrist was cut off, and blood started spilling onto the ground.
“You cannot come near!” she said coldly, her voice like the depths of hell. She brandished the Canhong Jian sword, and the palace guards were astonished.
“This sword will haunt you to your graves for four generations,” Lady Yueshen warned, her grip steady on the sword. She wouldn’t hesitate to kill. She lifted the baby prince from the cradle, wrapping him in fine white silk across her chest like a criss-cross sash.
On her back was another fine sword, a gift from the King to her son, who had been declared the next crown prince just three days earlier.
The Qinghai palace guards dropped to their knees, gazing at the Canhong Jian sword in awe. Lady Yueshen knew the palace guards respected the type of sword one wielded, unlike in the Wei Empire, where a tiger tally made of pure jade and tassel held authority. In the Qinghai Empire, such symbols held no sway.
The Canhong Jian sword was known to haunt the souls of those whose blood it spilled, cursing not only the slain but their descendants for four generations. It was most powerful under the waxing moon in the fourth quarter, but this power came with a condition: the wielder must also possess its counterpart, the Po Yue Jian sword.
The Qinghai King, a lover and avid collector of swords, some of which had been handed down by his ancestors, kept these treasures in the most secure part of the Qinghai Palace.
The Canhong Jian was considered the lesser equal of the Po Yue Jian, and the story of these swords ended tragically with their owners, like thorns and thistles that needed weeding.
On his first visit to the Wei Empire, the Qinghai King met Lady Yueshen, then a young servant girl of humble descent from the Xie household, inside Wei’s imperial palace. Like the King, she was a lover of swords.
She was a beautiful young woman, her heart as sturdy and cold as iron frozen in ice—a born fighter. “Under the waxing moon, she shines like the Canhong Jian sword,” the King had told her.
One day, while practicing in the palace, Lady Yueshen heard someone approach. She quickly pointed her sword towards the intruder, but it was too late—the King had already seen her performance.
From that moment on, the King pursued her relentlessly. He informed the Great Summer Dynasty’s emperor that he would pay twice her value to buy her freedom from the Wei palace. However, the Great Summer emperor wanted nothing but a prized sword that the King of Liang had requested as a gift for his crown prince, Xiao Ce.
Both empires were vying for the bladeless sword known as Cheng Ying.
The bladeless sword was a symbol of civil power, representing a state’s ability to settle matters without violence. It was believed that whoever possessed the sword would always win bloodless conflicts. The sword cast only a shadow, making it invisible to the enemy’s eyes and difficult to predict. Its blade became visible only when pointed northward.
The Southern Liang King desired the sword for his son’s birthday, as it matched Prince Xiao Ce’s taste for delicate elegance.
The Qinghai King, however, won the prized sword, exchanging one of his most valued swords for the freedom of Tai Shen, later named Lady Yueshen (or the Moon Goddess), after purchasing her freedom from the Shen Jin Emperor of Wei. The Liang King, bitter at being outmaneuvered, distanced himself from one of his strongest allies.
“You should house more beautiful, cold-hearted virgin slaves rather than building ships, for one day, like a pearl, you might exchange one for something more valuable,” said the Shen Jin Emperor to the Liang King, as he unsheathed the bladeless sword in front of him, adding insult to injury.
The Liang King retorted, “You only won because I am gracious, full of kindness and mercy, allowing you this sword at the expense of a mere servant—the daughter of your empire’s famed blacksmith from the Zhao household. You even gave her sister to the brute Yuwen Xi, forcing him to lower his ties with Liang.”
With a sarcastic smile, he added, “No one defeats a bladeless fight, my brother. Learn from me.”
The Shen Jin Emperor, flushed with cold and pride, grinned broadly.
Meanwhile, deep in the night, a single mother fled across the long winding road of the Great Wall of China with her son cradled at her bosom. She gasped for air as she neared the gate. The palace guards, fearing the legend of the Canhong Jian and Po Yue Jian swords, hesitated to pursue her, knowing that if they did, their families would be cursed for four generations.
They let her go, but moments later, their leader reminded them that their heads would roll in the morning once the Queen learned that they had allowed the mother and child to escape.
Thus, they resumed their pursuit, but by then, the mother and child were already halfway to the Great Wall of the Qinghai dynasty.
Though the journey ahead was still long, the mother and child were safer now than they would have been in the palace, victims of the Queen’s envy towards her son.
The mother paused to breastfeed her hungry child, gently lifting the baby prince’s head to feed him, giving him the nourishment of nature.
The mother, filled with great fighting spirit, completed the seven-day journey along the Great Wall of China, finally reaching the snowy forests of the Western territories where she found refuge.
Young and in the prime of her life, she said, “At last, I am home. There is nothing to look back on, and nothing I cannot survive today. This is my land and your land, my state and your state. You are destined to be the next king of the most powerful dynasty in the world. You will grow up where you belong. You shall know my household and my ancestors’ land before you meet your father, whom I love with all my heart. My flesh and blood, my baby prince, welcome to your mother’s land.”
With these words, the lady placed the baby prince on the ground, laying the Po Yue Jian sword on his right and the Canhong Jian sword on his left, as if he were already a grown crown prince. She performed a kowtow bow and cried, her face pressed to the earth. She gave thanks to the ever-watching heavens, orQian, for protecting and guiding them through their perilous journey. Suddenly, a bolt of lightning struck the Po Yue Jian and Canhong Jian swords—the lover’s swords.
Yet, there was no sound of thunder.
Afterward, she rose slowly, her tears turning to joy as she saw her baby touching the Po Yue Jian sword. Tears welled in her eyes as she picked him up along with both swords and headed toward the humble Xie household.
Lady Yueshen’s father, shocked but overjoyed to see his daughter and grandson, was also angry. He feared that she, a runaway mother, had stolen her own child and might soon be hunted down by the Qinghai King, placing their household in grave danger.
Her father, a renowned blacksmith, and her brothers, swordsmiths in service to the noble Zhao household, were captivated by the sight of the lover’s swords their daughter and sister carried.
“And these?” she said, looking at the swords with pride. She touched both of them and told her father, “The Canhong Jian sword was a gift from the King to his handmaiden, whom he loved and hoped would bear his child. He never awarded it until he met me, a woman who, like him, appreciates swords and understands their power.”
Her father hushed as he approached the Po Yue Jian and Canhong Jian swords, his eyes brimming with joy. He hadn’t expected that he would one day see such legendary swords in his home, or that his grandson might rule with them. Overcome with gratitude, he gave thanks to the heavens.
As a descendant of ancient swordsmiths and blacksmiths, he began to speak of the secrets of the swords—secrets even the Qinghai King might not fully know, particularly the powers that would emerge when the Canhong Jian and Po Yue Jian swords were united.
In front of his sons, daughter, and young grandson, he began to read the ancient Chinese inscriptions in a cold but calm voice: “The Po Yue Jian sword bears eight ancient Chinese characters engraved along its double-edged blade, which read, ‘King of Yue, may you live long and win victories with the use of this sword.’
“Its sheath is made of copper, designed to prevent air from touching the blade, making it the first rustproof sword, defying time. Our sword master ancestors, along with our blacksmith forefathers, forged this sword on a cold fire 2,000 years ago. They journeyed through eight sacred mountains, tested its double-edged blade made of iron mixed with copper, and repeatedly slashed it on eight frozen lakes. The blade is adorned with eight micro indigo-blue stones, visible only to those with open eyes under a young moonlit sky. Its handle, crafted from soft gold and designed in the shape of a crescent moon, would make every knee bow.
“This sword won thousands of victories and defeated countless armies in battle before it was decommissioned.”
His father seemed to be in a time warp, reminiscing about the tales from his childhood as his wide, unblinking eyes stared at the sword. He then bestowed a blessing on his grandchild, saying, “May you rule wisely, this gentleman’s sword to save rather than kill, for justice not just for a few but for all.”
Lady Yueshen smiled and asked, “What about the Canhong Jian sword, Father?”
“The Canhong Jian sword was forged under a dark red supermoon, with eight ancient enchanters performing continuous chants for eight days and eight nights. The perfect dark red supermoon was reflected in its blade, and the howling of a fox was believed to have been engraved onto the sword during those eight days.
“Old folks say that if an enemy is slain with this sword, they will hear the fox’s howl, and it will haunt them to their graves, spreading its curse to their families for four generations,” he explained, his voice growing sad, though he wouldn’t say why.
Lady Yueshen recalled what the King had told her on their first night. He had presented the sword to her as a gift. That morning, she had awoken to find the Qinghai King standing by her bedside, dressed like a warrior with his Po Yue Jian sword. It seemed he was preparing for a swordsmanship duel with her bedchamber maid.
Much like the story of Yuwen Yue and Xinger’s first encounter, the King tossed the Canhong Jian sword to Yueshen, who woke up like an angel from above. The two lovers sparred, neither harming the other, and afterward returned to bed. The rest, as they say, is history.
(Readers are welcome to add more details here! At this point, the writer is “ziplocked.” As for Yuwen Yue’s origins, it all becomes clear—at least for this fanfic.)
Lady Yueshen had once been like a fine girl in a cocoon, waiting for her shell to crack so she could learn to fly. However, after arriving in Qinghai, she transformed into a sophisticated butterfly. With access to all types of beauty treatments, state-of-the-art cosmetics, high fashion, and the study of Qinghai’s royal etiquette, she blossomed.
She did all of this because she had fallen in love at first sight with the King of Qinghai.
The King highly praised her swordsmanship, and she earned the title of a “sophisticated beauty.” In the King’s arms, she flourished, fulfilling his wish and granting him a son.
All of Qinghai was astonished by her transformation, and even the citizens of her homeland heard the news. Her story became a legend—like Cinderella’s—her soft transformation making her the most sought-after lady in the palace. Even the other concubines and court beauties regarded her as the “Moon Goddess,” for when people looked upon her face, it was as if the gods had descended to earth.
If Yueshen had fallen in love with the King at first sight, the King regarded her as his first love.
The King of Qinghai had never felt such emotions until he met Yueshen.
He was six years older than Yueshen, and by the time she met him, he was already 30 years old, making him the youngest ruler among the Shen Jin Emperor, who was 37, and the Liang King, who was in his 40s.
However, their love story was shadowed by the presence of the Queen. She was older than the King and unable to bear a child after a tragic miscarriage. The loss of their child shattered her.
The Queen of Qinghai adopted several sons and daughters, but none could fill the void left by her lost child. In her anguish, she ordered her guards to cast the innocent children from the cliffs, becoming more distant and abandoning her duties as a wife to the King.
The King, out of compassion, comforted her and tolerated her vile actions, understanding the pain that drove her to such cruelty. But deep inside, it seemed he was merely fulfilling his duty to produce an heir to the throne with her.
Yet, despite everything, there was nothing that resembled what people called “love.”
Chapter 14
Master of the eyes of God
Suddenly, a group of ninja assassins arrived at the Xie household and surrounded the house.
Yueshen’s father already knew this would happen, so before it was too late, he had sent his daughter and grandson to the safest place where they could be protected without too many questions.
He sent them to his sister, Tai Furen, who was currently the third concubine of the Yuwen household, and raising her 3-year-old son, Yuwen Huai.
The mother and child hurried to the Yuwen household on her father’s horse as fast as they could, hiding the baby securely in her bosom.
Lady Yueshen arrived in her Qinghai Palace dress with a long fur-lined hooded coat, but she left her household wearing her servant’s peony dress.
“Brother, please take care of him,” she said, handing him the Po Yue Jian sword.
Lady Yueshen kissed the baby prince’s forehead, who was sweetly sleeping, placed paper snow in his small lap, and, unable to stop the tears in her eyes, handed the baby prince to her brother.
“I’ll meet you there. As we part ways, you take Juwei Street, and I’ll take the Yuwen backdoor,” her brother said.
Yueshen nodded, and in a bitter voice, she said, “If anything happens, do not hesitate.”
“I won’t. For my nephew, I’m ready to fight,” her brother replied. He then turned to the sleeping baby and said, “Don’t worry, my little one, your uncle is a sword master. Who dares challenge the mighty Xie household?”
The two disappeared into the deep snow until Yueshen could no longer see them.
Her horse neighed and began to run in the opposite direction from her son.
Yuwen Hao, dressed in his usual aristocratic attire—dark blue silk with two Qiu’s on both arms and criss-cross ties on both hands—had just finished his evening practice.
He was about to retire for the day when he heard a moan. Grabbing his bow and arrow, he stepped outside his room. Yuwen Hao did not let his guard down, even though he knew the perimeter was secured. He walked confidently, as if hunting deer in his own backyard.
Not far from where he stood, Yuwen Hao spotted a baby lying on the ground.
The baby was wrapped in a rough canvas material, with no sign of his princely attire, except for a piece of dark purple silk on his right side. Yuwen Hao’s senses sharpened as he smelled blood—a sign that someone nearby had been wounded and likely caught in the traps set around the perimeter.
His eyes followed the trail of blood dripping on the floor.
After a while, a man emerged from hiding and began to run. Unfortunately, two arrows struck his back, sending him into shock. Despite the pain, the man ran as far as he could, leaving the Green Hills courtyard.
“My little prince, I have done my part. Your life is now in your hands.” The man collapsed in the snowy forest, closed his eyes, and breathed his last.
Yuwen Hao did not pursue the masked man, as the baby began to stir and stretch. Standing near the child, Yuwen Hao was momentarily unsure of what to do, but the child’s helplessness and angelic aura suddenly stirred his fatherly instincts.
It was unlike Yuwen Hao to welcome a baby at night, but this child seemed to disarm him completely. Just then—whoosh!—an arrow flew toward them.
Yuwen Hao quickly leaped, grabbing the baby just as the arrow was about to strike. He couldn’t tell where the arrow had come from but knew it wasn’t part of the household’s planted traps—it had come from outside the Yuwen household.
Yuwen Hao didn’t alert the entire household, fearing that if he did, the baby he was holding might not survive another day. Too late, he realized he had been shot in the arm while protecting the child. Despite the pain, he grabbed the black silk by his side, choosing to save the baby before attending to himself—something he had never done before.
Yuwen Hao placed the baby on the grand sofa bed. He hid the black silk in a secret compartment under the bed, closed the lid, and pulled down the dark blue see-through curtain. Just then, his servant entered and was about to scream, but Yuwen Hao quickly placed his hand over the servant’s mouth and whispered, “If you dare, I will kill you here.”
“Master, I do not dare, but please let me help you,” the servant pleaded, still in shock, unaccustomed to seeing his master wounded by an arrow.
In fact, he couldn’t recall ever handling a situation like this before.
The servant was worried because if his master wasn’t treated immediately, the deep wounds might worsen. The arrow embedded in Yuwen Hao’s right arm needed to be removed, and if the master’s condition deteriorated, the servant feared he might lose his life—his head could be chopped off, and he might not live to see the sun tomorrow.
Yuwen Hao’s face showed visible pain, so the servant discreetly left his master’s hall. He walked to another hall, showed his carved jade stone hanging from his belt to the guard, and entered Yuwen’s Cǎoyào (herbal medicine) room.
The servant carefully read the labels on the medicine cabinet, opened a small drawer, picked up a pair of tongs, and selected two tiny jade ceramic bowls. He then went over to choose various antiseptic herbs.
After taking a few steps to another cabinet, he grabbed a Celadon bottle labeledKàngshēngsù(antibiotic). He also collected gauze pads made from soft pure canvas, some cotton balls, and a medium-sized glass bottle labeledLěngquán shuǐ(cold spring water, or something like alcohol). Finally, before he forgot, he picked up a rolled 2-inch wide bandage.
Back at Yuwen Hao’s side, the servant slowly removed the arrow. Dark red blood gushed out, but the servant quickly cleaned the wound withLěngquán shuǐ, wiping it with a clean white handkerchief inscribed with the household name 宇文浩, meaning Yuwen Hao.
A little relieved, Yuwen Hao glanced toward the baby under the see-through curtains, his concern for the child outweighing the pain in his arm.
“What happened, Master?” the servant asked while applying the antiseptic herbs and a balm-like antibiotic to his master’s wound, allowing it to penetrate the skin for a while.
“I made a mistake with one of the traps, and this is the result,” Yuwen Hao replied curtly.
His brief, bland response suggested he was lying, and the servant knew his master was concealing something. Yuwen Hao didn’t want to make a big deal of it.
Yuwen Hao was a perfectionist, and he was highly skilled at setting traps. Never before had he missed or injured himself, especially not in the Eyes of God repository or while navigating the Merlin stratagems—until today.
The servants all knew their master was a master of traps, someone who had designed the structures and knew them inside and out. The servant found it surprising to hear his master’s anxious voice. Yuwen Hao usually spoke in a formal, low tone, never sounding unsettled.
The servant raised an eyebrow but remained quiet, refraining from asking further questions, which seemed to bring Yuwen Hao some relief.
“Hold on, Master, almost done,” the servant finally said while finishing the bandaging.
“You are not to tell anyone about what you saw or did for me tonight,” Yuwen Hao said in a cold, threatening tone.
“Yes, Master Hao,” the servant replied.
“You may leave,” Yuwen Hao ordered, and the servant bowed his head before departing.
Once the servant was gone, Yuwen Hao hurried to his bed. He looked at the baby and felt an overwhelming, unfamiliar sense of joy that he couldn’t fully express at the moment.
All he wanted now was to protect the baby, and he began forming a plan in his mind.
Despite his pain, Yuwen Hao took his robe, covered his injured arm, and walked toward the east corner of the room. He pulled a string.
Clang, clang, clang—the bell rang, summoning the young maidservants of Green Hills Courtyard. The head of the maidservants rushed into his hall.
“Master, I came quickly because I heard the east corner bell ring three times consecutively,” the head maidservant said. She was a fine, beautiful maid who carried herself with grace. Many noblemen occasionally visited Yuwen Hao to inquire about her. She had come in such haste that she was still wearing only a thin nightgown, her small slippers exposing her feet.
Yuwen Hao was known to have a fetish for women’s feet, and the maidservant was fully aware of this. However, due to the urgency of the bell’s call, she rushed over without bothering to make herself more presentable. Three consecutive bell sounds indicated that Master Yuwen Hao needed immediate attention, while two bells would summon the grandmaster, Yuwen Gao—though these SOS bells were rarely used until tonight.
Yuwen Hao was lying on his back when the head maidservant entered the room. Despite his aristocratic look, he addressed her in his usual gentlemanly manner. “Come.”
“Master…” the young maidservant stammered, her voice trembling. She was paralyzed with fear, her knees weak as she stood frozen, unable to move. Yuwen Hao’s eyes were fixed on her small, delicate feet.
Clearly pleased with her pearly white skin and small feet, Yuwen Hao spoke again, this time more insistently but still polite. “I said, come here.”
His gaze led her toward his grand sofa bed, the curtains slightly parted. The hall was dimly lit, and the room was filled with a soothing aroma, inviting sleep.
The maidservant remained frozen in place, her arms crossed over her chest, hugging herself in a protective gesture. She felt cold and nervous. As a virgin, she feared what her master might be asking of her by calling her to his bed.
Growing impatient, Yuwen Hao moved closer to her and pulled at her thin nightgown. In an instant, she was nearly naked, left only in her undergarments. Yuwen Hao’s eyes widened, but before he could act further, he stretched out his injured arm and, realizing what she might be thinking, quickly covered her with her discarded nightgown.
It dawned on Yuwen Hao what the maidservant must have assumed, and when he looked at her, he saw tears streaming down her face as she knelt on the floor.
“Master, please spare me tonight, and do not take my life tomorrow,” she begged. “I am under the red moon.” The term “red moon” was her way of saying that she had just started her monthly menstrual period, a time when she could not perform the dances or other duties of a bedchamber maid.
Yuwen Hao had chosen the finest maids in the Yuwen household for his bedchamber, but none had been able to bear his child.
Broadening his shoulders, Yuwen Hao decided to play along with her dramatic plea.
“Do I look like a vampire, ready to claim a blooming flower such as yourself under the red moon?” he asked with a playful grin. His droopy eyes and teasing tone hinted at his desire to engage in a seductive push-and-pull game. His dark blue robe, slightly open at the chest, revealed his broad, bare torso.
The maidservant, still wary of her master’s foxy look, quickly wrapped herself in her nightgown once more. She stood on her tiptoes like a ballerina, poised and waiting for Yuwen Hao’s next move.
Yuwen Hao found himself in an awkward position, unable to think clearly. Though this was not his first time in such an encounter, he felt his manhood stirring, longing for release as he gazed at the maidservant’s red lips, as tempting as a ripe gala apple. Her brief, indecent exposure had captivated him.
Before he could make another move, a soft cry broke the tension. Glancing toward the bed, Yuwen Hao saw two tiny feet stretch out from beneath the curtain, followed by another faint, but unmistakable, sound from the baby.
The maidservant, surprised, craned her long neck to peek at her master’s bed, then looked back at Yuwen Hao, feeling confused.
Yuwen Hao felt embarrassed but gave her a stern look. Regaining his composure, he returned to his usual aristocratic look and ordered the maid to pick up the baby, telling her he would wait for her in his library room.
Yuwen Hao proceeded to the library, where he burned incense and lit a tea candle. Sitting in a squat-like posture, he began to think deeply, quickly forgetting the steamy situation that had just transpired.
The maidservant, momentarily forgetting the earlier incident, went to the master’s bedchamber. Her eyes widened with surprise and delight when she saw the sleeping baby.
“He looks like a god,” she murmured, unable to keep her thoughts to herself upon seeing the child’s divine appearance.
Leaving the baby peacefully asleep in Yuwen Hao’s bed, she proceeded to the library. Upon entering, she noticed that her master now seemed much calmer, like a low tide at sea.
“I want you to listen and follow my instructions exactly as I say,” Yuwen Hao commanded in a formal, serious tone.
“Yes, Master. Please accept my apology. I was too narrow-minded earlier and am now ashamed of myself,” she said humbly, bowing her head to the carpet.
Yuwen Hao, in his aristocratic manner, replied, “If it was a test, you’ve already passed.”
His words, though sarcastic, carried a note of appreciation. The maidservant, feeling relieved by his unexpected compliment, raised her head from the floor.
“The baby you saw earlier is my child. Tomorrow, at dawn, you will leave, and you are never to speak to anyone about this. When you pass by Red Hills Courtyard, say nothing, and find a way to dismiss any interrogation. Then, find me a smart maiden to care for my child. I will issue an order to assign them to the old shrine of the Yuwen household. There, the child will stay and grow until the time comes for him to be taught how to rule and become the future master of the Eyes of God.”
The maidservant, surprised by the news, was overjoyed to learn that Master Yuwen Hao had a child who would one day inherit the Yuwen household and the Eyes of God. The identity of the mother intrigued her, but she pushed her questions aside. She had no choice but to follow her master’s orders. “Yes, Master, as you wish. It shall be done.”
“For the night, you will sleep in my bedchamber and watch over my son until you leave at dawn,” Yuwen Hao added.
“You may leave,” he dismissed her.
Chapter 15
Master Ice cube
“Lady, this way please,” the servants of Tai Furen let her pass through the secret passage leading to Tai Furen’s courtyard. Furen is waiting for her.
“Tai Shen, after three years, here is my niece. Look at you, so lady-like. I received the little note you sent,” Tai Furen says, sitting gracefully in her hall, dressed in a light purple gown with a peony flower hairpin clipped in her hair.
On the table, there is a medium-sized white tea basin made of ceramic, full of green tea leaves, decorated in the middle with a pink lotus flower. She picks up a tiny ceramic teacup and a small silver dragon-designed tong. She transfers the green tea leaves to the teacup, then takes a small wooden ladle.
Tai Furen scoops the green liquid from the beautiful white tea basin and pours it into the tiny teacup. She gracefully moves the teacup in front of Tai Shen. After a while, Tai Furen shows her a paper snow, blank.
“Aunt Furen, I came because of something important,” Tai Shen says, looking at her aunt, signaling her to dismiss the servants.
Tai Furen gives a hand signal, and the maidservants, understanding, retreat and close the door of the room.
“Then speak,” Tai Furen says, looking directly into her eyes with perfectly arched eyebrows.
“Tai Shan is currently trailing the Green Hills courtyard.”
“It is impossible to breach the Green Hills courtyard. If he does, we all know it’s a one-way trip,” Tai Furen says, taking a sip from her teacup.
Yueshen, unable to control herself, lets go of her tears.
“What is the matter?” Tai Furen asks. She lowers her beautiful eyebrows, her eyes full of compassion toward Tai Yue Shen.
“Tai Shan took my baby and will do his best to deliver it to Master Yuwen Hao.”
Tai Furen’s eyes linger a little longer than usual on Tai Yue Shen, and she suddenly asks, “Is it Qinghai’s son?”
“Yes.” Still crying, but soundlessly, Tai Yue Shen’s skirt is slightly wet.
Tai Shan, one of the excellent sword masters, offered a dangerous escape plan to save the life of Qinghai’s baby prince. Tai Furen is actually shocked. She suddenly stands up from her seat, furious, and scolds her niece. Tai Yue Shen knows what her aunt is trying to impress upon her. Maybe this will be the last chance to see her brother Tai Shan.
“What have you done?!” Tai Furen raises her brow, her eyes fierce toward her niece.
“Father advised me to do it; we were running out of time, with no options left,” Tai Yue Shen says, deeply depressed.
“The moon (codename for the baby prince) will not last the night if Yuwen Hao sees him.”
“Father hoped the moon’s fate would be different. He is childless and desperate for an heir to the Eyes of God.”
Tai Furen takes a few steps, thinking of what she can do with her limited power as the latest Lady Concubine of Yuwen Xi, and says, “We have to get the moon and hide him away—if he is still alive tonight.”
Tai Yue Shen cannot help herself, letting her tears flow while Tai Furen’s knees shake.
“You cannot stay here any longer. There are illegal channels in these walls. The master of the Red Hills courtyard is a beast and a hedonistic woman-eater. You may not live a day if I hide you here. I will send you to the farthest corner of the Red Hills courtyard, to a secluded place in the northwest.”
“What about you, Aunt Furen?”
“I will find a way to save you and your child,” Tai Furen says swiftly and gracefully, moving to open the door to her hall. She finds her servants and gives them instructions.
After a while, Tai Furen returns to her hall and goes to her closet. She changes her clothes quickly and comes back in a flowing red cotton dress, a black mask on her face, and her hair tied in a high ponytail.
“No, I cannot let you do this, Aunt Furen.”
“And I also cannot sit here idly, killing time, while the moon and his star become dead meat tonight,” Tai Furen says, looking fierce in her assassin’s attire for the night’s escape.
“We must go now. We will pass through the main inner gate at the center of the Yuwen household. It’s the fastest and most direct way to the castle peak. There are a few stratagems in place, but it’s better than passing through other illegal channels. My servants will distract their animalistic master for a while, and then we can sneak out of Jile Pavilion. Our goal is to pass through the area near Yuwen Hao’s hall.”
Tai Furen hushed and comforted her niece, saying, “I am the third concubine of the Yuwen household. Yuwen Hao will recognize me, just as you did when you presented your jade stone to come directly to me. The same will apply to Yuwen Hao; he will recognize the third-branch concubine.”
Tai Yue Shen, with her hopes raised and her mind racing, suddenly dries her tears and says, “I want you to have this.”
“Canhong sword?” Tai Furen says, astonished.
“Please, Aunt, take it,” Tai Yue Shen said. Tai Furen took the item, and Tai Yue Shen joined her. Together, they started sneaking out of Jile Pavilion.
Master Yuwen Xi was hosting his usual nightclub at his own Jile Pavilion. Young girls were running around like crazed sheep. Some were fully exposed, their naked bodies in plain sight, while others, drunk, lay sprawled in the pool. Some were dressed in monstrous costumes with smoky makeup. Already somewhat drugged by the steamy foam rising from the T-shaped pool, Yuwen Xi sat in the center, licking the bosom of a barely conscious, almost lifeless young girl. The girl was unresponsive, staring blankly at the pool.
Tai Furen saw the scene from her hiding place, her eyes filled with disgust as she spat on the Jile Pavilion. Tai Yue Shen could hardly believe what she was witnessing, and the pungent smell of the steamy foam wafting around the pavilion made her dizzy. She closed her eyes to steady herself.
When she opened them, her gaze was caught in a dreamlike state. She struggled to distinguish whether what she was seeing was real or not. The dead-like bodies of the young girls, some laughing to death, others naked, created a nightmarish trance. Looking in the opposite direction, Tai Yue Shen saw Yuwen Xi like a monster, licking the floating bodies in the pool at Jile Pavilion. Unable to bear it any longer, she blacked out.
Tai Furen realized too late that her niece had passed out. She looked behind her and noticed that Tai Yue Shen was no longer following. “Tai Yue Shen, where are you?” she called out, but no one responded, and panic began to set in.
Meanwhile, Tai Furen removed her mask and searched for Tai Yue Shen inside Jile Pavilion. She stayed longer than she should have, and now even the Third Concubine of the Yuwen household was trapped in the hellish night at Yuwen Xi’s Jile Pavilion.
The next day, Yuwen Hao’s maidservant was walking down the market street. She noticed a middle-aged woman buying seven jade stones at a jewelry shop. From a distance, the maidservant thought this woman could be a perfect match for her master’s request.
Judging from the woman’s appearance, she seemed cold yet sturdy, like an oak tree, as she spoke. The maidservant whispered to herself, “The woman is free-spirited.”
The maidservant followed the woman to a nearby restaurant and was astonished to see six children waiting for her. As the family conversed, the maidservant approached them but remained silent.
The woman noticed her and asked, “What can we do for you?”
The maidservant presented a jade stone—a rare but familiar token bearing the Yuwen family’s brocade. The woman understood immediately and asked, “What can I do to serve the master?”
“I am not permitted to speak at length, but would you and your six sons accompany me to the Yuwen household today? The rewards will benefit both you and your sons, but if you refuse, you may leave with your heads still attached to your necks,” the maidservant replied.
The woman thought for a moment before asking, “How can I be assured that my sons and I will be safe if we choose not to accept the task?”
The maidservant, unable to provide a clear answer, thought deeply and then handed over her tassel. The tassel served as a collateral item, symbolizing that if anything went wrong, the blame would fall upon her, risking her own neck at the Palm (the present office of Yuwen Yue, where corporal punishments were administered and justice delivered for victims, including beheadings or amputations for criminals) of Green Hills courtyard.
The woman and her six sons, along with the maidservant, left for the Yuwen household.
They arrived at Red Hills courtyard in the late afternoon, just before twilight. Before proceeding, they had to pass the guards’ interrogation to enter the Green Hills courtyard.
Using her silver tongue, the maidservant deceived the guards, though they were more interested in her beauty than her words. Through her charms, they allowed her to pass safely without triggering the stratagems planted around them.
The maidservant, the woman, and her six sons eventually met Yuwen Hao, who was facing away from them when they arrived.
Without turning around, Yuwen Hao dismissed the maidservant with a nod, and she bowed before leaving. Then, Yuwen Hao turned to face the woman and her six sons.
The woman bowed deeply in the kowtow position, and her sons followed suit, mimicking her. She was dressed in neat, presentable earth-tone canvas material, wearing a Chinese-collared shirt with traditional buttons, long slits at the sides, light beige pants, and black flat shoes.
The six sons, imitating their mother, looked adorable. Although Yuwen Hao typically didn’t smile, a faint beam crossed his aristocratic face at the sight of the children bowing before him, especially when one of the youngest struggled to perform the gesture.
Yuwen Hao was pleased to see so many male children entering his Green Hills courtyard. In a gentlemanly tone, Yuwen Hao said, “You may rise,” and the woman and her sons stood, following his command.
Yuwen Hao pulled a string, ringing a bell in the kitchen, signaling the servants.
The kitchen staff soon served an early dinner, and the guests were led to the dining area. The woman and her six sons marveled at the spread before them—a wide variety of Chinese dishes: steamed herb chicken feet, braised beef, Cuapao (small siopao), wonton soup with Canton noodles, stir-fried seafood, steamed fish with herbs and spices, black mushrooms, delectable sauces in tiny plates, steamed siomai served in small bamboo steamers, Hainanese rice, pickled fruits like cucumber, pears, and plums, and fresh fruits such as persimmon, passion fruit, and star apples, along with fresh green tea after the meal.
After the meal, they were ushered back to Yuwen Hao’s hall, but only the woman returned, leaving her sons to play outside in the courtyard. Inside, she saw Yuwen Hao holding a baby.
“Master, thank you for the best meal my sons and I have ever had,” she said gratefully.
“You will have more if you accept the task,” Yuwen Hao replied.
“What is the task, Master?” she asked. Then, after a pause, she added, “And if I choose not to accept it, your maidservant gave me this.” She handed over the tassel. Yuwen Hao, knowing the woman was smart, acknowledged her gesture.
Looking back at the baby he regarded as his son, Yuwen Hao said, “My son is your task. Do you wish to accept?”
“It is a great honor, Master,” the woman replied, “but I am not fit to care for your son. You are of noble blood, and I am not.”
Impressed with her humility and intelligence, Yuwen Hao responded, “You won’t directly care for my son. You will serve one of the ladies of the house in Green Hills courtyard, complementing her aristocratic side with your humble background. Do you accept?”
“What about my six sons, Master? What do you intend for them?” she asked.
“They will grow and stay here to accompany my son. I will personally oversee their training and raise them to become servants of the next master and heir of the Eyes of God. With that said, you can expect a bright future for your sons. They will grow up educated and will serve the master of Green Hills courtyard for the rest of their lives,” Yuwen Hao said in a gentle voice, speaking slowly to ensure the mother understood what was at stake.
“Master, the goodness in your heart is above the heavens. May the Qians (meaning heavens) bless you,” the mother replied.
“We have nowhere to go. Our household was burned down, and we’ve been surviving on the streets, doing small chores for people. If we don’t work as slaves of slaves, my sons wouldn’t even have a meal fit for dogs.”
After saying this, the mother accepted the task.
Yuwen Hao, understanding her situation and seizing the opportunity, had her sign a contract.
“Do you understand what you and your sons will be doing from now on?” Yuwen Hao asked, making sure the mother fully grasped the implications.
“Yes, my Lord.” The mother performed a kowtow.
“You may rise,” Yuwen Hao said.
This meant she and her six sons would serve the Green Hills courtyard for the rest of their lives.
That night, Yuwen Hao arranged everything. He wrote to his father, Yuwen Gao, explaining the situation. The old Yuwen Master read the final lines: “Grant this, Father, and consider it my last wish.”
Unknown to anyone, Yuwen Hao was prepared to abandon his title, his nobility, and return the Eyes of God to his father if his wish was not granted. He was desperate for a son, and now that he had the baby, he would do whatever it took to secure his legacy and redirect everything toward the heir of the Eyes of God.
Yuwen Gao responded favorably that same night. The old Yuwen Master immediately informed the Lady residing at the inner temple of the Yuwen ancient palace—Yuwen Hao’s grandmother and Yuwen Gao’s mother.
Late that night, Yuwen Hao remembered the black silk hidden in his secret repository. Taking it out, he touched and felt the fine grade of the fabric.
Yuwen Hao closed his eyes, trying to recall where the silk had come from. Sadly, he couldn’t remember. It was the most expensive silk in China, the finest of all fabrics. He untied the black silk and opened it to reveal the sole belonging of the baby who was sleeping peacefully in his bedchamber.
To Yuwen Hao’s surprise, a sword was inside. He had never seen it before, but judging from its appearance, it seemed to belong to a noble or royal family.
As he removed the sword, a snow paper fell to the floor. Picking it up, Yuwen Hao saw that it was blank.
Realizing that the baby might not have been accidentally left behind by whoever had sneaked into his house the other day, Yuwen Hao took a small bottle of celadon powder and sprinkled it on the snow paper. A message appeared:
上帝眼中的主人宇文豪
这是我的儿子，我正在照顾你，因为我相信你是一个配得上我儿子血的继承人，他的名字叫悦。 剑是他的，不应该出鞘，直到他的时间来统治你的家庭来。 这是我最后的愿望。
岳神夫人
(The Master of the Eyes of God, Yuwen Hao,
This is my son. I am entrusting him to your care, believing you are a worthy heir for his noble blood. His name is Yue. The sword belongs to him and should not be unsheathed until the time comes for him to rule over your household. This is my last wish.
Lady Yue Shen)
Yuwen Hao was right: the baby he was caring for was of royal blood. However, he didn’t know who Lady Yue Shen was, her background, or from which empire she came. She was not widely known.
Yuwen Hao also examined the sword’s sheath but found that it couldn’t be unsheathed. It appeared to have a locking mechanism. Not wanting to damage it, Yuwen Hao decided not to force it open.
A smile appeared at the corners of his mouth as he thought,I plan to give it to him on his 30th day at the Yuwen household.In their tradition, a child’s 30th day marked the official ‘locking’ of the child to the world, where family and friends presented gifts of silver and money to support the child’s upbringing.
That same night, the Lady at the temple was quietly stunned upon seeing the baby boy. Longing for a grandchild, she immediately took him from Yuwen Hao’s arms and began playing with him.
The Lady, usually aristocratic, beautiful, but with a gloomy face, brightened. Her chinky eyes softened into a sunny expression as she completely ignored Yuwen Hao’s instructions and brushed off the servant mother he had hired. She told Yuwen Hao, “We will call him Master Ice Cube,” and chuckled as the baby beamed, their eyes locking.
Thirty days had passed, just as Yuwen Hao had planned. He introduced the child to the Yuwen family, fabricating a story to conceal the child’s true past, claiming him as his son from an unknown mother. The Yuwen family barely listened to Yuwen Hao’s introduction; all eyes and attention were on the child, who appeared godlike. They were mesmerized by him, momentarily forgetting their family affairs. They rejoiced and showered him with silverware and coins.
After the celebration ended, Yuwen Hao secretly bestowed the Po Yue Jian sword upon the child. He said, “You will be the master of snow—strong and cold, yet gentle on the inside. You will learn the depths and layers of being the heir and master of the Eyes of God. This sword, from your mother, I bestow upon you to defend the master code of snow and the principles that will be formed under your upbringing.”
Then Yuwen Hao carefully wrapped the sword back in its black silk and placed it in a secret repository.
Chapter 16
The Budding Moon
After the bitter moon’s fate, poppy flowers fade. The holiday moon takes over, and plum blossoms become a friend of winter. When the budding moon shines and hails, the breath of spring promises peach blossoms, bringing joy and life’s bliss in the moment.
Yuwen Yue grew up in the lap of his great-grandmother’s aristocratic nature. His fine-grained character was balanced by his surrogate servant mother’s reverential but crafty attitude. He became one of the most desired children in the Yuwen household, equal to Yuwen Huai.
He also learned quickly, as his mother was not only crafty but also practiced Cloud Hands (Tai Chi), her own martial talent.
It was the first fighting art Yuwen Yue learned, where he mastered the body’s vital energy, harmonizing it with the wind. Listening to its passing presence was a conscious effort.
Every day, his surrogate mother and Yuwen Yue traveled to the highest peak of the Green Hills courtyard, practicing with the wind. Through Cloud Hands, he perfected his posture, breathing, and consciousness, whether in motion or stillness.
Tai Chi
“Yue’er, always remember the five principles of Cloud Hands: sink in (which means to relax), our bodies belong to the earth (which means the body is upright), balance on your legs (which means separate your weight), align your eyes, nose, and navel (which means maintain a flexible waist), and a beautiful woman’s hand (which means the wrist is the first of the ‘nine gates’),” said the woman, facing the cloudy horizon at the top of the cliff, standing on one leg with her hands pointing downward, her eyes closed, as the wind swayed her hair—a sight Yuwen Yue found exquisite.
Like a mirror, Yuwen Yue followed her instructions, finding peace in the wind. They stood there for an hour before the woman changed her stance to another posture.
Yuwen Yue never forgot these principles, nor the concept of Yin-Yang—the perfect balance, where the woman always drew a circle with a wave-like form in the middle and small rings on both sides.
She explained that this ancient symbol represents the self, divided into light (Yang) and dark (Yin). She taught him about casting light and shadow, which she said could one day help him trace his past and his followers if he were to become the master of the Eyes of God in the future.
The woman gazed at the small jade stone pendant she had bought at the jeweler, the day they met the maidservant of Yuwen Hao. She had been about to leave her six sons at the orphanage to search for their father, but fate had changed their lives.
Their father had gone abroad almost five years earlier and had not returned. She had seven sons, but her husband had taken their two-year-old seventh son, Zuo Shan, with him. She often thought of Zuo Shan and had included him when she bought seven jade pendants.
She had also bought a similar carved jade stone for their father and given it to him before he left, as a promise that they would see each other again.
The six sons had already mastered Tai Chi, as their mother had been teaching them daily before they entered the Yuwen household.
Yuwen Hao renamed the six sons as follows: Yue Xian (1st Yue), Yue Di (2nd Yue), Yue Sa (3rd Yue), Yue Si (4th Yue), Yue Wu (5th Yue), and Yue Lui (6th Yue). They were then trained at the Yuwen swordsmanship center, a university-like institution controlled by Yuwen Xi, though overseen by Yuwen Gao, the head sword master, who trained the empire’s greatest sword masters.
Yuwen Gao taught the basic cuts and related skills, refining the students to master the ancient lineage and style of Chinese Jian swordsmanship.
Yuwen Yue’s first taste of swordsmanship didn’t come until he was seven, when his father, Yuwen Hao, crafted a wooden sword resembling the Po Yue Jian, fit for the Yuwen heir.
Yuwen Hao became Yuwen Yue’s personal sword master. The hardest part was horseback riding, mastering the art of swordsmanship on horseback. Yuwen Yue always delighted in observing his father.
After precise and tactful training, Yuwen Hao decided it was time.
“Yue’er, my son, I know it’s been a while since I taught you about Jian swordsmanship, and it’s about time you received the blade that was always meant to be yours. Hand me the wooden sword.”
“Here it is, Father,” Yuwen Yue said with manners and courtesy, kneeling on one knee. With both hands open, he respectfully offered the wooden sword to his father.
Yuwen Hao took the wooden sword and handed him thePo Yue Jiansword, preparing to be honest about where the sword had come from.
Yuwen Yue’s past was not hidden from him, but what he knew was a distorted version of the truth.
Yuwen Hao had worked hard to build his son’s reputation, ensuring that other Yuwen families and households believed he was truly his own son—and he had succeeded in making them believe it.
“This sword was never unsheathed. Your mother gave it to me and asked me to give it to you when the time was right.”
Yuwen Yue, filled with surprise and joy, could not hide the gladness in his eyes. Still on one knee, he was speechless, overwhelmed with emotion.
Yuwen Hao had long recognized his son’s agility and talents in swordsmanship. When Yuwen Yue was ten years old, Yuwen Hao presented him with thePo Yue Jiansword, and for the first time in Yuwen Yue’s life, he had never felt so happy and fulfilled by what his father had given him.
Though Yuwen Hao was cold and distant, he never failed to surprise his son with things he knew Yuwen Yue would appreciate. Yuwen Hao had groomed him to be a master, capable of one day handling the affairs of the Eyes of God, having already set this as his destiny, waiting to unfold.
In addition to swordsmanship, Yuwen Yue had personal access to learning diverse types of martial arts like Wushu and Gongfu. One of his favorite subjects was Chi Kung, which became a lifetime combat skill with and without the use of weapons.
Yuwen Hao possessed all sorts of unimaginable armaments, used in many of his assassinations and demolition jobs, stored in the weaponry of the Eyes of God. Yuwen Yue had the opportunity to study these weapons, touch them, and occasionally, use them in training with his father as his master contender.
The extensive collection of martial arts weapons housed in the Eyes of God included:
Bo and Staff: Straight Staffs, Tapered Staffs, Toothpick Bo, Long Poles, Three Section Staff, Two Section StaffBroadswords: Wushu Broadswords, Traditional Broadswords, Wood Broadswords, Combat Steel Broadswords, Double Broadswords, Double Butterfly Swords, Miao Dao, Tai Chi BroadswordsCases and Racks: Staff carriers, Tai Chi swordsWushu Weapons: Wushu Swords, Whip Chains, Wushu Staffs, Spears, Wushu Daggers, Lightweight WeaponsCustom Fitted Spears: Custom Fitted Spears, Long Spears, Combat SpearsDouble Weapons: Double Butterfly Swords, Double Broadswords, Deer Horn Knives, Double Daggers, Sun & Moon RingsDragon Long Poles: Teak Long PolesEscrima Sticks & Batons: Rattan Sticks, Waxwood Sticks, Graphite Sticks, Nightsticks, Police Batons, Hardwood Escrima Sticks, Oak Long Poles, Waxwood Long PolesFantasy Knives and Daggers: Replica Weapons, Master Cutlery WeaponsFlexible Weapons: Chain Whips, Sectional Staffs, Rope Darts, Meteor Hammers, NunchakuHidden Weapons: Telescopic Batons, Push Daggers, Telescopic Nunchaku, Hidden KnivesOther Martial Arts Weapons: Kama, Sai, Tonfa, Ninjutsu Equipment, Japanese SwordsKendo Weapons & Equipment: Shinai, Bokken, Shoto, Tatami MatsLong Weapons: Spears, including Wushu Spears, Traditional Spears, Combat Steel WeaponsThrowing Weapons: Shuriken, Ninja Stars, Throwing Knives, Steel Cards, Rope DartsTraditional Weapons: Traditional Swords, Traditional Long WeaponsMaster Kits: Weapon Master Kits, Sword Kits, Spear Kits, Double Weapon KitsCustom and Exotic Weapons: Damascus Swords, Custom Butterfly Swords, Cutting Swords, Custom-made SwordsWeapon Accessories: Weapon Flags, Rope Dart Flags, Broadsword Flags, Sword Tassels, Spear Tassels, Sword Cleaning Kits, Three Section Staff SwivelsKung Fu Fans: Tai Chi Fans, Steel FansAntique Weapons: Antique Swords, Antique Kwan DaoChin Na Training Tools: Chin Na Bags, Chin Na Training Stones, Dragon Claw Rings, Brass Forearm Rings, Chinese Exercise Baoding BallsMiscellaneous: Wooden dummies (compact and space-saving, wall-mounted), sparring gear (arm, leg, head, chest, gloves, and mitts), weapon apparel and accessories such as belts, shoes, headbands, Gongfu patches, training pants, and uniforms.
Suddenly, Yuwen Hao brought his son to a large storeroom and opened the firelights by activating a switch mechanism. On the walls, as high as a three-story building, Yuwen Yue’s eyes widened as he saw a vast range of cold weapons, including bows and arrows.
Yuwen Hao, a lover of cold armaments, had earned the title of Grand Master Archer of the Wei Empire.
Here, he kept his most treasured classic bows, including theYuan Mongol bow,Qianlong Manchu Hunting bows,Qing Conquest bow,Ming Chinese bows,Scorpius Bamboo bows,LiaoQiangs spearman bows,Mariner bows,takedown bows,Ming Moonbows,Han Wing bows,Qing dragon bows,Cinnabar bows, and his personal favorite, theKai Yuan bow(Chinese: 开元弓). He also possessed a collection of crossbows, such asRepeating crossbows,Hunting crossbows,Trigger crossbows, andArtillery crossbows, and arrows likefire arrowsandlight arrows.
At the center of the room was a block-shaped trapezoidal bar as tall as his waist, on top of which lay a shiny rectangular wooden box engraved with 宇文浩 (Yuwen Hao). Inside the box was an arrow called the “bing arrow” (ice arrow), which Yuwen Hao finally introduced to Yuwen Yue.
“This is the most powerful weapon in the entire empire,” Yuwen Hao explained, “a cruel, cold weapon that only a Master of the Eyes of God has the knowledge and authority to use.”
“Yue’er, this arrow is specially made to freeze its target, infused with snow ice and delicately processed. We only produce three arrows each year during the winter months of the bitter moon, the holiday moon, and the budding moon.”
Yuwen Hao opened the lid of the wooden box, revealing a half-shaft arrow. Its shaft was made of clear, glass-like material, and the arrowhead was literally composed of snow ice.
“Three bing arrows per year? Father, that’s too few if you have hundreds of enemies,” Yuwen Yue remarked as he carefully touched the snow ice arrow.
“Yes, it is the coldest of all cold weapons. It can only be stored during the winter months, losing its efficacy from summer to autumn. These arrows can only be used in specific circumstances, and at a given point in time, they only last in the air under certain conditions.”
Yuwen Hao continued, “This is the Arrow of Bitter Moon—created from snow ice and infused under the bitter moonlight. It freezes its victim and kills slowly over time, gaining a reputation for its bitter, soul-crushing pain. The victim may survive, but the effect is deeply painful and unforgettable, casting bitterness into the heart. The arrow creates an invisible scar when it melts, making it difficult for others to trace the wound.”
“It is believed that this was the type of arrow used to capture and freeze Yan Xun when he attempted to escape Changan City with Chu Qiao. Yuwen Gao ordered it, doubting that Yuwen Yue would obey the chain of command to capture Yan Xun for the Wei Empire’s Shen Jin Gong. Though Yuwen Yue was the interim master of the Eyes of God at that time, its full power had not yet been ordered, as they awaited the seal from the Shen Jin Emperor.”
“This was the moment when Yan Xun began to harbor bitterness toward Yuwen Yue, never expecting him to harm him. Afterward, Yan Xun struggled to trust others and succumbed to his darker emotions. Who revealed this truth to Yan Xun? None other than the former spy, Xinger.”
Yuwen Hao then moved on to another powerful weapon: the Arrows of Holiday Moon. “Created from snow ice and infused under the holiday moonlight, these arrows freeze the enemy and destroy the entire perimeter. When released, the hunting wind joins the arrow, and as it melts, the enemy’s camp is demolished before they can react. The arrow earned its reputation by making it seem as though the enemy’s camp needed a holiday to rebuild after such a perfect demolition.”
“And last, but not least, is the softest yet coldest weapon—the Arrows of Budding Moon. Created from snow ice and infused under the budding moonlight, these arrows aim to forestall the enemy’s future. Though the softest of the cold weapons, it is the most powerful. It shatters the enemy’s dreams and frustrates their plans. This small arrow contains only the arrowhead and an almost invisible shaft, yet its power surpasses that of destroying an entire camp. It is believed that Yuwen Yue used this type of arrow to counter Yuwen Huai’s classic arrow. The needle-thin arrow landed unnoticed in Chu Qiao’s hair, ending the royal hunt and leaving only one maid alive—Xinger.”
Yuwen Hao concluded, “Never forget what I’ve told you. One day, you may need these weapons to protect the Eyes of God and yourself if danger arises.”
“Father, what happens to an enemy caught by the Arrows of Budding Moon?” Yuwen Yue asked.
“It’s said that they can recover, but it’s difficult. Often, they set themselves up for failure in the future.” Yuwen Hao was pleased with his son’s curiosity, knowing the third arrow was the hardest to create, as finding the perfect budding moon in winter was a rare occurrence.
“Thank you, Father, for such wisdom,” Yuwen Yue said, bowing his head respectfully as he was dismissed.
Night had already fallen when Yuwen Yue returned to his Xuan hall. He bowed as he saw a familiar figure seated in his chair.
“Grandmother, you waited for me all day in my hall?” Yuwen Yue asked, his eyes heavy with exhaustion.
“No, I just arrived and thought I’d wait for you a little while. I came to give you this book. It’s the last copy, and I hope you’ll enjoy reading it.”
“Thank you, Grandmother. I’ll definitely read it.”
The beautiful lady put on her red silk hood and gracefully exited the hall, meeting her servants outside.
Recaps:
The Three Bing Arrows
Yuwen Hao explained the purpose of each arrow:
Arrow of the Bitter Moon: Forged under the light of the bitter moon, this arrow freezes the target slowly, killing them with excruciating pain over time. It leaves behind an invisible wound, making it difficult for others to find. This arrow was used to captureYan Xunwhen he first attempted to escape Chang’an withChu Qiao. Its slow, bitter effect caused Yan Xun to grow cold and distrustful, sowing the seeds of bitterness that would shape his future.
Arrow of the Holiday Moon: Infused with the power of the holiday moon, this arrow is destructive, capable of wiping out an entire enemy camp in one strike. Once the arrowhead melts, it unleashes a force that obliterates everything in its path, leaving nothing but ruins. It gained its name because the enemy’s camp would need an extended “holiday” to rebuild.
Arrow of the Budding Moon: The softest yet most powerful of the three arrows, this weapon is designed to shatter dreams and future plans. A small, almost invisible arrowhead, it destroys the target’s future endeavors. This arrow is said to have been used by Yuwen Yue himself during a royal hunting event, causingXingerto win by default when it disrupted the arrows of her competitors.
Chapter 17
Seventh Yue
The drums started to play, and the whole stage was set.
The panel of judges sat in the east-side row, all dressed in neat robes, starting with Yuwen Xi, Yuwen Gao, Yuwen Hao, the third young master Yuwen Huai, and the fourth young master Yuwen Yue.
Prime Minister Wei Guang and the Wei family elders were present, along with the Wei family’s young master, Wei Shu Ye, and the young princes Wei Shu You, Wei Shu Hao, and Zhao Xi Feng. At the back, on an elevated platform looking grand and magnificent, sat the Great Summer Emperor, along with Young Prince Yuan Song, Prince Yuan Che, and the two imperial concubines of the Wei State. Also present were the representatives from northern Yanbei, including Young Prince Yan Xun and his brothers, Yan Ting and Yan Shi.
From Southern Liang came the dazzling visitors, including the Liang King and Young Prince Xiao Ce.
Young Prince Xiao Ce was wearing splendid garments: a yellow-gold robe embroidered with South Liang’s autumn leaves and flowers at its hem.
A dramatic entrance followed, as two young maids in front of Xiao Ce threw autumn leaves and yellow-red flowers along his path. Xiao Ce didn’t miss a chance to strike a graceful pose, flashing a foxy smile in front of the Emperor and the royals.
The Wei Emperor was slightly entertained, smiling at the display, which made everyone turn to look at him and bow in respect. Meanwhile, other onlookers were stunned, their eyes darting back and forth between the Emperor and Crown Prince Xiao Ce.
Yuan Song kicked his brother Yuan Che’s leg and said, “This is an unbelievable sight.”
Yuan Che replied, “You bet. I’m about to throw a stone to make him stumble.”
Yuan Song and Yuan Che chuckled as they waved at the young prince of Liang, who was parading himself with great flair before the crowd. Xiao Ce finally sat down, looking proud and surveying the crowd with his narrowed eyes and foxy, handsome face.
This was Xiao Ce’s first visit to the Wei State, and it was also the first time the people had seen the Crown Prince of Liang. He had already made quite an impression.
At the center of the arena was an open square stage. Hundreds of spectators stood on the north and south sides, while the junior players, dressed in their neat fighting costumes, stood on the west side.
The Great Summer Dynasty hosted its annual mid-autumn lantern festival, which included the Chinese Jian swordsmanship competition, now about to begin.
Junior fighters and players had traveled from various parts of the empire, as the competition was open to all.
After the introduction of the judges and a brief welcome speech by the Wei Emperor, a commentator came forward to explain the competition mechanics for the amateur players: an elimination round, semifinals, quarterfinals, a small exhibition of swordsmanship by the Yuwen household, and finally, the championship round.
The usual rewards for the winners were as follows: 300 kilograms of gold for first place, 150 kilograms for second place, and 75 kilograms for third place. However, this year, in addition to gold, the Wei Emperor had earlier announced a prized Jian sword for the champion. The audience and players were ecstatic upon hearing about this prized sword. The Imperial messenger held the sword aloft with both hands, displaying it to the crowd.
Additionally, the Emperor announced that whoever received the sword would be assigned to the Yuwen household to serve the fourth young master, Yuwen Yue. The Emperor acknowledged Yuwen Hao’s son and formally introduced Yuwen Yue as the future heir to the Eyes of God.
After the elimination round, 10 junior sword players advanced to the semifinals, which narrowed the field to six. The quarterfinals left four sword players remaining. Yuwen Gao and Yuwen Xi took note of a very young boy—only seven years old—who had made it through the elimination round, the semifinals, and now the quarterfinals.
“This boy is gifted,” remarked Yuwen Gao, referring to the youngest player, the seven-year-old boy.
Yuwen Xi raised an eyebrow at Yuwen Gao and said, “I will buy his freedom whether he wins this tournament or not. I will just let him join my envoy.”
The two grandmasters began to bet on the future of the seven-year-old boy.
In the quarterfinals, both matches were taking place simultaneously.
The first match was between the seven-year-old boy and a twelve-year-old boy, both fighting for a place in the championship match.
The second match, between a ten-year-old boy and a fourteen-year-old boy, also drew attention but not as much as the first.
The Great Summer Emperor clapped his hands when, at last, the seven-year-old disarmed the twelve-year-old boy, who dropped his sword in the air. The seven-year-old caught it, delighting the Emperor. Even the Wei family elders began gossiping and betting on their favored seven-year-old.
Yuwen Yue, too, was intently focused on the young boy. Somewhere in the back of his mind, as he closed his eyes, he recognized the cloud hands technique, realizing that the boy’s martial arts blended with his swordplay in a way that felt familiar.
When Yuwen Yue opened his eyes, the match had already ended, and the winner had been announced as moving on to the championship round.
The seven-year-old stood formal and composed, locking eyes with Yuwen Yue. Yuwen Yue did not look away; instead, he raised his eyebrows and returned the young boy’s gaze.
Then, before the main event, there was an exhibition match from the Yuwen household, the hosts of the tournament. Yuwen Yue, dressed in elegant blue Hanfu robes, with cold-blooded eyes and a calm posture, captured everyone’s attention.
It was the first time the noble Wei crowd had seen him in person. On stage as well was his famous cousin, Yuwen Huai, standing confidently in his forest-green Hanfu robes, his masculine physique, fierce eyes, and protective aura drawing everyone’s gaze.
Yuwen Hao was lively, and even the Emperor of the Summer Dynasty didn’t expect these two young men to take the stage, providing the audience with a moment of entertainment.
The rest of the royals were equally attentive. The prince from Northern Yanbei, Yan Xun, stared at Yuwen Yue and smirked. Xiao Ce raised his eyebrows, flashing his foxy eyes toward Yuwen Yue, while Yuwen Huai also smirked at his cousin.
Yuwen Xi, proud of his son, hoped this exhibition might prompt the Emperor to bestow rewards upon both his nephew and son.
This was Yuwen Yue’s first public appearance, and while all eyes were on him, Yuwen Huai—already well-known and a crowd favorite—naturally commanded attention.
The two bowed to each other and assumed their duel positions. Yuwen Huai, smirking with narrow eyes, pointed his sword at Yuwen Yue, trying to anticipate his cousin’s first move. But instead of waiting, Huai made the first strike. Being taller and older, Yuwen Huai had the advantage. Yuwen Yue creased his brows and, with a cold expression, struggled to counterattack.
Yuwen Huai grew more confident, launching a second strike, nearly causing Yuwen Yue to drop his sword.
Despite maintaining his cold look, Yuwen Yue seemed aware of the loud cheers for his cousin and the growing disappointment from those watching his failed counters.
Yuwen Hao, however, was still amused by his son’s strategy, believing Yuwen Yue would eventually counter Yuwen Huai’s attacks.
On the third attack, Yuwen Yue finally countered, and the two went back and forth. Yuwen Huai continued to dominate, while Yuwen Yue maintained his stance as the underdog throughout the match.
The Emperor clapped for Yuwen Huai, clearly enjoying the display. Meanwhile, Yuwen Yue wasn’t receiving the loudest cheers, as he appeared to be holding back.
Yuwen Yue seemed to be playing with his cousin, while Yuwen Huai was giving it his all, taking the exhibition very seriously—until…
Yuwen Yue was knocked to the ground, and the blade nearly grazed his jade-like neck when Yuwen Huai made a mistake that almost killed him. At that moment, a young boy stepped in and saved Yuwen Yue from the dangerous blade, countering the attack and defending him. Yuwen Yue remained calm, his eyes not betraying much surprise as he looked at the boy in front of him. Yuwen Huai, realizing he had almost killed Yuwen Yue, dropped his sword in shock.
Yuwen Hao stood up, relieved to see that his son was safe. Others were also surprised by the boy’s intervention, not fully realizing what had happened. The Emperor quietly observed, waiting to see what would unfold next, as the three stood still, looking at one another. The seven-year-old boy turned to Yuwen Yue and said:
“Young master, please get up and finish the exhibition match.” His eyes, unblinking, reflected his sincere desire to help. He extended his hand to Yuwen Yue. However, Yuwen Yue, due to his aristocratic nature, did not accept the offer, standing up on his own, his cold eyes fixed on the boy.
Once Yuwen Yue was on his feet, Yuwen Huai bowed to the crowd and announced, “This exhibition match is over.” The crowd erupted in cheers for Yuwen Huai’s small triumph over the heir to the Eyes of God.
Yuwen Yue bowed his head, showing good sportsmanship, and glanced at his father, Yuwen Hao, who was impressed by his son’s underdog strategy. Yuwen Hao knew that his son was wise, capable of deceiving others by concealing his strengths and using them at the right time, even inspiring others to intervene.
This kind of skill was hard to come by, and it also revealed the hearts of others. Yuwen Hao now knew that the seven-year-old boy would be the perfect bodyguard for Yuwen Yue. Whether or not the boy won the tournament, he was already on Yuwen Hao’s list, and a plan was forming.
Meanwhile, the Emperor acknowledged Yuwen Huai with a nod, brushing aside the near-death incident to prevent causing panic among the crowd.
The show must go on, and so the host announced the final match—the championship round—where the seven-year-old boy appeared again on stage, facing the ten-year-old boy. They bowed and took their fighting positions. The seven-year-old boy was so fast that, in a flash, the ten-year-old didn’t realize a sword was already pointed at his neck—game over.
The match was brief, as the ten-year-old was no match for the seven-year-old.
Yuwen Yue, impressed for the first time, realized that this seven-year-old boy would be tied to him until the day he inherited the Eyes of God.
Yuwen Gao was the first to comment, saying, “You can’t buy the freedom seal from the Emperor; the boy will be under the Green Hills courtyard starting now.”
Yuwen Xi smirked at Yuwen Gao and replied, “Did I say anything earlier?” His mocking tone and smile made them seem like children competing over a toy. Now that the winner was declared, and the Emperor’s decree would take effect, the boy was to be assigned to the Green Hills courtyard.
The Emperor declared the winner and took the time to acknowledge Yuwen Yue, naming him the seven-year-old’s master from that day forward. The seven-year-old accepted the sword from the Imperial messenger, bowed before the Great Summer Emperor, and then bowed to Yuwen Yue. Yuwen Yue, in turn, nodded to the new champion.
The Jian sword awarded to the boy was adult-sized, so Yuwen Yue asked his servant, Yue Lui, to help carry it. Yuwen Yue also carried his own Po Yue Jian sword, which was slightly longer than he was tall, but he managed it without drawing attention to the type of sword it was.
Yuwen Yue had not used this sword in the earlier exhibition match because he had no intention of making an impression on the crowd. Instead, he employed an underdog strategy to avoid upsetting Yuwen Xi and the elite members of the Red Hills courtyard family. He also wanted to avoid any envy from the Green Hills courtyard, something his father, Yuwen Hao, understood well.
After the crowd had dispersed, leaving only the royals and elite family members to attend the banquet prepared by the Red Hills courtyard, the seven-year-old boy approached Yuwen Yue. The youngsters remained, except for the Crown Prince of Liang, Xiao Ce, who bid his farewells. Xiao Ce approached Yuwen Yue but didn’t say a word, only giving him a foxy-eyed glance, as if he had become fond of him.
Yuwen Yue, in polite gesture, bowed to him, and Xiao Ce, looking as fresh as ever, nodded and departed, his exit as grand as his entrance.
The young Crown Prince of Yanbei, Yan Xun, then came forward to congratulate Yuwen Yue, who seemed like the real winner, despite not having participated in the final match.
“In this match, you won! Thanks to this seven-year-old boy’s bravery and your underdog strategy,” Yan Xun said, playfully giving Yuwen Yue a light punch on the shoulder. Though this wasn’t their first encounter, Yan Xun occasionally visited the Green Hills courtyard and sometimes joined Yuwen Yue for tea ceremonies.
Yuwen Yue thanked Yan Xun with a bow of his head, while Yan Xun, his cheerful face and sword-like brows relaxed, turned to his companion, Feng Mian. “Come, let’s attend the banquet at Red Hills courtyard and paint the town red afterward!” he exclaimed with a laugh.
That night, the boy’s statement of freedom was purchased from his guardian, who had also hired him from a group of ninja assassins. His guardian did not know the boy’s past, particularly the details of his father and younger brother. The palace guards were scheduled to escort the boy to his new household early the next morning.
The seven-year-old acted wisely, refusing to dwell on his past. However, he hoped that by cultivating a life of goodness, he would one day find his brother, whom he had last seen at the Shangxi port or the Luoyang Shaolin temple, where their family had been together.
The next day, the palace guards arrived on horseback, allowing the boy to ride in the carriage as they transferred him to the Yuwen household. He hoped for the best in his future and sensed a positive energy from his new young master, Yuwen Yue.
When they arrived at the Yuwen household, the boy, though initially sleepy, perked up as he stepped out of the carriage. The palace guards passed through the usual interrogation process and were allowed into the Green Hills courtyard, where Yuwen Hao’s servants greeted them.
Though Yuwen Yue did not show much excitement, he promised himself to treat this new bodyguard differently from others—the one who had protected him during the exhibition match was now in his household.
Yuwen Yue straightened his back as he awaited the boy’s arrival, having already picked a name for him: “The Seventh Yue” or “Yue Qi.”
When the seven-year-old boy arrived, he bowed to Yuwen Hao, the master of the Eyes of God, who nodded and instructed his servants to take the boy to the inner temple, where Yuwen Yue was waiting.
Yuwen Yue, aware of the boy’s arrival, spoke from his place without turning around: “Who told you to counter Yuwen Huai’s blade at my neck?”
“Fourth young master, I had to do what I had to do.”
“What made you do it?” Yuwen Yue asked again.
“Because I knew that you might die by accident, and if that happened, I wouldn’t have been able to serve you or come to your courtyard today.” It was not the kind of statement one would expect from a seven-year-old, but Yuwen Yue was somewhat impressed by the boy’s determination to protect him.
“And who told you I couldn’t defend myself, that you had to intervene?”
“No one, young master. As I said, I just did what I had to do.”
“And will you keep doing it?”
“As long as I am to protect my young master, I will.”
“Even if it means your life’s end?” Yuwen Yue turned around to face the seven-year-old.
“Yes, young master,” the boy replied, bowing his head.
“You may look at me,” said Yuwen Yue. The seven-year-old boy looked up at him, and his eyes seemed to catch the early morning light, forcing him to blink and rub his eyes. Yuwen Yue appeared radiant, like the sun, dressed in a white robe with dark blue, quilted embroidery.
Yuwen Yue glanced at the boy’s attire and, feeling a brief moment of softness, gave him a look of mercy, though he spoke coldly: “Your name shall be Yue Qi. You will bear the title of the seventh Yue, and from this day forward, you will guard me day and night.”
“Understood, young master.”
“Take him to his room, and do not forget his uniform. Yue Qi must return here and stay by my side,” Yuwen Yue instructed, dismissing his servants along with the boy.
A woman watched the boy, carefully observing his movements. She already knew how he had arrived and his age, but she couldn’t believe her eyes. He reminded her of her lost seventh son.
She wanted to cry and embrace him, but she realized that such an action might put him in danger. She didn’t know what had happened to him or his father. The woman decided that she would slowly uncover the truth of their missing years, though she wasn’t sure if this boy was truly her lost son.
Clutching a jade stone tightly against her chest, she was overwhelmed with emotion.
After changing into his new clothes, Yue Qi returned to his master, and from that moment on, he became Yuwen Yue’s personal guard. The Jian sword awarded to him after the match was a bit too large for him, so Yuwen Yue, upon his return, provided him with a more suitable sword, one that fit his small but strong hands.
Kneeling on the ground, Yue Qi accepted the new sword.
Yuwen Yue nodded, and Yue Qi stood up. He unsheathed the sword to inspect it; its blade was clean and sharp. Satisfied, he returned the sword to its sheath and bowed to thank his young master.
The next day, the woman approached Yuwen Yue and Yue Qi. To Yuwen Yue, she was a master deserving of respect, so he greeted her with reverence, and Yue Qi mimicked his master’s gesture.
“What brings you here, servant mother?” Yuwen Yue asked.
“You have a new bodyguard. What is his name?”
“His name is Yue Qi.”
“What a wonderful name, Yue’er. Like a seventh son.”
“Indeed,” Yuwen Yue replied.
Yue Qi listened quietly, sensing that the woman was gazing at him with affection.
She approached him and said, “Yue Qi, you may call me ‘Mother.’ The six other bodyguards of the young master call me Mother.”
Not fully understanding the significance of her words, Yue Qi smiled and replied, “Mother.”
Yuwen Yue did not react to their exchange and continued walking, leaving the woman behind.
Chapter 18
The Blackguards
One of the twelve original elite spies and assassins, the blackguards live in dark caves, underground rivers, and lakes, in a very laid-back spy camp controlled by the Batuja family. Their last known action was during the reign of the previous Wei Emperor, the father of the current Shen Jin Emperor of the Great Summer Dynasty.
They are the original dark assassins of the Western Empire, tasked with completing missions bypassing the state’s court justice, without investigation.
Their purpose is to either purge a state or suppress powers dominating the Wei state using the force of shadows. It is said that the blackguards overshadowed the Eyes of God, which represents the torch of light for the Wei Empire.
Legend claims that once the Shen Jin Emperor deploys a black seal, the Eyes of God—torch of light—is extinguished, and darkness engulfs the land. One of their successful missions was the long-term destruction of Yanbei.
But it seems Yanbei is not fully destroyed, and the sleeping dragon—a remnant—is gaining more power than ever before.
A blackguard servant received a paper snow containing a black seal, attached to a black arrow made from a raven’s black feather. The servant wears a pitch-black V-neck, sleeveless fighting costume, a belt made of black rope, and crisscross rope-like ties on both hands and feet.
Their head is covered with a black cloth, and a black mask hides their face, exposing only their dark eyes and a sliver of their cheeks. Heavy black eyeliner darkens their eyes, and bloody red streaks mark their cheeks.
“Princess Zama, we have tested its authenticity. The seal contains the blood of the present Shen Jin Emperor.”
They test authenticity by dipping the black seal in a gold liquid. If it’s genuine, the blood on the paper snow turns blue. A second test involves burning the paper snow; genuine royal blood, once dipped in gold liquid, will not burn. If the blood is not from a pure descendant of the Emperor, it will brown and burn.
In this case, Princess Zama knows the seal is authentic. When burned, the part with the black seal turns blue, confirming the Emperor’s blood. Hence the saying: “Blueblood”—royal blood, the blood of nobles and heroes.
“Shida, bring me to the Hall of Doom,” said Zama as her servants dressed her in a pitch-black gown to summon the dark assassins of the Wei Empire.
The princess is finally ready, with the last piece being her head-dress, which covers half of her face, from her left eye down to her left cheek. The headdress, made of black lace, makes her look fierce and horrifying in her pitch-black tight-fitting dress, with a light black iron breastplate and tight pants. Knee-high black boots complete the outfit. Her eyes, heavily lined, and her blood-red lips give her a look as if she’s been to hell.
Her dress is not just a garment but a lethal weapon, containing hidden poison needles, fantasy star darts, tiny daggers, and other deadly objects, all made of lightweight materials.
Unlike the afterlife camp, where they wear wooden backpacks that act like Pandora’s box, activated when needed, the blackguards’ attire allows them to kill tens or even fifties from a three-meter distance using their weapons and skills.
Princess Zama, escorted by Shida, entered the Hall of Doom—a series of underground rooms filled with highly skilled spies, each practicing day and night. These dark arts, long unseen, are about to be unearthed for a special task.
Zama walked into one room and saw the cobra spy, whose talent is her cobra-like movements, working with a live cobra. In a flash, she appeared at Zama’s face. A single bite from her could poison an entire village as the venom spreads through the air.
The cobra spy met Zama’s eyes and nodded, then, in an instant, was back in her black hood, hissing like a snake as she followed Zama.
In the next room, Zama met the flying spy, dressed in flowing garments that allowed her to soar through the air. The flying spy’s specialty is strangulation; she uses her fabric tails to ensnare her targets. She reached for Zama’s wrist, but Zama quickly cut them. The flying spy swiftly flew after her.
One sweep from the flying spy could kill dozens.
Zama then entered the blind spy’s room. A man in dirty clothes, with a thousand-mile stare, sat in the center. He deceives enemies by appearing weak and blind, then blinds his foes with powder before destroying them.
Sensing Zama, the blind spy tossed his blinding powder into the air, but Zama and her group covered their eyes with their hoods, rendering the attack useless.
He whispered to Zama, “You are fortunate souls, for you see things covered by darkness,” before following behind her.
Zama proceeded to another room and instructed her group to place earplugs. She knocked and told the slumber spy to turn off the cicadas. The slumber spy induces sleep by summoning the hibernating sounds of cicadas, causing entire armies or villages to fall asleep, allowing other objectives to be achieved.
The slumber spy hid her cicadas in a small wooden box, then followed Zama.
Finally, Zama reached the room of the honey spy. The most beautiful of the blackguards, her room was filled with fragrant scents, but her beauty hid deadly weapons. She specializes in honey traps—once you touch or kiss her, you are as good as dead.
The honey spy followed Zama after her call. (It is believed Yuwen Huai used her once to lure Yuwen Yue, but he saw through her trap.)
Zama and her followers arrived at the Hall of Doom—a dim room filled with candles, a long table, and a map. It’s where spies receive briefings on their missions.
“We are here today because of a black seal,” Zama said, showing the seal. “It is a short but difficult task aimed at eradicating the union of two states.”
The spies nodded in agreement.
“Shida, take this paper snow and black seal to the Eyes of God,” Zama ordered, ensuring the Eyes of God would be turned off so the blackguards could move unnoticed.
Shida set off on horseback along the secret northwest pathway, where he unexpectedly encountered the 13th Prince of Wei, Yuan Song, accompanied by two men. Yuan Song drew his Cheng Ying sword.
Recognizing the prince, Shida bowed his head.
“Your Royal Highness, what can I do for you?” Shida asked.
Yuan Song replied with a cryptic smile. “What can you do for me? That is a good question.”
At that moment, a cloaked figure behind Shida spoke: “What brings the Royal Highness here tonight?”
Yuan Song had been waiting for this encounter, following the imperial messenger to uncover the mystery of the black seal.
“Princess Zama,” Yuan Song said, “I believe what you hold concerns my future.”
Zama responded coldly, “The black seal is not the business of the 13th Prince of Wei.”
“It is now,” Yuan Song retorted, growing formal.
Shida prepared to flee, but an arrow struck near his horse’s hoof, halting his escape.
“You cannot leave without handing over the black seal,” Yuan Song declared.
Zama warned the prince: “If the black seal is not delivered to the Green Hills courtyard tonight, the protocol will be broken, and by morning, our heads will be on the Emperor’s chopping block.”
Yuan Song offered a solution: “I will personally deliver it. Shida will stay as your witness.”
Left with no choice, Zama allowed Shida to accompany Yuan Song while she disappeared into the shadows.
Meanwhile, at the Green Hills courtyard, Yuwen Gao received the black seal, but with an unexpected visitor: the 13th Prince of Wei. Upon seeing him, Yuwen Gao seemed shocked, bowing deeply.
Yuan Song, removing his hood, smiled and said, “I have been receiving paper snows but do not know how to read them. So this is the result.”
Apologetically, Yuwen Gao responded, “Forgive me, Your Highness. I did not know you had not been taught.”
“Your Highness, pardon me. I did not know the palace had not instructed you on how to read paper snows,” Yuwen Gao said apologetically.
“Not to mention the black seal my father gave to the blackguards? Governed by the Batuja family?”
“Yes, Your Highness. They are the shadow counterpart to the Eyes of God.”
“Then I have much to learn, not only from the Eyes of God but also from the Blackguards. Is this what the black seal means—like turning the lights on and off?”
“The blackguards act as shadows once the light is extinguished. They will carry out whatever is contained in the Emperor’s black seal.”
“I must see this for myself,” Yuan Song said, about to end their private conversation.
“Effective today, the Eyes of God are shut off, and the blackguard spies will surround the entire Empire. At the same time, these spies will target and complete their mission.”
“What does that mean?” Yuan Song asked, still unsure of what was to come.
“For the time being, civil justice is suspended. No amnesty will be granted until the mission is fulfilled.”
Goosebumps rose on Yuan Song’s skin. He now began to grasp the gravity of the situation, recalling what he had read in the empire’s histories.
“History repeats itself,” Yuan Song whispered, narrowing his eyes. He pulled his hood back over his head, turned away from Yuwen Gao, and left.
At the Old Batu mansion: “Princess Zama, you returned so soon,” General Bali remarked, looking over her shoulder. “Where is Shida?”
“We were followed by the 13th Prince of Wei. Shida was taken by him. He will return before dawn.”
“I see. I heard Yan Xun is advancing his armies near the Meilin border, and Yuan Che will counter with the Xiaoqi Armies,” said General Bali.
The Meilin border is a foothold of Wei and the Western gate of Yanbei. It is where the 13th Prince of Wei, Yuan Song, together with Yuwen Yue and the afterlife camp spy leader Meng Feng, cooperated to frame Cheng Yuan. Yuwen Yue let him go for reasons unknown. Princess Zama dismounted her horse, removed her gloves, and entered the palace. General Bali stood by, lost in thought about the afterlife camp spies.
“What do you know of the alliance between the afterlife camp and the Eyes of God?” he asked.
“There is no inside information on the matter,” Zama replied. “But my guess is that they were disowned by their Nirvana leader and followed Yuwen Yue after their encounter, making him their master. Now that their master is dead, their whereabouts are unknown.”
“So, the ex-afterlife campers were not official spies of the Yuwen household?”
“Not at all. I believe they were employed privately by Yuwen Yue and later endorsed by him to the 13th Prince of Wei as personal guards when the Emperor declared Prince Yuan Song Duke of Yanbei. Since then, they’ve stayed at the Meilin border.”
“I’m concerned that these ex-afterlife campers are being used by Prince Yuan Song, especially since he was able to navigate our secret passages to the palace. Only a spy could manage that. If this is true, we are exposed.”
“No need to worry, Uncle General. We will cross that bridge when we come to it. For now, our focus is the black seal task. Yanbei is our target, not the ex-afterlife campers.”
“Alright, I’ll see you in the morning. Let’s hope Shida returns with his head still attached to his neck.”
“I’m sure he will,” Zama said, smiling at General Bali.
Chapter 19
Lost but not yet found
After the icy lake tragedy, Meng Feng and her team ventured east to search for Yuwen Yue, while some of her followers remained with Prince Yuan Song. Yuwen Yue’s grandfather refuses to believe he is dead unless they bring him his grandson’s body. It has been a year since then, with no body found and no evidence of Yuwen Yue being alive.
The same fate befell Yue Qi, Yuwen Yue’s personal bodyguard, who has also been missing since the tragedy. No one knows his whereabouts.
Speculations from the royal family suggest that Yue Qi may be wounded and possibly fell from a cliff. He might have survived and hidden Yuwen Yue, or they could have been rescued by unknown parties.
This situation greatly upset Yuwen Gao, as the Emperor constantly demands updates, as does the 13th Prince, Yuan Song, and Yuwen Gao has no substantial information to provide. This uncertainty threatens his position as Master of the Eyes of God.
“Master, the bird has returned with a message,” said one of Yuwen Gao’s guards.
Yuwen Gao sprinkled appearing powder on the letter and read the message from Yue Liu. It said:
“Master Yuwen Gao, we have found no trace of Yuwen Yue or Yue Qi. We have now reached the one-year mark you set for our return. Should we continue the search?”
Yuwen Gao went to his desk, drafted a reply, sprinkled disappearing powder on it, and handed it to his servant, who gave it to the Yuwen guard. The guard attached the message to the pigeon’s feet, and the bird flew away.
“Yue Liu, a message from the pigeon,” Meng Feng said as she handed the paper snow to Yue Liu. He sprinkled the appearing powder and read:
“I cannot bear the shame my grandson has brought upon the Yuwen family, and I must attend to the Emperor. Let us proceed to plan B.”
Yue Liu became sorrowful. “Meng Feng, we must return to the Red Plateau and declare both of them dead to the empire. We must find a body and present it.”
“That’s impossible!” Meng Feng cried, her eyes brimming with tears. She turned away from Yue Liu.
“Slaves obey,” he replied, though he felt uneasy about plan B, which he had long known about but hadn’t expected to come to pass. Still, he mourned Yuwen Yue’s absence, having lost all his brothers except himself.
Plan B involved declaring Yuwen Yue dead by procuring a body, along with Yue Qi’s, which broke Yue Liu’s heart. Yuwen Gao had fabricated the evidence to convince the Emperor, using a whitewash strategy to close the tragic chapter of Yuwen Yue and Yue Qi’s disappearance.
At Shen Jin Palace, the Emperor’s health had been declining. A message arrived from the Yuwen household, written on paper snow. It read:
“Dearest Emperor,
I am deeply grieved and can barely think or write clearly. We have found the bodies of both my grandson and his bodyguard. It has been a year, so we had to cremate them. Rest assured, an autopsy confirmed their identities.
Yuwen Gao, Master of the Eyes of God.”
The Emperor wept, coughed, and fainted. His servants quickly summoned the royal doctor, who arrived at once.
The doctor administered acupuncture to the Emperor and advised him to rest. Meanwhile, Yuan Song had already received this information, having been informed by one of Meng Feng’s followers. Yuan Song appeared gloomy and did not touch his royal meals for the entire day. Instead, he retreated to his room, where he wrote down his thoughts in his diary. He crossed out a name and contemplated striking another prominent name from his journal but couldn’t bring himself to do it. He thought of Chu Qiao and wrote:
“As autumn approaches, so too has your master fallen, like a leaf from a branch. I hope the coming cold season is short and that I will not endure an eternal winter. When I think of our secret cherry blossom garden, I dream that one day we will sit together and watch the leaves fall, and you will cry on my shoulder when I tell you your master has left this world for the next.”
Meanwhile, Yuan Che rushed to the palace to see the Emperor. He wore a dark red military uniform with large iron pauldrons and a breastplate. The concubines, waiting outside the Emperor’s hall, saw him as he arrived.
Yuan Che stood by his father’s bedside, and just as he was about to leave, the Emperor briefly touched his hand and opened his eyes, only to drift back to sleep.
“Your father needs time to recover,” the royal doctor said.
“Doctor, is there anything we should be concerned about with his health?” Yuan Che asked, preparing himself for any future complications.
“I see no major health issues, but we must be cautious about how he handles significant news. Emotional shocks could lead to a sudden decline in his health, and it might even be fatal if he cannot control his emotions. For now, he needs a long period of rest to recover.”
In other words, the Emperor was aging and no longer strong enough to handle the stress that threatened the empire. Yuan Che pondered his own ambitions, wondering how he might influence his father to pass the throne to him instead of the 13th Crown Prince, Yuan Song.
Yuan Che nodded and said, “I will inform my brother, Yuan Song,” before leaving the Emperor’s hall.
Returning to his own palace, Yuan Che allowed himself a moment of grief. He had heard the news about Yuwen Yue and was devastated. Although he hadn’t trusted Yuwen Yue as an ally at first, their relationship had gradually strengthened, especially after Yuwen Yue took on the role of his general.
He recalled their shared experiences during military expeditions, both the good and the perilous. Yuan Che also remembered teasing Yuwen Yue about becoming his brother-in-law by marrying Princess Chuner, though Yuwen Yue’s feelings had not been mutual. The 7th Prince had settled on Yuwen Yue being his trusted ally and friend.
Now, Yuan Che deeply regretted that Yuwen Yue had gone to the icy mountains of Yanbei without a large army, taking only a few Yuwen guards.
Yuan Che knew Yuwen Yue had not gone as a Wei general or as the master of the Eyes of God, but as a lover, seeking one last glimpse of Chu Qiao before she married Yan Xun in Yanbei. Yuwen Yue had faced reality, accepting both their personal and political fates. Despite warnings from Meng Feng and Yue Qi not to visit the temple near Xuili Mountain, Yuwen Yue had gone, ostensibly to rescue Yue Jui, one of the Yuwen household spies held by Yan Xun.
Yuwen Yue had invited the Xuili General to meet him at a secluded temple, and Chu Qiao had come. Yuwen Yue dismissed his guards, asking them to wait at the mountain’s foothills.
Chu Qiao sat and drank, while Yuwen Yue simply watched her, remembering the last time he had held her in his arms when he saved her from Princess Chuner’s blades. She had been unconscious, fighting bravely for Hong Chuan, and Yuwen Yue had left her as though nothing had happened.
But Chu Qiao seemed to know this and thanked him for all the times he had helped her. She offered Yuwen Yue a toast, which he returned.
As Yuwen Yue drank, he inhaled deeply and mentioned her upcoming betrothal to Yan Xun, adding, “Perhaps the next time we meet, I should address you as the Duchess of Yanbei?”
The betrothal announcement had been a press release from Yan Xun’s camp, intended to lure Yuwen Yue into action. Chu Qiao, unaware of the deeper significance, responded naively: “And perhaps when we meet again, you will have a wife and children.”
Back at the Yuwen household, Yuwen Gao placed Yuwen Yue’s ashes in a temple urn and set his memorial tablet beside that of his father, Yuwen Hao. Angered, Yuwen Gao ordered his guards to take the urn to a desolate place, where vultures and ravens would ravage the ashes.
In his mind, Yuwen Yue’s remains did not deserve a place in the Yuwen ancestral temple, nor to rest beside Yuwen Hao. After all, the body cremated had not truly been Yuwen Yue’s.
As for Yue Qi, his fake ashes were buried in a humble graveyard near the Yuwen ancestral temple.
With the death of Yuwen Yue and Yue Qi announced publicly, Yuwen Gao prohibited any mourning rites for the former interim master of the Eyes of God.
Everyone was shocked. Yuwen Yue had been made a scapegoat to protect the family from the Emperor’s wrath, who had taken a leave of absence from court.
Yuwen Gao also ordered Yuwen Yue’s name removed from the family records and forbade anyone from uttering it within the Green Hills Courtyard, declaring Yuwen Yue had brought shame, not honor, to the Yuwen family.
After everything was said and done, Yuwen Gao felt weary. “Yuwen Yue, if only you had listened to me, this would not have happened to you.”
Yuwen Gao viewed himself as a failure, believing his grandson’s downfall, like his own, was due to a maidservant. People speculated that Yuwen Yue had perished in the icy lake because of his maid, Xinger.
Rumors spread like wildfire, especially after Yan Xun received the news that Yuwen Gao had officially declared Yuwen Yue’s death.
Yan Xun’s goal was to weaken the Eyes of God from within. He knew that military strategies alone couldn’t bring them down, but a beauty, like Helen of Troy, could turn their world to ashes.
Yan Xun stood in his war room, gazing at the Canhong Jian sword with pain in his eyes and heart.
Though his victories advanced his troops and kingdom, each one seemed to turn his soul to stone, leaving him numb and alone.
With the Eyes of God weakening, Yan Xun was halfway to achieving his ambition of seizing the Wei state, fulfilling his father’s legacy, and ultimately sitting on the throne of Wei. But even then, the mighty blood of Yan would not be appeased, as the weight of injustice and the loss of his family would forever remain heavy on his heart.
A Yanbei messenger returned from a two-week journey to spread the news of Yuwen Yue’s death throughout the empire. “The news has reached the cities and distant areas.”
“Did you ensure the damage to the Eyes of God is irreparable?” Yan Xun asked.
“There is nothing left for the poor dead master of the Eyes of God to return to. The public is utterly disgusted by the news and has turned against them.”
“Good work. Now I will focus on my next steps, which should unfold in a few months. I need to gather all my financial resources to build a palace in memory of the Xuili General.” Yan Xun’s eyes remained fixed on the Canhong Jian sword, not turning to face the messenger.
“Is there anything else I can do for you, my lord?” the messenger asked, looking at Yan Xun’s back.
“Summon A’Jing. I have something important to discuss,” Yan Xun commanded.
“A’Jing, reporting,” A’Jing said, entering in his casual military dress uniform to respond to Yan Xun’s call.
“Have you gathered all the master builders?” Yan Xun asked.
“Yes, my lord. They should arrive shortly.”
“What of the taxes I imposed recently? Did anyone rebel?”
“No one dared, except for some lowly slaves who were forced to work harder to pay the doubled tax this year.”
“Did you inform them of the consequences for defying my orders?”
“Yes, I read the punishment aloud to the townspeople. They all bowed their heads, and no one dared to speak against it.”
“Good. I expect Mr. Lui Xiu to deliver double the amount.”
“Is there anything else I can do for you, my lord?”
“You are dismissed.”
Yan Xun returned to his war room, unrolling a blueprint on a long mahogany table and studying it closely.
Chapter 20
South Winds of change
A little far, yet also close to Prince Xiao Ce’s courtyard on the east side, lies a small spring of water, serene and pristine. Small birds come and go, creating a joyful chirping sound.
Much like the small natural forest on the east side of his courtyard, the south side hosts gardens and vineyards where the Liang crown prince grows his own green tea leaves, grapevines, persimmon trees, and plum trees.
Xiao Ce is holding the publication of Yuwen Yue’s official obituary, and his hands twitch as the paper crumples in his grip.
Xiao Ce has never been in such a state before, where he must take time alone to reflect on himself.
The Liang prince has been too busy seeing the forest and not the trees. His absence from the icy lake tragedy stemmed from his preoccupation with digging into the past of Chu Qiao, the subject of his interest.
Xiao Ce is the kind of ruler who loves to wear a mask.
This means he never lets people see him as he truly is. He may seem easy to read when judged from the outside, but he is like a book full of secrets, difficult to interpret once opened. Like his father, he doesn’t stay on one side but always looks at both.
The Liang prince ensures that he remains behind the main characters and never seeks to become the central figure. On the contrary, he loves to steal the spotlight and draw all attention to himself whenever he is exposed, but only when it is good publicity.
He somehow believes that showing his face to the people brings them happiness and allows them to experience great beauty. He also believes in the saying: “The first impression lasts.”
Initially, the prince agreed to become an expensive messenger to Wei, tasked with looking after King Tang’s political affairs on behalf of his father. He had to come personally, showing himself to the Emperor of the Great Summer Dynasty and engaging with the two princes, Yuan Che and Yuan Song, for some amusement.
Not to mention, Xiao Ce’s visit was also an opportunity for Wei State to nominate a suitable mate for the ever-single playboy prince. The Great Summer Emperor’s first choice was for the Liang prince to marry his beloved Princess Chun’er, as both of their fathers maintained good political relations, even if they sometimes irritated each other. In the end, they always remained good friends.
The last time Xiao Ce visited was a few years ago when he was still a youngster. Now, as a fully grown man more mature in handling government affairs, he decided to accept the call. Although Xiao Ce despises traveling, in this case, he needed to see things for himself. For him, this journey felt like suicide. Many parties were also interested in the crown he bore, and if he wasn’t careful, one state visit could cost him his life.
However, the dreary nature of his state visit to Wei changed when he met Chu Qiao.
To protect himself while traveling, he reinvented his image, making it seem as though he was riding in a luxurious royal palanquin with a beautiful parade of Liang’s finest maidservants. Chu Qiao had already heard of how playful this Liang prince could be, but experiencing it firsthand was different from the stories she’d been told.
And so the story goes: it was playtime for the foxy prince and lunchtime for the Tiger General Chu Qiao. The scenes between them were amusing, though they left many bittersweet memories for the Liang prince. From the moment he first met Chu Qiao, Xiao Ce was struck by her. Ever since, he never allowed himself to relax around her, constantly pushing her buttons.
Every day, the Liang prince and Chu Qiao would engage in their playful sparring, with Chu Qiao never hesitating to give him a wake-up punch. With his flowery attire and foxy smiles, Chu Qiao loathed the prince, albeit in a humorous way. The prince’s public displays of affection toward her were relentless, and they irritated her.
Despite hoping Xiao Ce would give up his playboy antics, he only intensified them, bringing her gigantic flowers and donning more extravagant, eyebrow-raising robes to meet her daily during his stay at the Wei Palace.
He even gave her the nickname “Qiao Qiao,” an endearing term that only Xiao Ce, the sole prince, had the right to use.
At that time, Xiao Ce learned that Chu Qiao came from humble beginnings. She started as a maidservant in the Yuwen household before being transferred to Yan Xun’s service, and now she had been absorbed by the Wei state as an archery coach.
Xiao Ce specifically requested that she serve as his personal bodyguard during his state visit. The playboy prince thought it would be challenging to secure her for his envoy, as Chu Qiao’s previous and current masters held the same level of power he did.
Nevertheless, the foxy prince made his state visit meaningful, despite its short duration, never forgetting his objectives. The sophisticated allure of this wildflower from Wei, however, was hard to ignore, drawing his attention again and again, ultimately leading him to surrender his playboy heart, ready to be loyal.
During his state visit to Wei, Xiao Ce also met Princess Xiao Yu, his half-sister. Born as rivals for their father’s throne, Xiao Yu was the leader of Liang’s elite spies, using her royal status and mastery of the Sky Shadow Sleeves martial art.
Xiao Ce confided in his maidservants that he suspected Xiao Yu of plotting something, and that he should teach her a lesson. Xiao Yu appeared sweet on the outside but was dangerous on the inside. The Liang princess had gone so far as to attempt to influence their father to grant the throne to her full-brother, thus dethroning or even killing Xiao Ce.
With his royal title and crown, Xiao Ce has never been surrounded by loyal or sincere people—not even his family. Due to his royal status, all those around him harbor ambitions, waiting for the right moment to chase after their own interests. Xiao Ce grew up on a bed of roses, but it was surrounded by thorns.
When it came to alliances, Princess Xiao Yu sent an anonymous letter to Yan Xun, hoping to expand her influence. While the temptation to accept external assistance was strong for Yan Xun, Zhong Yu warned him that it might be a trap.
Nevertheless, Yan Xun met with the Liang princess, and the two agreed to collaborate on their plans. Xiao Yu would help Yan Xun escape Chang’an, and in return, Yan Xun would assist her in assassinating the crown prince of Liang, Xiao Ce.
What’s more positive about the vibrant Liang Prince is his advocacy for life and his strong stance against cruelty, particularly a practice ingrained in Wei’s culture—the hunting of people, especially maids, as if they were animals.
He confided in Chu Qiao, saying that he had heard about the inhumane practice of maid hunting and was absolutely against it. He said this while they were riding their horses, touring the city of Chang’an.
The Liang Prince, accompanied by Chu Qiao, left the city of Chang’an, but after a while, they encountered a group of Xiao Yu’s assassins who ambushed them. Chu Qiao, fulfilling her duty to protect her VIP, fought valiantly but grew exhausted as more assassins pursued them.
Yan Xun was informed by one of his servants that Chu Qiao had gone out to accompany the prince at the military garrison. Without hesitation, Yan Xun packed up and rode out to rescue Chu Qiao. If Crown Prince Xiao Ce were to die, the entire city of Chang’an would descend into chaos, presenting a perfect opportunity for Yan Xun to execute his escape plan. Yan Xun even briefly entertained the thought that Chu Qiao might have killed the crown prince, thinking to himself, “The heavens (Qians) are helping me.”
Xiao Ce and Chu Qiao leaped into a lake to escape their pursuers, swimming to safety. Chu Qiao eventually passed out, and Xiao Ce helped her to shore.
Once they were safe and Chu Qiao was unconscious, Xiao Ce revealed his more tender side. He removed his royal robe, draping it over the “sleeping beauty,” and remarked, “If I had died, it would have been good for you.”
Xiao Ce then activated a flare or some kind of mechanism to signal for help, possibly from Liang’s spy camp, but no one came to their rescue.
As he waited for Chu Qiao to awaken, Yuwen Yue, having learned from his guards that Yan Xun had left his courtyard, assumed command of a search party to find him.
When Chu Qiao finally opened her eyes, Xiao Ce was visibly anxious but quickly switched to his usual playboy attitude. He teased her about what would happen if he died in Chang’an, speculating that a war between Wei and Liang would shift the spotlight away from Yan Xun, allowing him to escape the city unnoticed.
Xiao Ce, testing Chu Qiao’s loyalty, realized that instead of killing him, she had saved him, even injuring herself in the process. Like in a child’s game, Xiao Ce metaphorically “shot the arrow,” and Chu Qiao playfully told him to be quiet.
Chu Qiao quickly resumed her role as protector, instructing Xiao Ce to kill the assassin. However, Xiao Ce pretending its ignorance, claiming he didn’t know how to wield a sword. Chu Qiao, exasperated, used a star dart to eliminate the attacker herself.
As they continued walking, Chu Qiao, severely wounded, asked Xiao Ce to find antiseptic herbs to treat her injuries.
After tending to her, Xiao Ce said goodbye to the wounded bodyguard. Despite leaving her behind, he misled the assassins into chasing him, sacrificing himself to ensure Chu Qiao’s safety. Xiao Ce handed her the only weapon his father had given him for survival—one that, when activated, could unleash hundreds of needles in a 180-degree arc to kill enemies. Chu Qiao used the weapon, successfully killing many of the approaching assassins.
Eventually, Yuwen Yue found Chu Qiao near death. He offered her a pouch of water, but she refused. Undaunted, Yuwen Yue carried her and remarked, “You owe me a lot, and you can never repay me.”
Suddenly, Yuwen Yue picked her up and ran. He laid her down in a safe zone where she could rest and watch as he fought off the remaining assassins. However, as Chu Qiao lay beneath a tree, a masked man dressed in black snatched her away.
The masked man, riding swiftly on horseback, turned out to be Yan Xun, her knight in shining armor once again. Yuwen Yue noticed the man in the mask but chose to let it go, knowing it was Yan Xun.
Yuwen Yue continued on foot and found the Liang Prince sitting alone in the forest, disheveled and unrecognizable. Breaking the silence, Xiao Ce tried to deflect attention by offering Yuwen Yue an address and a map. Yuwen Yue, cold and detached, took the map without comment.
The map was meant to divert Yuwen Yue and his guards to a location where they could discover what the address held. Later, Yuwen Yue realized that Xiao Ce intended to use them to capture his enemies, who had already fled.
Yuwen Yue, however, informed Xiao Ce that they already knew the identities and locations of his enemies.
“We’ve already recovered Tao Ye, one of Princess Xiao Yu’s top spies in Liang,” Yuwen Yue explained. He then ordered his subordinate, Yue Qi, to carry out a sweep to clean up the rest of Xiao Yu’s spies in Chang’an.
As a result, they uncovered the names of Liang’s spies deployed throughout the city under Xiao Yu’s command, exposing their operations and hideouts. Yuwen Yue raided them all, and Xiao Yu responded by advising her spies to flee Chang’an.
Meanwhile, Xiao Ce paid a visit to Yan Xun, offering his assistance. He assured Yan Xun that once he escaped Chang’an, outside forces would ensure his safe return to Yanbei.
“I’m in control now,” Xiao Ce declared, “after Yuwen Yue raided their secret repositories and captured Tao Ye.”
Yan Xun realized that Xiao Yu’s plans had been thwarted. Xiao Ce then revealed that he had been aware of the plot to assassinate him on the day he was with Chu Qiao, who had been gravely wounded.
Yan Xun glared at Xiao Ce and coldly warned, “If you let this happen again, I will make you pay for it.”
Xiao Ce, maintaining his cold and cunning aspect, merely smirked in response.
As Xiao Ce departed, he felt empty, as though he had been speaking to a ghost. He revealed that he had manipulated everyone around him to ensure his safety, even framing Xiao Yu to redirect Yan Xun’s wrath away from himself. But Yuwen Yue’s arrival had ruined everything. Unable to maintain his cover, Xiao Ce realized that he could no longer hide his true intentions.
“He wanted to use me,” Yuwen Yue remarked, “but I will teach him a lesson.”
Xiao Ce understood that Yan Xun would do anything to protect Chu Qiao. All his actions earlier had been part of an elaborate act—a mask he wore to accomplish his goals while in Chang’an. In a moment of melancholy, Xiao Ce reflected, “I pity Qiao Qiao,” with a sorrowful expression.
At this point, Xiao Ce realized that in his attempt to accomplish his goals using minimal resources, he had exposed more of Liang’s secrets than he could recover. He had learned a hard lesson—not to play with fire when it involved Chu Qiao.
From that moment, the winds of change began to stir in the heart of the Liang Prince.
Before departing, Xiao Ce said to Chu Qiao, “Remember to see me when I leave.” Chu Qiao nodded and smiled warmly at him.
Moments later, she greeted the Liang Prince as he rode off on his fancy white horse, Mermaid, along with the Liang palace guards as they made their way back to Jian Kang. He seemed a little gloomy, and Chu Qiao saw a different side of the prince.
When he saw Chu Qiao, the Prince turned his sad expression into a curious one and said, “Qiao Qiao, why don’t you come with me? Let’s get to know more about each other along the way.”
Chu Qiao replied, “Although I can’t read you, I know you’re not as bad as you seem.”
The Liang Prince took a deep breath, smiled, and said, “I am a nobleman, well-educated—how can I be read so easily? I’m losing face here.”
Chu Qiao, with a sly smile, responded, “The Wei Emperor wants to make peace through marriage. Did he agree to let you leave?”
Xiao Ce replied, “He wanted me gone as soon as possible. When I told him, he immediately sent me away as if I were bad luck. Besides, I don’t like any of his daughters—they’re ugly. I won’t marry any of them. In the City of Chang’an, you were the only one who caught my eye, but you chose the wrong person. You risk your life for Yan Xun instead of enjoying wealth and happiness with me. You broke my heart.”
Chu Qiao, her eyes stern but her cheeks flushed, asked, “If Wei goes to war with Yanbei, will you help the Wei state?”
Xiao Ce answered, “No,” with confidence. Even if Chu Qiao reversed the question, he still wouldn’t help either state. Chu Qiao then said that they were friends going forward.
Xiao Ce also invited Chu Qiao to visit him in Liang if she ever felt cold in Yanbei, and Chu Qiao invited him to visit Yan if he felt bored in Jian Kang, to experience the grasslands and the beauties of Yan.
Xiao Ce gave a flirty smile and said, “You know me well. Sometimes, we are both puppets of destiny—there are times you can see the beginning but cannot see the end.”
With a sad look, Xiao Ce added, “Qiao Qiao, I hope you can escape successfully. We’ll meet again if there’s another chance.”
With that, Xiao Ce led his horse away. Chu Qiao nodded and watched him disappear into the distance.
Just when you thought that was the end of their story, the Liang Prince did not stop seeking information about Chu Qiao’s whereabouts. Though he put on a facade of saying goodbye, his heart had not let go. Xiao Ce had always been open about his feelings for Qiao Qiao.
Unfortunately, Chu Qiao did not reciprocate Xiao Ce’s feelings. The Liang Prince later met Zhan Ziyu, a wealthy businessman and boat owner who accepted private jobs from nobles.
Zhan Ziyu, sipping his drink, coldly looked at Xiao Ce and asked, “Your Highness, did you call me here just to drink and talk about women?”
Xiao Ce turned his back to Zhan Ziyu, smirked, and replied, “You are a boring man; I wouldn’t find you just to drink.” Xiao Ce sat down, pulled out some papers from his sleeve, and showed them to Zhan Ziyu.
“Chu Qiao works for Yan Xun. She’s been quite popular lately. The Wei Emperor is offering 100 taels of gold to kill her. Do you know her, Your Highness?”
Xiao Ce raised his hand, as if about to beat a rhythm, and said, “She’s a beautiful woman I met in Chang’an,” flashing his flirty smile and sweet eyes.
Zhan Ziyu smiled slightly and remarked, “Your Highness is quite the romantic. She must have offended you in some way. So, have you decided to kill her?”
Xiao Ce, remaining cool, responded, “No.”
Looking directly into Zhan Ziyu’s eyes, he said, “On the contrary, I want you to save her.”
Zhan Ziyu, now intrigued, smiled at Xiao Ce and said, “I, Zhan Ziyu, only kill people. I’ve never saved anyone.”
Xiao Ce, sensing the rejection, smirked and replied, “I will not mistreat you.” He paused and added, “I have a message, and it’s important for you.”
Zhan Ziyu listened carefully.
“You’ve been looking for someone named Xia Chong.”
Zhan Ziyu, now visibly interested, asked, “Your Highness knows where she is?”
Xiao Ce said, “She’s in the secret prison of Liang state.”
Zhan Ziyu’s face lit up with interest, and it seemed Xiao Ce had sealed the deal.
Some time later, when the Liang Prince learned that Zhan Ziyu had taken care of Chu Qiao, he began planning his next move. The Prince himself became a spy, keeping a close eye on Chu Qiao and deciding to protect her.
When Chu Qiao fell off a cliff while being pursued by Wei Shu Ye, Xiao Ce didn’t hesitate to expose his position. He appeared in a black palanquin, devoid of a horseman, and opened fire from the window.
The roof of the palanquin opened, revealing a masked figure who caught Chu Qiao mid-air and sprinted off with her. When they stopped, Xiao Ce removed his mask and, seeing his beloved Qiao Qiao near death, embraced her, tears welling in his eyes.
Yuwen Yue was nearly frantic, searching for Chu Qiao after she ran away from him. With anger written on his face, he hastily interrogated Wei Shu Ye, who claimed that Chu Qiao was dead. Back at Yuwen Yue’s camp, while he and Yue Qi were discussing the situation, an arrow shot through the air and hit a post. Yuwen Yue grabbed it and read the letter attached.
Xiao Ce, knowing he needed outside help, reached out to Yuwen Yue, having cared for Chu Qiao in his palace while waiting for Yuwen Yue’s arrival. In the meantime, Chu Qiao slowly regained consciousness, opening her eyes just enough to recognize Xiao Ce.
The Crown Prince, worried all day, smiled again and said, “Qiao Qiao, you’re awake. I told you I’m the only one who can save you from the cliff in times of emergency.”
He flashed her a sweet smile.
He even joked, “How do you feel now? Can you move? Feel like marrying me now?” But when Chu Qiao coughed, Xiao Ce’s expression turned concerned, and he ordered his servant to bring her some water.
Chu Qiao, still coughing and startled by Xiao Ce’s joke, asked, “Where am I?”
Xiao Ce didn’t answer her directly. Instead, he asked, “What would you like to eat? You look pale—you need to regain your strength.”
Chu Qiao attempted to stand, but Xiao Ce gently laid her back down and hushed her, saying, “Don’t worry, you’re safe now that you’re with me. Hard times are always followed by good luck. You don’t need to worry, I’m by your side.”
A servant entered the room and informed the Prince, “Your Highness, Yuwen Yue has arrived.”
Xiao Ce smiled at Chu Qiao and said, “I’ll be back soon,” giving her a debonair smile before he left.
As Xiao Ce walked towards the courtyard, he remarked to himself, “So fast,” before meeting Yuwen Yue.
Xiao Ce greeted him with, “I just sent my letter, and you’ve already arrived in such a short time.”
Yuwen Yue got straight to the point, “Where is Xinger?”
Xiao Ce gave Yuwen Yue a bored, cold look and asked, “Xinger?”
Yuwen Yue, without blinking, said, “Qiao Qiao.”
Xiao Ce quickly closed and opened his eyes before replying, “That sounds better.”
Yuwen Yue expressed his gratitude, “Thank you for helping her.”
Xiao Ce, with a hint of sarcasm, responded, “Why thank me for her name? Who are you? Her old master or the general of Wei?”
Both men grew serious, and Yuwen Yue didn’t bother to answer the Prince’s question.
After a long pause, Xiao Ce said, “Follow me,” and they headed toward Chu Qiao’s villa.
When Chu Qiao saw Yuwen Yue, she asked, “How did you find me?”
Yuwen Yue replied, “It wasn’t hard to find you.”
Xiao Ce made a gesture, and Yuwen Yue approached Chu Qiao’s bed, lightly tapping her shoulder. The two exchanged glances. Afterward, Yuwen Yue and Xiao Ce stepped outside to talk privately.
Xiao Ce asked, “Did you know she’s been poisoned?”
Yuwen Yue responded, “Of course.”
Xiao Ce added, “This isn’t the first time.”
Yuwen Yue recounted a story about their encounter with assassins, to which Xiao Ce asked, “Were there three of them?”
Yuwen Yue nodded, “Yes.”
Xiao Ce remarked, “That fits.”
Yuwen Yue then asked, “Do you know who they are?”
Xiao Ce asked in return, “Have you heard of the Afterlife Camp?”
Yuwen Yue replied, “I’ve come across them once or twice.”
Xiao Ce explained, “It’s a mysterious assassins’ guild. I’ve heard that only three people can pass the Nirvana Kill at a time, becoming Afterlife Campers. They are extremely skilled in poisons, and finding a cure is nearly impossible. A few years ago, one of our ministers was poisoned with the same symptoms as Qiao Qiao.”
“After the virulence ends, the victim experiences severe stomach pain and falls into a coma, eventually dying in agony. Judging by her condition now, I’m afraid she doesn’t have much time left.”
Yuwen Yue fell into deep thought and asked, “Where is the Afterlife Camp?”
Xiao Ce replied, “I don’t know.”
“Who is their leader?”
Xiao Ce answered, “I don’t know that either.”
Frustrated, Yuwen Yue asked, “Then what do you know?”
Xiao Ce sighed and said, “I suspect that their leader has connections to someone—Zhan Ziyu, the biggest boss controlling water transport in Xiangyang. Whatever you need, he can make it happen.”
Yuwen Yue, in a warning tone, replied, “Alright, you can keep Xinger for now. But once this is over, I’ll come to get her. Remember, behave yourself. Don’t do anything that makes you look bad.”
Xiao Ce smirked and asked, “What do you think I am?”
Yuwen Yue replied coldly, “I’m saying this because I know exactly what kind of person you are. You went to great lengths to save Xinger and find me. You want me to deal with the Afterlife Camp for you. Whatever your intentions, I’ll take care of everything. Just mind your own business.”
Xiao Ce lowered his eyes, swallowing Yuwen Yue’s harsh words for Chu Qiao’s sake. Though Yuwen Yue believed Xiao Ce was using Xinger to manipulate him, the Liang Prince’s feelings for Chu Qiao were genuine. Still, Xiao Ce chose to maintain his mask, letting Yuwen Yue think the worst rather than reveal his true intentions.
Yuwen Yue bowed his head slightly toward the Liang Prince, remarking, “What a good scene.”
He acknowledged that Yuwen Yue’s feelings for Chu Qiao were sincere, something Xiao Ce knew he couldn’t compete with. As much as the Crown Prince wanted to be Chu Qiao’s savior, he realized his limitations—his royal duties prevented him from doing what Yuwen Yue could for Xinger.
From that moment, Xiao Ce revealed his true self to Yuwen Yue, recognizing why Yuwen Yue held such power in the Wei state—something that Liang Princess Xiao Yu and even Yan Xun had failed to break.
Secretly, Xiao Ce began to admire Yuwen Yue, but his desire for Chu Qiao only grew stronger.
Now that Chu Qiao was staying in his courtyard, Xiao Ce couldn’t bear the thought of anyone, especially Yuwen Yue, taking her away. But when Yuwen Yue retrieved the Dengxian Pill antidote from the treacherous path of the Afterlife Camp on Kong Sang Mountain, Xiao Ce knew it was time to let her go.
It was another heartbreak for him, as Xiao Ce had hoped Chu Qiao would remain safe in his palace and perhaps choose to stay with him.
Yuwen Yue stormed into the Liang Prince’s inner courtyard, and Xiao Ce chased after him to Chu Qiao’s bedroom, only to find that she was gone.
“I told you she’s gone,” Xiao Ce said, trying to discourage Yuwen Yue.
“Where could she go? Where else could she go?” Yuwen Yue searched every corner of the room.
“To Yanbei, of course. Or should she go back to Chang’an and have her head cut off?” Xiao Ce continued to push, hoping Yuwen Yue would believe him.
“Who told her to leave?” Yuwen Yue asked, his voice anxious.
“She can leave whenever she wishes. Who can stop her? She’s taken the pill you sent, and she’s healthy and lively now. No reason for her to stay here.”
Yuwen Yue, looking dejected, lowered his gaze to the floor.
“Don’t be so sad,” Xiao Ce continued, still trying to persuade him. “You two aren’t meant to be together. Forcing it won’t bring a happy ending. I know you’re a good person. How about this—I could introduce you to some other girls?”
Xiao Ce was trying to convince Yuwen Yue to give up on Xinger, but Yuwen Yue, still respectful of the Prince, knew Xiao Ce had feelings for her.
As Yuwen Yue turned to leave, Xiao Ce chased after him and called out, “I’m not finished yet! Where are you going? Listen to me…” His voice carried a childlike tone of desperation.
But then, a soft voice called out, “Yuwen Yue.”
Yuwen Yue stopped in his tracks, lifted his head, and saw Xinger. It was as though he hadn’t seen her in years. Time seemed to stand still.
Yuwen Yue’s typically cold expression softened as he looked at her like a god before his goddess. Everyone around them watched, holding their breath for the moment that was about to unfold.
Xinger smiled and stepped closer, stopping just a step away from Yuwen Yue. Unconcerned with anyone else, Yuwen Yue closed the distance and pulled her into a tight embrace, as if he would never let her go. Xiao Ce’s heart skipped a beat, but despite his own feelings, he was happy for them.
Later, Chu Qiao and Yuwen Yue spoke privately in her room. Xiao Ce didn’t interrupt, letting them have their sweet reunion. The story ended with a kiss—Yuwen Yue’s first intentional kiss with Xinger—and he whispered, “I need you too. Can you feel it?”
Yuwen Yue waited for a response, but Chu Qiao remained silent. Realizing that the heart before him was colder than his own, Yuwen Yue stepped out and left her.
Back at his tent camp, Yuwen Yue drank liquor, hoping to forget the moment earlier. Meanwhile, Chu Qiao, feeling lonely and sad, stayed in her room, avoiding any further interaction after her meeting with Yuwen Yue.
The Liang Prince, back to his playful, childish self, brought dinner to Chu Qiao’s room. But she was just staring at the wall, not wanting to speak or let Xiao Ce intrude on her private thoughts. Xiao Ce entered anyway, insisting, “Have some food, my dear General. You’re about to embark on a long journey—you can’t set off hungry.”
Chu Qiao, avoiding his gaze, replied, “I don’t feel like eating.”
Sitting on his knees with the food tray on his lap, Xiao Ce blinked and looked at her, sensing the rejection in the air. He inhaled deeply, then placed the tray on the table. Like a man begging for attention, he spoke to her, “I wanted to cheat, to make him leave, so you wouldn’t feel sad if you hadn’t met him. Qiao Qiao, there are many roads in life. If you choose one, you must give up the others. You’re a silly girl—you chose a rough, challenging path while the other is safe, warm, and straight. So, when you stand at a crossroads, it’s not surprising you feel sad. You can’t change that. Do you believe in yourself?”
Chu Qiao responded, “Of course I do.”
Xiao Ce asked again, “Do you believe in Yan Xun?”
Chu Qiao simply replied, “Yes.”
Xiao Ce then said, “Then make your rough road warm and shining. When you do, you’ll find that everything you’ve sacrificed will be worth it.”
Suddenly, Chu Qiao felt a lift in her spirits.
Xiao Ce sat beside her and added, “As for Yuwen Yue, you just need to give him time. Time is the best healer. If the wound doesn’t kill you, it will heal. In this world, everyone can live with or without others. As smart as he is, he will figure it out.”
Chu Qiao looked into his eyes, and Xiao Ce reassured her, “Don’t worry.” She gave him a sweet smile in return.
Xiao Ce continued, “On the other hand, Yuwen Yue was restricted too much by his family. He hadn’t known many women before.” At this, Chu Qiao’s face brightened, and the gloom disappeared. Xiao Ce playfully pointed to her cheeks, saying, “Look at you, you’re incredibly thin. You’ve developed well in two unimportant areas—your cheeks.”
Chu Qiao laughed and said, “What are you saying? Am I that bad?” She gently pushed Xiao Ce’s hand away.
“I’m not joking,” Xiao Ce replied with a foxy smile. Then, in a softer tone, he said, “Okay. Finish that noodle and get some sleep early.” He paused and turned serious, “I’ve seen someone watching the palace recently. I suspect they’re men from Yan Xun. You should leave with them tomorrow.”
Chu Qiao nodded, understanding the situation. Xiao Ce, not wanting her to see the sadness in his eyes, stood up and, with a cold voice, added, “By the way, don’t bother saying goodbye this time. I want a full night’s sleep.”
He smirked at her, and she smirked back.
Xiao Ce, hiding his sorrow, walked away from his Qiao Qiao and returned to his room, tending to his aching heart.
Alone, Chu Qiao whispered, “Xiao Ce, thank you.”
Xiao Ce had never been this wise or freely offered advice to someone, especially when he may not be able to untie the emotions bound in his heart. This was all new to him, even being kind to Yuwen Yue for the sake of his Qiao Qiao. He had never seen himself in this light until today.
He realized that although he felt like a tool, it was the only way he knew to express his love for Qiao Qiao. Letting her go back to Yan Xun pierced his heart.
And now the Prince returned to his sleepless nights.
Outwardly, his words were calm and breezy, but inside, he was burning with a fire he could no longer hide. Chu Qiao could not reciprocate the Liang Prince’s feelings for her.
Xiao Ce longed to keep her, care for her, and give her the good things in life, but Chu Qiao seemed not to need any of them. What could he offer to make her stay?
Though Chu Qiao eventually left his palace, the Liang Prince found it hard to give up on her. During his sleepless nights, he continued to think of Qiao Qiao and looked for ways to win her over. However, he knew his competitors—Yuwen Yue, Yan Xun, and even Yuan Song—were equally powerful and smart. He resolved to do his best.
Xiao Ce thought this might be his only way to surpass Yuwen Yue and Yan Xun. But now that Yuwen Yue was declared missing, presumed dead, Xiao Ce couldn’t believe it. He was in denial. He refused to accept the story and decided that now was the time to act.
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