Chapter 81: Tianlong Temple!
When Duan Yu told him, Duan Zhengchun realized how he had spoiled his son too much—so ignorant of martial ways that he could make such a laughingstock of himself.
Duan Yu had been scolded harshly, nearly flayed with words. If not for Dao Baifeng, newly returned from her Daoist retreat, stepping in, the boy would have suffered even worse.
Now, knowing well who they were meeting, Duan Yu felt a mess of emotions. Seeing Fang Han, he was grateful—yet when his eyes shifted to the two women sitting nearby, he was struck again.
The first he knew already. But the second—he had never seen her. She too was a beauty of peerless grace.
Inwardly he sighed with envy:
This Master Fang, wherever he goes, has stunning beauties at his side. That girl in green last time was the same…
But this was no time for wandering thoughts.
At his father’s urging, Duan Yu stepped forward and bowed:
“I, Duan Yu, thank Master Fang for saving my life. Last time I spoke rash and ignorant words that displeased you. I beg your forgiveness.”
Fang Han looked at him with a faint smile:
“It was but a small effort, hardly worth mentioning. But tell me, Young Master Duan—after what you’ve experienced, have you come to understand more of the dangers of the jianghu?”
Duan Yu stammered, blushing bright red.
He had been raised in the comforts of the Prince’s Manor, everyone treating him with respect.
But after sneaking away to wander, he had been beaten down by the harshness of the real world.
The jianghu was perilous beyond his imagination.
Though his temperament could not change overnight, he now understood: not all grievances could be reasoned out over a table.
Thinking back to how righteously he had preached to others on Wuliang Mountain, shame flooded him. He wished he could crawl into a hole.
Duan Zhengchun sighed: “My son is ignorant, doing foolish things. I beg Master Fang not to take offense.”
Throughout, Dao Baifeng had remained silent, only observing Fang Han and the two girls.
Her gaze lingered particularly long on Mu Wanqing, with a hint of surprise, though she kept it to herself.
Finally, she stepped forward and said: “Thank you, Master Fang, for saving my son’s life. I am endlessly grateful!”
This Princess Consort, dressed in Daoist robes, possessed an uncommon beauty and a unique grace.
As she leaned forward in a bow, her form was delicately outlined.
Fang Han returned her courtesy, though inwardly a thought stirred strangely.
So this is…
Dao Baifeng.
Mm. A wolf among wolves—harsher than the harshest.
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Dao Baifeng, in order to take revenge on Duan Zhengchun’s philandering ways—his endless entanglements with women, his indulgence in fleeting passions—felt both humiliation and resentment.
In her rage and shame, she happened to encounter Duan Yanqing, who at the time had suffered grave injuries, fled back, and was hiding outside Tianlong Temple. Seeing him covered in blood and wounds, reduced to a beggar-like state, she suddenly birthed a dark idea.
She had relations with him, one of the lowest and most degraded of men, as an act of twisted retaliation.
Not only did she place upon Prince Zhen Nan, Duan Zhengchun, a dazzling emerald-green crown of cuckoldry, but the union also bore fruit—producing a “convenient son,” Duan Yu.
One could only say…
Utterly terrifying!
Truth be told, Fang Han could not quite understand this kind of self-destructive act—degrading oneself merely to avenge another.
But thinking of the ancient context, where men ranked above women in all matters, perhaps the most obsessive, extreme method she could imagine was precisely this.
Fang Han silently shook his head, withdrawing several stray thoughts from his mind, and offered a slight bow.
Yet, women were naturally sensitive to gazes. Dao Baifeng faintly sensed it, turned her eyes to Fang Han with suspicion. She could not quite tell why his expression just now was so peculiar~.
Lowering her head slightly, her face suddenly shifted; shame and anger welled up within her.
What was this man looking at!?
Only, with so many eyes upon them and since he was her son Yu’er’s savior, she held her composure, not daring to reveal anything.
She gracefully offered a salute, then retreated behind Duan Zhengchun.
Her face remained composed, but her heart was far from calm.
Fang Han noticed her unusual expression, faintly puzzled. Having stood close, he had caught a glimpse of Dao Baifeng’s reaction, but had no way of knowing what the Consort of Prince Zhen Nan was truly thinking.
Others had noticed nothing at all.
As everyone drank tea and conversed, Duan Zhengchun learned that Fang Han and his companions were looking for a place to stay, and immediately extended an invitation for them to reside at his princely residence.
Fang Han, who already had his own plans in mind, naturally did not decline.
This invitation to Fang Han to enter Prince Zhen Nan’s manor even alarmed Emperor Baoding of Dali himself.
Despite his busy affairs, he personally came to the residence to meet Fang Han and expressed deep gratitude for saving Duan Yu.
This revealed a very clear inclination.
Though Duan Yu was the son of Prince Zhen Nan, he was in fact already the predetermined successor.
As Emperor Baoding had no son, he had long established in both court and public that Prince Zhen Nan would be the Crown Brother, heir to the throne.
Though not officially conferred, the consensus was shared throughout the realm.
If Duan Zhengchun were to ascend as the next ruler of Dali, then Duan Yu would not merely be the heir to Prince Zhen Nan—he would be the future ruler of Dali itself.
Fang Han had saved his life. To look closely, one might even say he had rendered a service in stabilizing the very foundation of the state!
Thus, even Emperor Baoding personally coming to meet him was only natural.
Fang Han, however, had somewhat anticipated this.
His intervention to save Duan Yu had not been random; it was already a faint beginning of his schemes.
Not necessarily a precise plan, but a hand played in passing—winning Dali’s favor was reason enough.
That day, within a courtyard of Prince Zhen Nan’s manor—
Since both young women were considered Fang Han’s beloved confidantes, they had been arranged to lodge together.
This, of course, benefited Fang Han.
Mu Wanqing, for her part, did not mind at all, but rather felt shy joy.
Yet, as a certain thought crossed her mind, her expression dimmed.
Fang Han held the beauty in his arms, inhaling her faint, intoxicating fragrance. Seeing her mood shift, he raised his brow:
“Wanqing, what’s wrong? You’ve been absent-minded lately—what troubles you?”
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