Chapter 489: Chapter 364: Showing Off Eloquence
A stream of names flashed through her mind, and Yu Zhen Yuanjun shook her head repeatedly.
This speculation, if voiced, would undoubtedly sound alarmist. Yet if she were to step back and guess differently, it still failed to explain the meaning behind Anhou’s successive actions.
The Taoist sects have never been involved in courtly struggles; thus, Yu Zhen Yuanjun had no knowledge of the current political shifts in the court. If she were aware, perhaps she could validate her conjectures further.
After several rounds of deliberation, Yu Zhen Yuanjun sighed deeply and said:
"I initially thought everything arose solely because of the late emperor, and so sought to restore the dragon vein early. But now that courtly conflicts are involved, meddling in such matters would indeed be inappropriate."
The meaning of Yu Zhen Yuanjun’s words was clear. If everything stemmed simply from the grievance of a long-deceased soul, she could lend a helping hand without hesitation—it would be a matter of accumulating virtuous deeds. But when involved in political struggles, no Taoist from any faction would dare intervene recklessly.
Though Great Yu traditionally respected Taoism and embraced mystical practices, once embroiled in battles of court and state, one’s identity as a Taoist mattered little.
"I am only speculating, after all."
Regarding the matter of the dragon vein, Chen Yi himself was unwilling to meddle. He was already preparing to leave the capital—getting involved would only lead to a never-ending entanglement.
He chose to keep the matter in mind as a precaution.
"Besides this, Yuanjun, is there any other matter you wish to discuss?"
Chen Yi asked.
Yu Zhen Yuanjun glanced at Zhou Yitang, then replied:
"I heard that the Qianhu will be leaving the capital soon?"
"Indeed."
Chen Yi had long wanted to leave the capital. Whether it was due to the impending chaos across the land, or the possibility of staging a major upheaval involving deities like Yaoshang Bodhisattva, his departure from the capital was imperative.
Lingering in the capital would only be akin to trapping himself in a cocoon. The sharpness of a treasured sword emerges only through grinding—the journey ahead would serve as a further tempering of his martial arts realm.
The Fourth Rank... was now beginning to feel a bit restricted.
Not to mention, once his martial and Taoist skills proved successful post-departure, he could return to the capital, shatter Jingren Palace, and let the Empress Dowager take a swim—not an impossible feat.
If asked where Chen Yi planned to go upon leaving the capital, west or south were both options.
Yu Zhen Yuanjun received Chen Yi’s response, a gentle smile appearing on her lips:
"I don’t know where Qianhu plans to head, but if you pass by Taihua Mountain, you may as well ascend and pay a visit."
Chen Yi didn’t understand what her intentions were and frowned slightly: "If the opportunity arises, I will visit the mountain."
This response was a tactful refusal.
Yu Zhen Yuanjun added, "Wei Ying will return to the mountain."
Chen Yi replied, "I think that’s very likely."
Once he left the capital, his journey across the Jianghu would undoubtedly be filled with moments of emptiness and loneliness. If along the way he could arrive at Taihua Mountain to... master Taoist skills, any hardships endured would be resolved overnight.
Speaking of Taihua Mountain—it appeared to lie west of the capital. If so, heading west seemed reasonable. Moreover, it wouldn’t be surprising if he ran into Min Ning there.
After brief consideration, Chen Yi suddenly felt this journey would likely be rife with turbulence.
Leaving aside the dangers along the road, even in terms of romance this path would surely resemble a battlefield, with bloodshed at every turn.
Take Min Ning, for example, whose style of suspending his sword and killing flood dragons before leaving the capital—it wouldn’t be surprising if he experienced fortuitous encounters, enhanced his martial prowess, and became assertive. Then there’s Yin Weiyin, whose love was excessive and assertive—he would surely show off in front of Min Ning.
Even worse, Yin Weiyin had once mistakenly regarded Min Ning as a "golden boy," an error creating friction between the two...
Chen Yi rubbed his forehead as he thought.
The biggest problem with foes becoming companions was the ease with which companions turned against one another.
Yu Zhen Yuanjun, ignorant of the connection between sword armor and her rebellious pupil, was unaware of the principle that the bond between heaven, earth, monarch, parent, and teacher dictated that a teacher was akin to a father. Teacher-student romance was not unfounded, but it violated moral and ethical norms.
Furthermore, Yin Sword Mountain’s Taoist faction consisted entirely of celibate female cultivators. Seeking a soulmate would lead to expulsion from their sect.
Thus, her words carried no sense of awkwardness.
Zhou Yitang’s gaze was as cold as frost, and Chen Yi broke out in goosebumps as he swiftly shifted the topic:
"Yuanjun, I have a question I’d like to ask."
"Please ask."
"Regarding Jing Wangfu... aside from Wei Ying, has Taihua Mountain ever taken in another Taichua Goddess?"
Yu Zhen Yuanjun shook her head and answered:
"Never."
"Then within the last sixty years in the capital, has there been another Taichua Goddess taken in?"
"Also never." Hearing these peculiar queries, Yu Zhen Yuanjun asked dubiously, "Why does Qianhu ask this?"
Chen Yi, his expression turning solemn, said, "In Jing Wangfu... I found a corpse suspected to belong to the Taichua Goddess."
......
In the mortal realm, 28th day of the twelfth lunar month.
Southern Border, Southern Border. Though countless literati in the capital call it by this name, the region has its own titles—for the Miao tribes, it is known as Jumie, while for the generations of Han settlers, it is called Nanwei.
The Prince of Annan’s army entered Dragon Tail City with triumphal grandeur. Along the thirty-mile route, commoners lined the streets to welcome them warmly. Within the city, the roads were clean and adorned with flowers, while the soldiers, clothed in splendor, returned home amidst jubilant buzz and lively ambiance.
Inside the royal mansion, the celebratory decorations of lanterns and streamers marked their victorious return.
To those privy to the truth, however, this was far from a true victory; neither the Prince of Annan nor the Qin Family achieved their desires.
Yet, for soldiers and armies, two things held paramount importance—having a justified cause for departure and returning triumphantly.
Even if the capital wasn’t conquered by force, they still managed to assert dominance without wasting a single soldier or engaging in battle.
Under such circumstances, lavish rewards made it akin to a triumphant return after all.
The Prince of Annan’s long-established roots in the Southern Border meant that dispensing one or two rounds of rewards wasn’t much of a concern.
Added to this were the imperial decrees from the palace, granting official titles to various Qin family scions, effectively appeasing dissatisfied clan elders.
Still, not everyone was oblivious; some elders wished to privately scheme due to the death of a certain Qin family member.
However, on the night of these secret discussions, the Prince of Annan himself, still clad in military attire, arrived uninvited to visit, stepping across the threshold of the slightly shorter doorway before them.
Though no blood was shed, after an exchange steeped in fraternal respect and displays of familial love, no one dared to speak a word of dissent.
Ever since Qin Qingluo ascended to power, Nanwei had been steeped in relentless waves of intrigue and bloodshed. She had long understood the meaning of "preventing trouble before it arises."
Upon taking the throne, her first priority was not the external blades and shadows but the concealed smiles of her own kin.
The heavier the weight of vigilance and precaution borne by such a ruler, the more unavoidable her reliance upon and protection of those she held dear.
Zhu E was one such person.
Now far from the capital, that figure seemed as fleeting as smoke and clouds.
Days later, once matters had mostly been smoothed over, Qin Qingluo’s days gradually returned to their routine. Within the royal mansion, Zhu E remained her Aunt Zhu, managing both trivial and significant household affairs—in that respect, nothing had changed.
Beyond the mists and malarias rampant in Southern Border, the region’s natural peace made it fitting for stability. Moreover, with the prosperity of the Prince of Annan’s estates in tea plantations, textiles, and farmland, alongside trade routes funneling Central Plains goods to Southeastern nations, material luxury was never lacking. As long as operations ran smoothly, deficits were unimaginable.
With leisure settling over her life, Qin Qingluo occupied herself with martial practice and immersed herself in the arts of painting and calligraphy.
Southern Border boasted grand rivers, towering cliffs, heavy mists, and blossoming peach trees. The Prince of Annan’s royal estate sprawled across vast lands, several times more opulent even than the famously lavish Xiang Mansion of the capital. Within the estate lay a peach grove, and though it was winter with no blooming peach blossoms, the continuous shades of deep green were ever present.
Amid the grove was a small courtyard called Gaowu Courtyard, named after the prince’s epithet.
As the setting sun cast its glow across the sky, the mountains were framed by radiant hues, swaying verdantly like waves of the sea. Gaowu Courtyard nestled within the peach grove came in and out of view. Rising from her seat by the painting table, Qin Qingluo emanated a profound aura of majesty that seemed to demand reverence.
The princess strolled gracefully through the grove with a folded letter in hand, reading it as she approached.
Upon entering the courtyard, she saluted the prince, dismissing the surrounding maids with a gesture.
Zhu E drew closer, holding up the letter as she spoke cheerfully, "Can the prince guess who sent this?"
Qin Qingluo’s expression darkened slightly as she focused on her painting, her brush moving diligently to depict the peach grove scenery. Her voice rang cold: "Aunt Zhu, there’s no need to show me."
Zhu E replied playfully, "It’s from the capital."
"I said, there’s no need to show me."
Qin Qingluo repeated firmly.
For a moment, Zhu E fell silent; after a while, she sat down at a distant table and began reading the letter aloud word by word.
Qin Qingluo took a deep breath, suppressing the urge to snap her brush and storm away.
The contents of the letter, neither brief nor lengthy, began with updates on life in the capital, followed by sentiments of well-being and concluding with a series of inquiries.
"I counted: it mentions the prince thirteen times and aunt six times," Zhu E remarked halfway through, displaying a faint expression of concern.
Qin Qingluo never turned her head, remaining composed and intensely focused on her painting of the grove.
"He loathes me deeply."
Zhu E’s gaze flicked briefly toward Qin Qingluo’s abdomen. Loathing deeply enough to sire offspring indeed.
The brush paused ever so slightly.
Ever since learning of her pregnancy, the stately young woman showed great disdain for anyone casting a glance upon her abdomen, even when clad in armor.
Zhu E was well aware this was mere paranoia; the pregnancy was only one month along, far from the time her belly would visibly swell.
Yet certain subtle changes betrayed the situation—Qin Qingluo waking later in the mornings, avoiding greasy foods, and becoming noticeably laxer in her martial routines.
These were almost imperceptible details only the closest observers could recognize.
Furthermore, they shared a deep connection.
Zhu E withdrew her gaze and continued reading the letter aloud.
Qin Qingluo remained unaffected, her eyes fixed forward and her brush unyielding.
In her painting, the peach grove branches intertwined, shadows thickening beneath the trees until the hidden trails ahead appeared to reveal faint figures—which she quickly adjusted, blending them back into the winter-draped peach trees.
Once the revisions were made, the reading came to an end.
Zhu E sighed deeply: "The closing lines of this letter are truly eloquent."
"Snow on the Cang Mountain, barren seas, and enduring rocks?"
After softly murmuring the verse, Qin Qingluo dismissed it coldly: "A mere display of rhetoric."