Chapter 29: The Grand Alliance Ceremony of the Five Nations (Part Nine)

“Kill!” At the command, the masked men rushed toward him. The figure in black flashed a wicked smile, leaned forward, and slid deftly beneath one assailant’s legs.

With a flick of his sword, the man in black rose swiftly and thrust his blade toward an opponent’s throat. The man blocked with his own sword, bracing it before his neck and shoving back hard, forcing the attacker’s blade away. Seizing the chance, he twisted his sword, driving it straight toward the black-clad man’s heart.

But the black-robed man’s agility was extraordinary; with a light leap, he landed behind his adversary, perfectly poised. Using the spring of his descent, he crouched beside his sword, then stabbed his gleaming blade at the man’s thigh.

The adversary turned, swinging his sword upward to parry the bloodthirsty strike, then, with a sudden twist, aimed his blade at the black-clad man’s neck.

Yet the black-robed warrior remained unhurried, his wrist turning ceaselessly as he fended off the rapid, savage attacks, retreating step by step.

Suddenly, a cold wind swept in from nowhere, chilling everyone to the bone.

The man in black gripped his sword with both hands, and instantly the masked fighters fell into total vigilance, surrounding him in a coordinated assault.

The battle had begun; they moved so swiftly that only the crossing of blades could be seen, swords clashing with piercing screeches. In their eyes gleamed a fierce, terrifying light.

As the blades flashed, beads of blood sprayed and splattered, staining the desolate courtyard with thick pools of crimson.

When the man in black slew the last of his foes, he collapsed into the blood, hatred flooding the earth. And at that moment, the music ended.

Those unable to grasp the depth of the scene felt only a chill run down their backs when they heard Fuhua’s melody, their bodies trembling, blood frozen.

Elsewhere on the training field, startled birds cried out, circling above the woods, disturbed by the atmosphere…

But the massacre was merely an illusion conjured by Fuhua’s zither.

Though the music ceased, the aura of slaughter lingered. His raven hair was lifted by the passing wind, his cunning gaze more unnerving still. Fuhua was unaware that he now resembled the demon king from a painted scroll.

Baicheng’s expression was grave, his worry for Bai Qingye growing. The killing aura around Fuhua was far too heavy; what would become of him in the future?

Bai Qingye too was anxious, though not for herself. She knew Fuhua was fond of battle, but never imagined he could reach such extremes.

Shen Xinan’s heart surged, a flash of ruthlessness in his eyes.

Fuhua rose and summoned a palace attendant to collect the zither. The maidservant was visibly frightened, not daring to lift her head; a careful observer would have noticed her trembling legs.

Master Chen Yin stroked his chin with one hand, drumming the chair’s armrest with the other, his thoughts adrift.

His music had silenced all discussion, leaving not even a single applause. The audience still reeled from the vivid scene that lingered in their minds.

Chen Yin said nothing.

Instead, Fuhua spoke first: “What does Master think of my playing?” Even when seeking guidance, his tone carried an unassailable, chilly arrogance.

“Word has it that the Fifth Prince of Nansheng is a rare prodigy, a military talent beyond compare. Who would have thought that you excel in ancient music as well? Yet in these peaceful times, such violence brings only sadness.” Master Chen Yin smiled as always, but the sorrow in his eyes could not be concealed.

“Your words are somewhat lacking, Master. The rivers and seas are calm, the years fruitful—but who can say what the days to come will bring?” Fuhua deliberately drew out the words “days to come.”

“In peace, we must remain vigilant. Too much tranquility breeds unrest in some hearts. Is that not so, Crown Prince?” Fuhua turned to the stage, addressing Changsun Chengmin loudly.

All eyes turned to the Crown Prince, who was resting his head, eyes narrowed in repose.

Under the scrutiny of the crowd, Changsun Chengmin remained unmoved, showing no reaction whatsoever.

Su Qingfeng realized he must still be dreaming, so he jabbed Chengmin’s back sharply with his sword hilt.

Chengmin cried out in pain, leapt up, and was about to punch Su Qingfeng when he noticed all eyes upon him. Embarrassed, he unclenched his fist, then straightened Su Qingfeng’s collar and, grinning through clenched teeth, said, “A grown man and you still can’t tidy yourself.”

So he really had been asleep! Su Qingfeng wondered how he’d ended up serving such an unreliable Crown Prince—he must have offended the god of misfortune.

“I am a servant, I must remain calm. He is my master for now, I must be courteous, I must keep my composure. Yes, calm—calm,” Su Qingfeng fervently convinced himself to endure, to stay calm, to smile.

—

At last, Su Qingfeng managed to swallow his frustration. Leaning close, he whispered Fuhua’s words into Chengmin’s ear.

Chengmin turned to face Fuhua and waved dismissively with a smile, “I don’t know about others’ unrest, but you, Fifth Prince, are certainly ill at ease yourself.”

“You understand me best, Crown Prince,” Fuhua replied with a smile.

When did these two learn to banter like this? Gu Nanyuan didn’t understand their exchange, but felt particularly irritated.

Whenever the two spoke, he suspected they were pretending to be profound, and his dislike for them only grew.

Suddenly, the sky darkened, foreboding storm.

The Emperor of Baixi considered that the training ground was still some distance from both the palace and the relay station; should rain hit, the tents could not shelter so many. He ordered, “The competition is suspended. We resume tomorrow.”

No one wished to be drenched, lest they catch cold. So all hurried home.

Soon, torrential rain poured down, soaking the dry earth in moments, raindrops splashing into puddles.

On the fields, laborers carrying tools had their vision blurred by rainwater, stumbling along muddy paths, falling every few steps.

Pedestrians on the street ran with umbrellas if they had them; those without hiked up their trouser legs and rushed ahead, or used their bundles to shield their heads. Few lingered under the eaves; all seemed busy hurrying home.

Most at the training ground were caught in the rain as well.

Rain drifted down as night fell.

After dining in the Empress’s palace, the Emperor of Baixi lay on his couch to rest.

The Empress had changed into lighter attire and was massaging his shoulders and legs.

“Your Majesty, were you satisfied with Yuan’er’s performance today?” she asked gently.

At the question, the Emperor sat up, his tone cold, “Hmph, foolish and arrogant. He disgraced me utterly.”

At that, the Empress ceased her massage, turning away to sob.

Seeing this, the Emperor felt he might have been too harsh. He wrapped his arms around her and said, “I have high hopes for Yuan’er, but how can such a rash boy achieve greatness?”

The Empress wiped nonexistent tears, shifting from sorrow to joy, and stroked his hand.

“Your Majesty, Yuan’er was indeed reckless yesterday. But you know better than anyone how he treats us normally. You mustn’t distance yourself from him over a single test.”

“Yes, yes. When did Yuan’er learn the zither? How could I not know?”

Indeed, he did not know, for Gu Nanyuan had never played before him.

The Empress feigned grievance, pulling away from his embrace and facing him, “In earlier years, Your Majesty’s heart and eyes were only for the eldest prince. Who cared for our Yuan’er, even when he practiced day and night?”

At her words, the Emperor’s face darkened, glaring at her.

The Empress, terrified, immediately prostrated herself and pleaded tearfully, “Your Majesty, I spoke carelessly and misspoke. Please spare me.”

She trembled, forgetting that the Emperor’s greatest taboo was mention of Gu Qiuci.

It was for mentioning him, even in passing, that Noble Consort Jin was accused of illicit affairs with the palace guards and sentenced to death.

“Your Majesty, Your Majesty.” Eunuch Tian shuffled in and knelt before the Emperor, casting a furtive glance at the kneeling Empress, feeling even more uneasy.

“What is it?” asked the Emperor.

“You instructed your humble servant to invite Princess Suhua to the palace. She has arrived and awaits in the Imperial Study.”

—

Eunuch Tian, nearing seventy, remained remarkably robust. He had watched both Princess Suhua and the Emperor of Baixi grow up, earning the respect of all in the palace.

The Emperor’s expression returned to normal. He told the Empress, “Mind yourself,” then hurried to the Imperial Study.

By age, the Emperor was slightly older than Suhua, but his rank was a full generation lower.

The late Emperor of Baixi had nineteen sons, but in all those years, none of his concubines bore a princess. Not until he was fifty did he finally have a daughter—Suhua, who became the Eldest Princess.

When the late Emperor passed, he handed the throne directly to his grandson, the current Emperor.

Now, the Empress harbored resentment against the Eldest Princess. Suhua was the late Emperor’s only daughter, showered with favor, having everything she wished for; who wouldn’t envy that?

Yet Suhua seemed oblivious to her fortune, forsaking luxury to live a hard life with Elder Guo outside the palace.

The more the Empress thought, the angrier she grew. “Xiu’er, summon the Second Prince.”

“Yes,” replied the attendant called Xiu’er.

—

“His Majesty arrives!” Eunuch Tian announced loudly from outside.

At the call, Suhua turned and curtsied, “This humble woman greets Your Majesty.”

The Emperor hastily raised her, “Aunt, you mustn’t! You’ll exhaust your nephew; it is I who should pay respects to you.” With that, he attempted to kneel.

Suhua caught him by the arm, smiling, “I am no longer the Eldest Princess Suhua, merely a disciple of Elder Guo. If you treat me thus, what place do you leave for women?”

“Blood ties cannot be severed; you’ll always be my aunt,” the Emperor replied kindly.

“May I ask why Your Majesty summoned me to the palace?” Suhua cut straight to the point.

“Please, Aunt, be seated. Let us talk at leisure.”

Once seated, Eunuch Tian served them tea.

“Aunt, your whereabouts are so unpredictable. I do not know how you have fared these years. I should have greeted you yesterday, but knowing your dislike for ceremony, I refrained.”

“I have lived freely since leaving the palace walls. Your Majesty is the ruler of the realm, I could not accept such courtesy.”

“Will you stay in Baixi for a few more days?”

“This visit is at the request of another. When the matter is done, I will leave with my master.”

The Emperor knew Elder Guo was coming but was surprised that Suhua would accompany him, as she disliked such occasions.

Hearing she was here on someone else’s behalf, he was puzzled—he did not know who could persuade Suhua.

“Oh? May I ask who requested you?” The Emperor looked concerned.

“That is a personal matter, difficult to divulge,” Suhua replied with a polite smile.

“I—”

“Her Majesty the Empress and the Second Prince arrive!” The shrill voice of a eunuch from outside interrupted the Emperor before he could finish speaking.