SS CH96

Ruan Feiyu’s letter was actually written quite simply.

Consisting of a mere four pages, the first two detailed the Prince of Li colluding with the Burial Soul Palace to plot a rebellion while framing the remnants of old cases and the Prince of Duan. The third page listed the hidden spies within the Sanmei Academy and the personnel Ruan Feiyu had observed and confirmed to be useful over the years. The final page contained only one short sentence: Jianghu matters are settled in the Jianghu.

The Prince of Li’s current scheme had failed, instead exposing himself and forging a grudge with the Prince of Duan. Now that Chu Ziyu and Chu Yu had reached a consensus, the latter, despite not interfering in court politics for many years, possessed a terrifying underground power. Having handed it over to the new Emperor, he would become a more advantageous asset to the monarch than Ruan Feiyu.

Naturally, the Prince of Li wouldn’t just sit and wait for death, which meant his only option was to fight like a cornered dog.

Commanding the northern border and secretly colluding with the barbarian tribes beyond the pass, he essentially held the Great Chu by the throat. Now, forced by circumstances, he would likely raise troops in rebellion very soon.

Although the Prince of Duan hadn’t held military command in a long time, he was the first of the late Emperor’s sons to touch military power. Back then, he had been close friends with the Northern Hero, Qin Hebai, and still held considerable prestige in the current court.

With the Prince of Duan assisting him in military and political affairs, the court was somewhat stabilized, but the Burial Soul Palace, entrenched in the Jianghu, remained like a venomous snake in a swamp, lying dormant and waiting for its chance.

Even though Chu Ziyu was the Emperor, the Jianghu and the imperial court had long maintained a clear divide. Even the Lueying had limited involvement in the martial world, putting it naturally beyond his reach. Under these circumstances, he could only delegate power to the Jianghu, using martial forces to eradicate the Burial Soul Palace.

Since ancient times, “Scholars use words to disrupt the law, while martial artists use force to violate prohibitions.” This was especially true because the Grand Ancestor had risen from the military ranks and, over the years, favored the capable while overlooking moral conduct. Scholars could use essays to excuse crimes and seek official posts, while martial artists could use force to find protection. This resulted in a lack of proper rules and lax enforcement of laws. Therefore, upon ascending the throne, Chu Ziyu began implementing reforms alongside Ruan Feiyu.

Up to now, reforms concerning people’s livelihoods, the imperial examinations, inheriting noble titles, and selecting officials were showing initial results, but the chaotic Jianghu—a mixed bag of dragons and snakes—remained difficult for him to touch. Even if Chu Ziyu disregarded everything and used the court’s power to overthrow the Burial Soul Palace, doing it once didn’t mean he could do it twice; he couldn’t resort to this method every single time.

Given this, the only solution was exactly as Ruan Feiyu had stated: Jianghu matters are settled in the Jianghu.

“The Burial Soul Palace currently dominates alone, not because the Central Plains’ martial world lacks capable individuals, but because a group of dragons without a leader is nothing but scattered sand.” Chu Ziyu’s slightly cold gaze swept over, “To twist a group of people with varying motives into a single rope, they must share either common interests or a common enemy.”

His words were not cryptic. Chu Xiwei quickly grasped his meaning and immediately sneered, “You want to be the hand twisting that rope, controlling the martial world’s forces to correct the Jianghu’s atmosphere and restore order to solidify the majesty of the law, making your throne more secure.”

As a monarch, he couldn’t allow too many things to exist beyond his control, especially since this matter threatened his position and power, making it entirely intolerable.

Even if he couldn’t control it completely, he had to be the hand intervening and mediating.

Realizing this, the mockery in Chu Xiwei’s eyes deepened. “What a massive appetite.”

“We are brothers of the same clan; we are much alike.” Chu Ziyu smiled. “Xiwei, if you didn’t desire the power over life and death, you wouldn’t have climbed to the position you hold today.”

Hearing this, the cold gleam in Chu Xiwei’s eyes slowly retracted. He remained silent for a long time before finally saying, “As expected… it was you.”

After the palace coup ten years ago, he went from a glorious imperial grandson with unmatched prestige to having absolutely nothing. At the time, Chu Ziyu originally sent people to entrust him to a wealthy, childless merchant family. If he had minded his own business, he could have lived a peaceful life and wouldn’t have subsequently ended up drifting in the Jianghu.

But he was unwilling. Once a pampered royal descendant suddenly reduced to weeds, his heart was filled with so much resentment and unwillingness. How could he be content becoming a mere idler in the marketplace?

As soon as his body had recovered slightly, he left that family on his own. Knowing he lacked power and influence—lacking even the capital to survive, let alone seek revenge—he gritted his teeth and threw himself into the Jianghu, drifting through wind and rain.

But he was only eleven years old at the time; young, possessing low martial arts, and completely devoid of Jianghu experience. In less than a month, he suffered numerous disasters and nearly died in nameless streets and alleys.

Yet every time he reached the brink of death, he would miraculously survive through what seemed like sheer coincidence.

He never believed a human life was harder than stone. When coincidences piled up, it meant someone was deliberately laying out a scheme. This was especially apparent after he contracted the plague. Though physically weak, his mind was still somewhat clear. Feigning a semi-conscious state, he sensed unusual people mixing among the refugees around him along the way, stabilizing his condition—ensuring he wouldn’t get well, but wouldn’t simply die either.

Later, he arrived in Huadeng Town and was bought into the Hundred Ghosts Sect by Sun Minfeng.

“Back then, I thought about killing you more than once. After all, cutting the weeds without digging up the roots only means they will grow back when the spring breeze blows.” Chu Ziyu gently curled his lips. “If you had stayed with that family, I would have sent people to secretly monitor your every move and arranged for you to pass away from illness within three years. Although doing so would easily allow Master to catch onto the clues, I couldn’t afford to care about that much to eliminate a future threat.”

Chu Xiwei didn’t speak, simply watching him quietly.

Chu Ziyu looked up. “However, you were far bolder than I expected. You actually abandoned a perfectly good, safe place to live and ran off to wander the Jianghu. I didn’t even need to lift a finger; you were perfectly capable of throwing your own life away.”

Chu Xiwei said coldly, “Then why did you change your mind?”

“Three reasons.” Chu Ziyu smiled and held up three fingers. “First, if you died, Master would be heartbroken upon learning the truth. My throne was unstable at the time, and losing the support of the Lueying Commander would be a loss outweighing the gain. Second, I already held power while you had absolutely nothing. If I didn’t even have the courage to tolerate you, how would I face the jackals, wolves, tigers, and leopards in the future?”

Pausing, Chu Ziyu’s tone shifted. “As for the third reason, you earned it yourself.”

Chu Xiwei frowned as Chu Ziyu continued, “Helping you enter the Hundred Ghosts Sect was because it was one of the rare neutral sects in the Jianghu, uninvolved with the court or the orthodox and demonic paths, and it erased a person’s past. Tossing you in there was like a clay ox plunging into the sea. Even if remnants of your father’s faction still existed, they would never find you, and all I had to do was ensure you didn’t die.”

Chu Xiwei narrowed his eyes.

The order within the Hundred Ghosts Sect at the time was chaotic, and dying before the day ended was commonplace. Ensuring a newly entered young disciple didn’t die meant finding him a reliable backer.

Given the status of the Sect Master’s wife, even if she needed a consultation, she wouldn’t have personally gone to Sun Minfeng’s medicine hut. Furthermore, for her to so “coincidentally” run into him, take him back to Liufeng Residence, and care for him so attentively…

Ultimately, Qin Liurong was just a woman without real power. To claim Shen Wuduan hadn’t authorized this behind the scenes—even a ghost wouldn’t believe it.

Pondering for a moment, he asked, “What terms did you use to make my Yifu agree to protect my life?”

“I didn’t give him much, but to him, it was offering coal in snowy weather.” Chu Ziyu tapped his finger on the table. “Although I didn’t know Qin Liurong’s identity back then, I had heard he loved his wife more than his own life. When my hidden spies found out the Sect Master’s wife was severely ill, and Sun Minfeng had the medical skills but lacked the right medicine, I sent over a thousand-year-old ginseng from the palace’s secret treasury… Although Shen Wuduan didn’t want to get involved with the court, he agreed so his wife could live a few more years. In exchange, he promised to ensure your safety in the Hundred Ghosts Sect for ten years.”

So that was how it was.

Chu Xiwei had never been stupid. He simply didn’t want to use overly utilitarian thoughts to speculate on the people who had shown him kindness. This was especially true because Shen Wuduan and Qin Liurong had treated him impeccably over the years; saying they treated him as their own wouldn’t be an exaggeration. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have willingly acknowledged them as his adoptive parents.

Since the affection was genuine, to Chu Xiwei, that was enough.

“You have a ten-year agreement with Master, so I kept my vow to ensure you lived past ten years. But I didn’t expect you to abandon a comfortable life and instead fight for the position of Sect Master.” Chu Ziyu’s lips curled up. “The people of our Chu family probably truly have a restless nature in our bones… I pursue status and power, while you desire the ability to control life and death. Ultimately, we are the same kind of people.”

If Chu Xiwei had truly idled away ten years peacefully, he would definitely be living a completely different life now; not covered in scars, and absolutely incapable of turning the clouds and rain.

It was precisely because he was dissatisfied with the status quo that he climbed up step by step over mountains of corpses and seas of blood. Only after climbing to the Sect Master’s position and gaining immense power did he earn the right to change everything he was dissatisfied with.

Chu Xiwei’s lips twitched. “Over the past ten years, you really have been watching me all along.”

“I could only get the gist of it. After all, once you took power, Shen Wuduan cleanly relinquished his authority, and you ruthlessly swept away your dissidents, transforming the Hundred Ghosts Sect from a hell inhabited by evil ghosts into an unpredictable, hidden realm. Even my spies found it extremely difficult to wedge themselves in.” Shifting the conversation, Chu Ziyu added, “It was also from that point on that I completely changed my mind.”

His gaze was burning. Chu Xiwei’s mind raced, and recalling Ruan Feiyu’s letter, he understood the underlying meaning.

“You want to use me to fight for the position of martial arts leader, using the Hundred Ghosts Sect as your puppet to control the Jianghu.” Chu Xiwei’s expression turned cold. “Since ancient times, when the hares die, the hounds are boiled. Moreover, our relationship is as incompatible as fire and water. Aren’t you afraid I’ll bite you back?”

“Of course I’m afraid. Anyone under heaven might betray me, except for one person…” Chu Ziyu smiled slightly. “How have you and Master been getting along?”

The moment these words were spoken, Chu Xiwei’s murderous aura abruptly dispersed, only to be drawn back in a moment later.

His gaze was chilling. “I haven’t settled this account with you yet!”

Although the outcome of that battle had been tragic, Xie Wuyi dying under a hail of arrows in Ye Fusheng’s place allowed Ye Fusheng to slip through the net. While this might have fooled the barbarians, it couldn’t deceive the Lueying.

The only explanation was that Chu Ziyu clearly knew the dead person wasn’t Ye Fusheng, yet ordered the Lueying to conceal the truth and used his words to deceive him.

“Settle accounts? A-Yao, you should be thanking me.” Chu Ziyu played with his wine cup. “If I hadn’t deceived you once, making you personally experience the separation of life and death, that so-called ten-year agreement would have surely ended in bloodshed. Now that you are both here, isn’t that wonderful?”

Pausing, he softened his tone. “I am currently surrounded by enemies on all sides. I have few people I can trust, and even fewer I hold close… The events of the past involved too many things, and it’s long been impossible to clearly say who was right and who was wrong. You have reasons to harbor resentment, but I don’t want to lose either of you again because of these old grudges.”

Chu Xiwei was momentarily at a loss for words.

“I let Master go, allowing him to leave the pitch-black Lueying and return to the five lakes and four seas. This was partly out of our thirteen years of master-disciple affection and gratitude for his countless rescues when I was in peril, but also…” Chu Xiwei’s eyebrow twitched, “How can a flood dragon overturn rivers and seas if it doesn’t enter the water?”

Anyone under heaven might betray the Emperor, except the Lueying.

They were the Emperor’s blade, the Emperor’s other half; acting as smoothly as moving one’s own arms and fingers, following like shadows.

Regardless of their background or intentions, the moment they joined the Lueying, they tied their lives, futures, and pasts to the Emperor’s ship, fighting until death.

The Lueying was the microcosm of the Jianghu merging into the imperial court; it was a spine where chivalrous bones bore the weight of the nation.

Sincere to the monarch, loyal to the country.

No matter how infuriated Chu Xiwei was, he had to admit: although Ye Fusheng had returned to the Jianghu, as long as Chu Ziyu hadn’t turned into a tyrannical ruler enacting oppressive policies, the moment he issued a command under the banner of the Great Chu’s rivers, mountains, and national welfare, Ye Fusheng would absolutely return to the court and resume living a life neither fully human nor fully ghost.

“I let him return to the martial world to leave a chess piece for the reorganization of the martial world.” Chu Ziyu’s smile was gentle, his tone gradually deepening. “Master is excellent in every aspect; he lacks neither intelligence, capability, nor profound experience. The only thing he lacks is ambition.”

Chu Xiwei remained silent. Chu Ziyu raised his hand and poured him a cup of wine. “However, such ambition, A-Yao… do you lack it too?”

A-Yao, you possess the ambition of a falcon striking the vast sky. You are discontent with the status quo, and you do not submit to threats.

Even I feel a sense of shock at your ten years of vicissitudes and dramatic rises and falls.

But ultimately, you and I are not the same.

To be an Emperor requires being the most ruthless. I can cast aside gratitude, grudges, love, and hate; I can use any means to achieve my goals, and use whatever is useful; nothing is indispensable.

But you, although possessing wild ambitions, cannot harden your heart to such an extent.

You carry the weight of gratitude and duty, your heart filled with attachments. You are like a falcon tied to a chain—able to soar upwards, but unable to freely traverse the nine heavens.

Since that is the case, why wouldn’t I dare to use you?

Chu Xiwei said not a single word. Chu Ziyu waited patiently, a smile playing on his lips, completely confident in his grasp of the situation.