SS CH53

“Xiao Yangu has brought this old frame a token of safekeeping upon another’s request.” Ruan Feiyu opened his palm, revealing a mutton-fat jade pendant marred by a spiderweb of cracks. It had clearly been fondled and polished frequently over the years, giving it a faint, warm luster.

With a single glance, Ye Fusheng spotted the character “Yu” (煜) carved into the jade. This was a token bestowed upon his imperial offspring by the late Emperor; each one uniquely represented a prince’s identity, making them virtually impossible to forge.

Narrowing his eyes, Ye Fusheng remarked, “If I remember correctly, Prince Duan’s pendant was accidentally shattered by Chancellor Ruan ten years ago?”

At the mention of “ten years ago,” Chu Xiwei’s expression darkened instantly. Ruan Feiyu smiled faintly, slipping the jade back into his robes. “It was not an accident. I shattered it deliberately.”

Qin Lanchang’s eyes widened. “A grand prince hands you such a precious token, and you broke it on purpose?” If anyone had done that to her, she would have pinned them down right on top of the shards and beaten them until they cried for their father.

“The burden he wished to entrust to me back then was far too heavy,” Ruan Feiyu explained. “Let alone this old frame’s two hands, even if I broke these old bones entirely, I could not have borne it. I had no choice but to fail his profound generosity.”

Lu Mingyuan frowned, his anxiety palpable. “Since you refused him that night in the underground palace, Master, why did they let us leave?”

“Because they haven’t given up hope,” Chu Xiwei sneered.

Qin Lanchang paused, her mind racing. “A game of catching and releasing? To loosen the reins only to pull them tighter later?”

“Exactly,” Ye Fusheng said, looking down at the dazed Xiu’er and the lifeless body of Zhang Ze. “Recruiting the Southern Scholar is no easy feat, and dealing with the fallout of assassinating him is even more troublesome. Unless pushed to the absolute brink, they will never deal a killing blow.”

This only left Qin Lanchang more bewildered. “Then why didn’t they make a move themselves? Why leak his coordinates to outsiders?”

“Lanchang, did you sleep through every single strategy lesson your adoptive father ever gave you?” Chu Xiwei scolded. “The Soul-Snatching Palace used their moles to leak Ruan Feiyu’s movements. Master Ruan has enemies scattered across the realm; once his location was exposed, it was bound to draw out all manner of ghosts and monsters. They are using these people to exert pressure.”

Qin Lanchang looked blankly at him. Given the capabilities of these small-time vengeful factions, causing trouble was one thing, but they were far from qualified to exert any real “pressure” on someone of Ruan Feiyu’s stature.

Noticing her confusion, Lu Mingyuan subtly guided her: “Miss Qin, every single person who came to ambush us shares a historical grievance with Master.”

_

Ever since Ruan Feiyu brought down Qin Hebai in a shocking political upheaval over thirty years ago, he had maneuvered seamlessly between the martial arts underworld and the imperial court. He held supreme power over state affairs and martial conflicts alike. Furthermore, his enforcement of the New Policies had struck at the very foundations of a massive faction within the court, escalating their animosity to an irreconcilable, life-or-death level.

His life was a paradox of immense glory and profound infamy. He had executed policies that greatly benefited the nation and its people, yet he had also framed and slaughtered loyal officials. He had caroused and toasted with corrupt nobles, dancing gracefully across the treacherous currents of bureaucracy, leaving a trail of ten thousand shattered bones beneath his ascent. Yet, he had also championed new avenues for impoverished scholars, ensuring that ordinary commoners could seek a modicum of justice, even if it meant turning the world upside down in the blink of an eye.

No one could truly say whether he was a good man or an evil one. No one could calculate exactly how many lives he owed, or how many leagues of rivers and mountains had flourished under his stewardship. Perhaps only he himself, when startled awake by vengeful spirits in the dead of night, would raise his brush against smooth paper to write out, one by one, the names of those long deceased.

Though Ruan Feiyu was advanced in years, his martial arts remained intact and his cunning was undiminished. Sanmei Academy was merely his overt faction; no one knew how many hidden trump cards he still held up his sleeve.

The Soul-Snatching Palace could not afford to gamble blindly. Thus, they could only use the hands of others to force his hand. In this world, the most inescapable trap isn’t the crushing weight of a mountain—it is the omnipresent prison of one’s own conscience. Zhang Ze and his companions couldn’t take Ruan Feiyu’s life, but they could rip open every single scar on his heart until it was completely mangled. By then, who could say for certain whether Ruan Feiyu would change his mind? After all, until one reaches the absolute end of the road, how can one know if there is truly no way out?

Furthermore, even if Ruan Feiyu stubbornly refused to yield, the Soul-Snatching Palace could simply step in to deliver the killing blow, neatly shifting all the blame onto these vengeful ghosts from his past.

Understanding the underlying mechanics, Ye Fusheng praised, “A brilliant plan to ‘leave without a trace once the deed is done, hiding both presence and glory.’ Impressive!”

“Weifeng City is the territory of Prince Li,” Lu Mingyuan explained further. “He has guarded the northern frontier for many years and commands deep loyalty within the military. Moreover, he shares a close relationship with the Emperor and maintains correspondence with Master. He is currently the greatest deterrent to keep Prince Duan in check. If this matter blows up, there’s no telling how many past scandals it will unearth or how many innocent lives will be dragged down. Therefore, we cannot contact the people from the Academy to escort us; we must travel strictly in secret.”

Chu Xiwei let out an ambiguous smirk. “It seems Master Ruan intends to run this risk intentionally to shield the remnants of these old cases.”

Xiu’er finally snapped out of her stupor, crying out in utter disbelief, “I don’t believe this old scoundrel has such good intentions! He… he wishes nothing more than for our entire families to die out completely, so we never bring him trouble again!”

Before Ye Fusheng could speak, Chu Xiwei cut across him cuttingly: “Whether he is good or vile, is that for you to decide? Where do you get the face to judge him, and on what authority?”

Xiu’er was completely silenced by his blunt words. Ye Fusheng rubbed his nose, sensing that Chu Xiwei’s temper flared with particular intensity whenever he dealt with this girl.

_

Having finished scolding her, Chu Xiwei eased his expression and turned to Ruan Feiyu. “Things have reached this point. If you have changed your mind, Master, I can send a signal to summon the ‘Ghost Servants’ to report to Sanmei Academy. As long as we exercise caution in the interim, we will be safe.”

Ruan Feiyu smiled. “There is no need for such trouble. I dispatched a letter some days ago, and arrangements have already been made within Weifeng City. I must simply trouble you… for one more leg of the journey.”

The specific title he used for Chu Xiwei was muffled between his lips, making it indistinct to the others, but Ye Fusheng caught it perfectly clear.

Ruan Feiyu had called him: The Little Marquis.

Chu Yao. He was the cousin of the current Emperor, Chu Ziyu, and the son of the late Emperor’s fourth prince. Because the eldest prince had died early and the second prince had been cast into cold neglect, the fourth prince—backed by a powerful maternal clan—had possessed an immense chance of victory during the succession struggle. Had it not been for the incident ten years ago, he might very well be the current Crown Prince.

Regrettably, during that bloody palace coup a decade ago, many of the late Emperor’s sons were killed, injured, or imprisoned. The pampered and favored Chu Yao had abruptly “succumbed to illness,” leaving behind nothing but the posthumous honorary title of a marquis.

From then on, the eldest imperial grandson, Chu Ziyu, ascended the throne as Emperor, while the young imperial grandson, Chu Yao, transformed into Chu Xiwei. He plunged into the martial underworld, vanishing without a trace for ten long years. To meet again now, everything had changed.

Noticing the shift in Ruan Feiyu’s lip movements, Ye Fusheng’s expression flickered. He wanted to say something, but found no place to begin, forcing himself to suppress the urge. Chu Xiwei cast a glance back at him, but his almond eyes were downcast, masking any shift in his emotions. He paused for a moment before turning back, completely ignoring Ruan Feiyu’s slip of the tongue as if it were nothing but wind past his ears.

“Since we need to travel, we naturally cannot do without a scout to test the waters,” Ye Fusheng said, stroking his chin before turning his gaze toward Xiu’er, flashing a highly seductive smile. “I wonder if Miss Xiu’er would be willing to make a trip for us?”

Seeing his smile now, Xiu’er felt none of her previous blushing bashfulness. It was as if she were looking at the King of Hell himself; she began to tremble like a sifter. Receiving no answer, Ye Fusheng turned back in perplexity, his face a picture of innocence. “I am so elegant and handsome, how could I possibly be terrifying?”

Qin Lanchang: “…Pei!“

“Why go to such trouble?” Chu Xiwei walked over, shoving Ye Fusheng directly behind him. Ignoring Xiu’er’s terrified shrieks, his fingers caught her chin, forcing her to lock eyes with him.

Within moments, the frantic screaming dwindled. Xiu’er stared blankly at Chu Xiwei as if her very soul had been extracted, her expression utterly bewildered and her eyes completely hollow.

Chu Xiwei’s voice dropped lower and softer than usual, carrying a subtle, imperceptible note of enchantment: “Who are you?”

The young girl murmured haltingly, “Xiu… er…”

“Who is your leader?”

“Boss… He…”

“Where is he?”

“The… front mountain…”

“Is there a way to bypass him and leave this place?”

“There is… a small… path.”

“Lead us there.”

“Yes…”

As the words fell, Xiu’er’s entire body gave a violent shudder. Her head slumped forward sharply before slowly lifting again. Silently, she began to walk toward the door.

Watching from the side, Lu Mingyuan couldn’t help but recall witnessing Qin Lanchang utilize the Soul-Capturing Technique back in the underground palace. He had found it profoundly mysterious then, but seeing Chu Xiwei execute it now, he realized that Qin Lanchang’s skill was nothing more than an amateur scratching the surface.

Ye Fusheng spoke up in praise, “Ah Yao, your gaze and movements just now looked exactly like a scoundrel seducing a maiden from a respectable family.”

Chu Xiwei’s face darkened, and he couldn’t resist a biting retort: “Aside from flirting and trifling all day long, can you think about anything else?”

Ye Fusheng blinked. “Does thinking about you count?”

Chu Xiwei: “…”

The fiery temper he had intended to unleash was choked right back down his throat by that single sentence. He wanted to curse, but his ears flushed red first. Left with no choice, he stormed out the door, looking thoroughly displeased. Qin Lanchang glanced back and forth between the two of them, kicked Lu Mingyuan once, and followed him out.

_

Walking at the very back alongside Ruan Feiyu, Ye Fusheng watched Chu Xiwei’s retreating figure, the playful smile gradually fading from his face.

He was born with romantic almond eyes and a rakish countenance. Even though he was no longer a youth in the prime of his beauty, he remained immensely alluring to others—especially when he smiled, looking like a peach blossom tree bursting into vibrant, dazzling bloom. Yet, the moment his smile vanished, even his gaze turned chillingly cold. His entire aura resembled a tree of green peaches withering overnight, leaving behind nothing but sparse, dry, frigid branches standing silently against the winter wind.

Though he had feigned disbelief at Qin Lanchang’s previous assertions, her words had nonetheless taken root in his mind. His remark just now had been a joke, but it was also a probe; however, Chu Xiwei’s reaction was far too bizarre, causing his heart to sink.

Qin Lanchang had not been mistaken. Chu Xiwei did indeed prefer the company of men.

Yet, he desperately wished it weren’t so.

Ye Fusheng’s nature had always been unbound and free; he had suffered little restraint since childhood, and he held little regard for conventional worldly morality or propriety. Just as he naturally loved beautiful people and fine wine, his interactions had always stopped at casual banter, indulging himself to a comfortable three-parts intoxication. To him, what others chose to love had absolutely nothing to do with him and was completely beyond reproach.

But Chu Xiwei was different.

Ye Fusheng understood with absolute clarity that if the poison of the “Dream of Serenity” hadn’t acted as a buffer between them, his life might very well have been forfeit the moment they recognized each other. He and Chu Xiwei were currently maintaining nothing more than a superficial peace; the hidden edge between them had not yet broken through the window paper. A day would come when he would have to repay everything he owed Chu Xiwei, piece by piece, with full interest.

He hoped that after his own death, Chu Xiwei could live out a good, stable life. Sadly, the heavens rarely grant human wishes.

Between heaven and earth, the affection between a man and a woman was the orthodox path. Furthermore, in this chaotic era, the hearts of women were already difficult to fathom, and the hearts of men were even more unmentionable. Chu Xiwei had now become the Master of the Hundred Ghosts Gate—his identity was inherently sensitive, and his lifelong companionship was bound to involve far weightier calculations. Yet, he happened to love men. Even if the Hundred Ghosts Gate acted with wild defiance, entirely disregarding the judgment of the martial world, Ye Fusheng had no confidence that he would ever reap a good harvest.

During his ten years within the Hidden Shadow Guards, he had witnessed far too many people and affairs. There had once been a fellow guard who fell in love with a man. Ye Fusheng had offered his sincerest blessings, never expecting that while they could resist the will of heaven, they could never calculate the treachery of the human heart. That man had ultimately died at the hands of the very person he loved above all else, realizing only at the moment of his death that all their deep affection and entanglements had been nothing but a transaction for profit. Due to his negligence, the secrecy of that specific mission had been compromised; had it not been for a timely intervention, the consequences would have been unthinkable.

Ye Fusheng had personally executed that lover. When the dying guard gathered that bloody severed head into his arms, Ye Fusheng had asked him if he regretted it.

The man had replied that he did not regret it, nor could he regret it. To love someone is a choice one makes for oneself. Even if the heart of an old friend changes like the passing wind, it is nothing more than deep affection being worn away by the ways of the world—in the end, it is simply human nature, and there is nothing to regret. Once regret takes root, it means one has betrayed even their original devotion, wasting both the passing years and the depth of that love.

From that moment on, Ye Fusheng understood that a man’s heart was far too vast. It could hold fame, fortune, wealth, and the fate of empires; consequently, its abyss of desire could never be filled. Yet, once a man truly fell in love, it manifested as reckless passion and hot-blooded devotion, entirely without regret. It was the easiest to ignite, the easiest to burn with dazzling brilliance, and the easiest to wither away.

Chu Xiwei had been single-minded and stubbornly obstinate since childhood. Therefore, Ye Fusheng truly did not wish for him to embark on such a path—to fall in love with a man whose ambitions soared as high as the heavens would be akin to throwing one’s entire body and blood into an unfillable void.

Having served as his master for several years, he couldn’t simply stand by and watch him charge blindly until he was battered and bleeding. No matter how much Ye Fusheng despised meddling in the romantic and private affairs of others, he had no choice but to harden his resolve and meddle in this.

“Dammit, what a complete mess…”

After a long while, he let out a long, heavy sigh, his vexation entirely beyond words.