TBR CH11

The entire court knelt in submission.

Atop the jade-carved steps, the sovereign emperor’s expression was as dark as iron. With a violent sweep of his arm, he flung the memorial he had been reviewing onto the ground.

He had lost control.

Like a wolf driven into a blind fury.

No one dared to provoke Jing Qianshan at such a moment. Heads remained bowed, bodies pressed to the floor.

But he would not let them off so easily.

Grinding his teeth, he spat out his words, each syllable laced with barely contained rage.

“Useless. Every single one of you is useless! A perfectly good estate—what, did it just vanish into thin air?”

The hall was deathly silent.

The officials trembled, not daring to even breathe audibly.

Following the emperor’s command, his men had tracked the location where Shen Nian had supposedly been sent to recover.

Yet upon arriving, they had found nothing.

The estate, the promised refuge—it did not exist.

The land was overgrown with wild brambles, utterly desolate.

The shadows of the imperial guards flickered as they exchanged uncertain glances. They already knew the storm that awaited them upon their return. Some even considered taking their own lives rather than face the wrath of the Son of Heaven.

But Jing Qianshan always found someone to blame.

For instance—

The prime minister, who had once advised the emperor to prioritize Shen Langjun’s health.

The commander of the imperial guards, who had personally escorted Shen Nian to the supposed estate and later reported back as if all were well.

The imperial censor, who had argued fervently for Shen Nian’s place in the palace, silencing any opposition.

Jing Qianshan looked down at these once-distinguished figures, now trembling before him. His head pounded, his vision blurred.

He remembered… these people had once treated Shen Nian so well.

Had they been lying to him from the beginning?

Had they secretly conspired with Shen Nian behind his back?

Suspicion poisoned his thoughts, twisting through him like a viper.

The kneeling officials dared not meet his gaze. Each of them feared that their fate was already sealed.

Yet—

There was always someone who either failed to grasp the severity of the situation…

Or simply did not fear death.

A young and ambitious Imperial Censor, his face drained of color, still had the nerve to step forward and kneel deeply before the throne.

“Your Majesty, do not be deceived by slander! Shen Langjun is not a man of betrayal—no one understands this better than you! There must be some explanation—”

“Oh?”

Jing Qianshan interrupted, a cruel smile curving his lips.

He lowered his gaze, fixing his sharp eyes on the bold official.

“You think you know him better than I do?”

Publicly, the emperor had declared that he suspected the Daoist who had given him advice all those years ago was a fraud—that he had been deceived into sending Shen Nian away.

Thus, he had ordered men to retrieve him immediately.

Yet, he had not revealed what had sparked this sudden doubt.

But within the palace, the truth had already begun to spread.

Many had heard what had been said within the mirror.

Whispers filled the corridors, a salacious tale weaving itself in hushed conversations—

The emperor had been cuckolded.

Heads had already rolled in an attempt to silence the rumors.

Yet, if anything, the executions had only fueled them further.

And now, who knew which version of the tale this Imperial Censor had heard?

Under the emperor’s chilling stare, the young official’s robes grew damp with cold sweat. His knees trembled.

The next moment, he was dragged from the hall by the imperial guards.

Jing Qianshan exhaled harshly, watching impassively as the man was hauled away, sentenced for defying the emperor’s will.

But his fury was far from satisfied.

A headache pounded behind his temples. Pressing a hand to his forehead, he spoke to the attendant beside him.

“Bring me the mirror.”

Yes—

Even though he had hurled it to the ground in rage, the Mirror of Mountains and Seas remained completely unscathed.

Now, however, its surface was clouded, shrouded as if veiled in mist.

For the second time in his life—since the day Shen Nian had first collapsed, his condition deemed beyond cure—

Jing Qianshan felt utterly powerless.

He wanted to find the immortal who had given him this mirror.

Wanted to demand answers.

But mortals could not simply summon immortals at will.

He couldn’t just declare another pilgrimage to Mount Tai, hoping to call forth a celestial being…

So he clenched his jaw, forced down his frustration, and issued another command.

Gather every cultivator in the capital. Send them to seek out the immortal sects.

Bring him Fu Tingxue.

For now, all he had was the mirror.

Jing Qianshan swore he would not take his eyes off it.

Not until he saw Shen Nian again.

Of course, he would also see the other person.

That shadowy, unseen figure—

The one whose mere presence made him wary.

Who was he? A demon? A spirit?

A being of immense power.

Jing Qianshan had considered the possibility that Shen Nian was being forced.

Yet no matter how much his love clouded his judgment, there was no denying the truth.

Shen Nian had initiated it.

The other man had been ambiguous, luring out a confession without revealing anything himself.

Even if Shen Nian and the man were deeply entangled, that was not what had truly crushed him.

What shattered the emperor’s heart—

Was the sight of his most treasured person—

Bowing, flattering, lowering himself—

Just to earn another man’s favor.

And the worst part?

Shen Nian had not even realized that he had lost.

*

Gu Shishu stepped out of the main hall, seemingly aimless as he strolled through the Demon Palace.

But at the next corridor—unsurprisingly—he found Fu Tingxue waiting.

While Gu Shishu had been locked in his little performance with Shen Nian, Fu Tingxue had taken a brief trip back to Qingcheng Sect.

Now, he had returned.

And he was waiting for him.

Gu Shishu chuckled, retrieving the black Heavenly Dao Book from his sleeve. Ink-black pages rippled as they revealed the latest entries:

“The Human Emperor, Jing Qianshan, has begun to doubt. Let him stew in it.”

“There is an anomaly in Shen Nian’s system. Be wary.”

Gu Shishu slowly read the words aloud for Fu Tingxue’s benefit, since the Immortal Lord could not see them himself.

Fu Tingxue nodded.

Gu Shishu was about to continue when the Heavenly Dao inscribed a new line across the page:

“Why are you telling the Qingcheng Sword Immortal everything?”

His fingers stilled upon the parchment. He tilted his head slightly, meeting Fu Tingxue’s questioning gaze.

He could have dismissed it. Could have simply said, “It’s nothing.”

Instead, Gu Shishu said,

“The Heavenly Dao wants to know if I trust you. Tell me, Immortal Lord—should I?”

The black book seemed unprepared for Gu Shishu to betray it so swiftly.

Flustered, it hurriedly wiped away the words, flipping its own pages in what could only be described as petulance.

Now, it lay blank—an empty expanse of silence.

Gu Shishu turned back to Fu Tingxue, watching as the other man paused, then met his gaze directly.

The Immortal Lord’s eyes were a shade lighter, like untouched snow, clear and pristine—just like the rest of him. High above, untarnished.

And yet, Gu Shishu had the strange impression that beneath the new-fallen frost, something lay buried.

Once, he had been able to see through it.

Now… he wasn’t sure.

Fu Tingxue finally spoke.

“I believe in the Demon Lord.”

“As for whether you should trust me… that is for you to decide.”

As always, he returned the decision to Gu Shishu—offering not a single word in his own defense.

Gu Shishu considered this.

Then, without hesitation, he slammed the book shut.

And, with both the Immortal Lord and the Heavenly Dao as his witnesses, he stated:

“Compared to the Heavenly Dao, I’d say Fu Tingxue’s character is far more trustworthy.”

The book trembled, as if trying to protest.

Pages fluttered against an invisible wind.

Gu Shishu, amused, leaned in and whispered—his tone laced with a quiet threat:

“Who was it that summoned not just one heavenly tribulation, but eighty-one bolts of lightning to strike me down?”

The book stilled.

Guilty.

It had nothing to say.

Gu Shishu ignored it.

Instead, he recounted the events of the main hall to Fu Tingxue, describing how Shen Nian had presented him with a heart-shaped stone and boldly confessed his love.

Surely, by now, the Human Emperor must have been seething with rage.

“That crown of his should be well and truly secured by now,” Gu Shishu mused.

Fu Tingxue glanced at him.

“And how did you respond to the Child of Fate?” he asked.

Gu Shishu was about to answer—then hesitated, sensing something off about the question.

He turned his gaze toward the Immortal Lord, intrigued.

Fu Tingxue averted his eyes slightly.

“Of course, I didn’t accept,” Gu Shishu replied, unconcerned.

“But I also didn’t crush his hopes entirely. Just told him that I don’t accept such gifts—he ought to improve his taste before presenting anything to me.”

“And I relieved him of his sweeping duties. Now, he’ll be seeking me out in other places instead.”

Which meant—

Jing Qianshan would soon have a front-row seat to many more performances.

Slowly.

Painfully.

Gu Shishu wanted the emperor to watch.

He had the fortune of being born beneath the Emperor Star—he wouldn’t drop dead from mere heartbreak.

Still, the Heavenly Dao’s warning about Shen Nian’s system deserved attention.

At the end of the day, no matter how foolish and self-absorbed Shen Nian was, he was merely a pawn.

The real hand moving the board was the system behind him.

But before dealing with that—

“What did you find at Qingcheng Sect?”

Fu Tingxue had remained silent while Gu Shishu spoke.

Now, with a quiet hum of acknowledgment, he began his own report.

Gu Shishu listened carefully.

And then, rather absurdly, he thought—

He may be unreadable, and always so composed… but in moments like these, he is almost obedient.

The idea was so ridiculous, so bold, that even he found it amusing.

But before it could take root, he dismissed it.

What Fu Tingxue had discovered was significant.

First, Qingcheng Sect did indeed have records of Shen Nian’s existence.

However—

According to the disciples who had known him, his past personality and behavior were completely different from the current Child of Fate.

Second, Shen Nian had indeed gone missing for a long period of time.

Before his disappearance, he had quarreled with his fellow disciples—not because they had bullied him, but because they had caught him stealing spirit fruits.

He had devoured them all himself.

The orchard had been left in ruin—shattered branches, withered vines.

His fellow disciples, angered by his selfishness, had confronted him.

Third—

As a result of Shen Nian’s actions, those disciples had failed their inner sect examinations. They had blamed themselves for his disappearance, believing their anger had driven him away.

They had even requested punishment for their failure, rather than acting with malice.

But there was no concrete proof.

And to outsiders, all they knew was that something had happened before Shen Nian vanished.

Under the influence of his Irresistible Charm Aura, the Gu Shishu recorded in the black book had naturally believed Shen Nian’s story without question.

Now, Gu Shishu lowered his gaze, his expression unreadable.

Fu Tingxue knew exactly what he was thinking.

They had reached the same conclusion.

The original “Shen Nian” had been replaced by the Child of Fate.

What had happened to him?

It bore a striking resemblance to possession—

And yet, there were discrepancies.

A proper soul takeover required specialized formations. It also left the invading soul severely weakened. Moreover, the possessor would inherit at least some memories from the original host.

This…

This was something else entirely.

Likely the work of the system.

Gu Shishu clicked his tongue.

Then, across from him, Fu Tingxue lifted his gaze.

The Immortal Lord’s aura sharpened—his sword intent gathering like frost, like the silent weight of an unsheathed blade.

His voice was quiet, yet each word landed with the force of an oath.

“This concerns a disciple of Qingcheng Sect. It was my failure to investigate sooner… I must trouble the Demon Lord for assistance.”

“And what does this have to do with you?”

Gu Shishu frowned instinctively.

Had it not been for the Heavenly Dao’s intervention, he would have been the one deceived—he had no right to fault Fu Tingxue for failing to see through it.

“Don’t take responsibility for things that aren’t yours to bear,” he said.

“You and I will handle this together. We’ll find a way.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them slightly.

It sounded too… formal.

Too much like an order.

Fu Tingxue blinked slowly, his long lashes casting faint shadows against his skin.

Still as cold as ever, as distant as winter frost.

But for just a fraction of a second—

Gu Shishu thought he saw something else.

The faintest flicker of amusement.

A whisper of a smile.

Gone in an instant.

Perhaps an illusion.

And yet—

Illusion or not, irrelevant to love or sentiment—

Gu Shishu knew one thing.

He would always think it was beautiful.