Chapter 24: Many Imperial Princes

The city gate guards verified Cang Yinyue’s token and asked several questions.

Finally, after glancing at Li Muxian—the handsome Six Gates “fugitive”—they recorded the information and allowed the two to enter the city.

Beyond the wide, lengthy gate passage, they stepped onto Qingstone-paved streets of Shangyang City, where the hooves of mules and horses rang crisp and clear.

Soon, a roar of human voices surged toward them.

Li Muxian and Cang Yinyue rode side by side along the street; ahead, pedestrians flowed like a river, carriages and horses crowded the thoroughfare, shops lined both sides with banners fluttering, stretching endlessly.

“Eat first upon entering the city—I’ll report your status to the Hidden Spy Bureau.”

Cang Yinyue brought Li Muxian to a bustling tavern, ordered several dishes from the waiter, then left Li Muxian alone and vanished into the back courtyard.

Li Muxian didn’t mind; the Hidden Spy Bureau claimed to be the Empire’s top intelligence agency, yet had no official government office.

All its spies and informants held countless public identities, but their true identities remained hidden, visible only in the shadows.

While waiting for the food to arrive, Li Muxian sat in the private room, sipping the tavern’s free tea, listening to patrons’ loud or hushed conversations.

In places crowded with people, one always heard interesting tidbits—and unverified, explosive rumors.

……

“Did you hear? The Polar Pavilion has received another seventh imperial prince—hmm, that’s the sixty-first prince to appear in just the past month!”

“That’s right. When I first heard someone claimed to have found the long-lost seventh prince, I even went to watch in person. Turns out it was a mistake—he wasn’t the real prince. Since then, so many have shown up, I’ve grown numb to it.”

“In this world, some just want to leap straight to the top. I say anyone claiming to be a prince should be charged with treason and executed publicly.”

“You can’t say that—what if you accidentally execute the real seventh prince?”

“I say, forget searching for the real prince. The one locked up in prison has extraordinary literary and martial talent—he’s our true dragon, our true emperor. That so-called prince lost in the common world for twenty years? Probably just an ignorant vagrant or beggar. Bringing him back would only shame the imperial family.”

“Shh! How dare you say that? The Heaven Brocade Guard will throw you in prison and cut off your head.”

“What’s there to fear? My uncle used to serve beside the seventh prince. He told me many times—the seventh prince will surely become our great Li’s next… monarch… cough… cough…”

A young nobleman in emerald brocade robe, face flushed from wine, was speaking when someone quickly clamped a hand over his mouth, causing him to choke on his drink.

The shock jolted Zhang He sober; realizing he’d spoken foolishly while drunk, he immediately fell silent.

But just then, the door to his private room was suddenly kicked open.

Three figures stepped in, led by a young man with a sinister face.

On one side stood a woman in a green luó gown, her face beautiful but her eyes cold.

On the other side stood a massive, tower-like man, broad-shouldered, bearded, over seven feet tall.

It was the giant who kicked the door; he scanned the five men in the room and growled:

“I just heard someone speak treasonously about the prince and His Majesty. That’s high treason. Come with me to the prefecture office.”

Zhang He rose to speak, but a man in blue robes beside him held him back and bowed:

“Sir, you’ve misunderstood. We’ve been drinking here, chatting about poetry and verse—never once mentioned the prince or His Majesty.”

At these words, the other three and Zhang He immediately nodded vigorously:

“That’s right—we were just drinking, talking, composing poems.”

Then Zhang He’s eyes flashed, and he shouted loudly:

“Who are you? Why burst into our private room? Are you trying to pick a fight?”

The giant snorted coldly and snapped:

“You’re good at lying. We heard every word you said—clear as day—from across the way.”

He reached out, aiming to grab Zhang He—he’d recognized his voice as the speaker.

“You dare touch me? My uncle is Vice Minister of Revenue! Hurt me, and you’ll lose your head!”

Zhang He had some martial training; he shouted angrily and stepped back swiftly.

But the giant’s iron grip moved like a storm—his hand shot forward, and his body leapt in the same instant.

Zhang He was too slow; he was about to be caught when the blue-robed man suddenly punched—his fist slicing like a blade, aimed straight at the giant’s temple.

Sensing the threat, the giant abandoned Zhang He, dodged sideways, and twisted his claw into a strike aimed at the blue-robed man’s chest.

Soon, they exchanged dozens of blows, locked in fierce combat.

The table’s fine dishes and wine were overturned; chairs and tables shattered under the force of fists and claws.

The sinister youth and the green-gowned woman stood by the door, motionless.

Zhang He and the other three pressed against the wall, too afraid to intervene.

Then, after trading a powerful punch, the giant suddenly kicked sideways—his foot smashing through a wooden partition wall.

Private rooms in the tavern were separated by thick wooden panels; the wall collapsed with a crash, revealing the scene in the adjacent room.

“You said you were composing poetry? Then listen to what the people next door heard—what exactly did they hear?”

The giant grunted, struck a blow to drive back the blue-robed man, then swiftly retreated toward the door.

Seeing this, the blue-robed man’s expression changed, but he stopped fighting and did not pursue—only stepped beside Zhang He.

In the adjacent room sat a woman. She didn’t even glance at the fallen wall, merely sipping her tea in silence.

“Miss, did you hear those arrogant, rebellious words? Please speak up and testify.”

The green-gowned woman stepped forward and addressed the woman in the next room.

At this, Zhang He’s eyes flickered with panic; he shouted loudly:

“My uncle is Vice Minister of Revenue!”

His meaning was clear—he hoped to intimidate the woman next door into silence.

The green-gowned woman glanced at Zhang He, then pulled out a badge:

“Miss, don’t be afraid. We’re from the Six Gates.”

(End of Chapter)