Chapter 44: Li Zhi

“I understand—you’re probably wondering why I haven’t fainted?”

Li Muxian seemed to guess their thoughts and waved his hand.

“Don’t wait anymore—that won’t work on me. Even if you wait until tomorrow, you won’t get the result you want.”

With that, he turned away and ignored them entirely.

The senior eunuch Sun Changyu and Deputy Guard Commander Song Shanyue exchanged glances, when suddenly Li Muxian seemed to recall something.

He stepped away from the railing, walked up to Senior Eunuch Sun Changyu, and raised an eyebrow.

“Have you ever seen Lady Jing?”

Upon hearing this, Senior Eunuch Sun Changyu narrowed his eyes, studied Li Muxian’s face for a moment, then after a pause, nodded.

“Of course I’ve seen Lady Jing. She is a kind mistress, always treating the palace servants well.”

Hearing this, Li Muxian clapped his hands lightly.

“Then matters are much simpler now.”

He pointed to his own face and asked:

“You must realize I’m very likely the true Seventh Imperial Prince?”

Upon hearing this, Deputy Guard Commander Song Shanyue glanced at Li Muxian in surprise, then turned a skeptical look toward Sun Changyu.

Though he held a high rank in the Tianjin Guard and had entered the palace many times to pay homage to Emperor Yuanwu, he had never been allowed into the imperial harem.

Thus, he had never seen Lady Jing and didn’t fully grasp what Li Muxian meant.

At this moment, Sun Changyu, head of the Zhi Dian Jian, his expression shifting rapidly, hesitated for a long while before speaking.

“Young Master does resemble Lady Jing in some ways, but…”

Li Muxian cut him off with a raised hand.

“No buts. No more waiting around wasting days. Let’s cut straight to the point—go find someone who can make a decision.”

“If you can confirm my identity as the Seventh Imperial Prince, all is well. If not… well, I’ll just consider this trip a waste.”

Upon hearing this, Senior Eunuch Sun Changyu froze, clearly unprepared for Li Muxian’s bluntness, unsure how to respond.

Li Muxian made no haste, merely watching him calmly.

Though he wasn’t overly concerned about his identity as the Seventh Imperial Prince, he admitted that resolving it sooner would indeed help his search for the keys to the Tianqi Secret Vault and the path to transcending martial arts.

After a moment’s hesitation, Senior Eunuch Sun Changyu finally spoke.

“Young Master’s request is beyond my authority, but I can relay it upward. Whether it proceeds depends entirely on the Empress Dowager’s decree.”

Emperor Yuanwu had been in seclusion for over a month, and all matters concerning the Jiguang Pavilion were now under the Empress Dowager’s control—Li Muxian had heard as much and was not surprised.

“Then go and seek her approval. I’ll wait here.”

Li Muxian nodded slightly, then turned and leaned back against the corridor railing, gazing at the scenery while continuing to refine the martial art “Life-Death Mark.”

Hearing this, Senior Eunuch Sun Changyu replied and gave a slight nod to Song Shanyue beside him, then turned and hurried away.

Seeing this, Deputy Guard Commander Song Shanyue’s gaze shifted several times. He glanced at Li Muxian once, said nothing, and immediately followed after.

…

Meanwhile, in the Great Li Imperial Prison.

Thick stone walls poured with molten iron stood impregnable; guards inside and out were tightly stationed.

A middle-aged man walked through the dark, damp corridor reeking of mildew, where flickering torches cast jagged shadows behind him.

As he approached, heavy, icy iron gates swung open; huddled, ragged prisoners in nearby cells opened hollow eyes, curious, toward the stranger beyond the bars.

But the man walked straight to the deepest cell in the prison and stopped.

This cell differed from the others—clean, dry, orderly.

A straw mat covered the floor; a small wooden table held a dim oil lamp, and seated cross-legged before it was a young man in prison garb.

The youth had refined features and pale skin. Though imprisoned for months, his disheveled hair showed no dirt; his entire bearing radiated vitality, and when his eyes opened, a hidden sharpness flashed through them.

“Your Highness, that man has appeared.”

The middle-aged man bowed deeply and slid a rolled scroll through the cell’s gap.

Li Zhi flicked his fingers; qi surged into a gentle breeze that unfurled the scroll, revealing the portrait of a young man—clearly Li Muxian.

“He really does resemble Lady Jing.”

Li Zhi spoke calmly, then flicked another finger—the flame of the lamp was drawn to the scroll and instantly burned it to ash.

“Where is he now?” Li Zhi turned to the middle-aged man.

“Inside the Jiguang Pavilion.”

The man answered, then raised his head slightly.

“Your Highness, should we eliminate him?”

Hearing this, Li Zhi slowly shook his head.

“No. Many eyes are on the Jiguang Pavilion. His identity as the true prince will spread soon. Whether he lives or dies now is his own affair—none of ours.”

With that, Li Zhi dropped the subject and asked:

“How is things in the Ministry of Revenue?”

“The Minister of Revenue has held firm under pressure, but everyone is now fearful. It’s hard to guarantee no one is wavering—Assistant Minister Zeng Wenhé, in particular, shows signs of defecting to the Second Imperial Prince.”

The middle-aged man frowned, a flicker of killing intent in his eyes.

“The Ministry of Revenue needs Your Highness to take control soon. We all await your release.”

Li Zhi waved his hand.

“When I leave this prison depends on Father’s will. But it’s only a matter of time—no need to rush.”

He pulled a sealed letter from his robe and gave it a light shake—it flew toward the middle-aged man.

The man raised his hand, a blur of motion, and caught the letter.

Li Zhi sat back down at the small table.

“Deliver this letter to the person named on the envelope. Do nothing else. Just keep the others in line and wait for my release.”

The middle-aged man bowed deeply, tucked the letter away, and, seeing no further orders, stepped back and withdrew.

Soon after he left, a dark shadow slipped silently from beneath the dim torchlight.

“Your Highness, the Chief of the Si has sent his greetings.”

The shadow remained pitch-black, formless, yet its voice echoed clearly.

(End of Chapter)