Chapter 79: Cannot Be Fathomed

Upon hearing this, Li Zhu’s expression shifted several times as he asked:

“Is Li Zhi truly so valuable that His Majesty treats him with such special favor?”

Li Que shook his head and said:

“In my view, he is an extremely troublesome opponent—equally skilled in civil and military affairs, a flawless statesman.”

“When His Majesty had our seven brothers enter court service, only the sixth refused to take any post; the other six were assigned to the Six Ministries. You must still recall the astonishing achievements Li Zhi left behind in the Ministry of Revenue.”

“Even I and my eldest brother fall short of him.”

Hearing this, Li Zhu’s face flushed with shame, and a shadow of gloom passed through his eyes as he said:

“I must admit this—when I held the Ministry of War, even without the Yunzhou mutiny, my accomplishments still fell far behind yours three.”

Three years ago, Emperor Yuanwu ordered that each imperial prince be given equal opportunity to participate in governance, also serving as an assessment of their abilities.

Though unspoken, everyone in court understood this move was meant to select the most capable prince, directly tied to the unresolved succession to the Great Li throne.

In the end, Emperor Yuanwu dismissed three princes—including Li Zhu—who failed to meet the standards, retaining only the eldest, the second, and the fake prince Li Zhi to oversee the Ministries of Rites, Personnel, and Revenue.

Just as Emperor Yuanwu prepared to evaluate these three princes further, the truth surfaced: twenty years ago, the seventh prince had been replaced.

Li Zhi was thrown into the Great Li imperial prison, and months have passed since, yet the matter remains unresolved.

At this moment, Li Que glanced at Li Zhu with a smile and said gently:

“Third brother, don’t lose heart. You’ve simply had bad fortune. From now on, you and I shall unite our efforts and carve out a grand future for Great Li.”

Li Zhu nodded firmly and bowed his hands:

“Your humble brother follows only your lead.”

“Third brother, you overstate it—we are brothers, not lord and subject.”

Li Que waved his hand, then narrowed his eyes slightly, thinking for a moment before saying:

“You mentioned Li Zhi just now, and I too have a doubt: I understand His Majesty values talent and spared him, but leaving the seventh prince’s title vacant for him—that surprises me.”

“Even if His Majesty wishes to favor him, granting him a marquisate or chancellorship would suffice; preserving the prince’s position is excessive.”

Hearing this, Li Zhu merely frowned, shook his head, and sighed:

“I truly cannot fathom His Majesty’s intentions at all.”

Li Que looked at him, then also shook his head and said:

“If you can’t figure it out, don’t bother. Fortunately, Li Zhi isn’t of our imperial blood. No matter how much favor he receives, His Majesty will never pass the throne to him—he poses no threat to us.”

Li Zhu nodded. At that moment, a thunderous gong echoed across the training ground.

The warrior who had earlier stood alone against three martial masters without breaking his defense returned.

He had a soft-faced appearance, wore a long green robe edged with embroidered patterns, a green jade sash, and stepped across the lake’s lotus leaves with his hands behind his back, landing lightly on the training ground.

Soon after, several sharp whistling sounds pierced the air as other martial experts of varying strength arrived and landed near the soft-faced man.

Yet none of them paid attention to the soft-faced man; instead, like him, they all turned sharply, watching tensely toward the other end of the path leading to the training ground.

There, a hunched figure approached slowly, leaning on a rotting wooden cane, emerging from the path’s end.

Seeing this, everyone—including the soft-faced man—went on high alert.

Soon, the hunched figure reached the edge of the training ground and stopped, slowly raising his head.

It was the face of an ordinary old man, yet somehow, whenever they looked at him, they felt his features were indistinct.

In moments, it changed entirely into a different face; blink again, and it was yet another face—strange and uncanny.

“Cough, cough. Are you all coming at once? Or shall we take turns?”

The hunched old man coughed a few times before speaking slowly.

The warriors on the training ground exchanged glances, their eyes filled with wariness, then spoke in unison:

“We humbly beg the elder master to instruct us.”

Yet before their words had fully faded, the martial experts all erupted into sudden attacks.

Not a single one had any sense of martial honor or hesitation about ganging up on an elder.

In an instant, blades flashed, sword qi surged—each unleashed their most powerful techniques and lethal strikes, as if determined to dismember the old man before them.

“Cough, cough. Young friends are indeed enthusiastic.”

The hunched old man coughed once, then slowly raised his withered, stick-like hand.

Instantly, all blade lights and sword qi vanished.

Next, every attacker suddenly raised both hands and fell prostrate before the hunched elder, pounding their foreheads against the ground repeatedly, soon bleeding profusely from their skulls—like fanatical worshippers in desperate devotion.

Only the soft-faced man, who wielded the Golden Cauldron Technique, remained motionless.

Now his entire body glowed with brilliant golden light, as if enveloped by a phantom golden cauldron, his defenses impenetrable, unshakable.

The soft-faced man stared at the hunched elder and said coldly:

“I shall stand still—see if you can break through my defense…”

Yet before he finished speaking, his golden light abruptly scattered.

He followed the others’ fate, joining them in pounding his forehead against the ground, skin splitting, blood streaming, even unable to cry out in pain.

“It’s the Formless Puppet Art.”

On the viewing platform, Shen Lao narrowed his eyes and spoke:

“I presume you are the Formless Elder. Please forgive these young ones’ ignorant disrespect—come forward and speak.”

Shen Lao’s voice seemed soft, yet it echoed across the entire training ground, resonating like a great bell.

The Formless Elder looked up toward the sound, then gently raised his hand and said:

“So you are the ‘Exiled Immortal.’ Old man greets you.”

No sooner had the words left his lips than the Formless Elder vanished from his spot and appeared before Li Que and the others.

Simultaneously, the martial experts who had been pounding their heads stopped—none had crushed their skulls.

Yet exhausted, they all collapsed onto the ground, unconscious.

On the viewing platform, Li Zhu, suddenly facing the Formless Elder at mere feet, could not help but catch his breath.

But seeing Shen Lao seated calmly beside him, he finally relaxed slightly.

At this moment, Li Que exchanged glances with Shen Lao, narrowed his eyes at the Formless Elder, and asked:

“Elder master, with such astonishing martial cultivation, do you truly wish to serve in our household?”

(End of Chapter)