Chapter 248

The sun and moon shine together, heaven and earth are devoid of feeling.

On the scroll, a few sparse brushstrokes of a rough sketch; Du Shanü gazes at the scroll, pondering its use.

Meanwhile, the scroll in the King of An Nan's city, a thousand li from Dun Cheng, likewise depicts a smiling, baby‑faced youth.

His brows and eyes are clean and gentle; though he looks young, his depths conceal a serenity and clarity at odds with his appearance.

He wears a washed‑white pale blue‑gray Daoist robe, besmirched with the dust of travel.

He stands outside Stone City, the King of An Nan's city, lowering his gaze, lightly pinching a scroll between his fingertips; his eyes rest on the scroll, and the corner of his mouth always holds a faint, inscrutable smile.

Long while, long while.

The Daoist‑robed youth then raised his hand, slowly gathering the scroll, carefully rolling it up and neatly tucking it into his sleeve.

Having done that, the youth lifted his eyes to the looming King of An Nan's city ahead.

It is a stone city built entirely of bluish‑black giant rocks, its high walls towering, its defenses strict.

The massive stone walls exude an overwhelming, awe‑inspiring aura.

The youth lifted his foot, stepping at an even pace toward the heart of Stone City.

His steps were calm, his expression untroubled, showing no trace of the nervousness or alarm one might feel on first seeing the royal city, as if he were merely strolling through a leisurely garden.

All the way he passed the outer oasis, entered the gate, went through the city's market lanes and Fu Sect temples, avoiding passersby and guards, heading straight for the innermost core of the royal city—the royal court.

The deeper he went into the royal city, the more solemn the atmosphere became, the guards grew stricter, and sentry posts stood in layered rows.

Yet the youth's expression never changed, his steps remained steady, and before long he reached beneath the lofty palace walls of the royal court.

The high walls built of stone rose towering, blocking sky and sun, high and deep, shutting out the world's clamor, leaving only a silent solemnity.

The youth stood firm at the wall's base, lifted his eyes to the tightly shut palace gates, recalling the enlightenment bestowed by the Profound Mirror, then slowly lowered his gaze and silently began to count in his heart—

One, two, three…

Hundreds of numbers settled one by one in his mind, the rhythm neither hurried nor slow.

Just as the final number fell, the heavy palace gates slowly opened, a troupe of attendants escorting a tall, upright figure who stepped out from within the high walls.

Leading them was a tall, burly man about thirty years old, his posture erect, his bearing majestic.

He wore the fine, tight braids favored by the people of An Nan, his hair neat and orderly, accentuating his deep‑set features.

Now his brows and eyes were sunk in cold, lingering anger still in his brow, his face dark, his aura icy and repressed—exactly the man depicted in the scroll Du Shanü and the youth carried in their sleeves.

The King of An Nan's Crown Prince, Yi Er.

Si Er was followed by a retinue of trusted guards, each standing tall in iron armor, wielding sharp blades, solemn-faced, forming layers of protection around the Crown Prince ahead. The procession was grand and imposing.

The youth in a Daoist robe standing by the wall gazed at that familiar figure, the smile in his eyes growing clearer, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly, carrying a hint of certainty.

He raised his hand and lightly smoothed the slightly wrinkled, sand-dusted azure-gray Daoist robe on himself, brushed off the fine dust from his cuffs, then stepped forward to meet the group.

The guards, already tasked with vigilance, instantly tensed, all raising their hands to grip the swords at their waists.

But just then, in that tense moment, the youth in the azure-gray Daoist robe spoke first:

"Your Highness the Crown Prince, this humble Daoist knows how to cure the King of An Nan's illness."

His voice was clear, smooth, and even—neither high nor low—cutting through the surrounding solemn atmosphere, landing clearly in everyone's ears, each word distinct, yet causing all the guards, braced for action, to freeze in their tracks.

As his words fell, a deathly silence instantly spread throughout the surroundings.

The King of An Nan had suddenly fallen ill with a strange ailment months ago, confined to his bed, and the matter was extremely secret.

Crown Prince Si Er had long ago ordered a strict blockade on the news; aside from a handful of core confidants in the palace, no one inside or outside the court, nor among the common folk, knew the true state of the King of An Nan's illness, let alone its severity or truth.

Yet this mysterious youth before them, of unknown origin, clad in a simple cloth Daoist robe and appearing travel-worn, had with a single sentence pierced this tightly guarded secret!

Si Er's eyes instantly welled with overwhelming shock; his deep pupils contracted sharply, and the lingering anger on his person was instantly replaced by intense astonishment.

He fixed his gaze on the youthful, baby-faced young man before him, his heart churning with relentless shock and turmoil, yet his expression remained firmly composed, his brows and eyes growing ever colder.

Si Er slightly raised his hand, about to signal the guards on either side to seize this strange Daoist on the spot and interrogate him thoroughly.

However, before his gesture could even be completed, the youth opposite spoke again, his tone just as calm and resolute as before.

He slightly lifted his gaze, meeting Si Er's eyes that hid simmering fury, and said with a smile:

"You may not believe this, but this humble Daoist, having observed the night sky, has divined just who administered the drug to the King of An Nan this time......"

"About that, you surely would want to hear, wouldn't you?"

As his words fell, the pressure surrounding Si Er plummeted to rock bottom.

Administering a drug?

Administering a drug!

Others didn't even know that his father, the King of An Nan, was ill; since his father fell ill, several of his brothers have sought out famous doctors for treatment, yet they have never been able to find the cause.

Yet this young man before them not only knows that his father, the King of An Nan, is gravely ill, but also knows that his father's grave illness stems from having been drugged.

Si Er's eyes were filled with intertwining shock, anger, and heaviness, a complex mixture hard to decipher.

He fixed his gaze on the seemingly gentle and harmless youth before him, silent for a moment, then, suppressing the turmoil in his heart, slowly raised his hand and ordered his attendants:

"Come! Take this person back to the manor for thorough interrogation."

Upon hearing this, the guards immediately split into two, one standing to the left and one to the right behind the Daoist-robed youth.

Although they did not directly seize the youth's shoulders, their restraining intent was unmistakable.

Clearly, if the Daoist-robed youth refused to go with them, they would draw the swords at their waists and attack on the spot.

However, the Daoist-robed youth was no fool; he offered no resistance, showed no hesitation, and, smiling, followed the men toward the Crown Prince's manor.

Seeing him so composed, Si Er's doubts grew stronger; after suppressing them again and again, he finally fixed his gaze on the unhurried youth beside him and asked in a low voice:

"You say you know how to cure my father's illness, and you say you know who harmed my father...... then who are you?"

In An Nan, the local populace follows the Ao faith, yet the other party's attire is clearly that of a Central Plains Daoist robe.

What Daoist would go to a place that does not revere Daoism?

Faced with the Crown Prince's questioning and his overwhelming aura, the Daoist-robed youth showed not the slightest trace of fear.

He raised his hand, took up the whisk from his side, his wrist turned lightly, the whisk's silver threads lightly brushed the dust off the shoulder of his Dao robe, the motion leisurely and tranquil.

His eyebrows curved, his smile warm and moist, his tone unhurried, he spoke slowly:

"Just a small Daoist who is still obscure nowadays."

"You may call me... Fùzòuzi."

?? Correct, Fùzòuzi is back again! This person has a complete side branch, still worth paying attention to, huh!