Chapter 442: He

"A mutual destruction?"

The old emperor muttered under his breath.

Qiu Defu dared not respond, lowering his head as if he didn't exist.

"Do you know how many people the Hou Fu sent? How many martial artists? What ranks?"

"Your Majesty, according to the Embroidered Uniform Guard's report, the Hou Fu dispatched roughly three hundred men, half of whom were martial artists, mostly of first and second rank."

Upon hearing this, the old emperor frowned deeply, clearly displeased. "Not enough. Far from enough. These few people cannot possibly represent the Hou Fu's true strength. What kind of fool is Jiang Tu? After all these days of effort, he still hasn't forced the Hou Fu to reveal its full power. Incompetent! Worthless! With the Hou Fu's depth, how could they possibly field only this many men, and with such low-ranked martial artists? Go summon Jiang Tu immediately, and bring the Embroidered Uniform Guard here—I'll question them face to face."

The old emperor flung the memorials across the floor in rage.

Qiu Defu hurriedly ordered messengers to carry out his commands while carefully soothing the old emperor's temper.

"Your Majesty, please calm down! Commander Jiang may simply be a woman unable to cook without rice—he's only recently served at your side and has limited manpower to recruit. Please grant him a few more days to devise another plan and give his utmost effort."

"You're kind-hearted, defending Jiang Tu. Too bad he's not here to appreciate your goodwill."

Qiu Defu smiled. "I am Your Majesty's servant—I serve only to ease Your Majesty's burdens. As long as Your Majesty is pleased, I need no one's favor."

"Hahahaha…" The old emperor laughed, his mood visibly improving.

At that moment, an eunuch reported that the Jixia Academy had sent someone to present medicine and asked if the emperor wished to receive them.

"Summon them at once!"

The moment the old emperor heard the Jixia Academy had brought medicine, his mood shifted instantly from gloom to joy—he couldn't have been happier. Jiang Tu, the Hou Fu—all of it vanished from his mind.

"I thought I'd have to wait until next year to take the pills offered by the Jixia Academy. I never expected success so soon. Hahahaha… Heaven itself aids me!"

"Congratulations, Your Majesty! May Your Majesty's heavenly fortune be boundless and all your wishes fulfilled!"

Qiu Defu spouted blessings without pause.

The old emperor received the Jixia Academy's emissary—a strikingly handsome young scholar whose name confirmed he was a direct disciple of the academy.

The old emperor took the pills, inhaled their medicinal fragrance, and became utterly entranced.

"The first pills brewed by our Ancestor after emerging from seclusion—this first attempt succeeded! All thanks to Your Majesty's boundless heavenly fortune and divine protection."

"Hahahaha…"

The old emperor's spirits lifted again. "Speak—what reward do you desire? Rank? Wealth?"

"To present medicine to Your Majesty is our greatest honor—we dare not entertain any selfish desires."

"No matter. If you haven't decided yet, I'll give you three days. Return home, consult your sect, and name whatever you wish—I'll grant it without hesitation, if I can."

"Your humble servant, on behalf of the entire Jixia Academy, kowtows to thank Your Majesty's boundless grace!"

When Jiang Tu rushed to the Taiji Palace to pay his respects, the old emperor was still basking in the joy of receiving the pills—and for once, he didn't berate or strike Jiang Tu.

One must admit, Jiang Tu had a bit of luck on his side.

Even Qiu Defu felt a pang of envy.

He had expected to see Jiang Tu beaten and scolded. But the Jixia Academy had sent medicine at just the right moment—saving Jiang Tu's life.

Luck truly cannot be ignored.

Qiu Defu began to wonder: Was Jiang Tu protected by some high-level cultivator? Or had he somehow obtained an object to turn his fortune?

He needed to send someone to investigate and break Jiang Tu's streak of good luck.

Jiang Tu himself had prepared for a beating and a scolding. He never imagined the old emperor would greet him with a smile, clearly in high spirits.

Seeing this, though he didn't know why, he knew his chance had come. He seized the moment to complain bitterly, denouncing the Hou Fu and Chen Guanlou, begging the emperor for more time—and preferably some support.

Especially support in martial artists.

Low-rank martial artists were easy to recruit and plentiful, but useless.

High-rank martial artists were either kept by noble families, pledged to the court, or affiliated with sects. Gaining even one or two wasn't something money alone could achieve.

Even if one or two high-rank martial artists could be swayed by gold, no one could guarantee the Hou Fu didn't have their own. After all, the Hou Fu's depth was immense; the force they'd shown so far was merely a tiny fraction. The true powerful martial artists—the ones who could truly defend their estate—had yet to appear.

If a Grand Master suddenly showed up, it would be over.

"Grand Master? Hmph! In this capital, who else but the palace could have one? Who dares to have one?"

The old emperor sneered coldly.

Since becoming emperor, his one constant mission had been ensuring the capital's safety—never allowing any Grand Master outside imperial control to operate within the city.

Upon discovery, the palace's own Grand Masters would intervene—either kill the offender or expel them from the capital.

The old emperor treasured his life too much to allow any terrifying, uncontrollable power to exist in the capital.

Thus, it was certain: the Hou Fu had no Grand Master-level martial artists.

Whether they had high-rank martial artists of eighth or ninth grade was less certain.

With the Hou Fu's resources, hiding a few individuals from the Embroidered Uniform Guard's notice was no great feat.

Watching Jiang Tu weep and wail, the old emperor grew visibly annoyed.

"You fool—you can't even handle a simple task. What use are you?"

To merely scold him without striking was already extraordinary mercy—mainly because the emperor was in a good mood and didn't feel like lifting a hand.

"Your humble servant deserves death! Your humble servant deserves death!"

In the art of self-abasement, Jiang Tu was second to none.

His skill in fawning and bullying inferiors was flawless—he would never fail in his domain.

"It'd be easy if you died. But who would do my work? You wretched creature—you never think of easing my burdens, only of begging for death. One day, when I truly order you executed, see how you like it."

"For Your Majesty to order my death would be my greatest honor," Jiang Tu replied, mastering the art of flattery to perfection.

Qiu Defu lowered his head slightly, rolling his eyes inward—he despised Jiang Tu, yet could do nothing against him. Occasionally slipping in a word of poison might earn Jiang Tu a fine or a few days of disfavor.

But when the emperor needed something done in the shadows, Jiang Tu would regain favor once more.

Such was life—so damn absurd.

Yu Zhaoan knew how to flatter, but he channeled all his skill into state affairs, not into such underhanded matters.

Clearly, the old emperor could never entrust Yu Zhaoan—a proper scholar—with such clandestine tasks. He had to preserve his dignity—he feared Yu Zhaoan might secretly record and spread the truth, tarnishing his reputation.

For scholars, extra caution was always wise.

As for men like Jiang Tu—use them however you please. Purely expendable.