Chapter 453

Chen Guanlou temporarily settled down at the Shanzhuang.

This place is remote, neither too far nor too close to Jingcheng, avoiding both isolation from urban centers and outside disturbances—a quiet spot for cultivation, though somewhat dull.

Hou Fu sent him wagon after wagon of medicinal herbs, all top-grade, along with a physician to tend to his body and craft nourishing pills.

He feared his elder sister would worry and rushed here despite the danger; he wrote her a letter, briefly explaining his situation, assuring her he was fine and not to fret—he was alive and well, and certainly wouldn't die.

He also sent word to several trusted men at Tianlaomiao: while he was away, Xiao Jin and Qian Fugui would be in charge.

The "private grudge" conflict between Hou Fu and Jiang Fu had finally come to an end.

Jiang Tu suffered a crushing defeat and had reached the brink of life and death; unwilling as he was, he could only rush to the palace, cling to the old emperor's legs, and weep, confessing his incompetence for failing to complete the old emperor's orders, deserving death, utterly worthy of death.

The old emperor, dizzy and irritated by his weeping, kicked him away and cursed him repeatedly as a waste.

Jiang Tu bowed his head repeatedly, admitting he was a waste, unable to relieve the old emperor's burdens.

The old emperor, furious inside, opened his mouth to execute the man—but changed his mind. Jiang Tu was mediocre in ability, yet exceptionally skilled at acquiring wealth.

He was still useful now; executing him would be a waste.

So the old emperor changed his mind, deciding to spare Jiang Tu's life and let him continue gathering wealth. After all, the garden next door wasn't finished, nor were the palaces, and he needed a reliable man to supervise. Jiang Tu was the perfect choice.

Indeed, Jiang Tu had some fortune—he walked away unscathed, escaping safely.

Qiu Defu, faced with this outcome, had nothing to say. He could only say Jiang Tu had gotten lucky.

Jiang Tu himself felt as if he'd escaped death, overcome with relief and lingering fear; before entering the palace, he had truly prepared to die, which made his weeping especially heartfelt.

He hadn't expected to truly move the old emperor.

The old emperor's heart was hard—this was universally acknowledged.

Fortunately, heaven took pity on him.

Jiang Tu wept again, this time from overwhelming joy; before the old emperor, he swore loyalty again and again, vowing to serve with all his strength, even unto death.

The old emperor sneered, "You? Dare to speak of serving with all your strength until death? Minister Jiang, have some dignity. If you truly can't manage it, hire a learned private secretary to teach you book knowledge. Don't make such jokes again—people will laugh at your ignorance."

"Others' mockery means nothing to this minister. This minister's heart holds only His Majesty. If I can make His Majesty smile, this minister counts it as a blessing of three lifetimes."

"You fool! That's all you're good for." The old emperor chuckled as he kicked Jiang Tu over, "The matter with Hou Fu is settled. From now on, do your duty well and get along properly with Chen Guanlou. Don't stir up trouble again. For the next few months, I don't want to see Jingcheng in chaos."

"This minister obeys! Chen Guanlou owes his life entirely to Your Majesty's mercy; otherwise, I would have made him suffer terribly."

"Don't talk big." The old emperor looked disgusted. "The sacrifice ceremony next year admits no error. Stay alert. Don't give anyone grounds to accuse you. If you provoke heaven's wrath and the people's hatred, I won't spare you."

Jiang Tu bowed repeatedly in assent.

Only then did he realize how crucial next year's sacrifice ceremony truly was—it wasn't merely about offering to heaven; there must be other plans.

He could sense the old emperor's mood, but not his intentions—like a thick fog obscuring his vision, the path ahead was hazy and unclear.

Yet how important could next year's sacrifice ceremony be? Jingcheng had remained peaceful, the Great Ming Prince remained imprisoned in Tianlaomiao with no incident, everything proceeded as usual—it was impossible to tell.

Jiang Tu once again regretted not studying more; scholarly matters always seemed like viewing flowers through mist—unclear. Even the nobles were playing games of obscurity.

Not understanding it was fine; at least he'd escaped disaster—something to celebrate.

But this battle had cost him dearly, and the old emperor had no intention of compensating him. He could only swallow his teeth and blood, finding ways to make up the losses elsewhere.

All the wealth and foundations he'd accumulated over years were destroyed.

Hou Fu struck too brutally—besides sparing his life, they left no room at all. His men, his wealth—every time he thought of it, his heart ached unbearably, as if it would shatter.

Hou Fu had suffered losses too.

But in Chen Guanlou's eyes, the greatest loss was Chen Guanlou himself.

Chen Guanlou had hidden himself too well, deceiving everyone—until he was finally exposed, with nowhere to hide.

Every time Chen Guanfu thought of this, his heart ached unbearably.

He was in low spirits for several days straight, even though the conflict had ended and all had returned to calm.

He drank gloomy wine, raising his cup to the moon, deeply depressed.

He summoned the chief steward to inquire about Chen Guanlou's condition.

The chief steward told him, "Internal injuries—severe. He needs time to recover. His realm has also regressed. According to his own words, if he encounters that Qi cultivator from Qi Family again, he'll die—no chance to escape."

"Is it really that serious?"

The chief steward nodded. "I've instructed him to rest well and not worry about aftermath matters. Your Lordship—any further orders?"

"None. I merely feel regret. Such a fine talent, so openly exposed—it troubles me."

"Chen Guanlou is strange—he has talent but refuses to show it, even hiding it from his closest kin. His paranoia is excessive."

"I understand his actions. He has no martial vein, yet mastered an elite cultivation art—anyone would conceal it. There's nothing wrong with that."

"Doesn't Your Lordship wonder where he learned such an unusual art? If it could be widely taught, wouldn't everyone be able to cultivate, allowing commoners to stand against Qi cultivators?"

"Impossible! You oversimplify. His mastery of profound martial arts isn't just from the technique—it must involve other reasons. But I promised him I wouldn't ask, and I will keep my word."

"What a pity!" the chief steward said honestly—he truly felt regret. A technique that couldn't be widely taught wasn't a good technique at all.

"What about the Qi Family?" the chief steward asked again.

Chen Guanfu told him, "The Qi Family doesn't fully understand that cultivator's intentions, but they've assured me they'll strictly restrain him. From what I've heard, that Qi cultivator was lured by Chen Guanlou to Master Zhou Mobai's estate that night and was injured by Zhou Mobai—he'll need at least half a year to recover."

The chief steward, hearing this, relaxed. "Six months is enough."