Chapter 952: A Lavish, Extravagant Funeral, Money Flowing Like Water

The day after the imperial envoy arrived, Chen Guanlou set off for the capital.

Before leaving, he went to the temple to bid farewell to the rogue monk Liu Daowen.

At first, Liu Daowen trembled with fear—he was terrified! He wasn’t afraid of warriors, only of warriors with brains, especially those with wild imaginations.

When he learned the man was returning to the capital and had merely come by for a quick look, his heart lifted with relief, joy surging inside, yet his face showed not a trace of it.

“The monk humbly wishes His Excellency a smooth journey. After returning to the capital, do not seek to stand out. The current situation is chaotic. Before clarity emerges, standing out invites blows.”

“You’re thoughtful.”

“His Excellency saved my life; naturally, I wish him nothing but safety.”

“Before the Cheng Prince died, the detachment of personal guards who vanished—you truly don’t know?”

Inside, Liu Daowen roared in fury—here we go again, how annoying! Always claiming not to overreach, yet poking his nose everywhere.

To his face, he wore an innocent expression. “What are you talking about? Do I look like someone who knows such things? And the court hasn’t even taken notice—why are you so curious?”

“Just a casual question. I’m wondering—if the Cheng Prince arranged all this before dying, could there be a hidden move? His heir is dead; the rest of the family won’t live long either. The vanished personal guards must have a leader—what exactly did he intend?”

Liu Daowen’s heart thudded twice, then steadied. “I’m curious too. Could it be the vanished guards are hiding in the Pingjiang Marquis’s camp?”

“That’s an interesting thought!” Chen Guanlou smiled warmly at him. “Then tell me—why would the Pingjiang Marquis shelter these guards? Surely not to rebel?”

Liu Daowen was deeply embarrassed. “Marshal Chen, you’re joking! The Marquis is a pillar of the court, the Emperor’s trusted arm—ha! Absolutely impossible!”

“Good to know! The Hou Fu is in a turbulent time—keep your head down.”

“Marshal Chen overestimates me. I’m just a rogue monk—I can’t even stir up a storm in my own temple, let alone stir up the whole world.”

“Liu, don’t be modest! I know your abilities. Only you have ever faked your death and escaped unnoticed from the Heavenly Prison—no one else in years. Even your master Jiang Tu lacks such skill. Had Jiang Tu taken you as his right hand, he might have lived a few more years.”

Liu Daowen felt both proud and awkward—he wanted to keep humbling himself, yet feared Chen Guanlou would say something even more explosive and trigger a heart attack.

He could only force a stiff laugh.

“Thank you for your high regard, Marshal Chen.”

Chen Guanlou chuckled. “Relax. I know you’re hiding something unspeakable, but I won’t press you or investigate. Not overreaching is my principle. Don’t provoke me, don’t provoke the Hou Fu, don’t provoke the Marquis—that’s all. After all, I’m a Chen!”

“Marshal Chen, you’re teasing me—I wouldn’t dare even if you gave me a hundred lives.”

“Best not to.”

Chen Guanlou spoke his piece and left.

Only then did Liu Daowen truly relax, exhaling deeply—he was exhausted from tension.

Such a persistent ghost.

Fortunately, he’d kept a few extra wits—these past days he hadn’t left the mountain, staying quietly in the temple chanting sutras.

…

When Chen Guanlou returned to the capital and stepped into the alley where the Chen family lived, he sensed an atmosphere unlike before.

Desolate!

Heavy!

Everyone’s faces carried a fearful uncertainty about the future.

It wasn’t just because of the old lady’s death—it was the chain of upheavals her death triggered.

Clan members told him that the heir, Chen Guanfu, had resigned from his post in the Ministry of Public Works to observe mourning for the old lady.

“He’s a grandson—does he really need to go this far?”

He wasn’t even her biological son.

“The eldest master hasn’t moved yet—the heir must show his stance.”

Other Chen clan officials had also grown quiet recently—some took leave, others pushed away their duties, terrified of stepping into a trap.

Chen Guanlou sighed—no wonder they were native to the capital; their political acumen far surpassed that of any regional aristocratic family.

After a quick wash and a light meal of wine and braised meat, he went to visit Master Du.

Master Du saw him and said at once: “You only returned after the old lady’s funeral. Do you know how many people asked about you—why you didn’t appear at the funeral?”

“I’m five generations removed—I’m not expected to show up.”

“That’s true, but your reputation draws attention. Later, when everyone learned you’d gone to the northwest to deliver a message, the matter settled. Otherwise, censors would’ve seized the chance to stir up trouble.”

“Me? Censors?” Chen Guanlou laughed. “What kind of figure am I? Why would censors care about me?”

“They’re not watching you—they’re using you as a pawn to target the Hou Fu and the Marquis. You know already—the heir resigned from the Ministry of Public Works, shut himself away, claiming to mourn. That’s the Hou Fu’s message to the court: silence the censors, silence public gossip.”

Chen Guanlou laid out the wine and dishes; they ate and drank as they spoke. “How was the funeral?”

“Extremely grand—extravagant!” Master Du glanced around, then whispered mysteriously: “They say the old lady’s funeral cost this much silver.”

“Twenty thousand taels?” Chen Guanlou asked casually.

Master Du gave him a look of disdain and exclaimed dramatically: “Two hundred thousand taels!”

What?

Chen Guanlou was stunned. “Two hundred thousand taels for a funeral? Seven days of lying in state—how could they possibly spend that fast? Nearly thirty thousand taels a day? Even burning money wouldn’t go that quickly!”

“Over a hundred monks and Daoists were invited, the coffin was the finest available, every item for hosting guests was top-tier…”

Master Du counted on his fingers—just these basics already totaled over a hundred thousand taels. The minor expenses were too numerous to tally. The accounts simply couldn’t bear close scrutiny.

It was likely more than two hundred thousand taels.

Chen Guanlou whistled. “The Hou Fu is rich indeed! Won’t they go bankrupt? With so much silver spent, why didn’t the censors raise objections? Why didn’t the court speak out?”

“Of course they did. The court has debated the Hou Fu’s extravagance daily.”

“No one criticized the Marquis?”

“Some did—but not nearly as much as before.”

Chen Guanlou laughed heartily. “So the Hou Fu is spending a fortune to divert attention. Censors are human—they have weaknesses. They naturally fixate on what’s right before them, not on the Marquis far away in the northwest.”

“You mean the Hou Fu deliberately threw a lavish funeral, spending recklessly?”

“If they didn’t spend the money wildly, how could they clear out the silver the Marquis hoarded over the years in the Hou Fu’s vaults? They need to empty the vaults, send a signal to the world: we’ve spent too much, we’re running dry.”

“Don’t talk nonsense!” Master Du tensed up, annoyed by Chen Guanlou’s reckless tongue—he said anything without restraint.

Chen Guanlou, in turn, urged him to relax. “Outside of a Grand Master, no one can eavesdrop right under your nose.”