Chapter 1733

An earthquake struck Xichuan; Prince Long Yefang had once prayed for the Autumn Splendor Palace to collapse, not just the walls but everything here, even if it buried him alive—he wasn't afraid of death, preferring to die rather than live in such a miserable, furtive existence. Yet this quake toppled over half the buildings in Xizhou, while the Autumn Splendor Palace where he resided remained intact, only a few tiles having fallen.

How exactly are things outside? Prince Long Yefang has no way to know; everyone around him dares not tell him the truth, and anyone who dares to speak a few extra words to him inevitably ends up dead—this has been proven many times over the past seven years. Consequently, the Prince has become ever more silent and withdrawn, too lazy to speak and too lazy to harm others.

Li Tianheng's arrival surprised Prince Long Yefang; during the years he had been imprisoned in the Autumn Splendor Palace, Li Tianheng had visited only a handful of times, and in his memory, aside from the customary New Year's visit, the only other occasion was when he himself had been injured.

Li Tianheng came today in plain clothes; upon entering the Prince's sleeping quarters he caught a whiff of strong, pungent liquor, and he involuntarily furrowed his brows. He despised Prince Long Yefang from the bottom of his heart, and if the Prince showed a bit more backbone he might have earned his respect.

Prince Long Yefang narrowed his eyes, bleary with drink, staring at Li Tianheng and laughing hoarsely: "Isn't that the Grand Marshal Li? What wind… blew you here today? Perfect timing—come drink with me!" He slapped the nearby cushion hard.

Li Tianheng gave a slight smile, did not sit down, and remained standing there, looking down at the Prince.

This angle made the Prince feel uneasy deep down; he staggered to his feet and, looking at Li Tianheng, said, "You… what business do you have with me?"

Li Tianheng said, "Good news!"

Hearing his reply, the Prince couldn't help bursting into laughter, as if he'd heard the funniest thing in the world. His laughter suddenly cut off, and he looked at Li Tianheng with venom, asking, "Are you here to kill me?"

Li Tianheng shook his head and said, "I'm preparing to send you away."

"Where to?"

Li Tianheng said, "I'll send you back to Kangdu."

Prince Long Yefang slowly shook his head, then retreated step by step, stopped, and suddenly bellowed: "Why do you keep deceiving me? I'd rather be dead than alive—why won't you give me a quick death? To hell with your Kangdu, to hell with your Dakang; all I want now is to die sooner!" He kicked over the wine table, sending cups and plates scattering everywhere.

Li Tianheng looked at him with contempt: "If you truly want to die, you can do so anytime—no one will stop you." He had long seen the Prince clearly; the Prince of Zhou simply lacked the courage to kill himself. He drew his side sword and threw it to the ground, then said, "You have two choices: die, or pull yourself together—I'll send you back to Dakang."

Prince Long Yefang thought he had misheard; when he looked up again, Li Tianheng had already left.

He stared at Li Tianheng's retreating back, fists clenched, then his gaze fell on the sword on the ground. He lunged for it, his right hand trembling as he reached out, grasped the long sword, and held it sideways against his throat—but he could not bring himself to cut. The Prince flung the sword away with force and burst into loud wails, not only from fear but also from self-loathing over his uselessness.

Inside the Grand Marshal's residence, a gray-clad figure slipped in silently, intimately familiar with the layout of the mansion, and slipped straight into the eastern courtyard where Li Tianheng's son, Li Honghan, resided.

The gray-clad person came to the courtyard gate, wiped sweat from his forehead—he had rushed here and was drenched—lightly knocked on the door, and soon a warrior came to open it. The gray-clad person asked, "Is the Young Marshal in?"

The warrior nodded and led him to the Martial Training Hall, where Li Honghan was practicing swordplay. Hearing footsteps, he casually sheathed his sword, turned, and said in a low voice, "Qi Jingcheng, you're not doing honest work at the Autumn Splendor Palace—what are you doing here?"

That gray-clad person was his former subordinate, Qi Jingcheng, recently assigned to the Autumn Splendor Palace to oversee the safety of Prince Zhou, Long Yefang.

Qi Jingcheng, somewhat nervous, said, "Young Marshal, I have an important matter to report."

Li Honghan nodded, signaling the surrounding warriors to withdraw. Qi Jingcheng became certain that only the two of them remained in the Martial Training Hall, then knelt before Li Honghan and said, "Reporting to the Young Marshal, the Grand Marshal just visited the Autumn Splendor Palace."

Li Honghan dismissed it: "Why would he go see that waste?" He had long ignored the Prince's existence; since actual power in Dakang had fallen into the hands of the Yongyang Princess, the Prince had lost his value and was merely a figurehead in their hands—a pretext for the Li family's independence in Xichuan.

Qi Jingcheng said, "The Grand Marshal said he would release the Prince of Zhou and send him back to Kangdu."

Li Honghan stared in disbelief: "Really?"

Qi Jingcheng said, "Absolutely certain."

Li Honghan narrowed his eyes, nodded, and said, "Go back first; if anything comes up, report back immediately."

"Yes!" Qi Jingcheng withdrew respectfully.

Li Honghan rose, stepped outside, and entered the garden, where an old florist with white hair was trimming flower branches.

Li Honghan approached him, his expression unusually respectful, and whispered, "Master, something has happened!"

The old florist gave him a bland glance, then asked in a low voice, "What's the big deal?" His voice was somewhat shrill, like a woman's, yet upon closer listening it wasn't.

Li Honghan said, "As you warned, Father intends to send the Prince of Zhou back to Dakang."

The old florist chuckled eerily: "Does Dakang still have room for the Prince of Zhou?"

Li Honghan replied, "Even if Long Yefang returns, it's a dead end."

The old florist nodded: "Quite right. The Yongyang Princess has only just managed to hold onto Dakang's court, and she certainly won't relinquish the power she's grasped. Your father's move is likely meant to show sincerity, but the timing has already passed."

Li Honghan said, "You're right—even if we send the Prince back, Dakang will not abandon its idea of using troops against Xichuan."

The old florist smiled at Li Honghan, but inwardly cursed him for being short‑sighted, and said softly, "I fear your father's aim is not merely to get Dakang to withdraw its troops."

Li Honghan exclaimed, "What?"

The old florist said, "If I'm not mistaken, the Grand Marshal has already decided to submit to Dakang."

Li Honghan shook his head vigorously: "Impossible, my father would never do that." For a moment his mind was in turmoil; he had once harbored grand ambitions, dreaming that one day the Li clan would seize the Central Plains, his father would become emperor, and the throne would naturally pass to him. But now this change has occurred—if, as the old florist suggests, his father truly submits to Dakang, then the Li family may never see a chance to rise again.

The old florist saw through his thoughts, patted his shoulder, and said, "You are my favorite disciple; I naturally wish you well. In my view, if the Grand Marshal truly intends to submit this time, the court will likely not spare him either."

These days Li Tianheng has visibly aged considerably; he and his son haven't spoken alone for a while. It must be said that he is somewhat disappointed in his son, but disappointment aside—after all, the boy is his own flesh and blood—before making any major decision he still needs to consult him.

Father and son sat facing each other; Li Tianheng laid out his thoughts, expecting his son to agree, but instead he encountered fierce opposition.

"Father, I do not agree to surrender to Dakang."

Li Tianheng sighed: "Honghan, do you think I want to do this? You've seen the situation in Xichuan—the Dakang armies loom at our borders; even if we don't surrender, they'll attack sooner or later, and with our present strength we cannot possibly resist them. The people of Xichuan have already suffered greatly from natural disasters; do you really want to watch them endure the ravages of war as well?"

Li Honghan shouted: "Father, in my heart you have always been a towering hero whom nothing can fell—but now you have let me down terribly."

Li Tianheng snapped: "A true man knows when to yield and when to stand firm, understands the bigger picture and the overall situation—how can he resort to the bravery of a petty fellow?"

Li Honghan said, "Do you think sending the Prince of Zhou to Dakang will make everything fine? Back when we were strong in troops and horses, you refused when Dakang came to enfeoff a king; now that we're in dire straits you want to grovel—do you really think Dakang will accept your surrender?"

Li Tianheng's expression darkened; if it weren't a last resort, he wouldn't have made this choice. He said softly: "Although Dakang has enjoyed favorable weather these past two years, it has not recovered its former vigor, nor are they eager for war. Hu Xiaotian, though he accepted a fief, is ambitious and constantly eyes Dakang's state like a tiger watching its prey, having recently seized much territory. If Dakang moves against us, Hu Xiaotian will surely exploit the opening."

Li Honghan chuckled: "How would you know what the Dakang court is thinking? Back then I urged you to use troops against Dakang, but you wouldn't listen; I urged you to kill Hu Xiaotian, and you still wouldn't listen. Now look—this once‑great situation has deteriorated to this point because of your indecision."

Li Tianheng, hearing his son dare to rebuke him to his face, flew into a rage, swung his hand and slapped him hard across the face, shouting: "Insolent whelp, how dare you speak to me like that!"

Li Honghan covered his face; his handsome countenance flushed red from anger and shame as he bellowed: "You may look imposing, but it's all just for show in front of me—you don't even have the courage to face the Dakang army head‑on, so how can you win the soldiers' respect? Father! Are you just an old fool?"

Li Tianheng seized the sword hilt and roared: "Today I will kill you, you unfilial wretch!"

Li Honghan lifted his chin and shouted: "Kill! Go ahead and kill me now—I'd rather die than live as a servile wretch watching others' faces."

Li Tianheng was beside himself with rage, on the verge of exploding, when a figure burst in from outside—his adopted son Yang Haoran—who rushed forward, grabbed Li Honghan, and dragged him out while shouting, "Father, calm down—he's drunk, he's drunk!"

In fact it was still before lunchtime; Li Honghan hadn't even eaten, so where would he get liquor? Li Tianheng lacked nothing but an excuse—he could never truly bring himself to kill his own biological son.

Two updates delivered; tomorrow is the Dragon Boat Festival. Zhangyu wishes everyone a happy holiday, harmony and beauty (to be continued~^~)