Chapter 638: Even With Talent, Bow Low in Reverence!

Yaoxian Tower, second floor.

Xie Yuan and others had learned that Xie Guan had ascended to the fourth floor to meet Su Xiang and the Third Master.

Their hearts, which had just begun to settle, now rose again in suspense.

If Xie Guan's answer failed to satisfy the two, no one could save him today.

Everyone felt uneasy, unsure whether Xie Guan's poetry could move Su Xiang and the Third Master.

Zhang Yunzhi had risen, her gaze locked on the fourth floor, her expression tense.

Those on the third floor also looked up, their eyes fixed intently on the fourth floor.

Inside Yaoxian Tower, silence fell utterly, as if even the courtesans' performances on the four stages of the Qunfang Banquet had been forgotten.

Xu Xi also gazed upward at the fourth floor.

As Xie Guan ascended to the fourth floor, the eunuch clad in red python robe slowly withdrew, and the copied poems began to be passed down floor by floor.

"Sixth brother, what do you think Xie Guan will do today?"

Prince Yan, Chen Feng, spoke slowly, "Will he walk down from the fourth floor alive?"

Chen Feng gave a bitter smile, "It's laughable, really—I still can't help feeling fear when I see Su Xiang."

"Mother once told me that when my imperial grandfather was born, it was Su Xiang who lifted him from his swaddling clothes. Then my father, and even me…"

"Mother always told me to call him 'Father Prime Minister,' yet I've always called him 'Su Xiang.'"

Prince Yan's mind conjured the image of the white-haired old man seated behind the curtain in court.

Su Xiang had dominated the Great Qi court and realm for nearly two centuries, his power overwhelming, everyone fearing him as they would a tiger.

Even the Nine Surnames dared not openly contradict Su Xiang in the Hall of Mandate.

It was a true inner cabinet monopoly—prime ministerial authority so heavy it nearly choked the Chen imperial family over these two centuries.

Of course, this suffocating pressure had long festered in the hearts of these generations of princes, turning into an unspeakable resentment.

Yet even with such fury, none dared show it; instead, they bowed and scraped before this Su Xiang.

The sovereign of a nation, holder of the imperial insignia, still had to kowtow to the Su Mansion's whims.

But even so, what could be done?

Over the past two emperors, both had secretly allied with several of the Nine Surnames to launch palace coups—yet none dared raise the banner of "purifying the sovereign's side"; instead, they accused the Zhuge family's Empress Dowager of being a "demon spouse."

Yet all ended in failure, and the imperial family's power further declined.

The Chen princesses and princes had long lost their former privileges.

Princesses were married off to the Nine Surnames; princes were repeatedly bullied by the Nine Surnames' sons.

Only in this generation had things begun to shift slightly.

Prince Yan, backed by the Academy, and Prince Chen, relying on the Nine Surnames' support, finally gave the imperial family a glimmer of imperial dignity.

Perhaps because, for the past two decades, Su Xiang had shifted his focus westward toward the Great Sui, seemingly intentionally pulling his gaze slightly away from court affairs.

Allowing the imperial family and the Nine Surnames a moment to breathe.

Prince Yan, Chen Ting, lowered his eyes, voice low: "Second brother, am I any different? Every time Su Xiang's gaze sweeps over me, I dare not meet it—I feel as if his eyes are a beast ready to devour me."

He paused, his tone tinged with helplessness, "He has held court for far too long…"

Chen Feng nodded slowly, his expression grave: "Before next autumn's provincial examination, by tradition, the Crown Prince's position must be settled."

He raised his eyes to Chen Ting, voice probing: "Sixth brother, aren't you afraid I'll seize the throne?"

Chen Ting laughed bitterly, "The throne?"

He shook his head, a hint of disdain in his gaze, "Second brother, look—can your royal edicts even leave Jingcheng? How can you dare speak of being 'master of the realm'?"

"A single handwritten order from the Su Mansion holds more weight than the emperor's decree."

He brushed his hand along the wide dragon-embroidered sleeve, voice calm: "Of course, if you sit on the throne, let me go north to earn glory—if…"

Before he finished, Chen Feng understood his meaning.

The north—that was the land bordering the Eternal Heaven, home to Great Qi's two pillars.

Chen Ting was close to the Li, Xie, and Sima clans; if he went north, he might gather strength.

If Chen Feng were merely a puppet emperor, and a change occurred within the palace, Chen Ting would respond from without.

The two exchanged glances, mutual understanding unspoken. All in court knew the two princes openly competed and secretly schemed, always vying for supremacy.

Yet over these past three or four years, those with keen eyes had noticed: though the two princes appeared hostile, even clashing violently in court, drawing swords at times…

Yet strangely!

Their respective powers never canceled each other out like soldiers and pawns—they grew stronger instead.

There was, of course, an unspoken accord.

As Chen Feng was quietly pondering, Prince Yan changed the subject.

"Do you think Xie Guan will escape alive today?"

"He's made quite a spectacle today—such a brilliant young man, but too dazzling, too exposed. I've long admired his talent."

Prince Yan paused, his gaze distant, half-smiling, "If all ministers in court were as pleasing to the eye and gifted as he, it would indeed be a fine thing."

"Let all the empire's talents fall into our net."

Chen Feng looked up at the fourth floor, voice tinged with regret: "Had there been no constraints today, how could I have hesitated to show my eagerness for talent and forge a glorious tale of seeking the worthy?"

Just then, they saw the chief eunuch in red python robe slowly descending, holding the copied poems.

A group of junior eunuchs bowed and distributed the papers to the crowd.

Chen Feng took his paper, his eyes falling on the verses:

"Above, the jade capital of heaven, twelve towers, five cities."

"The immortal strokes my crown, ties my hair, grants me eternal life."

…

"Who now sweeps the golden terrace? The road is hard—return home!"

His gaze sharpened; he read the poem quickly, then carefully folded the paper away.

Prince Yan also finished reading; though unskilled in literature, he felt the poem's bold, haughty spirit, defying kings and dukes.

He scanned the faces of those on the third floor: Academy masters either murmured in thought, or nodded slowly, as if savoring each line, pondering its deeper meaning.

Inside Yaoxian Tower, silence reigned.

Only the poem's aura lingered faintly in the air, as if capturing every soul's attention.

Clearly, this poem was extraordinarily brilliant!

Then came a voice:

Chen Feng whispered, "After today, Xie Guan's name will shake Bianjing."

He shook his head, voice filled with admiration and surprise, "I underestimated this Young Master Guan today."

"Before his coming-of-age, he has already overshadowed the entire Qunfang Banquet."

Prince Yan heard this, but was unmoved.

He thought to himself: What good is talent?

This Xie Guan, though brilliant, was nearly of age, yet had not begun cultivating his primordial spirit—he spent his days only reading in his small courtyard.

Could books truly produce a bright and clear world?

To him, such a frail scholar, powerless even to lift a chicken, was nothing more than a flick of the fingers away from annihilation.

His gaze turned cold.

In this world, talent alone means nothing—if you lack strength, you are but a fleeting bloom.

In this great age, only strength is the true foundation of existence.

Yu Ke descended the third floor slowly; the chief eunuch remained standing where he was, waiting.

Seeing Yu Ke approach, the eunuch bowed slightly, voice respectful.

"Young Master Guan, Su Xiang has given instructions regarding today's affair at Yaoxian Tower."

"You may stay or leave freely, from the first to the fourth floor."

With that, he rose and withdrew.

Yu Ke nodded, scanning the third floor—he saw many of Bianjing's Nine Surnames gazing at him, among them Academy members, their eyes filled with admiration.

He also spotted Xie Lao and the four Xie Hong; yet when Xie Lao saw him descend, her gaze darkened, she snorted coldly, and turned away with the others.

Yu Ke, seeing this, had no intention of approaching them.

The Qunfang Banquet was nearing its end.

There was no one on the upper floors he knew; to approach strangers now would only invite cold shoulders.

A circle you cannot enter is not worth forcing your way into.

Yu Ke was about to descend when a kind voice came from behind.

"Young Master Guan, after today, no one in Bianjing will fail to know you."

Yu Ke turned.

A middle-aged man in Confucian robes stood nearby.

He had a dignified appearance, a handsome beard, his face slightly pale, yet his eyes warm, smiling at him.

This man was Xie Yuan's uncle—Zhuge Jian.

Yu Ke, following memory, bowed respectfully: "Xie Guan, greetings, Master Jingyue."

His tone humble, head slightly bowed, "Master Jingyue's words are too generous. I've merely gained empty fame—nothing worth mentioning."

Zhuge Jian looked at Xie Guan and saw that his expression remained calm, neither humble nor arrogant, just as it had been in Hongjing Courtyard—neither elated by today's fame nor uneasy under the gaze of the crowd.

Truly, a gentleman's bearing!

He smiled gently and said, "Young Master Guan, should you ever come to the Academy for further study, you would be most welcome. At the very least, you need never worry again about gaining entry to the lecture halls."

"You may cultivate within the Academy as well—your future path will surely be smooth."

Yu Ke heard this and felt a flicker of surprise.

He had just come down from the fourth floor, yet Zhuge Jian already knew he had joined the Academy—this was unexpected.

He was about to speak, but Zhuge Jian smiled and explained: "I am but an unworthy disciple of the Third Master. Young Master Guan's interpretation of 'benevolent men and noble spirits' deeply pleased the Third Master."

"Today, the Third Master came down specifically because your words comforted his heart."

Zhuge Jian's expression turned solemn. "The Third Master has long carried heavy burdens and his health has declined day by day—your insights have eased his spirit."

"It has been many years since I've seen the Master so at peace."

Yu Ke listened and could not help but be stunned.

It was not because of Zhuge Jian's words, but because so much time had passed since the incident in Hongjing Courtyard.

At the time, he had simply followed the prompt from the Kunxu Cauldron.

Who would have thought!

He hadn't realized it then, and only now, at this gathering of beauties, did its full weight reveal itself.

What profound foresight!

"Ah Ding, you are truly thorough."

At this point!

Zhuge Jian's expression turned serious, and he bowed deeply with solemn sincerity:

"As a disciple, Zhuge Jian hereby thanks Young Master Guan."

Yu Ke hurried to help him rise, but found that despite his own strength, he could not budge the Quiet Moon Master an inch.

He inwardly marveled: even high officials of the court must possess not only scholarly mastery but formidable cultivation as well.

Helpless, he waited until Zhuge Jian had finished his bow.

Around them, eyes had already turned their way; Zhuge Jian's voice had not been lowered, and many had heard clearly.

All eyes flickered with silent calculation.

It was clear now: the Third Master's intervention to protect Xie Guan today was no accident, and Xie Guan's impending enrollment in the Academy was drawing intense attention.

Many among the Academy's own attendees brightened visibly—Xie Guan had won the Third Master's favor and would be cultivating within the Academy.

Yu Ke sighed helplessly. "Quiet Moon Master, this gesture is far too much for Xie Guan."

Just then!

Xie Guan noticed that over a dozen Academy disciples on the third floor, all dressed in Confucian robes, had likewise bowed to him—just as Zhuge Jian had.

They bowed low.

The third floor fell silent, all eyes slowly turning toward him.

Xie Hong's gaze sharpened—those bowing were all disciples of the Third Master.

The old Lady Xie's face darkened further.

Yu Ke could only return the bow.

Zhuge Jian straightened, his smile unchanged.

He said nothing more, only lightly patted Yu Ke on the shoulder.

The Third Master had indeed intended to take him as a disciple—but today, at this gathering of beauties, with Xie Guan's talent, he still chose not to accept him.

What a pity—otherwise, he would have gained a younger brother in the sect.

After informing Yu Ke of all the anxious efforts by Xie Yuan, Zhang Yunzhi, and others, Zhuge Jian said: "I won't disturb you young ones any longer—they're on the second floor."

With that, Zhuge Jian turned and left.

Yu Ke thanked him and descended to the third floor.

Strangely!

Even after Xie Guan descended to the fourth floor, no one came to greet him.

As soon as he stepped off the fourth floor, Yu Ke saw Xie Yuan and the others waiting below.

His gaze swept the crowd and spotted many familiar faces.

Xie Renfeng, Zhao Yang, and others had not approached, but watched closely from a distance.

Xie Yuan, however, made no pretense—he stepped forward immediately, slinging an arm around Yu Ke's shoulder and whispering into his ear:

"Younger Brother Guan, you're not being fair! When did you become sworn brothers with the heroes of the Sanzhen Sect?"

"Why didn't you bring me along?"

A dark line formed between Yu Ke's brows.

This Xie Yuan, just as the simulation had shown, even facing the crime of family annihilation, still thought only of brotherhood and chivalry.

"Sixth Brother, this is no place to discuss it—let's talk later."

"Younger Brother Guan, truly a man of honor!"

Yu Ke turned, his gaze sweeping the crowd, finally settling on Zhang Yunzhi, and said sincerely:

"Thank you all for your help today."

Zhang Yunzhi's cheeks flushed faintly; she lowered her head in silence.

Yu Ke turned to Xu Xi, bowing slightly: "Madam Xu, thank you for your efforts."

Xu Xi nodded gently, then took her leave with a smile: "Young Master Guan, today's festivities are lively—I won't intrude further."

With that, she too turned and departed.

Only now did Xie Renfeng notice that on the third floor, the great Confucian Zhuge Jian of Bianjing had just bowed to Xie Guan.

This was no ordinary gesture—these were all the Third Master's top disciples, eminent scholars or renowned literati of the age.

And they were deeply cultivated.

This bow signified the Third Master's scholarly endorsement.

It was as if Xie Guan now carried a true protective talisman in Bianjing.

Damn it!

Xie Renfeng tore the poem Xie Guan had written, passed around by the young eunuch, into shreds.

By tomorrow, every alley and street in Bianjing would be talking about this Xie family's illegitimate son.

Xie Guan must die!

(End of Chapter)