Chapter 691: Academy, Imperial Princess, Enemy Crown Prince!

“The Academy!”

Hu Yunniang’s words left everyone in the room stunned.

Yun Wan mused, “But today’s Academy is no longer the same one that once shook the Thirteen Provinces.”

She lifted her gaze to the window, “Since the Four Masters split apart, the Academy has concerned itself only with scholarship, avoiding worldly affairs, refusing to meddle in court politics, and ignoring mundane matters.”

Zhou Yuner furrowed her delicate brows, “How could the Academy make an exception for Master Guan?”

Hu Yunniang said, “Master Guan, that day at the Gathering of Beauties, earned such renown that many within the Academy admired his fame.”

Yun Wan agreed, “Yes, they even held a poetry gathering at the Academy, and Master Guan’s three poems were all ranked first.”

“I also heard that Master Guan’s line—‘The Peng flies north, the Phoenix faces the sunrise, bearing books and sword through a vast, uncertain path’—helped resolve the Second Master’s inner turmoil.”

“The Second Master’s disciples feel deeply indebted to him.”

The women nodded; it seemed there was no other option.

In Bianjing’s Nine Great Clans, there are mountains that cannot be moved.

These women have no place in such affairs.

Chen Xiang suddenly thought of another possibility: “Perhaps we could try the Yuehua Pavilion?”

“Isn’t the proprietor of Yuehua Pavilion always enchanted by Master Guan’s paintings? Now that he’s in trouble, perhaps he’d be willing to lend a hand.”

Li Xiangjun frowned in concern: “But what if he ignores us, shifts with the wind, or even voids the previous agreement?”

Zhou Yuner bit her lip, “We can’t afford to hesitate anymore—saving Master Guan is urgent. That proprietor wields immense influence in Bianjing; he might have a way.”

“I’ve heard that among the Nine Great Clans, they sometimes kill their bastard sons as an example to others. We cannot stand idly by—we must find a way to rescue Master Guan.”

All were struck with dread.

Suddenly, thunder cracked outside the window; the summer storm arrived without warning, heavy raindrops pounding the golden plaque of “Taiping Tower,” resembling the clan’s punitive cudgel descending in judgment.

Hu Yunniang rose and said, “No time to waste—Yuner and Xiangjun, go to Yuehua Pavilion; Chen Xiang and I will go to the Academy.”

“Yun Wan, you stay at the tavern—remain still to respond to all changes.”

Yun Wan agreed, “Be careful, all of you.”

She looked down from the window as the four women vanished into two carriages heading in opposite directions.

At noon, dark clouds choked the sky, as if it were already afternoon.

A low rumble rolled across the horizon.

The rain fell fiercely, the eaves streaming with water.

Yun Wan shut the window lattice and turned to the gilded incense stand, solemnly lighting three incense sticks.

Amidst the curling blue smoke, she clasped her hands before her chest; the jade bangle on her wrist chimed with a clear, pure tone.

“May Master Guan… weather this calamity; good fortune is always destined for the virtuous.”

Deep within Qimochunfang.

A refined pavilion hidden among green bamboo.

A middle-aged woman in indigo Daoist robes stood by the window, her hair pinned with a Daoist hairpin and crowned with a lotus cap.

Her ordinary face held only one striking feature: eyes as still and deep as an ancient well, radiating an air of transcendence.

“Have the Li family arrived at the Xie Fu yet?”

Behind her stood an elderly woman, a jade flat hairpin slanted through her coiffure, her bearing noble and regal.

“Your Highness, they’ve surely entered the Xie household by now. They deliberately took the long route through Changning Street, parading openly.”

Had the old woman not bowed with such deference, one might have mistaken her for the true mistress of this room.

Who could have guessed that this seemingly ordinary Daoist nun was the true proprietor of Qimochunfang—and the most enigmatic figure of the court: Princess Chen Zhi Rong?

She dressed as a Daoist, though in Da Qi, Confucianism reigned supreme.

“Help me change.”

The old woman carefully removed the Daoist hairpin; her long black hair cascaded down her shoulders.

She draped her in a brocade cloak woven with gold thread, its twelve-layer Xiang skirts trailing to the floor, shimmering like clouds and rosy light beneath the candle flame.

“Your Highness, is it worth it for us to intervene for a bastard son?”

“We’ve been in hiding, laying plans for years—everyone has forgotten your name. Isn’t that precisely what you desired?”

“Now is a time of turmoil. His Majesty has ordered us to endure until the right moment arrives.”

The Princess of Da Qi gazed out the window at the pouring rain.

“Of course it is.”

“When the two Zhaoming Lu birds settled upon him, a bastard son would not be worth it—but a born Sage? That is worth everything.”

“Moreover, others cannot see his cultivation, but I know—he has ignited the Divine Flame with pure Sanzhen Daoist cultivation.”

“When the Four Masters of the Academy ignited their Divine Flames, they were ten years older than he is now.”

“He is another figure equal to the Four Masters of the Academy.”

“It is easy to add flowers to brocade; hard to deliver charcoal in snow. Since the Nine Great Clans will not tolerate him, my imperial house of Da Qi will make room for him.”

With that, the woman stepped out of the pavilion.

Outside the eaves, rain poured in torrents, yet she merely tilted her head slightly, letting the cold wind lift her black hair.

“Let’s go. It’s been many years since I left this room—since Father lost to Su Xiang, it seems…”

“Twelve years.”

She whispered, her voice a sigh, a mockery.

Once, the Princess of Da Qi had commanded the Dalisi and the Imperial Prisons, purging the court with iron will, leaving even men afraid to challenge her.

Now, standing before the rain, a shadow flickered in her eyes.

“To this day, I still cannot understand…”

She slowly shook her head, “What did the Third Master and Su Xiang truly seek?”

“If Su Xiang truly craved power, the Nine Great Clans would have been erased long ago—they should not exist. If the Third Master truly transcended the world, why imprison himself in the Academy? He didn’t just trap himself—he trapped the entire Academy.”

She suddenly sneered, “But no matter what they scheme, they use the blood and flesh of Da Qi as their board.”

“Da Qi belongs to the Chen family.”

Bianjing · Chufeng Terrace.

Outside the northern gate of the imperial palace stood three grand mansions, linked by towers, with upturned eaves, bracket arms, and vermilion lacquer adorned with gold nails.

This place was called “Chufeng Terrace,” once the residence of hostages from other states, where commoners could gaze upon them—intended as humiliation.

But times have changed; the world’s tide has turned.

Da Qi and Da Sui now stand as rivals on equal footing; the Red Eyebrows rebels have risen in the south; fires blaze across the land. Foreign states watch with hunger; domestic warlords wait for opportunity. The status of these hostages has soared—especially the three crown princes of great nations, who now travel with elite guards, terrified of even the slightest mishap.

Two of them are especially arrogant and reckless, their conduct surpassing even that of the Nine Great Clans’ sons.

At this moment, within the grandest mansion at the center of Chufeng Terrace—

A black plaque with golden characters hung above the gate: “Residence of the Crown Prince of Da Sui.”

In the past, this would have been unthinkable.

Once, it bore only the words “Residence.”

Now, no one dares utter a word.

Inside one of its study rooms—

Candlelight flickered red; sandalwood incense curled in the air.

“Master Xie Guan will surely be crushed by his own kin today.”

He Lan Zhen Shu drained his cup, “What do the people of Da Qi do best if not infighting?”

The Buddhist disciple Kong Du turned his prayer beads, his voice curious: “What exactly did the Xie family promise you that made you kill in public at the banquet?”

He Lan Zhen Shu slammed his cup onto the table, a sharp gleam flashing in his eyes: “The Xie family offered me one year’s passage back to Changsheng Tian—if I killed Xie Guan.”

Kong Du nodded slightly, “No wonder you acted so decisively. Had I been in your place, I doubt I could have resisted such a temptation.”

“Cough—cough—”

A light cough interrupted their conversation.

Liu Yuan, the Crown Prince of Da Sui, seated in his wheelchair, slowly raised his gaze; his deep, bottomless eyes held a chill: “Next time, inform me in advance.”

Though He Lan Zhen Shu stood half a head taller, he instinctively straightened his spine: “Yes, Elder Brother.”

“I acted on urgency—I only learned of this after Xie Guan entered Qimochunfang.”

Had outsiders witnessed this, they would be astonished.

He Lan Zhen Shu, who had always clashed with Liu Yuan, now addressed him with such deference as “Elder Brother.”

All their past hostility had merely been a performance for outsiders.

As the three men discussed in secret, a sound came from outside the door.

“Your Highness, Su Xiang has sent someone to request an audience.”

Liu Yuan frowned slightly, a flicker of wariness in his eyes—why would Su Xiang’s envoy suddenly appear at Chufeng Terrace? What did he want?

“Let him in.”

“No need to summon me—I’m already here.”

A hoarse voice came from beyond the door; a crippled old man stood on the veranda, having appeared without notice.

If Xie Guan were here, he would recognize this old man as the mysterious figure who claimed to be from Su Xiang’s household at the Qunfang Banquet—this man had once escaped from both the Demon Master and Master Lotus Pond.

The three princes maintained calm expressions, clearly unshocked by the sudden appearance of this man.

This old man of the Chang family had long served at Su Xiang’s side; even now, with such brazen intrusion, none of the three showed the slightest impatience.

In this Bianjing capital, if they feared anyone, it was none other than Su Xiang—the man whose eyes, as if piercing the soul, always unraveled their most hidden schemes and dark machinations.

“We pay our respects to Elder Chang.”

The lame old man looked at the three and said, “By Su Xiang’s oral decree, once Xie Guan is dead, all three of you may return home next month.”

“Su Xiang says he has no patience for your tricks, and advises you not to entertain any thoughts—so long as Xie Guan dies, you may return home.”

The moment he finished speaking.

The old man’s figure vanished like a ghost into the rain, leaving only puddles reflecting swaying lantern shadows.

The candle flame flickered violently, and on all three faces rose uncontrollable excitement.

“Big brother!” He Lan’s voice trembled. “Once Xie Guan dies, we can return home! This is a promise from Su Xiang himself!”

Liu Yuan’s fingers slowly clenched the armrests of his wheelchair; in the suffocating silence, he slowly rose to his feet.

His body, long concealed by the wheelchair, now stood tall as a pine, a flash of icy light in his eyes:

“Xie Guan—must die.”

“Then shall we still go to the Xie Fu?” He Lan’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “Today, Xie Guan is unlikely to escape death…”

“Go.”

Liu Yuan’s body erupted with overwhelming demonic energy, his aura chilling to the core. “I will watch him die with my own eyes.”

“Whoever stands in my way, I kill.”

He Lan Zhenshu, the usually arrogant prince of Changsheng Tian, stared in alarm and involuntarily stepped back half a pace.

“Inform the household—we’re going to the Xie family.”

～

～

{As you followed Qiuyue into Daguan Garden, the sky was choked with leaden clouds.}

{No sooner had you passed the shadow wall than the rain poured down in torrents.}

{Everyone else had brought umbrellas.}

{Yet they deliberately ignored you, leaving you drenched in the rain.}

(End of Chapter)