Chapter 668

“The old lady thinks, who should be sent to Jiangnan?” Jia Zheng frowned deeply.

Jia Mu wished her granddaughter would go—after all, female relatives were most suitable; after all, Lin Daiyu was now Luo Fu’s principal consort.

But such matters could only be handled by feigning one route while secretly taking another—absolutely not to be made public, for otherwise, the wrath of both the reigning emperor and the retired emperor in the palace would be more than the Jia household could bear.

After weighing all options, Jia Mu suddenly realized the Jia household had no one left who could venture out.

The Ningguo Prefecture had become, in effect, a single-line descent.

The Rongxi Prefecture, though numerically stronger than Ningguo, had no one in charge except Jia Lian, who was stranded in Yangzhou.

The people currently in Rongxi Hall could chatter all they wanted, but they lacked the capability to make the journey to Jiangnan.

Jia Baoyu had been spoiled into incompetence; Jia Cong and Jia Huan were even less worthy of mention.

Finally, Jia Zhen spoke up: “I suggest we send Qiang’er to Jiangnan.”

Jia Qiang was, after Jia Lian’s entrapment in Yangzhou, the only person in the Jia household capable of handling such external affairs.

And Jia Qiang, in truth, possessed some ability—at least, in his original fate, he had once traveled to Jiangnan to procure an opera troupe.

Jia Mu nodded approvingly: “Qiang’er is indeed a suitable candidate—he is the legitimate great-great-grandson of your Eastern Prefecture. But his generation is too low.”

After all this circling, Jia Mu finally revealed her true intent.

“I suggest this: send Jia Qiang to Jiangnan to reconnect with our old kin, but we must also send someone of higher status to prevent them from bullying him due to his low rank.”

Jia Mu paused slightly and turned her gaze toward Jia Zheng.

Jia Zheng was startled.

His mind simply could not follow such convoluted schemes.

Feeling Jia Mu’s gaze, Jia Zheng assumed she wanted him to go himself—his face instantly drained of color. He waved his hand: “Mother, I… how could this be proper?”

A flicker of disappointment passed through Jia Mu’s eyes. “The Luo Tian bandit bears a grudge against my Jia family; if any of our sons go, he may take it out on them. Elder and Second Son—why not send your daughters? They are cousins and close friends of Jade’s. Jia Qiang’s status is low, and he is male—he cannot speak of certain things. Let Yingchun and Tanchun go to see Jade. What do Itachi think?”

Jia She, as if he had anticipated this, said without expression: “Then let it be as the old lady wishes.”

“But… how can we let our daughters show themselves in public?” Jia Zheng found it hard to accept.

“This is a moment of life or death for the Jia household—there is no time for such formalities,” Jia Jing declared decisively. “Do as the aunt says. But the matter of Yingchun and Tanchun must be properly arranged by Itachi.”

“Naturally.” At least one person, Jia Jing, could cooperate. Jia Mu nodded slightly. “I shall immediately send Yuanyang to summon Yingchun and Tanchun. Jing’er, Zhen’er—Itachi must also quickly instruct Jia Qiang. This matter must be handled swiftly.”

The Jia household had long lost the former prestige of two ducal houses.

On Rongxi Hall, the Jia lords had barely reached an agreement.

Yet within a mere hour, the retired emperor in the palace received word.

He studied the secret report from his underlings.

The retired emperor’s face darkened. “When the tree falls, the monkeys scatter.”

The eunuch Dai Li, beside him, instantly shuddered and knelt hastily. “Your Majesty, the Jia household is disloyal and deserves punishment. Your humble servant shall lead men to seize and raze the Jia household.”

The retired emperor waved his hand and shook his head. “If they wish to play both sides, then crush their ambitions entirely. The Luo Tian bandit has become a grave threat. Arrange for agents to infiltrate the Jia household.”

Dai Li instantly understood: they intended to use the Jia household’s identity to assassinate Luo Fu.

Whether successful or not, the Jia household was doomed.

If successful, they aid Beiqing in eliminating Luo Fu as a major threat; after pacifying Jiangnan, the Jia household’s current conduct alone will justify the emperor’s confiscation of their property and extermination of their clan—leaving other noble houses no grounds for defense.

If they fail, it will only expose the Jia household’s loyalty.

In short, for the Beiqing imperial house, this was a purely profitable gamble.

Within the royal palace of Jinling, Jiangnan.

Luo Fu’s wedding was now the most critical matter under the Luo Tian Army.

To say it was a celebration across the land would be excessive, but within Jiangnan—especially Jinling—it was perfectly apt.

After formally marrying Lin Daiyu, Luo Fu, busy with fathering an heir, saw the Luo Tian Army begin preparations for the northern campaign.

Under Luo Fu’s care, Lin Daiyu’s congenital weakness had been entirely cured.

Beneath her delicate appearance lay vitality rivaling that of the Luo Tian Army’s top hundred-man fighters.

Regardless, Lin Daiyu was Luo Fu’s officially wed principal consort; after the wedding, Luo Fu remained in her palace for several consecutive days.

This forced the Xue sisters’ prior schemes into temporary suspension, leaving them anxious and waiting for an opening.

After securing three of the Twelve Golden Hairpins of Jinling, Luo Fu had barely enjoyed a few days of tender indulgence when an unexpected figure appeared abruptly within the Jinling palace.

This visitor was an entity of extraordinary status.

For he was not a living man, but a yin spirit.

The Spirit King Fuming.

The City God of the capital.

He was, in fact, a yin spirit of the human realm holding a princely title.

Most astonishingly, this City God of the capital bore intricate karmic ties to Luo Fu.

In a world grounded in incense worship, whether celestial deities or earth spirits, with rare exceptions, human city gods were almost always former sages of the human world.

And the current City God of the capital was none other than a founding minister of the previous dynasty.

Luo Fu’s own ancestors had once served under this Spirit King Fuming while he still walked the earth.

Now, this Spirit King Fuming, at the cost of his yin spirit form, had traveled a thousand miles from the capital to Jinling, all to meet Luo Fu.

The upheaval of human dynastic change was equally a great turmoil for Heaven and the Underworld.

Especially since Luo Fu, shortly after capturing Jinling, revealed his ambition to unify the Three Realms—even many celestial deities had begun submitting to him.

Spirit King Fuming’s arrival in Jinling was already late.

Though Luo Fu had seemed immersed in tender indulgence, entrusting nearly all civil and military affairs of the new dynasty to his subordinates, whether civil ministers like Lin Ruhai or military commanders rooted in the Canal Guild, all had gained transcendent opportunities because of Luo Fu.

Yet every major matter—especially those involving celestial deities and earth spirits—required Luo Fu’s personal decision.

While appearing to merely consolidate his hold on Jiangnan, Luo Fu had, in truth, drawn the celestial and earthly spirits into a one-sided allegiance.

Beneath the moonless, pitch-black night.

Within the bedchamber of Lin Daiyu, the principal consort of the Jinling palace.

Luo Fu, who had been sleeping with closed eyes, suddenly opened them.

A flash of killing intent passed through his gaze.

He rose gracefully and walked slowly out of the lavish thousand-work canopy bed.

The moment he stepped beyond the bed, it was as if he crossed a barrier.

Before Luo Fu stood a figure clad in a princely python robe.

“Yin spirit of the Underworld, Spirit King Fuming, pays homage to Prince Zhao,” the Spirit King bowed deeply upon seeing Luo Fu.

“How bold of Itachi to intrude into my bedchamber?”

Aware that this world contained celestial deities and earth spirits—even if their transcendent power was fundamentally rooted in human incense worship—

Luo Fu would never be careless in such matters, leaving himself any possible vulnerability.

Within the palace, the bedchambers of the ladies were all fortified with specific defenses against celestial deities and earth spirits; moreover, every palace guard was a warrior capable of fighting a hundred, strengthened by bloodline primordial energy, their vital qi fierce and yang, their military aura capable of repelling ghosts and spirits!

Ordinary spirits could not even approach the palace grounds—they had long been driven back by Luo Fu’s human destiny qi.

Even powerful beings approaching the palace would, under the fierce yang qi of the guards, be scorched as if under the blazing sun; only those with legitimate divine offices could, through the power of the system, bypass the layers of defense and enter the palace.

But even those with such authority would never dare do such a thing.

For it was a blatant affront to Luo Fu, the future sovereign of the Three Realms.

Yet now, here stood a fool who had actually done it.

Though Spirit King Fuming appeared respectful, his uninvited intrusion into the bedchamber alone revealed the arrogance of this Beiqing capital City God.

“Prince Zhao, forgive me,” Spirit King Fuming bowed again. “I come with urgent matters. Your Highness may not know—I was once a founding minister of the previous dynasty, and had longstanding ties with your ancestors. We were close families. This time…”

Luo Fu sneered, utterly dismissing the Spirit King.

What “longstanding ties”? What “urgent matters”?

In Luo Fu’s eyes, these were merely excuses.

Recall: as soon as Luo Fu seized Jinling, while Jiangnan still wavered and before he had secured the entire region, he had already begun asserting control over Heaven and the Underworld.

Human city gods, official yin spirits of the Underworld, had mostly submitted to him even before the cities themselves surrendered.

Yet Spirit King Fuming had remained utterly silent.

Luo Fu had long resolved that, once he fully pacified the realm, he would restructure the Three Realms in a grand reordering—a sweeping divine reassignment.

In his plan, all former celestial deities and earth spirits must be integrated into his new order: submit and prosper, resist and perish.

Undoubtedly, the earlier a deity submitted, the higher their rank in Luo Fu’s new Three Realms order.

The Beiqing capital City God, who had delayed so long in submitting, had long been on Luo Fu’s list for inevitable reckoning.

Now he not only intruded into Luo Fu’s bedchamber, but after claiming urgent matters, he tried to appeal to familial ties and boasted of his old connection to Luo Fu’s ancestors—acting as if he were a venerable elder.

What did he intend? Did he expect Luo Fu to treat him as an ancestor?

Even among spirits, there are fools.

“Spirit King Fuming, speak plainly,” Luo Fu interrupted impatiently.

The Spirit King froze, then said: “I came to report urgent matters. Why does Your Highness speak so disrespectfully?”

“Disrespectful?” Luo Fu scoffed. “Itachi were a founding minister of the previous dynasty—yet why does the Beiqing dynasty entrust Itachi, a relic of the old regime, with the position of capital City God?”

These words struck Spirit King Fuming like a sledgehammer.

City Gods were an exceptionally unique element of the Three Realms system—subject to dual jurisdiction from both the human realm and the Underworld, nominally part of the Underworld’s yin spirit structure, yet requiring formal investiture by the human emperor.

But the human emperor truly controlled only a few City Gods—such as those of the capital or major cities like Jinling and Yangzhou; in smaller towns, City Gods often remained unchanged even after dynastic shifts.

Yet the City God of the capital, a princely yin spirit of the Underworld system, was always replaced with each dynastic change.

Of course, after a human City God’s position changed, the former City God merely shifted to another role.

One emperor, one set of ministers—this is especially true for special yin deities like the City God, who mediate between the mortal world and the underworld.

Take this one before us, the Spirit-King Fuming: in life, he was a founding minister of the previous dynasty; after death, he was enshrined as the City God of the capital. Yet even after the Bei Qing dynasty’s founding, he still clings to that position—something that makes no sense whatsoever.

There is only one explanation: during the founding of Bei Qing, this Spirit-King Fuming, as a yin deity, must have interfered in the mortal upheaval—and even rendered crucial service to Bei Qing.

In fact, the mere fact that Bei Qing’s noble elite still retain officials from the previous dynasty’s founding is proof enough.

This Spirit-King Fuming is clearly a smooth-talking, opportunistic double-dealer.

Don’t assume that those high above are truly wise.

Quite the opposite: sometimes, the stupidity of the powerful exceeds imagination—like at the end of the Ming, when the nobility acted as if they’d lost their minds, their deeds driving one’s blood pressure straight through the roof.

As a yin deity of the underworld who has reigned for centuries, having been aloft for too long, this Spirit-King Fuming has truly grown arrogant.

Especially since Luo Fu’s ancestors once served under him in life—this only deepens Fuming’s conviction that, in this mortal transition of dynastic change, he can still make a flawless transformation from a yin deity of the old regime to a retained official of the new.

Unfortunately, he underestimated Luo Fu’s resolve.

Luo Fu seeks not merely the mortal upheaval of dynastic change—he has also planned to reshape heaven and the underworld.

Compared to Luo Fu’s swift strike against heaven shortly after seizing Jinling, his actions toward the underworld have been far less brutal.

City Gods, as unique entities straddling both the underworld and the mortal imperial system, are ironically the most behind on information.

Dynastic change is precisely when the mortal world’s bloodshed and martial qi are at their peak—not only do mortals slaughter each other in rivers of blood, but heaven and the underworld also plunge into unprecedented chaos.

The mortal transition of dynastic change is, in this world where divine power rests on incense and faith, nearly equivalent to a minor kalpa.

(End of Chapter)