Chapter 47: Brother Changsheng, I

The autumn air was crisp and clear.

A vast caravan marched steadily along the imperial road.

Dou Changsheng sat upright in the carriage, cradling the Hero Sword; beside him sat Ma Liren, the Wang Fu’s chief steward, who displayed none of the arrogance of a martial powerhouse, instead adopting an exceptionally humble posture.

It was as if Dou Changsheng were the divine master, while he himself was merely a Qi Refining cultivator.

One could tell at a glance that Ma Liren was an old hand from the palace.

Over these two days of travel, Dou Changsheng was highly satisfied—Ma Liren had arranged everything meticulously and frequently reported to him, ensuring Dou Changsheng never felt sidelined or excluded.

It perfectly demonstrated the qualities of a top leader: capable of managing affairs without needing to micromanage.

This chief steward clearly showed the Empress had put considerable thought into her selection.

Ma Liren was wasted on this role.

Ma Liren personally brewed tea, cupped it with both hands, and presented it to Dou Changsheng, serving him without taking a sip himself; initially Dou Changsheng had refused, but after two days, he had grown accustomed to it.

After sipping the tea, Dou Changsheng felt the internal qi surging within him, instantly becoming purer—he had completed another transformation, and two of the Five Qi had already been cultivated.

He sighed and said: “I’m not used to this kind of fine tea.”

“It’s a waste giving it to me.”

Ma Liren listened to Dou Changsheng’s insincere words and smiled: “Hero Dou, you entered Jianmen Pass twice, battling True Persons.”

“You dominated Qingyang Peak, overpowering all champions, and exposed Qingyang Daoist’s conspiracy.”

“You are a man of utmost sincerity.”

“This tea, consumed by Hero Dou, is entirely deserved.”

“If the deposed emperor drank it, that would be a true waste.”

“Now, Hero Dou, you have traveled thousands of miles to escort the deposed emperor to his fief.”

“What is a little food and drink?”

“Even if you took some away when you leave, it would be entirely justified.”

Dou Changsheng shook his head, rejecting it without uttering a word.

Over these two days, the quality of food and drink had been raised by more than a notch—especially this tea, rich in celestial and terrestrial spiritual energy, greatly aiding cultivation; it was precisely because of this that Dou Changsheng had been able to undergo another transformation of his Qi Refining internal qi.

Misunderstood.

Truly, a great misunderstanding of the General.

This escort mission is a golden opportunity.

If not for our own conscience, by the time we reached Beiyang, half of these hundred-plus carriages would have vanished—no one would find it strange.

After all, demonic cultivators often raid at night; they dared not make a sound to protect the deposed emperor, which is perfectly logical.

A pleasant voice sounded from beside: “Hero Dou.”

“My master requests your presence.”

Dou Changsheng lifted the curtain and glanced at the visitor—a ten-year-old girl, her face youthful, with two pigtails, staring at him calmly, showing no emotion whatsoever.

Finally, she came.

Dou Changsheng thought to himself.

These past two days had been utterly peaceful, almost luxurious.

But Dou Changsheng knew this could not be the norm.

The deposed emperor would never avoid meeting him.

If not for him, he would still be in the capital, reigning supreme.

Jin State was the foremost among all nations, its power unmatched; to fall overnight from emperor to Prince of Beiyang—there must be a crushing disparity.

Dou Changsheng knew he could not avoid it—he must meet this man, for it was his mission.

He stepped out of the carriage and said casually: “If Prince of Beiyang wishes to see me, lead the way.”

The girl remained expressionless and corrected him: “My master is not the Prince of Beiyang.”

Ma Liren explained: “This is the sword maiden of the Princess Consort.”

The girl lifted her eyes slightly, looked at Ma Liren, and issued a direct command: “The pace of our journey has been too fast.”

“My master says that now that we’ve finally left the palace, we must take time to see the local customs and scenery.”

“I hope Chief Steward Ma will arrange it properly—my master never repeats herself.”

Ma Liren bowed his head and hurriedly replied: “Rest assured, we will ensure the noble lady is satisfied.”

The girl turned and walked away step by step; seeing this, Ma Liren shoved Dou Changsheng gently and whispered: “Hero Dou, tread carefully.”

“Of all these people, she is the most dangerous.”

“The Chancellor’s sister—if she were blood-related, it would be fine, but the fact she isn’t makes her the most dangerous.”

Dou Changsheng understood the weight of those words.

If Chen TaiZhen had ascended through bloodline, she would merely rely on Chen Qingyao’s influence—but the terrifying part is that Chen TaiZhen and Chen Qingyao are not siblings; they share only the surname Chen, with no blood tie whatsoever.

Even the name “Chen TaiZhen” may not be real.

Some ancient demon from who-knows-where, pretending to be a child.

Dou Changsheng steadied his spirit, then strode forward quickly, soon arriving before the luxurious carriage; the girl gestured for him to enter. At the curtain’s edge, a pale hand reached out, the curtain already drawn aside by a young girl who personally served him.

Dou Changsheng glanced at her—her face was nearly identical to the girl’s, her attire the same, as if the child had grown seven or eight years older.

Inside the carriage lay another world—it resembled a study.

Bookshelves held row upon row of volumes, and a woman in black robes knelt on a cushion, holding a book, reading calmly.

On either side stood two women: one middle-aged, one elderly.

Their faces resembled the girl’s, their style identical—Dou Changsheng found this even more astonishing.

This was one person, in four stages: child, adolescent, adult, elder.

Chen TaiZhen’s appearance was not outstanding, but a black mole on her forehead added a touch of sacred aura, making her unforgettable.

Demon face, demon concubine.

How on earth did that name come about?

Dou Changsheng silently mocked her, yet remained motionless, letting Chen TaiZhen continue reading.

After a long while, Chen TaiZhen set down her book; the middle-aged woman stepped forward and gently massaged her shoulders and neck. Chen TaiZhen’s expression softened with comfort, leaning back against the woman’s embrace, her eyes fixed on Dou Changsheng.

After scanning him up and down, Chen TaiZhen said contentedly: “Chen TaiZhen is dead.”

“She cannot be confined within the Beiyang Prince’s mansion, playing the role of a caged bird.”

“I need a new identity.”

“I hadn’t decided yet, but seeing you, I suddenly thought—”

“Dou might be a good surname.”

“Dou TaiZhen—what do you think of that name?”

“If you think it’s bad, give me a better one?”

“No, no, no.”

“Still not good enough.”

“My brothers are all peerless heroes, rare under heaven.”

“Only the number one on the Ren List would be worthy—right now, you’re still three-tenths short.”

“Yet behind every successful brother stands a quiet, devoted younger sister.”

“The rising demonic prodigy, Blood Hand—Jin Sanming.”

“Rank seventy-nine on the Ren List—perfect for Longsheng Brother.”

“At the bottom of the list, it sounds awful; seventy-nine sounds so much better.”

“I’ve already timed it—tonight we’ll fight Jin Sanming, just in time for tomorrow’s Ren List update.”

Too bad—the old bastard is too cunning; Jin Sanming’s elder brother, Tian Ku Shou—Jin Wuming, ranked nineteenth on the Ren List, would have been the perfect stepping stone for Longsheng Brother to rise to fame.

But if you strike the young, the old come.

I can’t be blamed.

I’m just so kind-hearted—I always enjoy helping young boys in need.