Chapter 736

Heavy hoofbeats drew nearer from afar.

Jianzheng Yuan Feng and Yan Jiuling hurriedly adjusted their robes, nearly leading all students from the Ge Wu and Xuan Gong Academies in a throng to greet at the academy’s newly painted vermilion gate, its inscription reading “Investigate Things to Attain Knowledge.”

Sunlight pierced through the clouds, falling precisely upon the freshly laid red carpet before the gate.

Yuan Feng wore a brand-new fifth-rank cyan round-collar crane-emblazoned court robe; Yan Jiuling, unusually, had donned a deep blue silk Confucian daily robe.

All held their breath, eyes fixed on the carriage approaching in the distance.

It was not the imperial yellow palanquin, but a modest yet exquisitely crafted purple sandalwood four-man litter, flanked by a dozen attendants in brown tunics, their bearing steady and formidable.

The litter came to a steady stop before the academy’s main gate.

Before Yuan Feng and the others could step forward to greet him, one attendant swiftly lifted the curtain.

A crimson palace boot, embroidered with gold dragons, stepped out, followed by a figure clad in the same scarlet dragon-embroidered robe, crowned with a three-peaked hat.

It was Zhao Wujiu, Senior Eunuch of the Directorate of Ceremonial.

He remained as he always was: gaunt-faced, with withered white hair and splotches of age spots, looking as if his days were numbered, utterly devoid of the brutish menace rumored of powerful eunuchs.

Only his narrow eyes, sweeping over the crowd, were sharp as if piercing through the five viscera.

“Your Excellency Zhao!”

Led by Yuan Feng, all bowed in unison, faces bowed with reverence.

Zhao Wujiu stepped from the litter, his gaze slowly tracing the elaborate reception—the orderly, breath-holding students, the bowing dignitaries, the freshly laid red carpet.

His expression remained utterly still; he merely lifted his hand slightly, a gesture casual yet carrying undeniable weight.

“What is all this, my lords?”

Zhao Wujiu’s voice was low and hoarse, yet cleaved through the silence with startling clarity: “I am but an old servant of His Majesty, dispatched on imperial business, passing by the academy, merely taking a look. Such a reception truly humbles this old servant.”

“This old servant—cannot bear it.”

His final words carried a faint, almost imperceptible irony, his gaze settling on Yuan Feng’s beaded forehead and Yan Jiuling’s forced composure.

The smiles plastered on Yuan Feng and Yan Jiuling’s faces froze instantly; their prepared flattery choked in their throats.

To be honest, they were both frustrated.

The academy had struggled from the start, already overwhelmed with work; they had assumed that after the opening ceremony and enrollment, they could finally settle into their duties and get the academy running.

Yet here came Zhao Wujiu, barely two days later.

Who in the court did not know his fearsome reputation? How could they dare neglect him?

Seeing them fall silent, Zhao Wujiu shook his head slightly and spoke: “You two are men of substance. These court intrigues are not your concern—I will not allow others to harass you. You serve His Majesty; I will protect you.”

Jianzheng Yuan Feng exhaled in relief and stepped aside, gesturing: “Your Excellency, please.”

They arrived at the central plaza, shaped as “Heaven Round, Earth Square.” Zhao Wujiu took a few steps forward, his gaze sweeping over the surrounding halls, then rising to the towering divine statue, a satisfied curve forming at his lips:

“‘The True Lord of the Firewheel and Waterfire’… a fine thing. His Majesty has recently mentioned this newly enshrined ‘new deity’ to me often.”

“Jianzheng Yuan, Master Yan, might I trouble you for a quiet place and a cup of tea? I have a few small questions I’d like to ask.”

His words were polite, yet the latent pressure and the mention of “His Majesty” tightened the string in Yuan Feng and Yan Jiuling’s hearts even further.

“Your Excellency, please.”

They sat in the side hall.

After the servants served tea, Yuan Feng cautiously bowed and asked: “Your Excellency, has His Majesty given any instructions?”

“Not yet.”

Zhao Wujiu calmly sipped his tea. “I hear Li Shaoxia of the Twelve Yuan Chen is also here. Please have him join us. We’ll speak together.”

Yuan Feng and Yan Jiuling exchanged glances, unsure why Li Yan was needed, but since Zhao Wujiu had spoken, they had no choice but to comply.

When Li Yan stepped into the side hall, his steps halted abruptly.

He felt a threat.

No killing intent, yet it felt as if he had entered the territory of a tiger—his spine chilled.

He looked up: sunlight streamed through carved window lattices, casting alternating patches of light and shadow on the polished golden bricks.

Jianzheng Yuan Feng and Yan Jiuling sat on either side, their expressions reverent yet faintly tense.

Before them, the Senior Eunuch Zhao Wujiu, clad in scarlet dragon-embroidered robes, stood with his back to the door, hands clasped behind him, silently gazing at the wall-hung painting of “Laozi Departing Through the Hangu Pass.”

Hearing footsteps, Zhao Wujiu slowly turned.

His face, withered like ancient bark and speckled with dark brown age spots, held eyes as sharp as black obsidian blades dipped in ice—precisely locking onto Li Yan.

No outward aura radiated, yet Li Yan stiffened instantly.

This old eunuch… is unfathomable!

Li Yan’s alarm bells rang loudly.

As a Living Yin Officer, he was more sensitive to spiritual energy than ordinary cultivators.

The Zhao Wujiu before him felt profoundly strange.

Externally, he was an old man near death, his blood and qi depleted; yet within that withered shell, the “spirit” he contained was as solid and immovable as a towering mountain, bearing a cold will forged through countless battles and tread upon piles of bones.

Even more bizarre: beyond that contained “spirit,” faintly coiled was something else… inhuman, exceedingly thin yet profoundly deep—“emptiness” and “cold.”

As if the figure standing here were merely a projection.

The true body was connected to some dark, unfathomable place.

A Earth Immortal? Unlikely…

A Yin Offender? His soul ledger showed no anomaly…

What kind of monster is this?

“Li Shaoxia has arrived. Sit.”

Zhao Wujiu’s voice was hoarse and low, gesturing to the empty seat below Yuan Feng.

Li Yan bowed without expression: “Your Excellency Zhao.”

He sat as instructed, gaze level ahead, mind sharply focused, silently probing the man’s depth and intent.

Zhao Wujiu was Senior Eunuch of the Directorate of Ceremonial, immensely powerful, the Emperor’s trusted hound—his personal visit meant this was no trivial matter.

And that strange, inhuman sensation he had sensed just now…

Could it be tied to palace secret arts?

“Jianzheng Yuan,” Zhao Wujiu skipped pleasantries, turning directly to Yuan Feng as if time were urgent, “I see the golden form of the True Lord of the Firewheel has taken shape, its aura solemn and auspicious—a true omen of our dynasty.”

“Yet, when will its merit be complete, so it may be moved to the Altar of the State and receive the incense of the people?”

Yuan Feng quickly bowed: “Your Excellency, the main statue is complete. Remaining rites include ‘Opening the Eyes,’ ‘Imperial Enthronement and Blessing,’ and ‘Spiritual Qi Activation’—several Xuan Gong secret techniques.”

“These were jointly devised by masters of the Mo Men and Xuan Men, intending to harness the moment of an object’s spirit awakening, aligning with celestial timing, terrestrial advantage, and human harmony—for utmost safety. Estimated time: one month.”

“One month?”

Zhao Wujiu’s salt-and-pepper eyebrows seemed to lift slightly; his withered face showed no change, yet the air in the side hall froze for an instant—as if gripped by an invisible hand.

This was not qi surging—it was a spiritual pressure, a suffocating weight, fleeting yet unmistakable.