Chapter 45: Chapter Forty-Five: Conspiring Together

Chen Hang rose and strode forward, yanked the lock apart, and opened the gate.

Rong Jin saw him emerge, quickly lowered his head, and showed a look of reverence; after days apart, he no longer bore the faint arrogance of before, his demeanor far more humble.

Just as Rong Tuo, from “Shuitian Yunluo,” had gazed afar at the girl holding a fox in the Six Geng Nine Yun Chariot… after that single glimpse, Rong Tuo lost all his Daoist resolve, could no longer summon the slightest ambition, and never left Rong State again.

And a few days prior.

The moment Chen Hang turned wine into a sword.

Likewise, Rong Jin’s heart and liver felt split; in Chen Hang’s presence, he unconsciously lowered himself to a position of utter submission.

“The fifteenth is coming—the day the Grand Court Assembly begins. My imperial uncle has sent me to invite you to Fengxian Palace to discuss how to deal with the traitor Tong Gaolu.”

“Will Tong Gaolu still come to court?” Chen Hang asked.

“...You don’t understand, this villain is exceptionally patient; before outsiders, he always plays the perfect subject. Everyone still believes he observes proper ministerial decorum!”

Speaking of Tong Gaolu, Rong Jin couldn’t help but grit his teeth:

“If I’d known he’d be so disloyal, back at Yandang Pass, my Rong clan should’ve struck hard—killed him outright! How could we have let this disaster come to pass? A mere stable boy dares to speak of seizing the throne?!”

“Rong Tuo is Qi Condensation eighth layer, Rong Xuantao is Qi Condensation sixth layer. Add you and your royal patrons—and still you can’t overcome Tong Gaolu, a Qi Condensation seventh layer? He must indeed be extraordinary.”

Chen Hang shook his head: “Don’t underestimate this stable boy. A moment’s carelessness in combat costs your life.”

Rong Jin’s face flushed, he turned away, awkwardly changing the subject:

“You haven’t eaten or drunk these past days. I heard the palace maids say your meals haven’t been touched at all. Though cultivators can sustain ourselves on spiritual energy, ordinary food is sweet and delicious—it’s a pleasure to enjoy. Why not partake?”

At the Qi Condensation realm, one can draw spiritual energy from the void and heavens—not only to strengthen the fetal breath, but also to substitute for food and water, quenching thirst and filling the belly.

But Chen Hang, in the Zhen Fa Realm, still felt his cultivation time insufficient; how could he waste thought on fine wine and delicacies?

Seeing Chen Hang’s indifference, Rong Jin’s eyes flickered, then he chuckled softly, as if struck by a delightful idea.

“If you have no taste for food and drink, what of beauty?”

Rong Jin lowered his voice: “My Rong State’s harem holds countless stunning beauties—plump or slender, each exudes charm. I don’t boast, but even Dan Su and Zheng State combined can’t match mine!”

“What are you suggesting?”

“If you wish, I can have painters render portraits of them all. If any please you, you may take several away.”

Rong Jin pleaded: “If these mortal women bear your bloodline, it would be their greatest fortune. Not just I, but my imperial uncle and the others share this wish.”

“Do you treat people like cattle and sheep—commodities to be traded?”

Chen Hang recalled his own and his predecessor’s countless miseries; for once, impatience stirred in him. He glanced at Rong Jin coldly and said:

“I swore in this life to pursue the Supreme Immortal Dao—success or death! How could fleeting physical pleasures shake my resolve?”

Rong Jin froze, eyes widening in shock, hands and feet flailing helplessly.

He’d expected Chen Hang to refuse with excuses—but never imagined such blunt, ironclad rejection.

Rong Jin immediately bowed deeply, speaking humbly; Chen Hang merely nodded faintly, then both descended the stairs into a carriage drawn by four majestic white horses.

Chen Hang had intended to summon a teleportation light and fly directly—but since the guest must follow the host’s ways, he didn’t bother arguing.

…

Inside the carriage, silk carpets and brocade abounded, opulent beyond measure; in the corner, a bronze brazier shaped like a beast’s ear slowly exhaled an exotic, rich, and pure fragrance.

Only after Chen Hang and Rong Jin took their seats did the driver crack the whip, setting the carriage in motion.

Along the way, Chen Hang grew curious about Rong State’s origins; Rong Jin, eager to please, answered without reservation.

After he finished his detailed account, Chen Hang was somewhat surprised.

The founding ancestor of Rong State had once been a junior disciple of a minor sect in the Southern Region. When the sect was destroyed, its master and elders slain, he was forced to hide his identity and flee here.

At the time, this land still belonged to Liang State—but the Rong ancestor was a Foundation Establishment third-layer cultivator, just one step from opening his Purple Palace. Who among the Qi Condensation or True Qi cultivators could stop him from seizing power?

Yet shortly after founding Rong State, the founding ancestor succumbed to old wounds and passed away silently one night.

Fortunately, his descendants proved worthy, breaking through to Qi Condensation and cultivating True Qi; though only Foundation Establishment first layer, it was enough to quell all unrest.

Thus, Rong State endured for over three hundred years—until its current Foundation Establishment elder died of old age, allowing Tong Gaolu to gradually develop rebellious ambitions and grow increasingly arrogant.

“Does Tong Gaolu dare not fight a Foundation Establishment cultivator? What is the true gap between Qi Condensation and True Qi?”

Hearing this, Chen Hang fell into deep thought.

At that moment, the carriage arrived before a majestic palace.

Rong Jin hurriedly invited Chen Hang to dismount and led him inside.

Upon entering the palace gate, several figures sat already arranged by rank—Rong Tuo among them, plus two unfamiliar faces.

Seeing Chen Hang enter, Rong Tuo and Rong Xuantao rose and hurried forward to greet him.

“Friend, have you been comfortable these past days? Don’t think I’ve been negligent in hospitality.”

Rong Tuo stroked his long beard, smiling.

“How could I?” Chen Hang bowed.

“Come, let me introduce you to someone—this is Huang Zaichen, one of our Rong clan’s patrons, Qi Condensation fourth layer.”

After seating Chen Hang at the left upper seat, Rong Tuo smiled and pointed to a man with a jade-like face and crimson lips, dressed as a scholar.

Huang Zaichen immediately rose and bowed deeply to Chen Hang.

“Greetings, Huang Daoist.” Chen Hang returned the bow.

“This is Sima Yu. Though a mortal, he is utterly loyal—currently serving as General of the Dragon and Tiger Imperial Guard.”

Rong Tuo pointed to another middle-aged man clad in armor; though still smiling, his warmth had noticeably cooled.

Sima Yu bowed to Chen Hang, his expression excited, face flushed.

He felt immense honor—mere mortal that he was—to sit among Qi Condensation cultivators, nearly delirious with pride.

“Since all are present, let us discuss how to deal with the traitor Tong Gaolu during tomorrow’s Grand Court Assembly!”

Rong Tuo’s eyes flashed with sharpness, and he began speaking at length.

All in the hall grew solemn; Sima Yu especially, unusually serious.

Only Chen Hang, after listening awhile, found it dull.

Such low-level cultivator skirmishes aren’t battlefield confrontations—why so much scheming?

In the end, they decided to ambush Tong Gaolu on his route to the palace and kill him together.

Hearing this, Chen Hang felt he’d wasted his day—listening to nothing but empty words.

But when Rong Tuo spoke again, Chen Hang frowned.

“Wait—do you plan to have General Sima lead archers to ambush him first? That’s absurd.”

Chen Hang smiled: “We are all cultivators. How can mortal weapons possibly work? If Tong Gaolu summons a teleportation light, can arrows reach the blue heavens? This will only get Sima Yu killed—and drag innocent soldiers down with him. It’s ill-advised.”

“I know that—but what else can we do?”

Rong Tuo sighed: “Even if it drains one bit of his Qi Condensation, it’s better than doing nothing…”

“What of the soldiers’ lives?”

“They eat the ruler’s salary—they must serve the ruler’s duty and bear his burdens!” Rong Tuo dismissed it:

“Dead is dead. A few hundred mortals—worthless lives. Why should you care? Sima Yu, you’re in charge of this plan. See it succeeds!”

No sooner had he finished than Sima Yu eagerly accepted the order, beaming with excitement.

Seeing the man was utterly oblivious to death, Chen Hang said no more, merely chuckled and let it pass.

“But…”

Rong Tuo suddenly grew solemn: “There’s another matter you must know—this is today’s true focus. Do not overlook it!”

“Speak,” Chen Hang said coolly.

“Tong Gaolu possesses an extremely potent Dao art.” Rong Tuo drew a deep breath: “It is an external cultivation art for the body…”

Hearing this,

Chen Hang’s expression turned grave, his gaze darkening slightly.

…

…

The next day.

Mao Hour.

Dawn had not yet broken.

Outside a magnificent, imposing mansion, numerous officials in crimson and purple robes, generals and nobles, waited—carriages and horses thronged in bustling activity.

“Brother, listen to the commotion outside—our Tong family has truly risen! Even the Minister of Personnel, that self-righteous old fool, waits outside in the cold. Ha! Did he ever imagine this day, when he tormented me?”

Inside the mansion.

Two men walked side by side; one suddenly laughed and spoke to his companion.

“You kid—”

His companion opened his mouth, then suddenly frowned, halting his steps.

“Brother, what’s wrong?”

“Just now, I felt an unsettling sensation. Strange… very strange.”

His companion also frowned, shaking his head:

“Since I mastered the Dao art from the ‘Earth Palace Golden Scripture,’ my body… has never felt such discomfort before?”