Chapter 22

Pan Yun paused, stunned—she had paid close attention to cultivation for over a thousand years, rarely to history; she knew the Ming Dynasty had funeral sacrifices, but not that so many would be sacrificed.

Pan Yun: "The Wang Fei is the principal wife—she must be sacrificed too?"

Master Xuanmiao lowered her gaze: "She has no son; by law, she must be. But now she has an adopted son—and an adopted son is still a son."

Pan Yun instantly understood—no wonder the Wang Fei had so strongly supported petitioning for Zhu Zijin's appointment.

Their former mother-son bond was part of it, but the fear of being sacrificed in death was also part of it, wasn't it?

Pan Yun's eyes grew brighter by the second; Master Xuanmiao saw at once what she was planning—she was even less willing to leave now.

Master Xuanmiao turned to Tao Ji: "Vote. Minority yields to majority."

Pan Yun also turned, eyes blazing, fixed on Tao Ji: "Tao Brother, you swore Prince Zhou would recover—if you leave now and he falters, won't you ruin your own reputation?"

Tao Ji shot her a glare: "You went to Mount Sanqing in my disciple's generation—even if you won't take me as your master, you ought to call me Senior Uncle."

He turned to Master Xuanmiao: "Sister, I'm not afraid of ruining my reputation—but Prince Zhou's lineage has done me great favors in my alchemical Dao. Now his descendants are in peril, and since I've seen it, I cannot walk away."

The former Prince Zhou, Zhu Su, was one of Zhu Yuanzhang's many sons—a rare good man and skilled technician.

He was a physician and botanist, organizing and compiling numerous medical texts; the Daoist alchemical tradition benefited greatly from him, and Mount Sanqing once had dealings with him, receiving gifts from him.

Of course, he may have forgotten—but Mount Sanqing must remember those who aided it.

If Tao Ji were powerless, fine—but since he has the ability to let Prince Zhou live a while longer, he must use it.

Master Xuanmiao heard, thought briefly, then nodded in agreement, then turned to Pan Yun.

Pan Yun leaned back: "Why are you looking at me?"

"The Zhou Wangfu is close to the imperial court and near the Embroidered Uniform Guard—you must be extremely careful living inside the Zhou Wangfu."

Pan Yun smirked: "Will the Embroidered Uniform Guard believe a traitor's daughter would dare come near the Zhou Wangfu? Besides, Pan Hong's daughter is dead—I'm now a Daoist acolyte of Mount Sanqing."

Tao Ji: "Oh? So you're a Daoist acolyte of Mount Sanqing again?"

Pan Yun ignored him, staring only at Master Xuanmiao: "Can't you save the others who are to be sacrificed?"

Master Xuanmiao: "You mean Prince Zhou? As far as I know, since his illness began in the Zhengtong third year, he has repeatedly petitioned the Emperor to abolish the burial sacrifice of childless Wang Fei and Ladies in his household. These past two years, he's been arranging his own funeral, demanding extreme simplicity—no burial sacrifices, no excessive burial goods."

Master Xuanmiao's gaze was cold, her voice icy: "The imperial court has offered many words of comfort—but never agreed."

Pan Yun frowned.

Pan Xiaohei found a scattered fragment in the sea of information fragments, meowed, signaling her to check the Spirit Realm.

"Wang Fei Gong of Prince Zhu Youdun and her six Ladies were sacrificed…"

Pan Yun snorted, stood up: "If the Wang Fei can escape sacrifice, then the other Ladies can too—if the Wang Fei and Ladies aren't sacrificed, no one else needs to follow. The Dao always holds life— I refuse to believe it's impossible."

They've simply not yet found the right moment, the right method.

Master Xuanmiao made no move to stop her; let her go.

Tao Ji, seated nearby, opened his mouth, then quickly turned to Master Xuanmiao: "You're just letting her go? What if she causes trouble…"

"Then we flee again," Master Xuanmiao said. "Have we caused little trouble before?"

That made perfect sense. Tao Ji had no reply.

Pan Yun stepped out of the courtyard, thought for a moment, then headed toward Prince Zhou's main compound.

The Zhou Wangfu seemed to have few servants—she met hardly anyone along the way, until the main compound, where only an old gatekeeper woman waited.

The woman hurried to block Pan Yun: "Little Daoist, are you lost and can't find your guest quarters? I'll send someone to guide you."

Pan Yun said: "I'm here to see Prince Zhou."

The woman's eyes widened; after hesitation, remembering Pan Yun was the Young Master's benefactor, she went inside to report.

Inside the room, servants attended Prince Zhou, including a long-time personal attendant who always stayed by his side.

Since Prince Zhou became too weak to rise, only male servants served him—because lifting and moving required strength.

But male servants were not careful enough; the Wang Fei wanted to assign maidservants to him, or even serve him herself.

But after his illness worsened, he refused to use maidservants, often flying into rages.

The past six months since Zhu Zijin returned were the most comfortable days of his illness.

The woman couldn't enter the room—only relayed messages outside the door.

Behind a screen, the servants inside lounged sprawled out; across the wide courtyard, Pan Yun saw through the open door.

She smirked slightly—no wonder the superstitious Prince Zhou didn't send Zhu Zijin away after hearing the rumor that father and son cursed each other; these servants made him feel his adopted son's filial devotion and importance, didn't they?

Hearing of a visitor, the servants inside lazily rose, displeased but forcing smiles to enter and report: "Your Highness, the little Daoist who brought back the Young Master requests an audience."

Prince Zhou opened his eyes, then said faintly: "Let her in."

The attendant beside him immediately helped him sit up, leaning back against the pillows.

Pan Yun walked around the screen into the inner chamber, met Prince Zhou's gaze, smiled slightly, and bowed: "Prince Zhou."

Prince Zhou gestured for the attendant to bring a stool, his tone gentle: "Little Daoist, please sit." The attendant moved the stool behind Pan Yun, glanced at Prince Zhou, then withdrew, taking all the waiting servants outside with him.

The room was now empty except for the old man and the child.

Prince Zhou smiled: "Little Daoist, say what you came to say—they're all gone."

Pan Yun asked purely out of curiosity: "If Your Highness still has authority, why not purge those with disloyal hearts?"

Prince Zhou was slightly surprised—he hadn't expected this child to come for this. He thought she'd come for Zhu Qie; he couldn't help laughing: "Little Daoist, how do you know they have disloyal hearts?"

"If they didn't, how could Zhu Qie have gone missing? And why did Prince Xiangfu arrive so conveniently today?"

Prince Zhou's face darkened, his silence imposing: "Little Daoist, are you here to sow discord between my brother and me?"

"No," Pan Yun shook her head. "I'm here to save you, the Wang Fei, and your Ladies."

What Pan Yun intended to do was mystical and strange—she wouldn't beat around the bush. Besides, her age made pretense pointless—it would only invite trouble.

So she looked straight into Prince Zhou's eyes: "It's rare to walk this world once—will you leave with regret and resentment? Among Grand Emperor's many grandsons, your talent and virtue rank first—yet now, to protect your own Wang Fei and Ladies, you can only petition indirectly, pleading softly—is it because you've been ill too long, or because you've concealed your strength too long, until you've grown unfamiliar in court?"

Prince Zhou paused, looked at the child, then couldn't help laughing softly: "You child… truly youthful and bold, fearless as a calf new to the world—what do you know?"

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"When the former Zhou Wang was alive, father and son killed each other in the struggle for the princely title, and brothers slaughtered one another. You, Zhou Wang, have achieved both literary and martial excellence—could it truly be that only Zhu Youlan has brought you to your knees, causing you to drown in operas?"

Pan Yun rose and stepped forward. "Is it not because, after the Jingnan Campaign, the struggle among the princely fiefs remained fierce, leaving you no choice but to act thus?"

The Zhou Wang's smile faded; he stared heavily at Pan Yun.

He had once been one of Zhu Yuanzhang's most beloved grandsons, outstanding in both scholarship and martial arts as a youth.

While studying in Nanjing, his imperial grandfather had sent him, along with other princely heirs, to train in the north—they had commanded troops, fought battles; he had even gone to the Yunnan frontier, commanded troops, fought battles.

Unlike the second son, who only slandered and filed false accusations, the Zhou Wang had always looked down upon him from above.

In his eyes, Zhu Youlan was never a threat—only an annoyance. The Zhou Wang despised him.

He was not afraid Zhu Youlan would falsely accuse him of rebellion, for he had always spoken and acted with caution; if truly investigated, no one could find evidence of rebellion.

What he feared was the Emperor's intent to reduce the fiefs, and that other princely lords would seek to replace him by branding him a rebel.

So he concealed his brilliance.

There were many ways to conceal one's brilliance: either degrade oneself—indulge in drinking, gambling, debauchery, and idleness, until one was ruined;

or adopt an insignificant hobby, devote oneself to mastering it, become obsessed with it, and lose all interest in court affairs.

He chose the second.

Yet he seemed to harbor a faint resentment, so he infused some of it into his operas—could the person behind this child have discerned it through those things?

Meeting his suspicious gaze, Pan Yun felt disappointed. She was so capable, yet he still doubted her.

She simply took the black cat perched on her shoulder and held it before him, its glossy black eyes meeting his. "Zhou Wang, you need not suspect I am guided by someone behind me. I know these things because I can commune with spirits—I see what others cannot."

The Zhou Wang looked skeptical.

Pan Yun: … Wasn't this man superstitious? Why isn't he superstitious now?

Was it only because she was young?

Pan Yun's expression remained calm as she continued: "If not for my senior brother, you would already be dead."

The Zhou Wang did not deny this.

Not only had the palace physician issued a warning—he himself had felt it.

This morning, upon waking, he had sensed his Huang Da Xian had arrived; it was then he decided to leave a will, bequeathing the Wang Jue to Zhu Youjue, and petition the Emperor to register Zhu Zijin under his and the Wang Fei's names, entrusting him with the care of the Wang Fei until her death.

When he first went to retrieve Zhu Zijin, he intended to leave the title to him—but Zhu Tongqie had gone missing.

He believed Zhu Tongqie's disappearance was due to the incompatibility between their bloodlines, yet also suspected his fourth brother's hand in it.

Whichever the case, Zhu Zijin was now weak; the Wang Jue was no boon to him—he could not hold it. So he decided to trade the Wang Jue for his and the Wang Fei's safety.

With Zhu Youjue holding the title, he would no longer harass them.

The surprise was that Zhu Tongqie returned.

In that instant, he felt death recede slightly—he still had time to plan.

Because of Zhu Tongqie's return, he no longer fully trusted Zhu Youjue; so when a second option arose, he immediately chose the second path.

Only if the Wang Fei had a son could she avoid being buried alive.

He feared that Zhu Youjue, upon inheriting the title, would not spare the Wang Fei—after all, Zhu Zijin was not her biological child; the room for manipulation was vast.

Zhu Youjue need only say, "The jade tablet has not been altered; according to ancestral custom," and he could kill the Wang Fei.

The ten lucky numbers for this chapter are those ending in 7; screenshot as proof. Screenshot deadline: before the next chapter is released.

(End of chapter)