Chapter 851: Rising Wind

Pan Yun handed him an empty bowl and said casually, "Call me Daoist Pan."

Prince Cheng followed suit: "How did Daoist Pan end up in Jingcheng?"

Pan Yun: "I heard my father, who serves in the mortal world, is ill, so I came to see him."

Prince Cheng, noticing her indifferent expression, paused: "You… you don't get along with your father?"

Pan Yun raised an eyebrow: "Where did that come from?"

She seemed to recall something and smiled: "Do you think I'm too cold?"

Prince Cheng nodded.

Pan Yun said: "I am a cultivator, no longer bound by the mortal world. Aside from cultivation and great calamities, nothing in this world binds my heart. For my father, I can only fulfill my duty to the best of my ability—nothing more."

Prince Cheng asked curiously: "What counts as a great calamity?"

Just then, their lamb soup and flatbread arrived. Pan Yun handed him one, ladled soup into his bowl, and acted with polite attentiveness—yet her expression remained cold, devoid of the fawning deference Prince Cheng was used to.

Miraculously, Prince Cheng didn't mind at all; he was even pleased.

He liked Pan Yun's attitude.

Her care came not from flattery, but from propriety.

Pan Yun tore the flatbread and soaked it in the soup, took a bite, and nodded: "As advertised—try it, Prince Cheng?"

Though eager for an answer, Prince Cheng lowered his head and took a bite. The rich lamb broth, mingled with the softened bread, slid down his throat; salt and fragrance exploded on his tongue. His eyes widened instantly. "Truly delicious."

The table fell into cheerful eating. Only after they'd eaten half did Pan Yun answer his original question: "A great calamity—like a nation's fall, civil unrest."

Prince Cheng frowned: "Great Ming is at peace, its people secure. Daoist Pan will likely never witness such a great calamity in her lifetime."

Pan Yun lifted her gaze, fixing him with a steady stare that made Prince Cheng's heart race.

He shifted uneasily, his voice dropping three tones: "What's wrong?"

Pan Yun: "National disaster is imminent. I have already prepared to face it. When that day comes, will you have the same resolve?"

Prince Cheng stared at her, dumbfounded: "W-what?"

Pan Yun lowered her head and ate her soaked bread.

Prince Cheng grew anxious, abandoning his meal: "Daoist Pan, what did you mean just now—national disaster?"

Pan Yun finished her soup, set down the bowl, and said: "The Emperor's northern campaign will fail. The Northern Hu will invade southward. The nation faces collapse. Is that not a national disaster?"

Prince Cheng leapt to his feet, face darkening: "Daoist Pan, stop spreading nonsense!"

"What benefit is there for me in spreading nonsense?" Pan Yun sighed. "Time will reveal the truth. When it does, I hope Your Highness will have my resolve—to save the nation, lest Great Ming follow the Southern Song's fate and the Han people suffer again under the Northern Yuan."

Prince Cheng trembled, eyes wide: "Me?"

Pan Yun nodded firmly: "You."

"You are a descendant of the Taizu. Your blood carries an unyielding spirit," Pan Yun said, lifting her eyes to him, her voice soft yet precise as it reached his ears: "You are the next Emperor—and you will be remembered in history."

Prince Cheng's lips trembled slightly, his face filled with disbelief.

Perhaps his shock was too obvious—the guards stationed nearby stepped forward.

Pan Yun set down her chopsticks, rose, and said: "Your Highness, I'm leaving for the north now. Take care."

Seeing Miao Zhen and the others also set down their chopsticks, wiped their mouths, dropped a handful of copper coins, and stood.

Seeing them leave while the Prince remained stunned, the guards moved to block them.

Prince Cheng instinctively barred the guards, his voice strained: "Let them go."

Pan Yun nodded to him, then left with Seeing Miao Zhen and the others.

The three reached the city outskirts and crouched on the grass near the city gate.

People and animals passed, dust swirling. Seeing Miao He spat twice and asked: "Little Master, are we waiting for Young Master Xue here?"

Pan Yun said nothing.

Seeing Miao He: "We didn't even tell him we were leaving the city today."

No sooner had the words left his mouth than Xue Shao emerged from the city gate, a pack on his back and a sword in hand. He glanced around, then walked toward them.

Pan Yun rose and answered offhandedly: "He's followed us this long—if he can't figure this out, we have no reason to travel together."

Xue Shao approached and gave a slight nod to the group: "Let's go."

Seeing Miao Zhen looked behind him: "Where's Xi Jin?"

"Before we left, I cast a divination. This northern journey is unfavorable for him—I left him behind."

Pan Yun smiled faintly: "Favorable for you?"

Xue Shao shook his head: "Unfavorable."

Pan Yun turned to gaze at the northern sky and said to them: "Let me say this again: this journey north is nine deaths, one life—even for me. Are you certain you wish to follow?"

Seeing Miao Zhen: "We're the same age. If Little Master isn't afraid of death, neither are we."

Seeing Miao He: "If even Little Master faces nine deaths, how much worse for the northern people? We've studied medicine since childhood to save the dying and heal the wounded—we must go."

Tao Yan Bai nodded: "I must protect you."

Though he might not succeed, he had to go.

Pan Yun led them toward the end of the road: "Let's go—the sky is nearly dark."

The sky truly was darkening—and the sunset vanished with startling speed.

No sooner had Pan Yun and the others left than the city gate closed, no one entering or exiting. Behind them, the gate vanished into twilight, unaware that soon it would witness a great battle.

Far from the city, in empty wilderness, they walked into a roadside grove, released the Three Treasures Cauldron. Soon, a vessel shaped like a pot rose from the ground, shot swiftly into the clouds, and vanished with a hiss.

Prince Cheng, wandering dazed back to the imperial palace, froze at the palace gate: "How did I get here?"

The guard hurriedly replied: "Your Highness, you returned after eating."

He studied the Prince's face and ventured: "As Regent, spending nights in the palace is merely duty—it helps you manage state affairs better…"

Before he finished, Prince Cheng's face turned ashen. He spun on his heel: "Don't speak nonsense. State affairs are my brother's concern—I will not enter the palace!"

Having said that, he left in quick strides.

There were already few people on the street; the curfew was almost upon them, yet Prince Cheng seemed to have forgotten his own identity, hurrying along with the hurried pedestrians toward Wang Fu, and in no time he had reached the gate of Wang Fu and ducked inside.

That night the lamp in Wang Fu's study burned all night; Prince Cheng was torn and afraid, thinking both that Pan Yun was talking nonsense, crying wolf, and fearing it might be true.

If it were true, wouldn't that mean the Emperor was in danger now?

When the sky was faintly bright, Prince Cheng finally thought of it — for such a great matter, shouldn't he report it to the Cabinet?

But without solid evidence, just one person saying such a thing, who would believe it?

Prince Cheng clutched his head in agony.

Xuan Fu lay beyond the Inner Great Wall, not far from Jingcheng; Pan Yun and the others flew for less than one shichen before arriving, and at that very moment, it was precisely when Jing Yuan was being surrounded on all sides by the Oirat army. (End of chapter)