Chapter 81

“The Xiao Xiang Gong?” Li Qingluo paled. This was the most powerful martial art within the Langhuan Jade Cave—no other technique could compare. How could this Prince of Yan know of it?

“Precisely the Xiao Xiang Gong,” Zhao Ti nodded. “Lady, fetch it.”

Li Qingluo dared not hesitate. Since she had come this far, there was no point in concealing anything. She replied, “Yes,” and walked toward the farthest bookshelf on the left.

As she reached the shelf and reached out to take the manual, her expression suddenly changed. She gasped: “Where is it?”

Zhao Ti, hearing this, felt a flicker of movement in his heart and stepped forward. The shelf before him was indeed empty.

“Your Highness, I swear I have not deceived you. Originally, the Xiao Xiang Gong had eight volumes; seven were stored here—but now all are gone…” Li Qingluo’s face was ashen, her mind reeling. When had the Langhuan Jade Cave been robbed?

“Eight volumes total, seven missing?” Zhao Ti said calmly.

“Exactly. My father took the eighth volume a few days ago—there should still have been seven left here,” Li Qingluo murmured.

Zhao Ti’s expression remained unreadable. Someone had been here—Jiumo Zhi. He had stolen the first seven volumes. “The Xiao Xiang Gong is the finest art in the Langhuan Jade Cave. Lady, you must have practiced it.”

Li Qingluo said, “I practiced since childhood, but my talent was poor, and my comprehension could not match the art—I never succeeded.”

Zhao Ti said, “One volume was already missing here. Even if you read it, it would be incomplete. Since you’ve trained for so many years, you must remember all eight volumes. I originally intended to have you recite the eighth volume—but now, recite them all for me.”

Li Qingluo nodded urgently: “Very well. All these years, failing to master it has gnawed at me—I remember every word. I shall recite them for Your Highness. Rest assured, I will not miss a single character.”

Zhao Ti said, “I learn martial arts swiftly. If you err, I will detect it immediately. Consider this carefully—should you falter, not only will you suffer, but the entire Mantuo Mountain Villa may cease to exist.”

“I understand,” Li Qingluo said. “Even if I had the audacity to defy heaven, I would not dare omit a single detail.” She hesitated, then asked, “Your Highness says you learn martial arts swiftly—do you mean… I should recite while you practice this art?”

Zhao Ti glanced at her sideways. “What do you think?”

Li Qingluo was startled, but then dismissed the notion as absurd. The man was impossibly arrogant.

The Xiao Xiang Gong was profoundly deep—Ding Chunqiu had told her so. It was one of the supreme arts of the Xiaoyao Sect. Its very name, “Formless,” revealed its nature: not only did one need peerless martial talent, but one’s comprehension had to perfectly align with the art to master it.

Ding Chunqiu had high talent, yet because his comprehension did not match the art, though he had entered its threshold, he could not master much of it—and could barely use it.

As for herself, she had never even crossed the threshold. Her martial talent was average, her comprehension abysmal. She had not mastered even a few of the other arts in the Langhuan Jade Cave—otherwise, she would not have guarded this treasure vault while remaining mediocre herself.

Moreover, she could not stop thinking of Duan Zhengchun. Everywhere in the villa, traces of Dali camellias lingered. How could she focus and calm her mind to practice?

Thinking of this, Li Qingluo felt hatred rise—Duan Zhengchun deserved to be cut into a thousand pieces.

“What are you thinking about?” Zhao Ti noticed Li Qingluo’s face shifting between despair, sweet nostalgia, and bitter rage. He rubbed his chin.

“Ah, Your Highness…” Li Qingluo’s face flushed. She scolded herself: How could she think of such nonsense at such a critical moment? “Your Grace, there are cushions over there. Please sit and listen as I recite the art.”

Zhao Ti saw her display this girlish hesitation and wondered: Could she be thinking of Duan the Second of Dali?

He shook his head, clasped his hands behind his back, and walked over. Indeed, behind the bookshelf lay a cushion. He picked up a broad one and sat, while Tong Guan stood straight and alert before him.

Li Qingluo felt further confusion. Was he expecting her to recite one line at a time? The Xiao Xiang Gong was not an endless treatise, but neither was it short. If he paused to ponder each line, it would take three days and nights to finish.

Zhao Ti said, “Just recite silently. No pauses.”

Hearing this, Li Qingluo relaxed. She recalled for a few breaths, then began.

The full Xiao Xiang Gong consisted of eight volumes, but its total word count was not excessive. Within an hour, she had finished.

Zhao Ti fell silent for a moment, then suddenly smiled. “Lady, recite it again for me.”

Li Qingluo’s heart leapt. This wicked prince was sharp indeed. Even though she would never dare misquote a single word—on pain of her life and reputation—he still demanded a second recitation to verify. Could he truly memorize it all just by listening?

She recited it again. Zhao Ti nodded, then asked suddenly: “Does your daughter practice martial arts?”

Li Qingluo was puzzled by the question. “She does not…”

Zhao Ti smiled. “Both parents, grandparents—all practice martial arts. Even your grandfather surely knew them. Why does she not?”

Li Qingluo’s expression changed drastically. Her biological parents were a secret—known to almost no one outside those involved. How could he know? Was he bluffing?

“Yuyan has never liked martial arts, never liked fighting. So she never trained. But she loves reading, writing, poetry, and playing the qin. She has memorized many martial manuals.”

Zhao Ti nodded. “A pity. Then the lineage will end. Will the Langhuan Jade Cave’s arts be lost forever?”

Li Qingluo froze. What did this wicked prince mean?

“Does she remember the Xiao Xiang Gong?” Zhao Ti asked.

“No,” Li Qingluo shook her head. “I always kept this art with me. Only last year did I place it in the Langhuan Jade Cave. I told her: if she did not intend to practice it herself, she must not memorize it—lest she attract trouble. This art is peculiar: even with high talent, if one’s comprehension does not match, it cannot be mastered.”

“Formless, formless—it is not meant for ordinary minds,” Zhao Ti smiled. “Lady, recite it once more.”

Li Qingluo inwardly seethed. This wicked prince was deliberately distracting her—why? If she had lied, shock might make her forget. Then, when she recited again, the discrepancies would betray her. How cunning.

She took a quiet breath and recited the Xiao Xiang Gong once more. Zhao Ti closed his eyes slightly. When she finished, he said nothing, as if lost in thought—or even dozing.

Li Qingluo dared not speak or move. She glanced at Zhao Ti, then at Tong Guan.

Tong Guan’s eyes were sharp. He had memorized the opening lines of the Xiao Xiang Gong. Since Zhao Ti had brought him here and did not order him to leave, he clearly did not care.

He remembered only the beginning, yet as he pondered it, a strange expression crept onto his face.