At this time, Lu Chenzhou took over the conversation, his voice raspy and low.
“The Emperor’s actions in recent years are indeed puzzling.”
He turned around, leaning against the window frame, his deeply wrinkled face etched with exhaustion.
“Suppressing the martial world’s influence is understandable to an extent.
“But even the academies and Confucianism are being targeted; that makes no sense.
“During this year’s Spring Examinations, the Emperor decreed a thirty percent reduction in the Imperial Academy’s funding.
“The Education Commissioners of the three Jiangnan provinces were replaced one after another by cruel officials who know nothing of the classics and only understand how to curry favor.
“Even the annual stipends for the Mountain Lords of various academies have been suspended since last year.”
He sighed, his gaze falling upon the walls of thread-bound ancient texts, his eyes filled with worry.
“Indeed, in the three hundred years since Grand Zhao was founded, there has never been such a situation.
“Externally, Grand Shuo watches like a tiger stalking its prey, and internally, the succession struggle is intensifying.
“And the one who should be sitting at the center, stabilizing the world, is doing things that no one can understand.”
Liu Yinsheng spoke up, his tone carrying a rare trace of solemnity.
“That is why Zhizhou Tower is being so cautious.
“They aren’t afraid of you meddling; they are afraid of you meddling in business you shouldn't and getting yourself killed.
“The weight you might be carrying is far greater than you imagine.
“If anything were to happen to you, it wouldn't just be the death of one person.
“It would be a variable that could shift the landscape of two nations.”
He looked directly into Chen Zui’s eyes, speaking word by word.
“Zhizhou Tower has always prided itself on being infallible, but this time, even they admit it.
“They cannot see the Emperor’s strategy.”
He walked over to stand before Chen Zui.
“In current Grand Zhao, the imperial court is a pool of murky water, and the martial world is a pot of boiling oil.
“Once the lightning of the duel between Shen and Lü strikes, no one knows what will explode.
“If you head to Jinyang City alone at a time like this, any mishap on the road will cost you your life.
“I am not acting as a lobbyist for Zhizhou Tower.
“I simply do not want you to step onto a road of no return at such a young age.
“After all, it took centuries of decline in the Way of the Spear for a genius like you to emerge.
“As a martial arts senior, I truly do not want you to be too involved right now.”
Chen Zui listened quietly until he finished, remaining silent for a few breaths.
Then he looked up at Liu Yinsheng, a slight curve appearing at the corner of his mouth.
“Senior Liu, I appreciate your kindness.”
He reached out and patted the long spear beside him.
“But I have a quirk: the more I’m told not to meddle, the more I want to.
“Zhizhou Tower wants to use me as a pawn this time? I’ll accept that.
“But as for how this game is played, that is for me to decide.”
With that, he turned and pushed open the wooden door of the study, shouldering his long spear and striding out into the downpour.
Behind him, Liu Yinsheng stood at the doorway, watching the figure disappear into the rain, remaining silent for a long time.
Lu Chenzhou walked to his side and handed him a cup of ginger tea.
Liu Yinsheng took the tea but did not drink it.
He stared in the direction where Chen Zui had vanished, a complex smile playing on his lips.
“Then let him go.”
As he said this, there was a hint of anticipation in his voice that even he didn’t notice.
...
The rain poured down in torrents, turning the official road into a sea of mud.
The vermilion sedan chair moved with difficulty through the rain, the steps of the bearers more than twice as slow as when they had arrived.
Rainwater flowed down the coiled dragon motifs on the roof, weaving an impenetrable curtain in front of the sedan's entrance.
The gold lacquer on the sedan’s body had grown dull under the lashing rain.
The coiled dragon crown ornament, which symbolized the supreme authority of the Seal-holding Eunuch of the Directorate of Ceremonial, hung crookedly atop the roof.
It creaked and groaned with every lurch of the sedan.
Cao Zhengchun sat inside, the wound on his right shoulder still seeping blood.
He had tapped three acupoints on his shoulder to staunch the bleeding, and then taken a dark green pill from his robe, swallowing it before closing his eyes to circulate his energy.
The toxic backlash from Chen Zui had been temporarily suppressed, but a trace of cold, strange energy remained near his heart. No matter how he circulated his energy, he could not completely eradicate it.
That was the unique black qi of the Thirteen Ghost Shadow Spears.
It was cold but not wicked, stubbornly entrenched deep within his meridians like a hibernating venomous snake.
“That brat...”
He hissed through gritted teeth, his voice filled with bone-deep malice.
“Once I return to the capital, I will make sure you wish for death but cannot find it.”
The moment that thought surfaced, a chill surged up his spine without warning.
This chill did not come from his injuries, but from an intuition honed over forty years in the deep palace.
Cao Zhengchun snapped his eyes open.
The sedan curtain remained motionless in the rain, and the sound of the downpour outside was as dense as ever.
But within the sound of the rain, there was a noise that shouldn't have been there.
It was the sound of breathing.
It was very light and shallow, hidden behind the rain and the footsteps of the bearers, nearly imperceptible.
But Cao Zhengchun had survived forty years in the palace; his ears could distinguish the footfalls of an assassin from among dozens of people and hear the rise and fall of killing intent from countless breaths.
It wasn't just one person.
It was three.
From three directions.
One on the roof, one in the woods to the left of the official road, and one behind.
Cao Zhengchun’s pupils contracted sharply.
His hand moved imperceptibly to the Crimson Lotus Whip at his waist.
As his fingertips touched the dense barbs on the whip, the cold sensation steadied him slightly.
He took a deep breath. The wound on his right shoulder flared with a tearing pain as he inhaled, but he forced it down.
A man in his sixties who had survived this long in the palace relied not just on his cultivation as a Grandmaster, but on a mind that remained calm in desperate situations.
The sedan curtain was suddenly blasted open by a gust of wind!
It wasn't opened from the outside; Cao Zhengchun had made the first move!
His figure blurred as he lunged out of the sedan like a phantom. The Crimson Lotus Whip flicked through the air in a purple arc, striking directly at the roof.
As expected, a person was crouched there.
The figure was clad in black, face masked, revealing only a pair of eyes that were cold to the extreme.
Seeing Cao Zhengchun’s sudden counterattack, the person did not retreat. Instead, they lunged forward, crossing their hands in front of them as eight willow-leaf knives flew from between their fingers simultaneously.
The blades shimmered with a faint blue light in the rain—they were poisoned.
The eight flying knives interlaced in the air to form a net, sealing off all of Cao Zhengchun’s paths of retreat.
At the same time, two black shadows erupted from the woods on either side of the official road.
The one on the left brandished a long, narrow Miao Dao, the blade trailing a brilliant arc through the rain as it struck at Cao Zhengchun’s lower body.
The one on the right was empty-handed, but as they flipped their palms in the rain, a layer of eerie iron-blue appeared on them. Wherever the palm wind passed, the rainwater instantly steamed into white mist.
Cao Zhengchun let out a shrill whistle, snapping the Crimson Lotus Whip in three rapid circles.
The first circle knocked away all eight willow-leaf knives; the second forced back the assassin with the Miao Dao; and the third clashed head-on with the iron palms.
The whip and palms collided with a dull explosion!
The curtain of rain was blasted outward by the force!
It created a brief vacuum on the official road.
The assassin with the iron palms let out a muffled groan, their body flying backward.
Their feet plowed two deep furrows through the mud for over a zhang before they finally managed to steady themselves.
But Cao Zhengchun was not faring well either.
The force of the clash had aggravated the spear wound on his right shoulder.
The wound tore open, and blood flowed down the sleeve of his python robe, mixing with the rain and dripping into the mud.
What made his heart sink even further was the discovery that the circulation of internal energy within his body had slowed by a beat.
The trace of cold, strange energy near his heart had suddenly flared up as he exerted his full power, stabbing into his meridians like a poisonous thorn.
“Three in the Abyss-Facing Realm...”
Cao Zhengchun steadied himself, the Crimson Lotus Whip hanging at his side, its tip trailing in the muddy water.
His face once again wore that composed, slight smile.
“Your Ghost Gate Chamber truly thinks highly of me.”
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