Wuxia: Become the 100-Victory Sword King at the Beginning

Chapter 354. Crystal-clear eyes reflect the colors of mountains and rivers; a deadly sword sings of a loyal and righteous soul.

Ruoyao sheathed her sword and stood there, gazing at the mess on the ground. Wei Nianhua wiped the bloodstains from the farewell hook and sneered, "People in the martial world always say this hook is unlucky, but they don't know that in the Forbidden City, farewell is the cleanest ending."

On the Meridian Gate Square, the bloodstains were still wet. The slain guards lay scattered on the ground, some decapitated, some with their intestines spilling out, and the air was thick with the stench of blood.

When Ruoyao returned, her skirt was stained with blood, but the long sword in her hand still gleamed coldly. She knelt on one knee: "Your Highness, I'm sorry to have frightened you."

Shi Feiyang stared at her, then suddenly laughed, "What a fine Wudang sword technique! What a fine Ruoyao!" Ruoyao left, blushing and annoyed, her heart pounding with excitement.

As night deepened, the lights of the Forbidden City gradually illuminated.

Inside the bridal chamber, the dragon and phoenix candles illuminated the four walls in a crimson glow. Lady Fucha removed her elaborate wedding dress, revealing a moon-white undergarment, the hair ornament in her hair swaying gently with her movements: "I've heard that you enjoy riding and archery, my lord. Although I am a woman, I have read the 'Complete Essentials of Military Classics'."

She suddenly picked up a wolf-hair brush from the table and drew a Bagua formation on the Xuan paper. "If we were to incorporate the Bagua formation into horseback archery, I wonder if that would be acceptable?"

Shi Feiyang raised an eyebrow, a glint of light flashing in his glassy eyes. He took her hand and, with a flourish of his brush, wrote the four characters "止戈为武" (Stop the war to achieve victory): "My lady is exceptionally intelligent, which reminds me of the principle of 'overcoming strength with gentleness' in the martial world."

On the third day after the wedding, Lady Fucha personally cooked a dish of "Snowflake Tofu". The jade-white tofu was sprinkled with crushed walnuts, just like the first snow outside the window.

"This dish looks simple, but it actually requires eight steps." She scooped up a spoonful with a silver spoon. "Just like managing a household or governing a country, it requires slow and gentle cooking, and cannot be rushed." Shi Feiyang picked up a piece of tofu and put it in his mouth. The aroma of beans mixed with the crunchy fragrance of walnuts spread on his tongue.

He suddenly remembered the simple meals at the Northwest branch and the mutton soup that Fu Shouchuan clumsily cooked.

"What you said, Madam, is more meaningful than the Grand Tutor's classical Chinese phrases." Shi Feiyang forced a smile as he poured tea for her. The tea rippled in the celadon cup, reflecting the intertwined figures of the two of them.

The night was as dark as ink. Ruoyao stood alone on the eaves of Yuqing Palace, the cold wind making her palace dress flutter.

She looked down at the blood-stained longsword in her hand, its blade reflecting her serene face. The fierce battle was still vivid in her mind; the defiant looks in Tian Luguang and Hu Feizhong's eyes as they fled were like thorns in her back.

As a spy planted by Emperor Yongzheng within the palace, she knew that there must be a deeper conspiracy behind this assassination attempt. Because "Hongli" was unharmed, Yongzheng did not blame the Imperial Guard and Ruoyao too much. However, if "Hongli" had been injured? Then he would have deserved to die.

At that moment, Ruoyao flashed down from the roof like a night owl and silently sneaked into a secluded corner of the palace.

This is her secret hideout for communicating with her sect members; a secret passage for transmitting messages is hidden under the stone bricks in the corner of the wall.

She crouched down, gently moved the stone bricks, and took out a secret letter that had been prepared beforehand.

On the letter, she meticulously wrote down the details of the day's events in vermilion ink, emphasizing the martial arts techniques used by Tian Luguang and Hu Fei, as well as the information they revealed. "The Red Flower Society's operation this time was clearly well-prepared."

Ruoyao murmured to herself, "But why did they have to assassinate Prince Bao on his wedding day?" Every detail of the bloody battle kept replaying in her mind, and she suddenly remembered the shocked expression on Hu Feizhong's face when he saw her swordsmanship.

"He recognized me. Is there some connection between Wudang and the Red Flower Society?" This thought flashed through her mind, sending a chill down her spine. Carefully hiding the secret letter in her bosom, Ruoyao decided to first investigate whether there were any other assassins in the palace.

She used her light-footed skills to move like a ghost through the palace. Moonlight shone on her, draping her in a hazy silver veil. As she passed through the Imperial Garden, she keenly sensed an unusual aura emanating from behind the artificial hill.

Ruoyao held her breath and slowly approached the artificial hill.

Suddenly, a dark figure darted out from behind the artificial hill, a short knife in his hand aimed straight for her throat.

Ruoyao sneered, flicked her wrist, and the longsword drew a graceful arc, deflecting the short knife with a "clang".

"You cowardly cowards, come out!" she shouted sternly.

Seeing that the sneak attack had failed, the figure revealed itself. It was a masked man dressed in black, with a burly build and wielding two swords. "Little girl from Wudang, minding your own business!" the masked man said viciously, his voice hoarse and deep.

"Now that you know I am a Wudang disciple, why don't you surrender immediately!" Ruoyao flicked her longsword, the tip pointing directly at the masked man's vital point on his chest.

The masked man brandished two swords, unleashing a powerful and fierce sword technique, the wind from the blades whistling through the air.

Ruoyao remained calm and composed, employing the "Soft Sword of the Finger" technique to overcome brute force. Her swordplay was light and graceful, like a spring breeze rustling willows, seemingly gentle yet concealing deadly intent. After dozens of rounds of fierce fighting, the masked man gradually began to lose ground.

At this moment, a large number of guards had surrounded Ruoyao and the masked man, leaving them no way to pass.

Wei Nianhua, the commander of the Sticky Rod Office, wielded a pair of parting hooks; Chen Feng held a large black gold fan; and Bai Zhen, the personal bodyguard bestowed upon "Hongli" by Emperor Yongzheng, had already approached. Wei Nianhua's parting hook technique was, of course, exceptional, among the highest levels of martial arts.

Bai Zhen, who was wiry and thin, was a master of the Songyang School. He was nicknamed "Golden Claw Iron Hook" by the martial arts world because of his superb Eagle Claw Kung Fu. In his early years, he became famous in the martial arts world because of this skill.

However, despite possessing unparalleled martial arts skills, Bai Zhen harbored a deep desire for fame and fortune.

Instead of continuing his adventures in the martial arts world and leaving behind more chivalrous legends, he joined the imperial court and became "Hongli's" personal bodyguard.

From then on, he loyally guarded "Hongli's" side, following him wherever he went, doing everything in his power to ensure his safety. At this moment, Ruoyao had completely gained the upper hand. "Speak, who are you? Who is on your orders?" Ruoyao forced the masked man back with her sword and asked coldly.

Seeing that things were going badly, the masked man suddenly slashed his own face with his left knife and slashed his own neck with his right knife.

The guards stepped forward and lifted the mask, only to find that the assassin's face had been slashed by himself, and he was unrecognizable.

Wei Nianhua ordered his guards to carry the masked man back to the sticky pole for a thorough inspection.

Feeling frustrated, Ruoyao, accompanied by Bai Zhen, turned and walked towards Shi Feiyang's study, determined to report the matter truthfully.

Inside the study, Shi Feiyang was deep in thought, staring at a map, with several secret reports on his desk.

“Your Highness, there are other assassins in the palace. I just discovered them, but unfortunately, they committed suicide. Moreover, before they took their own lives, they slashed their own faces with a knife, making it impossible to identify them. But this action also reveals that they must be palace guards, possibly sent by the Red Flower Society to infiltrate the palace,” Ruoyao said, bowing.

Shi Feiyang raised his head, a cold glint flashing in his glassy eyes. "It seems the power behind this is far greater than we imagined. Ruoyao, you must begin the investigation immediately and find out who is behind it all."

"Yes, Your Highness!" Ruoyao accepted the order, secretly vowing to expose this hidden force and restore peace to the Forbidden City. Bai Zhen stood outside the door, not leaving.

On the night of the full moon, Shi Feiyang was studying military strategy in his study when he suddenly smelled a fragrance of orchids.

Lady Fucha, draped in a crane-feather cloak, held an annotated copy of "The Art of War" in her hands: "Have you seen this passage, my lord? 'Military tactics are like water, which has no constant shape.' I believe that governing a country should also be like this." Her fingertips traced the pages, gleaming softly in the candlelight.

Shi Feiyang took her hand and pulled her into his arms: "With a wife like this, what more could a husband ask for?" The cold wind howled outside the window, but the room was warm and cozy.

Gazing at her sleeping face, he recalled Emperor Yongzheng's admonition to "hide one's sword in its sheath," and secretly pondered—perhaps this gentle embrace was the best place to conceal one's sharpness. In the months that followed, Lady Fucha managed the Prince's residence with impeccable order.

She would grind ink for Shi Feiyang every morning and play chess with him in the evening.

During a game of chess, she suddenly placed a piece: "Does my lord know why I never ask you about your late-night outings?" Shi Feiyang's hand holding the chess piece paused slightly, but he saw her smiling gently, "Because I trust you, just like in this game of chess, once a move is made, there is no going back."

Spring comes and autumn goes, the crabapple blossoms in the Prince's Mansion bloom and fade.

As Shi Feiyang watched Fucha teach the maids in the mansion to read and write, and saw her praying for the world in the Buddhist hall, the murderous intent in his glassy eyes gradually softened into tenderness. On a rainy night, holding his sleeping wife, Shi Feiyang suddenly understood—wasn't this life of a woman in the deep palace just another kind of martial arts world?
What he wants to protect is no longer just the common people.

Under the cover of night, Ruoyao crept to the Imperial Household Department's storeroom. The copper bells on the eaves swayed even without wind, making her heart tighten. The moment she pushed open the mottled wooden door, the smell of rotting wood mixed with the fragrance of aged medicine wafted out. In the corner, half a piece of bloodstained cloth hung among the cobwebs.

Just as she was about to get closer to examine it, a hidden weapon suddenly pierced through the air from the beam; twelve bone-piercing nails flew towards her in a plum blossom formation. "Wudang Bone-Shrinking Technique? This is truly rare." A sinister laugh came from the shadows.

Ruoyao quickly turned to dodge the hidden weapon, only to see three dark figures land like ghosts. The leader was dressed in a black close-fitting outfit, with a black soft whip wrapped around her waist. The tip of the whip was coated with a blue-green poison. She was none other than the "Black Scorpion Lady," a figure feared throughout the martial arts world.

The burly men on either side held steel judge's pens, the handles engraved with Tantric Sanskrit, indicating they were masters of the Tibetan Tantric sect. "When did the Red Flower Society collude with foreign tribes?" Ruoyao pointed her sword at them, the Qingfeng sword humming.

"Little girl, you know too much!" Black Scorpion Lady brandished her soft whip, the whip's shadow transforming into a sky full of black light: "Your sword is already entangled by the poisoned whip!" Ruoyao used the "Tai Chi Sword Technique," using the force of the whip to deflect the poisoned whip towards the burly man on her left.

The judge's pen swiftly pierced her face, but she used the "Ladder to the Clouds" technique to flip in mid-air. However, she felt something strange under her feet—buried beneath the blue bricks were the "Soul-Locking Nails," a technique lost in the Western Regions! The Tantric master formed hand seals and chanted incantations, and suddenly several black chains shot up from the ground.

Ruoyao swung her sword, severing two blades, but her back was struck by the Black Scorpion Lady's soft whip, instantly tearing her skin and drawing blood that turned a strange purple hue. "This is the poison of the Heavenly Snow Silkworm, incurable within three incense sticks' time!" The Black Scorpion Lady grinned as she approached, "Hand over Prince Bao's secret files, and perhaps you can leave with a whole corpse." At the critical moment, a familiar gust of wind blew through the window.

The moonlight at the exit of the secret passage was cut by a shadow. As soon as Mu Zhang'a pushed open the hidden door, his clothes were caught on Wei Nianhua's farewell hook.

Chen Feng waved his folding fan lightly, and thirty-six bone-piercing nails blocked his path like a torrential rain, forcing him back to his original spot.

Suddenly, a sharp cry of an eagle rang out in the air. Bai Zhen, dressed in a black outfit, swooped down from the eaves. His knuckles cracked like firecrackers, and as his fleshy palms rolled up, five sharp, hook-like fingertips gleamed with a bluish light—the very "Golden Claw Iron Hook" that struck fear into the hearts of the martial world.

"General Mu, what skill!" When Bai Zhen landed, the blue bricks shattered, and the gold-threaded python pattern embroidered on his cuffs rose and fell with his breath. "He pretended to be a weak scholar for three years, and he fooled the Emperor and all the officials!" Before he finished speaking, his right claw had already turned into a blur and went straight for Mu Zhang'a's throat. The strong wind blew through the ground and plowed five half-foot-deep furrows.

Mu Zhang'a's pupils contracted sharply as he spun around to avoid the fierce attack, drawing his soft sword from its sheath like a white snake spitting its tongue.

Although he was born into a civil service family, his swordsmanship was deeply rooted in the "Thirteen Soft Cloud Swords" of the Tianshan School. He used unorthodox methods to target Bai Zhen's vital points.

Bai Zhen snorted coldly, his left claw drawing a circle like embracing the moon, actually clamping down on the tip of the sword that was thrusting towards him. Sparks from the friction between the steel claw and the sword splashed onto Mu Zhang'a's face, burning him and causing him to groan.

"A mere trick!" Bai Zhen used his strength to break the soft sword, and then his right claw grabbed at the opponent's shoulder.

Mu Zhang'a rolled on the spot, pulled out a three-edged bone-piercing cone from his boot, and thrust it straight into Bai Zhen's lower body.

The attack was swift and ruthless, but Bai Zhen advanced instead of retreating, closing in on the bone-piercing spike. His left claw gripped Mu Zhang'a's wrist like an iron clamp, while his right claw pressed against his back: "Surrender! Do you think this 'Golden Claw Iron Hook' is just a name without substance?"

Unexpectedly, Mu Zhang'a suddenly grinned maliciously, biting open the poison sac hidden between his teeth, and sprayed black blood mixed with poisonous mist towards Bai Zhen's face. Bai Zhen hurriedly leaned back to avoid it, and Mu Zhang'a took the opportunity to use his "Gecko Wall-Climbing Skill" to escape along the stone wall.

Wei Nianhua's farewell hook caught up, but was forced to retreat by the three thunderbolts he threw. "Trying to escape?" Bai Zhen's joints cracked like a machine gun, and in an instant, he caught up with Mu Zhang'a.

He extended both claws simultaneously, seizing his opponent's shoulders like a hungry eagle pouncing on a rabbit. Mu Zhang'a screamed in agony as he thrust his dagger forward, only to see Bai Zhen sneer and twist his wrist sharply. With two crisp "crack" sounds, Mu Zhang'a's arms were broken!

Blood gushed out like a fountain. Mu Zhang'a knelt on the ground in pain, but still gritted his teeth and cursed, "Bai Zhen, you are nothing but a lackey of the imperial court!"

Upon hearing this, Bai Zhen's eyes flashed with a cold light, and his iron claws lashed out at Mu Zhang'a's legs like lightning. Two more teeth-grinding cracking sounds rang out as Mu Zhang'a's kneecaps were ripped out by the sharp claws. The excruciating pain made his vision go black, and he almost fainted.

"Hound?" Bai Zhen lifted the bloodied and mangled Mu Zhang'a, pressing his iron claws against his throat. "At least I know how to be loyal to the emperor and love my country! You traitorous dog, today I'll show you the consequences of betrayal!"

Having said that, he used his strength to crush Mu Zhang'a's collarbone and then pressed all the major acupoints on his body, leaving him limp as mud. At this moment, Shi Feiyang arrived, picked up the unconscious Ruoyao, and saw that the exit of the secret passage was covered in blood, and Mu Zhang'a was trampled underfoot by Bai Zhen like a rag doll.

Bai Zhen grabbed the limp Mu Zhang'a, his iron claws gripping his neck, and said coldly, "Your Highness, what should we do with this man?" Shi Feiyang stared at Ruo Yao's pale face, his eyes surging with murderous intent: "Take him back to Yuanmingyuan and let the Emperor personally interrogate him. I want to see how many accomplices he has behind him!"

In the 48th year of the Kangxi Emperor's reign, a garden in the northwestern suburbs of Beijing was bestowed upon the fourth prince, Yinzhen, and named "Yuanmingyuan".

The name "Yuanming" was bestowed by Emperor Kangxi himself, taking its meaning from Yinzhen's Buddhist name "Yuanming Jushi," implying "harmonious and enlightened, with wisdom shining everywhere."

At this time, the Yuanmingyuan Garden was relatively small in scale, mainly used as a residence for Prince Yinzhen and a summer retreat, and had not yet formed a grand scale.

After Emperor Yongzheng ascended the throne, he initiated a large-scale expansion of the Yuanmingyuan Garden, transforming it into a royal garden that served both administrative and residential functions. He elevated the Yuanmingyuan from a mere residence to a detached palace for "escaping the noise and listening to government affairs," adding numerous administrative buildings such as the "Zhengda Guangming Hall" and the "Jiuzhou Qingyan," thus creating an integrated "palace and garden" layout. This move aimed to alleviate the oppressive atmosphere of the Forbidden City while simultaneously improving administrative efficiency, reflecting Emperor Yongzheng's diligent governance style.

Emperor Yongzheng ordered the expansion of the park, the excavation of lakes, the construction of artificial hills, the planting of flowers and trees, and the imitation of the scenery of gardens in the south, so that the Yuanmingyuan could combine the grandeur of the north with the elegance of the south.

As night deepened, Mu Zhang'a's wails gradually faded into the cold wind.

Bai Zhen wiped the blood-stained iron claws, glancing sideways at Shi Feiyang. The moment Shi Feiyang picked up Ruoyao, he felt the poison coursing through her body, and a murderous intent flashed in his glassy eyes. After a moment's thought, Shi Feiyang, carrying Ruoyao, used his unparalleled lightness skill, "Leaving No Trace for a Thousand Miles," to fly out of the palace and head towards the Yuanmingyuan. Bai Zhen hurriedly used his lightness skill to follow.

At this time, Emperor Yongzheng was still handling state affairs at the "Jiuzhou Qingyan" (Nine Provinces Peaceful Abode).

In the sky, Shi Feiyang's fingertips brushed against Ruoyao's blood-stained lips, and his glassy eyes suddenly turned frosty.

Past events surged through his mind—he was not of the current emperor's bloodline, but by chance he disguised himself as "Hongli" and maneuvered in the palace. The Eighteen Subduing Dragon Palms and the Dog-Beating Stick Technique were his foundation, but now he could only keep them hidden.

At this moment, he stared at Ruoyao's pale face, his heart filled with murderous intent, like the raging tide of the Qiantang River. However, he had to suppress the urge to use the Dragon Subduing Palm Technique and instead use the Bright Jade Skill to protect her heart meridian.

Ruoyao, who was in his arms, suddenly spat out a mouthful of black blood, which stained the gold-threaded dragon pattern on Shi Feiyang's black brocade robe.

Bai Zhen stared at the fleeting black shadow, his pupils slightly contracting. He had long heard of the Fourth Prince's exceptional martial arts skills, but he hadn't expected his lightness skill to reach the level of "walking on snow without leaving a trace." "Such movement technique... could it be a unique skill of the Tianshan Sect?"

He stroked his blood-stained iron claws, suddenly feeling a chill in his palm—just as Shi Feiyang carried Ruoyao away, he vaguely saw ice crystals condense at his fingertips. This chilling internal force bore a striking resemblance to the legendary, long-lost "Frosty Palm." Under the night sky, the Yuanmingyuan resembled a sleeping behemoth, the lights of "Jiuzhou Qingyan" reflected on the surface of Fuhai Lake.

Shi Feiyang carried Ruoyao across the winding stone bridge. The imperial guards only saw a white shadow flash before their eyes, and when they tried to stop him, they were met with a chilling blast of air. He rushed into the lakeside quiet room and gently placed Ruoyao on the soft couch.

The Mingyu Gong circulated rapidly, causing his skin to glow with a crystalline jade-like color. The rising cold air from his palms gradually condensed into ice lotuses, slowly covering Ruoyao's wounds. Bai Zhen silently crept to the window and peered through the cracks in the window frame. He saw that as Shi Feiyang's palms moved swiftly, strands of ice threads were seeping into Ruoyao's meridians. He was greatly alarmed: this method of using cold to counteract poison was definitely not something that the "Frosty Palm" could perform. The flowing true energy was as clear as crystal, somewhat similar to the legendary "Mingyu Gong"... However, this kind of supreme skill had long been lost. How could it appear on the Fourth Prince?

Inside, Shi Feiyang seemed to sense something, and his glassy eyes suddenly turned to look out the window.

Bai Zhen hurriedly disappeared into the shadows, his iron claws digging five deep marks into the blue bricks from excessive force. Looking at his slightly trembling fingertips, he suddenly realized that this seemingly docile Fourth Prince was actually far more unfathomable than he had imagined.

The candlelight flickered on the gilded lampstand adorned with animal patterns. Yongzheng, clad in black boots, entered the quiet room, his twelve-symbol dragon robe sweeping across the threshold with a chilling aura. His gaze, sharp as a hawk's, swept over the jade-colored aura emanating from Shi Feiyang, finally settling on the black blood stains on the bed where Ruoyao had vomited. His brows instantly furrowed into sharp lines: "What kind of behavior is this?"

The palace maids rushed in like startled birds, and amidst the rustling sound of handkerchiefs wiping the blue bricks, Shi Feiyang had already finished his practice and stood up.

He slowly tucked Ruoyao's half-hanging jade arm into the quilt, each movement of his hand seeming to weigh the universe—his fingertips brushing against the brocade quilt embroidered with twin lotus blossoms, deliberately avoiding the warmth of Ruoyao's wrist.

"Your Majesty, you are wise." Shi Feiyang knelt on one knee, his black robe with dragon patterns rising and falling with his breath. "Miss Ruoyao has solved two cases of treason in three days, and last night she risked her life to retrieve the fragments of the secret letter." He lowered his eyes to look at the bloodstains that had not been wiped clean in the cracks of the blue bricks, his voice as deep as cold iron. "I dared to send her to the Yuanmingyuan, firstly to facilitate the Imperial Hospital's treatment, and secondly... if Your Majesty has any questions, there is no need to go to the trouble of sending more people."

Emperor Yongzheng raised his hand and stroked the jade pendant with nine dragons vying for a pearl at his waist, an item he often wore before ascending the throne.

The jade bead rolled coldly under his fingertips, reflecting the even stronger glint in his eyes: "Hongli, do you know the meaning of 'too much of a good thing'?"

Before he could finish speaking, Shi Feiyang kowtowed heavily, his forehead almost touching the blue bricks: "Your son will remember your teachings, Father! Once Ruoyao wakes up, your son will immediately transfer her to the Ministry of Justice." The bedchamber fell silent for a moment, with only the dripping sound of candle wax.

Yongzheng chuckled softly, but there was no warmth in his voice: "Get up. Zhang, the head of the Imperial Hospital, is skilled in treating poisoning injuries. Have him come over later."

Shi Feiyang then slowly stood up, taking three steps back while keeping his head down and eyes lowered. Even the sweep of his clothes across the ground was as precise as if it had been measured.

"Ruoyao is out of danger and just needs to recuperate." He bowed again, the pearl crown in his hair swaying slightly with the movement. "Father, you have been working hard all day, please rest early." Only after leaving the palace did his back relax slightly, but his palms were already soaked with cold sweat—Yongzheng's scrutinizing gaze was more chilling than the blades he faced when confronted with ten assassins. The process of waiting to inherit the throne was truly not easy.

The waters of Fuhai Lake in Yuanmingyuan reflected the cold moon, slicing the window frames of the quiet room into fine, silvery patterns. The gold-threaded python pattern on Yongzheng's black dragon robe undulated with his steps. He stood before the bed, his gaze like poisoned silver needles, piercing deeply into Ruoyao's pale face.

In the flickering candlelight, her oval face, phoenix eyes, and long, beautiful eyebrows gleamed with a cold, porcelain-like light under the palace lanterns.

"What a stunningly beautiful woman." Yongzheng's fingertips brushed against Ruoyao's falling hair, the pearls on her sleeves rustling against the silk.

The Imperial Physician Zhang had just stepped across the threshold when he was frozen in place by these chilling words: "If you cannot save her within three days, the Imperial Hospital need not remain."

"Your Majesty, Your Majesty obeys!" Imperial Physician Zhang knelt down with a thud, the porcelain bottle in his medicine chest shattering softly. He took Ruoyao's pulse with trembling hands, but then saw Yongzheng suddenly lean down, his withered fingers pinching Ruoyao's chin: "Once she recovers, I will take her as a Noble Consort."

Although these words were spoken to the imperial physician, the speaker seemed to raise his voice intentionally or unintentionally, causing even the night dew on the banana leaves outside the window to fall in a rustling sound.

Outside the door, Shi Feiyang stood against the wall, his glassy eyes reflecting the dim yellow light filtering through the window paper.

Mingyu Gong surged through his meridians, yet he couldn't suppress the bittersweet feeling rising in his heart. He recalled Ruoyao's blood-stained lips when she was poisoned, and her heroic figure as she chased after the traitor with her sword—all of which now transformed into a casual imperial edict from Emperor Yongzheng.

Just as he was about to unleash his "lightness skill that leaves no trace for a thousand miles" he suddenly stopped—he was "Hongli," how could he lose the demeanor of a prince?
The night wind lifted the corner of his dark robe as Shi Feiyang walked out of Fuhai, each step feeling like he was stepping on a knife's edge.

Only when they entered the depths of the bamboo forest did he unleash a palm strike like a trapped beast. The palm wind of the "Hundred Victories Sword Technique: Splitting Mountains" shattered bamboo branches, but it could not dispel the pent-up emotions in his heart. However, home is warm and cozy. Lady Fucha leaned against the carved window and saw Shi Feiyang step into the courtyard, so she hurriedly went to greet him.

"Your Highness doesn't look well." She placed her delicate hand on her husband's cold wrist, the pearl hairpin at his temple swaying gently. "Are you worried about Miss Ruoyao?" Shi Feiyang looked at his wife's gentle face and suddenly felt that even comforting someone in this deep palace was shackled.

He forced a smile, but it was more like a grimace: "It's just a pity about a talented person." His fingertips brushed across her exquisitely beautiful face, but inwardly he sneered—this smile was probably three times colder than the Mingyu Kung Fu he had cultivated, and had long since become a peerless martial art to conceal his true feelings.

As they were talking, Bai Zhen appeared like a ghost, his iron claws glowing dark red in the moonlight: "Your Highness, His Majesty has announced to the world that Miss Ruo Yao has been promoted to the rank of Noble Lady." He deliberately stared into Shi Feiyang's eyes, but saw only a bottomless pool of cold water.

"Congratulations, Miss Ruoyao." Shi Feiyang picked up his teacup and took a sip, the tea reflecting his smiling face. "To have the Emperor's favor is better than wandering the world." Upon hearing this, even Lady Fucha couldn't help but glance at him—she had been with her husband for a long time and had never seen him smile so distantly.

Bai Zhen was rebuffed, but when he clasped his hands in farewell, he was still unwilling to give up: "Your Highness has a broad mind, which I admire."

Shi Feiyang rose to see the guest off, his black dragon-patterned robe sweeping across the threshold: "Guard Bai, you flatter me." Before he finished speaking, a thin layer of frost had already formed on his palm—this deep palace was a hundred times more dangerous than the battles in the martial world; a slight carelessness could lead to utter destruction.

After Bai Zhen's figure disappeared at the end of the corridor, Shi Feiyang looked at the cold moon in the sky and finally put away his fake smile.

As Mingyu Gong circulated, his body shimmered with a crystalline jade color, yet it could not warm the chill in his heart.

He knew that from the moment Yongzheng uttered those words, a chasm thicker than the walls of the Forbidden City had formed between him and Ruoyao. And this smile would likely have to accompany him as he continued to perform in this ruthless and treacherous palace.

Throughout history, the imperial family has been the most ruthless. Hongli knew all too well that as long as he did not ascend the throne, the head he carried on his shoulders would not be secure.

In the depths of winter, in the warm pavilion of Changchun Garden, Lady Fucha was draping a newly tailored fox fur coat over Shi Feiyang's shoulders.

The sable fur collar accentuated her snow-white skin, and gold thread was wrapped around her fingertips, delicately embroidering the twin lotus patterns on the cuffs.

"The Japanese satin newly arrived by the Imperial Household Department is good, but it is not as soft as the Yun brocade from Jiangnan." She spoke softly, her silver needle drawing tiny glints of silver light in the candlelight. "In a few days, have Fu Heng find two bolts of Suzhou embroidery fabric."

Shi Feiyang embraced her slender waist, gazing at the mountain of memorials piled on the table with a light laugh: "My beloved wife's concern reminds me of the poem 'The clothes on the traveler's back.'" Before he finished speaking, a crow suddenly took flight outside the window, and the copper bells on the eaves jingled. The blood-dripping dart in his sleeve felt slightly warm; this was a secret report from the Sticky Rod Office—rumors circulated in the martial arts world that the Red Flower Society had broken through three Qing Dynasty tax checkpoints in Jiangnan.

Lady Fucha seemed to sense something, put down her embroidery frame, and handed him a cup of warmed ginseng tea: "These days I've noticed you've been frowning a lot, is it because of the affairs of the court?" She ran her fingertips along the wrinkles between his brows, "I remember last autumn when you were teaching me riding and archery, you said that the more chaotic the situation, the more you need to remain calm and composed."

Shi Feiyang drank the ginseng tea, which had a sweet aroma of red dates mixed in with it. In a daze, it even seemed somewhat similar to the coarse tea of ​​the Northwest Branch.

He grasped Lady Fucha's hand, feeling the newly formed calluses on her thumb and forefinger—ever since he taught her to hold a sword, these hands, once used for writing and embroidery, could now draw a bow with a strength of three stones. "How about accompanying me on a hunting trip to the Southern Garden tomorrow?" Shi Feiyang suddenly said, "I heard that the Imperial Horse Stables have recently acquired several Akhal-Teke horses from the Western Regions."

The next day, the Nanyuan Hunting Grounds were covered in snow.

Lady Fucha, dressed in a moon-white arrow-sleeved robe and with her black hair neatly tied into a bun, drew the attention of her accompanying guards as she drew her bow and arrow on horseback.

Suddenly, a white rabbit darted out from the withered grass. With a flick of her wrist, she sent the arrow flying, but just three inches from its prey, it abruptly changed direction, striking the snow-covered treetops. As the snow fell softly, the rabbit fled in panic, leaving behind a trail of adorable footprints.

"My dear wife's skill in 'holding back' is becoming more and more exquisite." Shi Feiyang rode closer, his glassy eyes reflecting her flushed cheeks.

Lady Fucha smiled slightly, took out a handkerchief from her bosom to wipe the thin layer of sweat from his forehead: "Master always says that a true hunter is not defined by how many prey he kills, but by when to put away his arrow." As dusk fell, the two returned to the mansion side by side.

Suddenly, Lady Fucha reined in the reins and pointed to the fiery clouds on the horizon, saying, "Look, Master, don't those clouds look like the sunset over Jiangnan?" A look of reminiscence appeared in her eyes, "When I was young, I accompanied my father to Suzhou. Every evening, the surface of Taihu Lake would be dyed this color."

Shi Feiyang looked at her profile and suddenly remembered what Tu Yanfei had described about the sunrise at Mount Hua.

They both possess the carefree spirit of江湖儿女 (people of the martial arts world), and both have a tenderness that cannot be hidden in their eyes.

He reached out and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, the scent of orchids from her hair lingering in his palm: "When spring comes, I will take you to the south of the Yangtze River."

That night, Shi Feiyang secretly met with Wei Nianhua and Chen Feng, the commanders of the Sticky Rod Office, in his study.

The words on the secret report made his pupils shrink slightly—the leader of the Red Flower Society had appeared in Yangzhou and had a long talk with the new leader of the Beggars' Sect all night.

Just as Shi Feiyang was using his internal energy to crush the secret report, the door hinges clicked softly, and Fucha stood quietly at the doorway, holding a bowl of hangover soup.

"Is Master troubled by matters of the martial world again?" She put down the soup bowl, unfolded the newly ground Xuan paper, and said, "Why don't you accompany me to write a few words?" With that, she picked up the brush and wrote the four characters "Hai Na Bai Chuan" (meaning "The sea accepts all rivers"), her brushstrokes both vigorous and graceful.

Shi Feiyang stared at the ink marks, then suddenly grasped her hand and added beside it, "Greatness lies in tolerance." As their eyes met, even the wind and snow outside the window seemed to soften. Spring turned to autumn, and the pomegranate trees in the Prince's mansion were laden with fruit.

Empress Fucha leaned against Shi Feiyang's chest, listening to him recount stories of the previous dynasty. When she spoke of Emperor Yongle's five expeditions to the northern deserts, she suddenly smiled and said, "If it were me, I would have prepared enough cotton clothes and medicines before the expedition, so that the soldiers would suffer less."

Shi Feiyang lowered his head and gently kissed the top of her head, thinking to himself: In this harem, there is a blade sharper than a thousand troops—a gentleness that can warm people's hearts and strike them directly.

As early spring arrives, the snow still lingers on the glazed tiles of the Forbidden City, but the warm pavilions of Yonghe Palace are already filled with the warmth of spring.

Shi Feiyang, dressed in a bright yellow dragon robe, looked at the wrinkled baby in the wet nurse's arms, and a tenderness that he himself did not realize appeared in his glassy eyes.

The baby suddenly grabbed his fingertips with such force that this top martial arts master was slightly taken aback—immediately realizing that he was about to write a new chapter in this imperial family as a father.

"Father named him Yonglian," Emperor Yongzheng's voice came from behind, his dragon-patterned cloak sweeping across the charcoal brazier, stirring up a few sparks. "Lian means ancestral vessel." When Shi Feiyang turned around, he saw his father gazing at the budding paulownia trees outside the window, sunlight filtering through the white hair at his temples, weaving fine golden threads on his dragon robe. "Your subject will certainly teach him to be benevolent to the people and love all things, and will not fail Father's high expectations." Shi Feiyang took the baby in his arms, his fingertips gently tracing the baby's rosy face, thinking of the children in the Northwest branch begging for food in the cold wind.

Yonglian suddenly grinned, and his smile bore a striking resemblance to the one Tu Yanfei had given him when they first met, sending a shiver down his spine.

On the day the Complete Works of Leshan Hall was compiled, the bronze incense burner in Wenhua Hall was filled with aloeswood incense.

Shi Feiyang gazed at the fourteen volumes of manuscripts on his desk, his fingertips tracing Zhu Shi's preface: "The learning of a prince should take heaven and earth as his heart and the people as his concern."

He suddenly remembered the beggar boy he had seen eavesdropping outside a private school during his incognito visit to Jiangnan—at this moment, the boy's face appeared on the Xuan paper along with the words "benevolence" in the book.

"Prince Bao is extremely knowledgeable, and his writing is as if guided by divine inspiration." Zhang Tingyu's compliment interrupted Shi Feiyang's thoughts.

He looked up and saw the shrewd glint in the eyes of this veteran official who had served two dynasties. He pointed to the chapter "On the Grand Canal" in the book and said with a smile, "Lord Zhang, you flatter me. The Grand Canal is related to the granary of the nation. The other day, I saw the boatmen on the canal pulling the boat barefoot in the cold winter. I couldn't bear it, so I wrote this chapter."

Upon hearing this, Ortai stroked his beard and sighed, "The prince's benevolence is truly a blessing for the people."

Shi Feiyang gazed at the swallows carrying mud outside the hall, recalling the Canal Gang brothers he had met in Yangzhou last year. The waist protectors tied around their waists were the ones secretly sent by the Beggars' Sect branch—every word he wrote at this moment could become the turning point that changed their fate.

Shi Feiyang knelt beneath the imperial steps, listening to the edict that granted him "management of affairs and the power of life and death," and suddenly recalled the moment he received the Dog-Beating Stick at the Beggars' Sect assembly. Two completely different weights were now gradually merging into one on his shoulders.

The willow branches in Nanyuan had just sprouted tender yellow buds when the sound of a bowstring piercing the air startled the thrushes perched on the peach branches.

Shi Feiyang held Yonglian's small, delicate hand and gently pressed down the carved bow by half an inch: "Look, an arrow should follow the wind, just as a gentleman should act in accordance with the times." The child looked up at his delicate, jade-like face, his clear pupils reflecting the python pattern on his father's moon-white arrow sleeve.

Suddenly, the sound of rapid, rain-like hooves came from afar.

(End of this chapter)