A Pawn's Passage

Gao Mingyin was in a good mood. In his eyes, success was practically guaranteed with the Tianchen Division taking action. As long as the stumbling block was removed, everything else would be smooth sailing.

Everything that had happened before had indeed humiliated him and cost him his authority, but once this was done, he would regain what he had lost and might even rise to a higher level.

His son, Gao Shide, would be released soon. After all, consumption of the Five Minerals Powder was not a serious offense. That alone was not enough to warrant incarceration or forced labor.

The Green Den could reopen, and no one would dare to cause trouble again. Even the Beggar Gang members would be released the same way they were arrested.

Without Qi Xuansu, those ordinary Daoists would not dare oppose him head-on.

Gao Mingyin would still be the uncrowned king of North City, the emperor of the underworld.

He was afraid of retaliation from the Daoist Order, but it was not unmanageable.

After all, the Daoist Order was far from united. At the moment, they were in a state of unprecedented division and internal strife. The two major cases in Jiangnan in just a few short years were clear evidence of the power struggles between the two factions. If someone from the Quanzhen Sect died, the Taiping Sect might not feel any sympathy. They might even secretly rejoice.

Since the Daoists lacked a Grand Master who could command authority and finalize decisions, many matters ended up mired in open bickering and covert sabotage. It was like the cliques of the previous dynasty, opposing just for the sake of opposition, with fewer and fewer areas of consensus.

The Daoist Order lacked a strong leader to unify them. This was a seed planted during the tenure of the sixth-generation Grand Master, and now it was bearing bitter fruit. If the fifth-generation Grand Master were still alive, would they have dared to act like this?

Cycles of division and unification were a long-standing pattern in the Daoist Order. No matter how badly the Daoist sects fought now, they were still better off than the completely splintered version of the past. After all, the Holy Xuan forcibly unified the fractured Daoist Order back then. So, what the Daoists truly lacked now was a leader to unify them.

Since this was the Imperial Capital, the Daoists could not act recklessly out of deference to the Emperor. The Holy Xuan had admitted that he once used assassination as a means for the unification of the Daoist sects. However, he believed that as the orthodox rulers of the world, Daoists should avoid such tactics unless absolutely necessary. That was because assassination would undermine their legitimacy and moral high ground.

The last time a Sage was killed, the uproar was intense. Yet the Daoists did not retaliate within the Imperial Capital. Instead, they held back for years before finally striking down the culprit with overwhelming force outside the city. This was not really an assassination—it was an open and public execution. The only reason it was made to look like an assassination was to preserve the Emperor’s dignity. As such, the Imperial Court was tactful, hastily wrapping up the case under the guise of suicide.

Given that, Gao Mingyin simply decided not to leave the Imperial Capital. After all, killing a powerful superintendent of the Daoist Order could not possibly come without consequences. But since the Imperial Capital was the largest city in the world with everything one needed, spending a lifetime here would pose no issue at all.

Gao Mingyin believed this trade-off was well worth it. Besides, it saved him over 100,000 Taiping coins, though he still had to pay The Inn tens of thousands of Taiping coins.

As for the matters that required going outside the city, he could delegate them to his most trusted subordinates.

Of course, it was possible that he might one day drop dead at home, with the official story concluding that he died of a sudden illness. But there was nothing he could do about that. Between two evils, he would rather choose the lesser one. Dying suddenly in the future was still better than being forced to death by Qi Xuansu now.

He was a man who had weathered many storms. His hardships and dangers were no less than those faced by the greatest Jianghu swordsmen. Thus, when it came time to make a decision, he knew what was best.

In short, this was a huge hurdle, but he had finally gotten over it.

On the evening of the second day after Gao Shide was publicly shamed, Gao Mingyin met with Qi Xuansu at a branch of the Taiping Inn in the Haosheng Southeast District. Qi Xuansu did not return that night. On the third day, Gao Shide’s three-day public parade ended, and he was finally allowed to return home.

That evening, Gao Mingyin decided to host a grand banquet, inviting many friends to welcome his son back to society. The event would be held at the main branch of the Taiping Inn in the Xuanzhen South District.

There was no doubt that Gao Mingyin was using this opportunity to send a clear message to both allies and rivals—he had won this power struggle against the Daoist Mage.

Even Mage Qi, with all his powerful backing, had lost. So who would dare challenge Gao Mingyin again?

Of course, this incident would not shake the Imperial Court or attract the interest of high-ranking elites. But it caused quite a stir among the middle and lower classes of the capital. Many were talking about Old Master Gao hosting a grand banquet at the Taiping Inn’s main branch, even hiring an opera troupe to perform for the occasion.

By evening, the front of the Taiping Inn’s main branch was packed with carriages. The Daoists advocated equality and disapproved of sedan chairs, viewing them as symbols of Confucian elitism. As a result, carriages had come back into fashion, replacing sedan chairs. Of course, these officials did not truly believe in Daoist ideals—many Daoists themselves did not either—but when those above set a trend, those below followed. Since the Holy Xuan had promoted this and used it to distance themselves from the decaying Confucian School, many people naturally went along with it.

Those stepping down from the carriages were all draped in silks and satins. Their conversations and laughter exuded a wealth and elegance far beyond the reach of ordinary folk.

It was said that Old Master Gao had reserved the entire venue today. This was not just any place, but the main branch of the Taiping Inn in the Imperial Capital. Some estimated that between the reservation fee and the lavish banquet, tonight’s expenses alone would come close to 10,000 Taiping coins.

Of course, the daily revenue of the Taiping Inn’s main branch did not usually amount to such an extravagant figure. But reserving the entire venue meant turning away many guests, resulting in losses, potentially even long-term ones. Thus, the Taiping Inn did not like such bookings. Since they could not outright refuse guests either, they had to raise the bar instead. They calculated the potential losses and exaggerated them accordingly, which was how such a staggering number came to be.

For anyone, that sum was no small matter. But Old Master Gao spent it without batting an eye.

This banquet was not purely for celebration. It was a show of strength. The business world was much like the battlefield—one must never show weakness. As long as others feared and believed in him, he could carry mountains of debt and still walk with ease. That was why the more difficult their circumstances, the more extravagant these businessmen appeared, using luxury to reinforce people’s confidence in them. After all, confidence and trust were more valuable than gold.

In the banquet hall on the second floor, the feast was laid out like a peacock spreading its tail. Among the guests were wealthy merchants, the gentry, and court officials, most of whom had dealings with Old Master Gao. Yet not a single Daoist was in sight. Clearly, even if there were Daoists who took joy in Qi Xuansu’s death, they could not show it openly because they could not say or do things that might undermine the unity of the Daoist Order in public.

A moment later, the host himself arrived. Old Master Gao entered through a side door, not making a grand entrance. Yet the moment he appeared, all eyes turned to him. Nearly everyone rose to cup their hands in salute.

Gao Mingyin was just a merchant, but even government officials bowed to him first. This was proof of his vast influence. It was no wonder he dared to go neck and neck with a Mage over the Green Den.

As he walked, Gao Mingyin returned the salutes, his face adorned with a warm yet dignified smile, completely different from the day he had groveled before Qi Xuansu before turning sinister with threats.

The infamous Gao Shide had yet to appear, but someone had already reported to Old Master Gao that the young master was on his way, and that the Daoists themselves were escorting him back.

When Gao Mingyin heard this news, the corners of his lips lifted slightly, with a hint of smugness, mockery, and scorn.

Everyone took their seats, with Gao Mingyin naturally at the main table. At that table sat the Commander of the North City Wardens’ Office, Shuntian Prefecture’s Magistrate and Deputy Magistrate—all influential figures.

Gao Mingyin exchanged a few pleasantries with his close friends and said that once Gao Shide returned, he would have his son toast a few cups to show his respect.

Just then, a commotion broke out outside. A server soon entered and whispered a few words into the ear of Gao Mingyin’s strategist, Jiang Zhupo.

Jiang Zhupo’s expression shifted slightly, and he quickly got up and rushed outside.

Before long, Jiang Zhupo returned to the banquet hall with a face as pale as paper. His entire body was shaking slightly, as if he had suffered a serious shock.

The moment Gao Mingyin noticed his strategist’s unusual behavior, his heart skipped a beat, but he kept a calm expression and asked, “What is it?”

Jiang Zhupo stammered, “M-Master, the Imperial Capital Daoist Mansion has escorted the young master here.”

“If he’s back, then why is that brat still lingering outside? Shouldn’t he come in and greet his uncles? Or does he want me to go fetch him myself?” Gao Mingyin’s face darkened.

Jiang Zhupo replied in a trembling voice, “It’s not that the young master doesn’t want to come in. It’s—it’s—”

Just then, a voice interrupted, “I personally came to deliver your son to you, Old Master Gao.”

A man ascended the stairs, dressed in the formal uniform of a fourth-rank Jijiu Daoist master. He glanced around the room and said with a grin, “What a lively party!”

Many who recognized him jolted up from their seats, their faces full of fear.

Others did not recognize the man, so someone asked cautiously, “May we have your name, Mage?”

The man smiled faintly. “Certainly. I am the humble Qi Xuansu.”

In an instant, the entire second-floor banquet hall fell into dead silence.

Everyone rose to their feet, puzzled. Wasn’t this the very Mage Qi who had gone missing last night? Wasn’t he supposedly in some kind of accident? How could he be standing here, completely unscathed?

Of all those present, the most shaken was Gao Mingyin, who knew what had truly happened. Blood drained from his face, and he was barely able to stand. He had to steady himself with a hand on the table as he thought to himself, How is this happening?! Those were seven Heavenly Beings!