Where Immortals Once Walked

So many days had passed, and with He Chunhua’s mind fixed entirely on his political career, how could he possibly pass up such a golden chance to send a report to the royal court and claim credit?

“If Father’s report is sent too early, it might just get read and set aside. However, if it goes up after the rumors have begun to spread, then the credit becomes indisputable, whether the royal court likes it or not.”

“Huh? Why would they set it aside?” He Lingchuan’s thoughts turned, and then realization struck. “Hiss, are you saying that the royal court wants to keep this a secret, wary of the situation? That’s bad! Wouldn’t that mean our credit just gets swallowed up? How are they even keeping this a secret? It’s such a massive conflict within the court!”

The royal court was already sending troops against the Minister of War, and the fighting at Woling Pass had only just ended. The state was leaking at the seams, and the court was exhausted from trying to plug every breach. At such a time, they would hardly want to drive the Provincial Governor of Xun Province into open rebellion and make yet another enemy for themselves.

So, it was indeed quite possible that they would simply smother any news of what had happened in the Panlong Desert, keeping it secret. That way, both the capital and Nian Zanli could breathe a little easier.

But in that case, the military merit He Chunhua was dreaming of would simply vanish into thin air.

After taking such a risk and paying such a price, how could he possibly be willing to accept that?

Which was why he planned to send men to the capital and stir the pot first. Once the rumors caught fire, even if Nian Zanli had no wish to rebel, he would be forced into it.

The mutual suspicion between him and the royal court was already separated by nothing more than a sheet of paper; it seemed He Chunhua had decided to be the one to pierce it.

Realization dawning upon him, He Lingchuan could not help but clap his hands. “Damn! The old man’s still got it. A treasured saber’s edge is still sharp no matter how old it gets!”

He Yue lowered his gaze. “Once the rumors start, our achievements will be locked in. But it could also mean that war will flare up again in the northern region of Yuan, swallowing countless more lives. Or perhaps Nian Zanli will simply throw his lot in with the northern monster state, and Great Yuan will lose an entire province in one stroke. For the kingdom, neither outcome is a good thing.”

“So, having the court bury our achievements is supposed to be a good thing?”

“Perhaps they mean to deal with the Minister of War first, and only then turn to Xun Province, defeating their enemies one by one.”

He Lingchuan chuckled. “Nian Zanli isn’t some straw dummy who’ll stand there waiting to be attacked. If he already has rebellion in his heart, he’s like a powder keg. It would be better to set it off sooner rather than later. That way, fewer people get hurt.” While saying this, he reached over and patted his younger brother on the back of the head. “Sometimes a good cause ends in a bad result.”

He Yue sighed. “There’s something else, but don’t tell this to anyone else.”

He Lingchuan made a zipping gesture at his lips. “Don’t worry, I’ve no pillow to whisper secrets to yet.”

It was odd, though. This younger brother of his was usually self-contained and aloof, not at all in tune with him. So, why, after this trip to the Panlong Desert, had He Yue suddenly grown closer to him?

Was it because he had helped him deal with Nian Songyu?

He Yue glanced around instinctively. “At dinner the other day, Father asked me what I thought of the Minister of War’s rebellion. I said it was treason of the highest order.”

He Lingchuan shoveled a spoonful of almond tofu into his mouth. “And?”

“That was just to humor him,” He Yue said quietly. “Truthfully, putting myself in his place, I find the Minister of War’s actions understandable. The King’s handling of state affairs has been... less than serious. Take the northern monster state as an example, I’m actually more in favor of the Minister of War’s policy there.”

“Oh?” He Lingchuan was a little surprised. “You don’t support defending our borders?”

“Who wouldn’t? But state policy has to be set according to the actual situation; it can’t just be about charging ahead like some hotheaded hero. Look at Panlong City, it was remarkable enough to hold out for thirty-two years after becoming an isolated enclave. But with its motherland so feeble, no matter how Zhong Shengguang resisted, West Luo still ended up losing the Panlong Wasteland all over again. And a few years later, the state itself was gone.”

“A strong state can speak with fiery conviction, declaring that any who offends us will be punished,” He Yue said seriously. “But the weak must learn to weigh the pros and cons. Our current state is no longer the wealthy and powerful Great Yuan of old. By working to pacify the northern monster state, the Minister of War gives Great Yuan the breathing room to quell unrest at home.”

He Lingchuan chuckled. “So you’re saying that we need to secure the interior before dealing with the exterior?”

He Yue nodded.

“But what if the unrest at home drags on endlessly? Warlords carving out their own fiefs, floods, famine, rebel armies, border raids... in the past ten years, I think we’ve only managed disaster relief, and even that hasn’t always gone well. Qiansong Commandery is peaceful now because of Father, but seven or eight years ago, the Hongya Route was anything but safe.” He Lingchuan continued, “The Minister of War didn’t rise to power yesterday. He’s been aiding the King with these troubles for a long time, yet none of them have been properly solved.”

He Yue hesitated, then let out a sigh.

He Lingchuan patted him on the shoulder. “It’s fine to worry in silence, but not to speak recklessly. Everything you said today, don’t repeat a single word of it. You’ll drag Father and me down with you.”

Rolling his eyes, He Yue replied, “I obviously won’t be saying this to anyone else. I’m not stupid.”

“Liu Baobao’s hosting drinks at Xiangsi Tower tonight. You coming?”

“I can’t drink.”

Ah, right, Madame Ying is very protective of her youngest son. He’s fourteen years old now, old enough for marriage talks, but alcohol is still strictly forbidden.

He Lingchuan was about to tease him further, but his eyes flicked to the side. Seizing a piece of red date cake, he said, “I’m going to take a bath. We can continue talking some other time.”

Before He Yue could answer, He Lingchuan had already vaulted out the window.

“Huh?” He Yue frowned. That was suspiciously quick.

Moments later, several figures appeared at the door, the one in front none other than Madame Ying.

She froze at the sight of the table. “These were the tea cakes for our guests! They’re supposed to go out now! Yue’er, if you wanted something to eat, why didn’t you say so? I’d have had some brought straight to you.”

Enough pastries to serve ten people were now down to just a few scraps. Since when did this child develop such an appetite?

He Yue: “...”

* * *

Slipping back into his own courtyard, He Lingchuan patted his stomach. Sixty percent full, perfect!

He called for hot water, took a long, luxurious bath, then downed a cup of warm milk. He was just about to lie down for a nap when his eyes fell on the broken saber by the table.

Normally, it stayed in the study, but today, without thinking, he had brought it here.

He drew the saber and ran his fingers lightly along the blade. Ever since leaving the illusion realm, it no longer radiated that blinding, eye-cutting gleam. It was as if its killing edge did not affect him.

But that was only on him alone.

When He Yue had so much as brushed the flat of the blade—not even the edge—he had still nicked his finger.

He Lingchuan touched the blade with a fingertip, then quickly drew back.

He was very much fond of keeping his skin intact.

No injury. His finger was completely unharmed.

Growing bolder, he pressed it again.

Still, the action drew no blood.

He pressed harder, hard enough to leave a dent in the pad of his finger, yet the skin remained utterly unbroken.

It was as sharp as if it had never been honed.

Delight bloomed in his chest, and he swung the saber a few times.

Crack!

A rosewood table several meters away split cleanly in two.

This saber was different for him alone.

He found himself loving it more and more.

Ever since his lone soul had crossed into this world, he had been living in silks and brocade, surrounded by attendants. Still, everything had been inherited from the body’s original owner, leaving an unreal sense of detachment.

Only this saber was truly his, something that no one else could even touch.

It’s a pity that I don’t know its name. A treasured saber should have a name of its own. Why didn’t Zhong Shengguang engrave it on the scabbard?