Volume 3, Chapter 25 – Capital Upheaval (3)

The young man in black was named Zhao Feng, belonging to the Suzhen Sword Dao, one of the disciples under the Old Celestial Master of Suzhen Dao, Wu Mengzi.

He was also someone who had crossed nine Core Tribulations, and in a recent operation to suppress the Blood Sea had made a last-minute breakthrough, his core becoming a Divine Fetus. Compared to other cultivators of the Divine Fetus realm, he possessed over a decade more of brutal combat experience.

It was precisely because Wu Mengzi knew the weight of this disciple that he sent him to handle the problem.

After all, as a Sword Lord, he had to hold the Northern Pass most of the time and was not allowed to move rashly. Whenever something happened and he was stretched thin, it was basically always his carefully trained disciples who went out to act in his stead.

Zhao Feng, arms folded around his life-bound war sword, stood atop the city gate tower silently watching Xiang Xian approach, guessing she must have come along the road from the suburban airport.

The odd thing was—she hadn’t taken any transport.

Had she gotten off at a station nearby?

He couldn’t quite read what state Xiang Xian was in at the moment. She looked drunk, as if she’d downed quite a bit of alcohol.

His master had once said: when women drink, it’s usually because their mindset has blown apart.

This Xiang Xian—her carefully nurtured successor had turned out to be an ungrateful wolf, and had even taken part in slandering another beloved disciple of hers back in the day. If she’d already found all that out, then getting drunk along the way was understandable.

So… should he just go down and arrest her directly?

This wasn’t the first time Zhao Feng had been sent back to the interior to carry out a mission. He’d seen interior society and all that so-called “civilized” intrigue and backstabbing.

Compared to the people of the interior, he still preferred living at the Northern Pass. The warriors who teamed up with him there to slaughter demonic beasts all looked down on Liang Yu’s actions, and felt genuine sympathy for Xiang Xian’s situation.

So he chose to wait a bit longer.

When he saw the city gate open and Liang Yu, Song Chengqing, and the others step out from a caravan, Zhao Feng tightened his grip on his sword sheath and quietly sighed to himself.

At the very least, he’d let them catch up. That was one of the few things he could still do.

“You… Chengqing?”

Vision blurry, Xiang Xian looked at the scene in front of her—sometime earlier, an entire tea stall had been set up in the open space beneath the gate tower. Counter, food truck, stove, awning—everything was there. Quite a few servants were still unloading items from the carriages and adding to the setup. The speed they were working at could truly be called astonishing.

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Standing beside the tea stall was her disciple Song Chengqing, looking somewhat ill at ease. Whenever Xiang Xian’s gaze landed on her, she couldn’t help but shift her eyes away.

“What’s wrong, Chengqing?” It was as if Xiang Xian sobered up. She stepped forward and carefully looked her over. “Where’s your senior brother? Why didn’t he come with you?”

“I…” After struggling several times in her heart, Song Chengqing lowered her head and said, “Senior Brother feels he didn’t discipline Yuer properly and doesn’t dare come see Master.”

“He’s still the same as ever.” Xiang Xian smiled. “I haven’t managed you all that strictly. These years, it’s actually been him and you taking the lead.”

“If not for Yuer, that Dao-lord position would actually be most appropriate for your senior brother.”

“These years… I’ve worked the two of you hard.”

“Master!” Song Chengqing’s eyes reddened, regret surging uncontrollably in her heart.

Song Ruhua indeed deserved such an evaluation from Xiang Xian, but Song Chengqing knew very clearly that the reason Liang Yu had grown such a temperament had a lot to do with her constantly covering for her behind Xiang Xian’s back and spoiling her.

Sometimes, when Liang Yu was punished and wouldn’t accept it, she’d find ways to seek out Song Chengqing for help. And with Song Chengqing’s soft ears, she always thought: we’re fellow disciples after all; even if Master finds out, she won’t blame me too much. As long as she could help, she always would.

Over time, things turned into what they were today. It was hard for Song Chengqing to say she bore no responsibility.

But regret was already too late.

Thinking of Yao Ying’s threats before she got out of the carriage—that if they couldn’t take down Xiang Xian, not only would Song Chengqing be jointly liable, Song Ruhua and the others wouldn’t escape either—Song Chengqing felt she had no choice.

Just then Xiang Xian changed the subject, curiously looking toward the food truck behind them. “What’s all this… a whole production? You paid for all these people?”

“This was… the young princess of Yong’an’s idea.” Song Chengqing rushed to explain. “Master knows I have some acquaintance with the young princess. She felt sorry about Master’s situation. When she heard Master was coming back to the capital, she suggested I greet you here and, according to ancient rites, offer you a cup of tea.”

In the rites of Yu, there was such a thing as “welcoming tea for guests,” and when applied to the relationship between master and disciple it became even stricter—the farther from home the better.

Of course, anything called an “ancient rite” was indeed rare these days. This was an excuse that Song Chengqing and Liang Yu had discussed on the way over, in case Xiang Xian grew suspicious.

“Ancient rites.” Xiang Xian paused for a moment, then nodded. “Very well. I happen to be thirsty. Chengqing, pour me some tea.”

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They’re really going to poison her?

Hiding up on the gate tower, Zhao Feng stared, eyes going wide.

He had never imagined that Xiang Xian’s own disciples could put on a show like this.

Xiang Xian definitely wasn’t expecting it either…

Zhao Feng’s face darkened.

If their plan succeeded, he probably wouldn’t need to lift a finger—but he didn’t feel happy about that at all.

It was an insult to cultivators, and to the entire Sword Dao.

As for Liang Yu, who had just gotten out of the carriage earlier and used it as cover to whisper something to Song Chengqing, she now didn’t even dare show her face.

Hmph! Only knows how to play dirty little tricks!

His master, Wu Mengzi, had explained once that the position of Yuming Dao-lord was best held by one of two kinds of people: either those wholly focused on research without distractions, or ambitious, scheming, power-chasing opportunists.

Someone like Xiang Xian, on the other hand, cared too much about feelings. She was easily swayed by emotion, making her prone to unforeseen variables.

Even if there’d been no pretext at all, he’d still have advised Yujing to remove her.

Zhao Feng had offered no opinion on that either way. He only knew that if it were up to him, even if Xiang Xian couldn’t be Yuming Dao-lord… he would never choose something as disgusting as Liang Yu.

Below, with her back to Liang Yu, Song Chengqing poured the clear yellow liquid from the teapot.

The liquid fell into a white jade cup. She picked it up, turned, and offered it to Xiang Xian with both hands.

During the whole process, Song Chengqing didn’t dare look Xiang Xian in the eye. She was afraid—afraid that her gaze would betray her guilt, afraid that Xiang Xian would see through her.

Every second of waiting felt like a year.

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She seemed to hear a soft sigh.

The weight in her hands suddenly lightened; the cup had been taken.

Song Chengqing’s heart felt like it was hanging up in the clouds as she strained to listen, to catch any sound—yet she still didn’t hear the faint noise of tea being blown on and sipped.

What was Master waiting for?

Finally, she couldn’t help raising her head, only to find Xiang Xian holding the teacup in her left hand while operating a phone with her right.

“Master?”

“Don’t rush,” Xiang Xian said, eyes fixed on the screen. “I’m contacting your senior brother. There are some things I want to ask him.”

Ask Song Ruhua?

We just had a fight… this—

Song Chengqing’s expression changed. She reached out, as if to stop her.

But just then, Xiang Xian’s gaze swept over, meeting her eyes head-on.

That clear, elegant face—the same as the “purple-skirted fairy” who had once saved her.

“What is it?” Xiang Xian smiled. “Is there a problem?”

“No…” Song Chengqing’s face went pale. “No problem…”

The call connected quickly, and Song Ruhua’s voice came through the receiver. “Master?”

“I’m at the South Gate,” Xiang Xian said in a very calm tone. “Chengqing is with me. She’s just about to offer me some ‘Welcome-Master Tea.’”

“Welc—” Song Ruhua’s brain froze for a moment.

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“Look at you,” Xiang Xian said, “how come neither you nor Rongzhi ever show this kind of thoughtfulness?”

“No! Master, wait!”

Song Ruhua had been about to go to bed. Once his thoughts lined up, he felt as if his soul had flown out of him.

No one knew Song Chengqing’s temperament better than he did. His little sister had no particularly grand ambitions. Why would she suddenly think of putting on some ‘Welcome-Master Tea’ show?

As for this kind of currying-favor trick—on the one hand, she was too lazy to learn it. On the other, even if she did, what use was it to her?

Convinced there had to be something fishy about this, Song Ruhua spoke with grave seriousness. “Master! Don’t drink that tea for now!”

“Oh?” Xiang Xian’s eyes never left Song Chengqing. “You suspect something’s wrong with this tea?”

“I…” Song Ruhua hesitated for a moment, then gritted his teeth. “I believe she would never poison Master!”

“But I suspect… this isn’t something she would think of on her own. I suspect she’s being used by someone with ill intentions!”

Twannng!

As if the very last string had snapped, Song Chengqing’s knees gave out and she collapsed to the ground, soaked in sweat from head to toe.

“Useless!”

Liang Yu had been watching from inside the carriage the whole time. Seeing this, she couldn’t help cursing, then immediately turned to look at Yao Ying.

Yao Ying promptly picked up a device like a walkie-talkie and spoke into it: “The situation has changed. Mr. Zhao, if you would please make your move.”

After waiting a while with no response, Yao Ying’s face darkened, and she added, “Mr. Zhao! I’m in the carriage too!”

…Sigh.