Chapter 141 Suspicion

Upon returning to the Prince's Estate, Chen Pingwu was seething with rage. Wang Jia heard his thunderous roars from the side chamber and hurried out to intercept him.

With a look of anxious concern on her delicate face, Wang Jia watched as Chen Pingwu burned with fury. She had witnessed Yang Guang's formidable martial prowess firsthand and was terrified that Chen Pingwu's hot-headed impulses would land him in grave trouble.

"This has nothing to do with you."

Nursing his bitter resentment, Chen Pingwu waved a dismissive hand at Wang Jia, then shouted into the courtyard.

"Steward! Steward! Where is Yang Guang?"

The steward came running in a panic, beads of sweat covering his brow as he looked nervously at Chen Pingwu and replied cautiously, "Your Highness, Young Master Yang went out some time ago. I do not know where he has gone."

Out?

Chen Pingwu's brow furrowed. He suspected that Yang Guang must have gone to see his father the Prince once again, which only served to ignite his anger further. To his immense frustration, he, the legitimate heir and flesh and blood of the Prince, was now treated with less importance than some vagrant picked off the street; he was kept completely in the dark, reduced to an utter outsider.

Impatiently, Chen Pingwu waved the steward away, then slumped alone into a chair in the center of the main hall, his wrath unabated.

Wang Jia watched him storming with rage, momentarily at a loss for words. Yet, she could not bring herself to simply walk away and leave him in such a state. Instead, she lingered timidly by the doorway outside the hall. Accustomed to a life of pampered luxury, she had not the slightest notion of how to soothe someone's temper, and could only stand there in silent, awkward solitude.

...

After the court session adjourned, Feng Yewu and Lu Jue proceeded directly to the imperial study.

Feng Yewu sat behind the desk, her expression flushed with anger, clearly still agitated by the turbulent proceedings in the imperial court.

Observing her lingering fury, Lu Jue offered a faint, calming smile. "Is Your Majesty still brooding over the court's affairs?"

A delicate blush crept across Feng Yewu's fair cheeks. Hearing Lu Jue's inquiry, she gave a slight nod and broke into a bitter complaint.

"These people—every day they exhaust their schemes merely to secure promotions and amass wealth, yet now that the nation faces a crisis, not a single one of them dares to step forward. I truly fail to see the purpose of feeding such a pack of good-for-nothings."

Realizing from her words that Feng Yewu's wrath had reached its peak, Lu Jue spoke in a soft, placating tone.

"Your Majesty need not be so incensed. With the Tidi tribe launching their offensive, neither the Prince of Beichang nor the Prince of Changwu has made a single move thus far, presumably because they are waiting to see which way the court's political winds will blow. Naturally, those officials without ties to the vassal princes dare not speak lightly at this juncture, while those who have long maintained secret connections with the princes are simply biding their time."

"Biding their time?"

Feng Yewu knitted her brows, casting a puzzled glance at Lu Jue, evidently failing to grasp what manner of timing they were waiting for.

"Could it be that they intend to wait until the Tidi armies are camped right outside the gates of the capital before they consider it the right time?"

Hearing Feng Yewu's rhetorical outburst of frustration, Lu Jue couldn't help but chuckle wryly, though he promptly sobered to guide her thoughts.

"Does Your Majesty recall the Divine Retribution I mentioned earlier?"

Feng Yewu nodded slightly, her confusion deepening as she asked, "Matters of divine retribution are, after all, mere rumors spread by the Tidi tribe. How can such a thing be taken seriously?"

Even the Tidi people themselves could not speak of it with any certainty; to use it as the benchmark for launching a military campaign seemed entirely absurd.

Seeing her skepticism, Lu Jue patiently explained, "The reason none of these officials are currently in a panic is precisely because they understand in their hearts that the Tidi tribe will not blindly press their attack just yet. That is why they refuse to stick their necks out now."

"Why are they so certain? Could it be that they, too, are in league with the Tidi tribe?"

Feng Yewu gritted her teeth slightly. If things were truly as she suspected, then this entire court of civil and military officials must be riddled with traitors guilty of treason. What need would there be for her as Emperor? The capital of the Ye Dynasty might as well throw open its gates and welcome the Tidi tribe with open arms.

Lu Jue shook his head and offered a sober analysis. "First of all, these officials lack the audacity to forge direct transactions with the Tidi people. After all, standing here in the imperial court, the slightest leak would likely result in Your Majesty executing them by imperial decree long before any Tidi reinforcements could arrive."

Upon reflection, Feng Yewu conceded that this possibility was indeed slim. After all, the physical traits of the Tidi people were far too distinct and vastly different from the appearance of the people of the Ye Dynasty. The grandmaster-level Tidi warrior they had encountered earlier at the pleasure house in the capital had been recognized at a single glance. Had these officials truly colluded with the Tidi tribe, Feng Yewu was certain she would have caught wind of it long ago.

Seeing that she accepted his reasoning, Lu Jue continued, "While these court ministers would not dare to contact the Tidi directly, the same cannot be said for the Prince of Beichang and the Prince of Changwu."

A heavy wave of helplessness washed over Feng Yewu. She had just managed to deal with the Prince of Pingyi, believing she had broken the cycle of cause and effect from her past life, only to find that the Prince of Beichang and the Prince of Changwu had simply found a replacement ally. Could it be that Heaven was truly determined to force her to endure the exact same tragic fate as her previous life?

At this sobering thought, Feng Yewu sighed inwardly at the merciless grip of destiny. She had originally intended to wait until she had united the factions of the other vassal princes before moving against the Prince of Beichang and the Prince of Changwu, but it was clear now that her adversaries had outpaced her.

"The Prince of Beichang and the Prince of Changwu have undoubtedly joined forces long ago; otherwise, they would never remain so indifferent in the face of such a monumental crisis."

Lu Jue nodded slightly in agreement, noting that this outcome fell entirely within his calculations. He then added, "However, what concerns me is not merely these two men, but rather a third figure residing in the extreme northern wastes."

"A third figure?"

Uncertain of whom Lu Jue was referring to, Feng Yewu searched her memory for a long moment without finding a single clue.

"Ouxu, the Saint of Poison!"

Seeing that Feng Yewu had overlooked this crucial personage, Lu Jue offered a reminder, his expression turning grave.

A look of shock crossed Feng Yewu's face. No wonder she had felt an inexplicable sense of unease ever since returning to the capital—she had completely neglected the existence of the Saint of Poison. A venerable Saint guarding the northern frontiers, yet eleven cities had fallen under his watch! A sudden thought struck her, and she hurriedly guessed, "Could he have already defected to the Prince of Beichang?"

Lu Jue shook his head slightly at her suggestion and explained, "As a Saint, secular power holds little sway over his choices. Ordinary political influence and wealth possess no temptation for someone of his standing."

"Report!"

Just as Feng Yewu and Lu Jue were deep in discussion, an eunuch's voice rang out from outside the door.

"Your Majesty, Kong Mo requests an audience!"

Hearing the name Kong Mo, Feng Yewu and Lu Jue exchanged a startled glance of utter disbelief. They had only just been speaking of the Saint of Poison, and Kong Mo arrived immediately afterward—the coincidence was too staggering to be believed.

"Bring him in," Feng Yewu commanded her attendants, rising to her feet to greet the visitor personally.

She had long been consumed with curiosity about Kong Mo, the Saint of Calligraphy she had heard so much about from Lu Jue. She had originally intended to seek him out upon returning to the capital, but the crushing burdens of state affairs had kept her occupied. Now that he had taken the initiative to present himself, Feng Yewu was eager to witness firsthand the extraordinary abilities of a Saint.

As Feng Yewu and Lu Jue reached the threshold, they saw an elderly man with hair and beard as white as snow, yet possessing the radiant complexion of a youth, striding toward them with an air of extraordinary grace and imposing dignity.