Chapter Eighty: King Jiangyuan's Submission

Last night, Feng Yewu and Lu Jue had already extracted much information from the servants of the Jiangyuan Prince’s residence. The more they learned, the more they sensed flaws in the affair, so Lu Jue quietly left the mansion, trailing the envoy of the Beichang Prince and uncovering the truth of the matter.

When Wang Kang heard Lu Jue’s questioning, he sneered with contempt and looked at Lu Jue’s ignorant face, speaking with confidence.
“The Tidi tribe are savage and brutal; cannibalism is common knowledge among them. What is so strange about that?”

Lu Jue wore an expression of sudden realization as he cupped his hands in salute, but a strange smile flickered at the corner of his lips.
“Deputy General Wang claims the Tidi are savage, cannibalistic, adept at schemes and warfare, and their soldiers are formidable.”

He deliberately repeated Wang Kang’s words, stringing them together with a playful glint in his eye.
Wang Kang’s heart sank, realizing the slip in his own speech.

Lu Jue’s expression shifted abruptly as he questioned Wang Kang in a harsh voice:
“If the Tidi possess such cruelty, cunning, powerful soldiers, and sharp weapons, why would they risk a snowbound covert attack just to kill a single heir? Wouldn’t they have long since marched south in force?”

Lu Jue’s words instantly enlightened the assembly; all eyes turned to Wang Kang.
It was clear—the assassination of the heir was not the work of the Tidi.

Bang!
A loud crash rang out as Zhu Bangyan, face dark as iron, crushed the armrest of his chair, sending splinters flying.

Wang Kang, seeing the situation unravel, turned to flee.
Lu Jue was swift; drawing his sword, he leaped forward, striking Wang Kang squarely in the back.

Wang Kang fell, blood gushing from his mouth.

The others caught up. Lu Jue returned to Feng Yewu’s side, awaiting Zhu Bangyan’s word.

Gazing at the gravely wounded Wang Kang, Zhu Bangyan felt his heart split with pain, seeming to age even more in that moment.
“I treated you like a son, no different from An’er. Why would you do this...?”

Supporting himself with difficulty, blood streaming from his lips, Wang Kang gave a faint laugh and looked up at the gray sky.
“Since childhood I trained in arms at the prince’s side, ever at the heir’s right hand. Adopted son, you said, but in the end, just a dog of the house... cough, cough...”

Blood flooded his windpipe, and he coughed violently, eyes full of self-mockery as memories of his life flashed by.

“Leading charges, my sword broke a thousand blades in battle, yet all merit went to the heir. If we lost, all blame fell to me. Is this what you call treating me as a son?”

Wang Kang’s breath grew weaker; his gaze, now bitter with hatred, locked on Zhu Bangyan. Collapsing to the ground, his last words were barely audible.
“If he doesn’t die, how will I ever rise...”

With that, Wang Kang seemed to leave this world at last, his face at ease.

Elsewhere, within Feng Yewu’s sleeping palace in the capital, Wei Nanxi, Wu Muxue, Sun Changxi, Han Yue, and the eunuch Gong Mingde were all present.

Sun Changxi looked around the chamber, puzzled not to see Feng Yewu.
“Wasn’t His Majesty supposed to be bedridden with a severe cold? Why is he not here resting?”

Han Yue, amused by Sun Changxi’s wooden confusion, covered her mouth to stifle a laugh, while Wu Muxue and Wei Nanxi shook their heads helplessly.

“This time, all thanks goes to Eunuch Mingde. Without him, His Majesty’s leaving the palace would have been exposed,” Wei Nanxi said gravely, bowing in thanks.

“Sir, you flatter this old servant. If not for Miss Han Yue’s imitation of His Majesty, I could have done nothing.”

It turned out that when the officials stormed the inner palace, Han Yue sat in the carriage, pretending to be Feng Yewu and frightening them away. This stabilized the court and prevented disorder.

“Master Wei, though luck favored us today, what if there is another unexpected incident?” Wu Muxue was still uneasy; the King of Pingyi was not easily dealt with, and using the same trick again would surely arouse suspicion.

Wei Nanxi sighed, looking out the window.
“At this point, we can only hope His Majesty returns soon.”

After Wang Kang’s death, the prince’s household disposed of his body and resumed the mourning banquet, while Feng Yewu and his two companions followed Zhu Bangyan to the study.

“What a pity,” Feng Yewu said, looking at the silent Zhu Bangyan with a faint sigh.

Zhu Bangyan looked up at Feng Yewu and bowed.
“This is a family misfortune, Your Majesty, I am ashamed.”

Feng Yewu stood, turning his back to the others, gazing at the painting of a pine clinging to a cliff that hung in the hall.

“Struggles for succession are a constant among emperors. I am not surprised. It is only a pity that, Your Highness, you chose the wrong man and wasted the talent of a general.”

Zhu Bangyan’s heart jumped at Feng Yewu’s words, understanding the deeper meaning.

Of the four present, only Zheng Tianlan looked puzzled.
“Your Majesty, the man was ungrateful and now he is dead. What is there to regret?”

Lu Jue smiled gently at Zheng Tianlan.
“Brother Zheng, that is not what His Majesty laments.”

Lu Jue then turned to the grave-faced Zhu Bangyan and spoke his true thoughts.

“The Jiangyuan Prince intended for his adopted son to inherit the fief. All military merit went to the heir, so that in time, the heir would be called to court by Your Majesty. Wang Kang, left with no fame or achievements, would inherit the title without arousing suspicion. Thus, the two could cooperate inside and outside the court, consolidating power and holding their ground.”

At this, Zheng Tianlan suddenly understood, casting a look of astonishment at Zhu Bangyan, marveling at his calculation.

Zhu Bangyan only gave a dismissive laugh.
“My only wish was to ensure the survival of my Jiangyuan line. I never expected... ah, fate toys with us all!”

Feng Yewu turned, fixing Zhu Bangyan with a steady gaze.
“Prince of Jiangyuan, the struggle for power is a path of deadly peril, and a single misstep means the abyss. I understand this well. My personal visit today—surely you know my purpose.”

Zhu Bangyan nodded, sighing, then clenched his fists and met Feng Yewu’s eyes.
“Your Majesty has come to Jiangyuan seeking alliance. I will devote all my strength to clearing your path—on one condition.”

Feng Yewu nodded.
“Speak. If it does not betray the greater good, I will agree.”

Zhu Bangyan’s face twisted with grief and hatred as he spoke.
“One day, I must have Wei Siyuan’s head, to offer in sacrifice for my son.”

In the capital, a convoy moved slowly through the city, led by a young man whose calm bearing suggested a born commander.
At the center of the procession, the banner of the Prince of Changwu fluttered in the wind.

“Young master, now that we have reached the capital, the prince’s banner must be taken down,” said a sword-bearing attendant, catching up to the young man and bowing.

The leader was none other than Chen Pingwu, son of the Prince of Changwu.
“Very well. Father instructed us to act discreetly in the capital.”

With a slight smile, Chen Pingwu signaled for the banners to be lowered.

He then led his retinue to the Changwu Prince’s residence in the city, where visitors arrived one after another.

“Young master, the Minister of Revenue is here to pay his respects.”

Chen Pingwu set aside his book, a faint frown creasing his brow.

Seeing this, Yang Guang, the attendant a few years his senior and a loyal disciple of the Prince, asked,
“Young master, would you rather not receive him? I can send him away.”

Yang Guang, older than Chen Pingwu and deeply trusted by the family, was ever faithful to the House of Chen.