Chapter Sixteen: The Death of Li Jia

Wu Residence.

The rear courtyard.

Wu Changjiang, Vice Minister of Revenue, stormed toward the elegant pavilion at the center of the courtyard, wrath boiling in his chest.

With a heavy kick, he sent Wu Jin—who was reclining with a maid on each arm—toppling to the ground.

“Scoundrel! Who gave you the guts of a dog?”

Wu Changjiang trembled with fury, veins bulging on his forehead. Seizing a rattan cane, he swung it down with frightening speed, lashing Wu Jin ruthlessly.

“My lord, must you go this far?” At the sound of the uproar, Huang Yin, Wu Jin's mother, rushed over, spreading her arms protectively in front of her son.

“Jin’er, quickly apologize to your father!” Seeing Wu Changjiang’s violent reaction, and glancing at the three black-clad men kneeling not far away, Wu Jin instantly understood the gravity of the situation.

He fell to his knees with a thud, kowtowing repeatedly. “Father, I know I was wrong! I know I was wrong!”

Wu Changjiang shoved Huang Yin aside, lifted his right hand, and slapped Wu Jin hard across the face.

“Just because you were bested in skill, you sent men to assassinate the Heir, Li Yunji?”

“And you boast of your scholarly learning? Is this what you gleaned from your books?”

Wu Jin’s lips turned pale, his gaze wandering in shame. “Father, you know me best. You know I am not a reckless person! My actions were all for the sake of our Wu family.”

Before he finished, Wu Changjiang struck him again. “Scoundrel! The noose is around your neck and you’re still making excuses! See if I don’t break your legs today!”

Judging by Wu Changjiang’s furious stance, were it not for Huang Yin’s intervention, Wu Jin would have suffered more than a broken leg this day.

“My lord, at least let Jin’er finish!” Huang Yin’s eyes brimmed with tears, her voice choked with sobs. Even the hardest of men would have felt a pang of sympathy.

Wu Changjiang snorted and turned his head away.

“Father!” Wu Jin knelt upright on the ground. “Though my loss at the poetry gathering was a blow to my pride, it was not enough to drive me to such wickedness. The reason I tried to assassinate Li Yunji was to use the incident as a token of allegiance to the Crown Prince!”

He crawled forward a few steps, rubbing the mark left by his father’s slap, his voice aggrieved. “A wise bird chooses the right tree to nest in. The reason you are constantly constrained in court, Father, is because you lack a powerful patron! I could not bear to watch any longer, so I resorted to this desperate measure.”

Wu Changjiang’s brows twitched; his anger mingled now with surprise.

“You think your underhanded tricks could fool Chancellor Su? Now, with evidence and witnesses, if Chancellor Su holds us accountable, the entire family will be buried with you!”

Wu Jin’s gaze grew cold as he glanced at the black-clad men in the distance, his tone sly. “Father, rest assured—I had already made preparations.”

As soon as he spoke, the black-clad men convulsed violently, their bodies arching backward. After a few spasms, they fell silent, unmoving.

Wu Changjiang stared in disbelief, his mind blank. When his fury finally subsided, only despair remained. He trudged away toward the front courtyard without another word.

...

The next day.

Chancellor’s Residence.

Dawn had just broken.

Li Yunji, half-awake, dressed himself and stretched before reaching for the door.

A blinding golden light flared, making his fingertips tingle.

“You’re awake, young master.” Eleven opened the wooden window by the door, speaking leisurely.

Li Yunji peered outside, baffled by the golden talismans covering the walls. “What is all this?”

“A barrier,” Eleven explained. “Last night at midnight, Miss Qingmeng brought in some sorcerers to set it up.”

“And why is that?”

“She said, ‘Let him reflect behind closed doors! He’s always either at Drunken Moon House or the Music Bureau!’” Eleven imitated Su Qingmeng’s tone, hands on hips.

“Then how am I supposed to eat, drink, and—well—relieve myself?” Li Yunji’s bladder quivered; he’d gotten up so early precisely because he was about to burst.

Eleven passed him a food box and a chamber pot.

Li Yunji was speechless. Grumbling, he snatched the pot and attended to business first.

“Young master, now that you’re confined, what should we do about last night’s events?” Eleven leaned on the window, puzzled.

“They’re all dead. With no evidence, what can be done?” Li Yunji shivered.

“You’re just going to let this go?” Eleven suddenly stood straight, indignation clear on his face. “Those assassins intended to kill you!”

Li Yunji paused, then smiled. “Don’t worry. I’ll deal with Wu Jin sooner or later. But now isn’t the time.”

With that, he tidied his clothes. Only then did he notice Eleven staring at him with an unblinking gaze.

“Pervert!” he snapped.

Eleven pursed his lips, saying nothing more.

With nothing better to do, Li Yunji stretched and prepared to exercise. He found a horizontal bar in the room and began doing pull-ups—fifty in one go. Then he dropped to the floor for two hundred push-ups, followed by five hundred squats.

“What’s going on?” Li Yunji marveled inwardly.

Such a workout would have exhausted him in the past, even if he managed a tenth of it, but now he still felt energetic.

“Young master,” Eleven called from the window again, “you now possess the constitution of an eighth-rank martial artist. Ordinary body-tempering methods are no longer effective.”

“You could’ve told me sooner,” Li Yunji sighed. “Then how should I train?”

Eleven stroked his chin thoughtfully. “After you took the Foundation Pill, you’ve established a martial dao dantian. To break through further, you must seek a martial arts manual.”

Li Yunji grinned mischievously. “Are there any techniques that are especially cool and dashing?”

Eleven pondered, then his eyes brightened. “Yes! Sword arts! Once you reach fifth rank, you can control a sword with your energy. At third rank, you can fly on your sword. As for second rank…”

He left it hanging.

Li Yunji’s curiosity was piqued. “What about second rank?”

“A second-rank swordsman is no longer merely mortal—they can split heaven and earth! Your father, the Prince, was a second-rank master!” Eleven’s tone brimmed with pride.

Li Yunji’s eyes shone. “So my father was that powerful!” But then, a doubt crept in. He lowered his voice. “If he was so strong, how did he die?”

By all accounts, a second-rank master was an unrivaled force. Even in the small kingdom of Xifeng, a single second-rank puppet master could establish dominion. The North Desert relied on a second-rank scholar to stand against Great Qian.

As for Great Qian, since the death of Li Jia, they had no second-rank experts, but their martial and mystical arts flourished, boasting numerous third-rank grandmasters—enough to hold their own.

Li Yunji had never asked about the circumstances of Li Jia’s death. In the vague memories of the body’s former owner, there was only the white mourning silk fluttering in the wind at that long-ago funeral.

Li Yunji sensed that the previous owner had tried countless times to forget, but to little effect.

It was like a thorn, rooted in his mind—every night, it would burrow into his flesh, bringing unbearable pain.

Eleven regarded Li Yunji with surprise, then sighed after a moment’s thought.

“In the battle at North Desert, the Prince had already gained the upper hand. But Han Jitong suddenly broke through and ascended to the second rank. From three thousand miles away, he penned a challenge to the world. The Prince fought through the night and withstood the blow with his own body. In the end, he was defeated, his energy sea severed…”