Chapter 443 – Diverging Paths After the Fourth Rank, and the Wolfmother’s Temptation - Part 1

It was March. Springtime. The peach blossoms were in bloom.

Li Yuan placed the ugly little Ji Hu onto a wool blanket spread over a wooden chair, then ran into the wind, holding the string of a large paper kite that soared higher and higher as he sprinted.

Ji Hu craned his neck, watching the kite as it danced against the sky, his dark eyes locked on it with rare focus. Reflected in those eyes were drifting clouds and a swath of blue sky.

He waved his hands excitedly and let out a stream of baby babble, unintelligible, but full of joy.

Li Yuan ran circle after circle, then scooped up Ji Hu and ran with him in his arms. That’s how they spent their morning, in wild, laughing loops across the courtyard. It wasn’t until midday that the gates creaked open and a graceful woman stepped into view.

“You two seem to be having quite the time,” Xie Wei said with a smile.

“Mama.”

“My Empress.”

Ji Hu babbled again, reaching out with both hands, asking for a hug.

Xie Wei didn’t completely ignore her son. She walked forward naturally and took the little boy from Li Yuan’s arms. But the closer she got, the more she seemed to take in the child’s...unfortunate appearance.

Still, she wore the warm smile of a mother as she held him for a while. Then she called for the wet nurse to come take Ji Hu away.

The moment he was out of sight, her expression shifted. A trace of disgust crept into her eyes. She even held her belly, frowning faintly as though she were nauseous. Then, turning to Li Yuan, she asked, “Did you notice any foul smell while holding him?”

Li Yuan replied casually, “What kind of stench could a little kid possibly have?”

“Never mind that,” Xie Wei said, regaining her composure and grace. She glanced around the courtyard, then stepped closer to Li Yuan and slipped her arm into his. “It’s been more than a year now. Is Your Majesty really planning to idle away your time with me like this?”

Li Yuan nodded.

In truth, he did make appearances elsewhere, like checking in on the Nine Flames Tribe, Ghost Prison, or the Holy Tree Temple. Every day he made his rounds to at least four such places. With his Nine Provinces Provisional Patrol Token and his thousand-mile thread, these trips were easy.

Do you still remember the royal mobilization call at the start of the year? All the provincial governors have responded now.” Xie Wei said.

Li Yuan’s expression shifted slightly. “But in the end, it’s still the Xie Clan that will be pulling the real weight. How much effort will those governors actually put in?”

Xie Wei nodded. “This system is too flawed. Each provincial governor is like a local tyrant. They follow orders in name only, but do whatever they want in practice. Even if they agree to something, they’ll just pretend to comply.”

Li Yuan replied, “Didn’t the Xie Clan used to be the same way?”

Her voice lowered. “But things are different now. The Xie Clan stands for righteousness.”

Then Li Yuan suddenly asked, “So the Empress is doing all this for the Great Zhou Treasury?”

Xie Wei nodded without hiding it. “The strong grow stronger, the weak fall behind. If the Xie Clan can gain control of the Great Zhou Treasury, we can cultivate more of our own elite. That’s how you build a legacy that truly lasts.”

Li Yuan hesitated for a moment, then recounted what he’d learned from Lu Xuanxian about the Great Zhou Treasury.

“Dragon Eye? A legacy? Heroes of past generations?” Xie Wei echoed back his words, one after another, before saying with a gleam in her eye,

“Then it seems the Xie Clan really did make the right choice. If even the loyal soul recognizes me as the mistress and him—” she nodded toward where Ji Hu had gone— “as the future Emperor, then there’s no need to break our backs searching for the treasury. All we have to do...is wait.”

Li Yuan narrowed his eyes slightly, as though something had just occurred to him.

“So?” he asked.

Xie Wei said, “That’s why the Xie Clan will lead the alliance, but we won’t be the vanguard. Once the armies of the nine provincial governors have gathered and marched onto the Jade Capital, I’ll quietly set things in motion behind the scenes, let the Lotus Cult and the other governors tear each other apart.

“Then the Xie CLan can swoop in and reap the rewards. If we win, perfect. If we lose, we can absorb the remnants of the other factions.

“And if that fails too, at least we’ll have lost nothing. We just lie low and wait for Ji Hu to grow up and take control of the Great Zhou Treasury. From there, our family can rise steadily and securely.

“The Jade Capital itself is no big prize. Power, that’s the real goal. So in this so-called alliance army, our Xie Clan’s true enemies aren’t the fading Lotus Cult. It’s the other eight provincial governors.

“My brother, straightforward, loyal to a fault, makes the perfect cover. With him involved, no one will suspect our real intentions. Which is why I didn’t tell him a thing. Only Father, myself, and Your Majesty know the truth.”

Li Yuan sighed, half amused. “The Empress is getting bolder by the day. You barely even treat me like the Emperor anymore.”

Xie Wei rolled her eyes at him with practiced charm, then slipped her fingers into his, casting a glance at the distant doorway. Her gaze shimmered with mischief, and her voice turned soft as honey.

“How could I not treat you like the Emperor, Your Majesty?” she murmured.

Li Yuan felt the gentle tug at his hand and tilted his head just slightly.

Xie Wei whispered with breathy sweetness, “I’ve been thinking of you...”

“Oh? And what exactly have you been thinking?”

With a playful flicker in her tone, Xie Wei purred, “Let’s go inside.”

Together, they walked up the steps and into the house. The door closed behind them in a hurry, with an almost frantic urgency.

Moments later, a low, pleading moan drifted from within.

Dynasties rise and fall. Always through a tangle of desire and conspiracy.

And in times like these, even the most outlandish events could seem...perfectly ordinary.

˙·٠✧🐗➶➴🏹✧٠·˙

Far away to the west, in the frozen tundra of the Evernight.

Ping’an was once again sent flying by Naran.

This time, Naran was truly enraged. His long black hair flared like a lion’s mane in the wind, wild and unrestrained. The golden battle-axe in his hand pressed directly against Ping’an’s forehead.

“That’s enough! If you weren’t Father’s son too, I’d have killed you a thousand times over already! Where do you get the gall to keep challenging me?!” Naran’s furious roar rolled out like thunder, slamming Ping’an in the face with raw, overwhelming force.

Staggering, dazed, Ping’an didn’t even register it when Naran turned and left.

He wandered through the wind and snow like a lost soul, trudging aimlessly back toward the camp.

Ever since his mother had been taken to the Deathless Tomb, he’d thrown himself completely into his cultivation.

He thought he was a genius. He

should

have been able to break through to fourth rank quickly. If his younger brother could do it, why couldn’t he? But reality proved that the fourth rank wasn’t so easy to cross.

And Naran? Ping’an was no match for that boy, not even close.

No matter what he tried, he just couldn’t win. Couldn’t land a single meaningful blow on the 13-year-old that now stood tall above him.

Ping’an stopped at the gates of the camp. He stared at the distant bonfire...and couldn’t bring himself to go in.

With a sigh, he turned and walked away. He didn’t want to go home tonight. He just wanted to wander.

So he walked, for two full days and nights, until he reached what Li Yuan had once called the Evernight Line, the edge of the world itself.

There, Ping’an stopped. Leaned against a massive rock. And let out a long, exhausted sigh.

After a while, a voice suddenly rang out behind him.

“A grown man...sighing like that? What for?”

Ping’an sprang to his feet, startled. He hadn’t sensed anyone approaching at all.

“Who are you?” he asked warily.

The man before him wore a garland of flowers on his head and carried a wooden staff in his hand. His smile was gentle, almost too gentle.

The man wore a warm, spring-like smile, one of those rare expressions that made it almost impossible to feel any hostility toward him.

“I’m the Revival Tree God,” he said openly, voice calm and gentle. “I only showed myself because I heard someone sighing.”

It seemed he had been lingering around the edges of the frozen tundra for some time, reluctant to step into its icy depths, but patient enough to wait. Even if it took a year, he didn’t mind.

Ping’an gave this flower-crowned stranger a once-over, then suddenly said, “You’re strong. Want to spar with me?”

His eyes burned with a stubborn, unyielding fire. He was sick of it. He couldn’t beat his father, and he couldn’t beat his younger brother. What, was he supposed to lose to some random stranger who just popped out of nowhere too?

No. Ping’an would reclaim his pride. Start over from scratch if he had to. As for how this guy snuck up on him unnoticed...that had to be some kind of movement skill. Nothing more.

The Revival Tree God chuckled. “You won’t beat me.”

“Oh?” Ping’an grinned and hoisted his long saber onto his shoulder with a cocky tilt of his head. “This guy here is the number one sword in the world, you know.”

The Revival Tree God said, “Is that so? Well then...I suppose I’ll give it a try.”

Ping’an raised an eyebrow. “You first. Your weapon’s probably that staff you’re holding, right?”

The Revival Tree God looked around, then casually picked up a twig, barely the length of a finger, from the ground.

“This should do.”

Ping’an blinked. Then the fury exploded in him.

With a shout, a dozen clones of himself split off and charged at the Revival Tree God from all directions.

But the man only lifted his little twig and began tapping lightly. One flick here, one tap there.

Each touch landed like a crashing wave against Ping’an’s soul, like his entire being was a boat caught in a raging storm, on the verge of capsizing.

Within mere seconds, Ping’an had to stop, panting heavily. His eyes narrowed, the fire now mixed with something else. Dread.