Chapter 594 – Reunion - Part 3

Half a month later.

“Mother! Mother!” Ying An burst in from the courtyard, calling out breathlessly, “Master Song is here to see you!”

Song Yehuang was one of the leading figures of the Clear Stream faction, a movement of upright scholars and reform-minded nobles. He had gathered a modest following of his own, including a few cultivators who still clung to ideals.

Not every martial artist was scrambling to carve off a piece of this land. Some high ranked cultivators still supported the Clear Stream faction.

Though, truthfully, more of them had long since turned their eyes eastward toward the Eastern Sea, uninterested in the crumbling politics of the Central Plains.

Ying An entered the room to find his mother calmly sipping tea, unhurried and composed. He gave a wry smile.

“Mother, how can you be so calm about this? If we’re going to step away from all this, then fine, let’s step away. But why host a banquet at Swan Pavilion by the Eternal Rest River? That’s practically announcing our retreat to the entire world.”

Zhen'er replied evenly, “If we’re cutting ties, then let them be clean. Waffling, hesitating, that only invites more chaos. I’ve thought this through. We’ve already done enough for this nation. From now on, let us just live as ordinary nobles. Drift with the current. Seek peace, not power.”

Ying An opened his mouth to speak again, but just then, an elder in green robes entered hurriedly and bowed deeply at the threshold.

“Song Yehuang pays respects to the Princess of the Central Capital.”

Even after all these years, the Princess of the Central Capital remained her most honored title.

“I already know why you’re here, Master Song. But I’ve made up my mind.” Zhen'er said calmly.

Song Yehuang stood tall, his face full of upright conviction. His beard trembled as he struggled to find words, but his feet refused to step back.

Ying An gave a respectful nod. Then, he quietly withdrew.

Song Yehuang had taught many sons of nobility, even those born into the highest echelons of power.

Though his own cultivation talent was meager, he possessed a profound understanding of the inner self, the clarity of heart and mind.

He had once studied the Bladeseekers’ Jade Seeding Method, a technique designed to guide the practitioner toward virtue. From it, he developed a philosophical framework that would come to be known as Ink School.

The purpose of Ink School was to help cultivators of fifth rank plant their inner

jade seed

and break through into the fourth rank.

The name Ink School likely originated from the Black-Clad Guards, who wore ink-black robes.

Song Yehuang often said,

Though clothed in black, let the heart shine with light.

In times of chaos, right and wrong blurred easily. Even those who sought only to do good found themselves lost in the grey.

Some believed that actions were all that mattered, intent be damned, but could one ever be certain the actions taken were truly just?

One wrong move could stain the heart. A misstep could take a cultivator so far from the right path, they might never reach the fourth rank.

This dilemma stymied countless cultivators at the peak of fifth rank.

However, Song Yehuang had found a way through. He taught that if one’s heart remained bright, if their conscience tells them what they were doing was right, then that was the righteous path spoken of in the

Jade Seed.

He distilled this into a simple phrase,

To know and to act as one without regret.

And so, his philosophy became two guiding couplets.

“Though clothed in black, let the heart shine with light.

To know and to act as one without regret.”

These two phrases helped many cultivators not only in the Bladeseekers but across the land to break through the final barriers of the fifth rank.

Because of this, Song Yehuang was deeply respected. Even those who stood against the Clear Stream faction found it difficult to justify killing him.

Now, with Ying An gone, the quiet courtyard held only Zhen'er and Song Yehuang.

Only then did Song Yehuang finally speak. “Forgive me, but I don’t understand... Why must Your Highness insist on holding this banquet?”

“...” Zhen'er said nothing.

Song Yehuang continued, his voice firm but not without concern. “Everyone will believe it’s a trap. Even I suspect it. And yet...I also know the truth. You haven’t planned anything. Still, no matter your intent, families like the He and Wen Clans will never believe that.

“You’ve set the date for the eve of the twelfth lunar month. On that day, at the Swan Pavilion, the He, Wen, and many other clans will surely bring their finest forces. Outside the pavilion, the public will gather too, waiting to see how the Princess of the Central Capital handles herself. If your banner falls that day, then I...”

He paused, then added gravely, “I’ll have no choice but to follow you in death.”

“Master Song, just watch.” Zhen'er replied softly,

That caught him off guard. He blinked, stood, and bowed low. “Then...I will watch.”

He turned to go, but after a few steps, he stopped and looked back.

With a deep, resonant bow, he declared, “The people have suffered long enough. Just when the world seemed to have a chance to right itself, it’s once again beset by jackals and wolves. I cannot stomach the filth and wickedness any longer. To die of old age is death. To die for the people is also death. But which death is worth dying for?”

“...” Zhen'er gave a small, silent nod.

Seeing her still unwilling to say more, Song Yehuang bowed deeply once again, and said with a final, steady voice.

“I am willing to die for my country. I am willing to die for the people.”

And with that, he turned and left.

In the quiet courtyard, Zhen'er sipped her tea as a black crow landed lightly on her shoulder.

She picked up a piece of peach blossom pastry. The crow tilted its head, then snapped up the treat in one clean bite.

Zhen’ers eyes were calm, but a trace of worry flickered in them. She knew just how terrifying the elite cultivators in the capital could be.

˙·٠✧🐗➶➴🏹✧٠·˙

The end of the year came quickly.

Snow drifted down in silent flurries, piling thickly along the banks of the Eternal Rest River. The world was dressed in white, still, pure, and breathless.

The Swan Pavilion stood tall with its five stories. One of the capital’s most famous buildings, it overlooked the river, offering sweeping views of the river and the settlement beyond.

From its heights, one could watch ships sail by, see the flow of trade, listen to drunken poets sing their hearts out.

But today, the entire pavilion had been reserved.

No one had ever reserved the Swan Pavilion. It was too large, too grand. No one had the face, the status, the audacity...

Except the Princess of the Central Capital.

And what she intended to do today was even more unthinkable.

The pavilion buzzed with activity with courtiers, nobles, and guards milling through its corridors, but underneath the bustle lurked tension like a drawn blade.

Outside, a lavish carriage pulled up.

A middle-aged man stepped out. The moment his boots touched the snow-covered ground, a martial artist darted up to him, quietly reporting the situation.

“No ambush. No hidden enemies. The Princess only brought Zhao Chunxin with her. Inside, she’s accompanied by a few Clear Current leaders.”

In other words, if they acted now, they could wipe out the Clear Current in one strike.

“Interesting,” the man said with a chuckle.

This was He Shoukang, head of the He Clan.

The Swan Pavilion appeared calm. But around it, powerhouses from the old noble families were already in place, lying in wait.

If nothing unexpected happened, He Shoukang would move today to place the Clear Stream faction under house arrest.

With the Princess stepping down and washing her hands of court affairs, the reformists would have no more leverage. Their era would end here.