Chapter 379: I Told You to Go Have Some Fun, Didn’t I? (9)

Jayu had, for all intents and purposes, already died once.

If not for Qing, he would’ve either burned to death somewhere between the fire and the chaos, or been slaughtered by the soldiers before that. Even if luck had been on his side, what were the odds of a frail scholar surviving the wilderness alone?

Why had it all turned out this way?

Jayu clenched his teeth again.

There was no way the information about his covert mission to Guangxi to seek an alliance had leaked from Prince Deokhyeon’s household.

They’d already tightened discipline thoroughly after the incident in Sichuan.

The mission had been kept secret until the last possible moment, and his departure had been deliberately delayed.

Even if there had still been a spy hidden inside the Prince’s residence, there simply wasn’t enough time for the emperor to mobilize northern troops and deploy them that quickly.

And yet, someone had known in advance about Jayu’s covert mission.

That someone was the Prince of Suxi in Namnyeong.

The Prince of Suxi must have reported Jayu’s movements to the imperial court. The court, seizing the opportunity, had promptly dispatched soldiers.

Considering how quickly the troops had moved, he must’ve tattled almost the moment he got the letter—no hesitation whatsoever.

And yet, Jayu’s letter had made it clear: “His Majesty’s stance is dangerously unstable. We cannot guarantee the lives of the other princes.” It had been a dire warning.

Did the prince still feel some sense of loyalty toward the emperor?

Or perhaps, since Guangxi was a remote, sparsely populated frontier, the Prince of Suxi had thought he could stay out of it all and just watch from the sidelines.

If so, then it was time to make it so he couldn’t sit on the sidelines anymore.

Jayu was already halfway to being a traitor.

He had begun producing gunpowder in Sichuan, and the Tang family was now rolling out stronger and stronger shells—poisoned shells, illuminating shells, explosive shells—one after another.

But he couldn’t just sit there and wait to die.

If the Son of Heaven wanted his death, he wasn’t about to hand it over willingly. If he wanted to survive, he had no choice but to bare his fangs.

Brother Suxi, it’s time you tasted a little treason yourself.

You might find it more liberating than you think.

However, if the Prince of Suxi was truly in bed with the imperial court, then entering Namnyeong carelessly would be suicide.

He’d either have to hide somewhere and wait for the prince’s subordinates to come to him, or make it so blatantly obvious that he was in town that no one would dare touch him—because the entire city would know Prince Deokhyeon had arrived.

That’s why, during the Spring Festival, the Unorthodox Alliance had been the first to pay him a surprise visit.

To the people of the Central Plains, watching martial artists fight was one of life’s greatest pleasures—a true spice of existence.

And so, following behind the Alliance members, the people of Namnyeong had, without even realizing it, joined in paying formal respects to Jayu.

News of Prince Deokhyeon’s visit spread throughout the entire city.

Even the heretics, who had looked ready to fight to the death, had all prostrated themselves in unison, knelt before him, listened to his blessings—and then meekly shuffled away, dumbfounded.

****

Jayu hadn’t planned it that way, but the result was that the Unorthodox Alliance had become something of a laughingstock.

Sect Master Yeon of Flame Hall, Yo Hwancheol, now faced a massive obstacle just as he was on the cusp of achieving a lifelong goal—and he was pacing nervously.

The commanders of the three combat battalions couldn’t exactly challenge a prince, either.

But what really got under their skin was that old bastard Bo Yeol from Sa Sa, who kept chuckling lewdly and saying something interesting was coming soon.

“What the hell is this interesting thing, anyway? Just tell us already!”

“You’ll see if you wait. Spoiling it early ruins the fun. Hehe. If I had to give a hint... Let’s just say a venomous snake is most dangerous when it slithers quietly into your bed.”

The expressions on the unit commanders immediately soured.

That’s not a hint—that’s basically a confession, old man.

If he was comparing it to a snake in bed, it meant the entire thing was about poison. That he had bribed someone, or used some method to arrange a poisoning—and he was confident it would succeed.

For the record, that venomous snake—which should have been slithering silently into someone’s bed—was currently soaking in a hot spring, its fangs hidden.

And apparently planning to keep soaking tomorrow, and the day after, citing a slow recovery from injury.

Continuously.

****

“Why the hell is that bastard Deokhyeon here?!”

The man with the sloping eyebrows, who always looked especially weak and timid, exploded in rage.

Physiognomy is statistics. If you consider that a person’s face becomes shaped by the expressions they make most often, then even someone without training could guess that the Prince of Suxi was a naturally timid and cowardly man.

That was probably why he had fallen out of favor with the late emperor.

“If he wants to die, he should go die alone! Why drag me into this?!”

“Your Highness. A decisive choice must be made.”

The man standing beside him was the Provincial Commissioner of Guangxi.

In theory, the commissioner was the highest authority in any province.

But in a province ruled by a prince, he had no power to act on his own—not even to breathe without permission. A total puppet.

That’s why most commissioners actually preferred it that way.

No responsibilities, no burdens, and a fat salary to boot—just bow to the prince now and then and act like a strategist. A dream job.

“A decisive choice?”

“When Xiang Yu held a banquet for Liu Bang, it was Fan Zeng’s strategy. If it had worked, the ruler of the world would’ve changed that day.”

He was referring to the event when Xiang Yu, the Conqueror of Chu, held a feast to lure Liu Bang in and try to kill him.

But Liu Bang, sensing the danger, had thrown himself down in submission. “Brother! Oh Brother! Your humble younger brother has come! No one in this world respects you more than I! Say the word—if you want my wife, she’s yours! Oh, there’s dust on your shoe—please, allow this younger brother to lick it clean for you!”

So shameless was his groveling that Xiang Yu looked at him and thought, “Why bother killing this pitiful little worm? If I invite him and kill him, I’ll just disgrace myself before the world.”

What followed was a battle of loyalty between retainers, a sword dance against a sword dance, glances against glances. A sweaty-palmed, nail-biting episode considered one of the finest scenes in the Records of Chu and Han—akin to Three Visits to the Thatched Cottage in Romance of the Three Kingdoms.

That was the “decisive choice” the commissioner was referring to.

Deokhyeon is in Namnyeong. Summon him to a banquet. And then—eliminate him.

“Mm... Isn’t that a bit much?”

“Your Highness, Prince Deokhyeon has already fallen out of favor with His Majesty. Haven’t you heard? The Fire Calamity came for him. That didn’t happen for nothing. You know better than anyone what His Majesty is like—when he decides something, it gets done.”

The last part was phrased politely, but what he really meant was: You know how that bastard is. You get caught in his bad graces, and it doesn’t end with just fire.

The Prince of Suxi’s face darkened.

“I just wanted to live quietly...”

That was why he had chosen to rule the distant backwaters of Guangxi—to quietly live out his life.

If he’d known it would turn out like this, maybe he should’ve asked for Yunnan or Qinghai instead.

But back then, he’d chosen Guangxi because, while remote, at least it had people.

“Host the banquet. Send the invitation. But the invitation...”

Now his brow furrowed.

Do I really have to send an invitation for him to come?

Sure, he had tattled to the emperor—but he hadn’t thought it would lead to the Fire Calamity, or an actual death order.

He figured Jayu would just be caught along the way, maybe get scolded, or sent to the capital and locked up.

But now he’d come into his own brother’s city and hadn’t even shown his face. No letter of greeting. No contact at all.

Sure, I tattled. But still... That bastard!

And so, an invitation was sent to Prince Deokhyeon.

“Got a hangover, can’t make it. Kekeke, apologies.”

That was Jayu’s reply.

Though it was written with flourish and politeness, it could be summed up in a single line.

That bastard.

The Prince of Suxi’s face twisted in rage.

****

Mun Jeongyeok secretly sought out Jo Gwangang.

“Hey. Mister Always-Loses Tactics.”

“Ahem. Is that a mosquito buzzing around in winter?”

Jo Gwangang pretended not to hear.

Mun Jeongyeok scowled and said again,

“Hey. Jo Gwangang.”

“What is it.”

“You really gonna act this petty? Can’t accept the results?”

The bet had been won by Mun Jeongyeok, Swordmaster of Bokju.

And now, days later, the Rooster Forest Sword Sect no longer had to post guards at every gate.

Because the soldiers of Guangxi were guarding them instead.

If this was a fake prince, the military wouldn’t be covering the entire sect like that.

“By all appearances, he’s probably real. But that’s not the same as being proven real.”

“What, is that written in your war manuals too? ‘If you don’t accept the result, just argue until they give up?’ I didn’t think Sun Wu was such a petty man.”

Sun Wu—honored as Master Sun—the great ancient strategist.

“In war, all is fair—”

“Yeah yeah. What do your precious war manuals say about this: you put in all the effort, besiege a fortress, nearly break through—and then some rando swoops in and claims it at the last minute?”

“Hm...”

Jo Gwangang thought through the strategy books he’d read.

But tactics only ever taught how to pull off that last-minute claim. Not how to defend against it.

“Tch. So much for strategy.”

“Wait—Wu and Yue in the same boat! Wu and Yue in the same boat!”

Jo Gwangang suddenly shouted.

Enemies from the states of Wu and Yue sharing the same boat—an expression for cooperating with your rival against a bigger enemy.

“Bo Yeol’s plan—if I know that old man, it’s definitely poison. He said a venomous snake slipping into the bed is the most dangerous? If we already know there’s a snake, then it’s not dangerous at all.”

“So what, you want to warn Rooster Forest?”

“What’s stopping us? We can send an anonymous tip. If they don’t know who sent it, they won’t know it was us. Poison’s only scary if you don’t expect it.”

When he put it like that, it made sense.

But Mun Jeongyeok quickly shook his head.

“Then again... do we really have to go that far? We’re all on the same side. Sharing the credit a little isn’t the end of the world. Even if we stop the poisoning, the prince is still there. Not like we’ve got a plan anyway. Let’s just get drunk with our boys and go home.”

“What the hell. Aren’t you pissed? We didn’t call in some nobody for this job. If I can’t have it, no one can. I’m not letting this go. I won’t let it go.”

Jo Gwangang ground his teeth.

“Well, you’re still better than that old bastard Bo Yeol. So I’ll pretend I didn’t hear anything. I heard nothing. What were we talking about again?”

Mun Jeongyeok grinned to himself, hiding his scheming.

What a simple bastard. One little nudge and he’s flying off the handle.

****

A venomous snake had crept into the Rooster Forest Sword Sect!

Not just any venom—it was Bloodsilk Poison, one of the so-called Ten Deadliest Poisons in the World. A gruesome toxin that caused living flesh to rot away.

And that snake, hiding its fangs, was currently enjoying a long soak in the hot springs... with the clueless eldest disciple.

For ten days straight.

“Brother! Aren’t you getting tired of the hot springs? A true warrior needs mountains! And if it’s mountains, it’s Cheongsu Mountain! And if it’s Cheongsu Mountain, it’s Namnyeong! You need to work those sore muscles loose!”

“Mmm, not going. Still loving the hot spring.”

“I... see...”

Unaram looked genuinely downcast.

A rare sight, one that would’ve shocked the disciples of the Rooster Forest Sword Sect.

“I’m injured, remember? Injured.”

“Cheongsu Mountain’s fine! The tallest peak isn’t even a hundred zhang high! It’s barely a hill! Perfect for your rehab!”

“Mmm. Appreciate it, but...”

Unaram had been sticking close for over ten days, unable to sit still.

Even in the hot spring, he’d swim laps, hop out, wave his limbs around and demonstrate martial forms, then jump back in the moment the cold air hit.

He clearly enjoyed hiking.

Suggesting a small hill was probably his way of being considerate about Qing’s injuries.

But still—hiking? Low hills?

There was no reason to seek out short mountains in the Central Plains, not when Qing’s homeland had gentler slopes and better scenery anyway.

Whether it was the hot springs, or just ten days of rest and indulgence, or maybe just Qing’s ridiculous recovery rate—her side had deflated by half.

A little more rest, and the injury would fully heal.

Her vision had recovered enough that she could read nearby script just fine.

“Another ten days and I’ll be good as new. What was it called? Great Bright Mountain?”

“You know Great Bright Mountain?! If it’s Namnyeong, it’s Great Bright Mountain! If it’s Great Bright Mountain, it’s Namnyeong! And after that—southward! We must see Iryeong Hermitage! One cannot claim to have visited Namnyeong without seeing Iryeong!”

“Right, right. Once I’m all healed, we’ll do whatever my dear Unaram wants.”

So said Qing, officially twenty-one this year.

To which Unaram, officially thirty, replied,

“Yes, Brother! Miss! I shall wait with bated breath for that day!”

And so, another day passed, with Qing returning to the Rooster Forest Sword Sect all wrinkled from soaking and giggling like an idiot.

What awaited her in her guest room was another love letter from Bo Yeol of Sa Sa.

“How much longer do you plan to delay your promise? Must I truly reveal your identity to the world?”

Qing snorted.

Do it if you want. Whatever.

She casually tossed the letter into the brazier.