Chapter 644: Courting Death

Bai Changqing’s stern face finally broke into a smile after he returned home.

For some reason, whenever Bai Changqing thought back to that moment in the Ten Thousand People’s Palace, when the entire court of civil and military officials was astonished by his single word “yes,” he would feel an urge to laugh—especially at Ye Lansheng’s sudden, utterly incredulous expression as he whipped his head around.

“Heh.” In all these years, it was the first time Bai Changqing had seen that look of shock on Ye Lansheng’s face, and the more he thought about it, the more he couldn’t help but chuckle aloud.

“Master, what’s made you so happy?”

“Matters of the Temple Hall—beyond your understanding. By the way, do we have wine tonight? Drink with me, will you?” The worries that had weighed on Bai Changqing’s heart these past days had all but vanished, and he was in such a fine mood that he embraced his two gentle wives, laughing contentedly.

Yet Bai Changqing didn’t realize that while he was here, merrily flirting with his two beautiful brides and drinking his fill, enjoying the bliss of a man with many wives, by the next day, every word he drank and spoke would reach Black Water in Fengri City in the form of a copper rod, be analyzed, and then quickly be reported to the desk of Jiangxi Governor Jiang Cheng.

Upon receiving the report, Jiang Cheng wasted no time—he turned and hand-delivered it to Commander Pang Ban at the Commander’s Office.

The intelligence was simple, but the conclusions it supported on the side were of significant corroborative value.

For instance, it was observed that Bai Changqing was in high spirits yesterday, drinking liberally at home, seemingly in celebration.

Even the most basic analysis would suffice here—combined with Bai Changqing’s conduct at the Great Court Assembly that day, the obvious conclusion was that he had indeed, after thorough deliberation, chosen to stand against Ye Lansheng, and showed not an ounce of “reluctant anxiety” at offending Ye Lansheng.

Pang Ban set down the copper rod, lifted his teacup from the table and took a sip, then chuckled, “It seems Bai Changqing has found himself a new and promising patron. No wonder he’s so cheerful.”

“My lord, Bai Changqing is going to side with Prince Ling? If so, Prince Ling’s power will increase dramatically!” Jiang Cheng, too, was keeping a close eye on the shifting tides in the Imperial City. Although he couldn’t enter the Temple Hall, his connection to Black Water gave him far more knowledge than those at his own rank, and he found these recent changes dizzyingly swift.

From the outset Jiang Cheng had privately ranked the strengths of the seven princes’ factions. While it seemed complex, any close observer would swiftly see the underlying logic: time.

The age of each of the seven princes and their current power went hand in hand—in other words, the older the prince, the greater his influence. If two brothers were close in age, the strength of their factions would also be close. The greater the age gap, the wider the gap in power. Jiang Cheng wasn’t the first to notice this; it had long been a consensus—more accurately, a “common sense”—among the upper echelons of the Imperial City.

It wasn’t hard to understand. For a prince, there were only so many resources and networks one could openly lay claim to and wield. The food in the pot was only so much—those who started eating first naturally got the most, while the Seventh Prince, who brought his bowl last, could only scrape up leftovers.

This was the fundamental reason why most people considered the Seventh Prince the weakest—there was barely anything left in the pot, so what could he possibly take for himself?

No wonder, then, that the “starving” Prince Ling began reaching for those non-tiered merchants and upstart nobles. But could such people really be considered a power base? In the past, Jiang Cheng would have shaken his head without hesitation: merchants and new nobles either lacked official power or family roots—rising by sheer luck, they were inherently precarious; while they might lord over ordinary people, they were no match for genuine power, and trying to take them on would be like an egg smashing against rock—certain defeat.

Yet thanks to his latest analysis in Black Water, backed by intelligence, Jiang Cheng’s thinking had undergone a drastic transformation.

Pang Ban still wore his ever-present smile, but his words revealed keen insight: “Not the same? It really isn’t the same anymore. Strength begets strength—surely you don’t really believe Prince Ling is a perpetual weakling? Now that you control something like Black Water, it’s time to update your perspective.”

“I have no choice but to change my thinking, sir. I never imagined before that those non-tiered types could wield such influence and potential. Looking at things now, Prince Ling truly holds the advantage?”

“The tides of the world sweep ever forward; stagnate, and you drown. The ironclad Jingjiu Dynasty—who else is not a passing current? Deep and entangled roots can indeed create formidable, resilient power, touching all sides. But when the Dynasty is stable, the major factions can’t simply eradicate emerging powers—the best they can do is suppress them a bit. With time, the result is an overgrowth of ‘wild grass.’

These ‘wild grasses’ are disorganized and ignored, yet they’re everywhere. The moment a strong enough hand appears to gather them, they can quickly huddle together and harden into something real. Only then will many finally take notice.

That said, wild grass is still just wild grass—lacking the ability to support a whole edifice. If it’s to become a true great power, it’s still missing a backbone.”

Only now did Jiang Cheng have a moment of revelation at Pang Ban’s words, exclaiming, “You mean His Majesty sees all this, and so…”

“His Majesty sees far more than you or I imagine. In the matter of the Royal Family’s ‘Major Examination,’ he places far greater weight on it than we assume. Thus, those who act arrogantly and self-righteously only court disaster.”

Pang Ban’s last words were decisive, but he offered Jiang Cheng no further explanation—whether he understood or not would depend on Jiang Cheng’s own perceptiveness.

But it wasn’t a hard guess. Who in the Temple Hall had lately been “self-righteous”? Wasn’t it just the one who had privately rallied for “tightened finances,” and then openly remonstrated in court yesterday, only to be rebuffed by Bai Changqing—the Left Minister, Ye Lansheng?

“You mean the Left Minister…”

Pang Ban smiled and interrupted, “Enough. Since Bai Changqing is now with the Seventh Prince, do not show any obvious connection to him—and Black Water must be doubly careful that nothing leaks out. I expect Prince Ling will send men to sift through Bai Changqing’s staff; those two Secret Agents must not be exposed at any cost.

As for Liao Chengfeng, how goes your business with him?”

Jiang Cheng was long used to Pang Ban’s habit of changing topics mid-conversation, so he instantly gathered his thoughts and replied, “My lord, I’ve already filed a dossier as you ordered. Measures are being set in place, and covert arrests of some key secondary figures are underway. At the latest, within five days, we’ll be ready to move on Liao Chengfeng.”

Pang Ban nodded in approval, reminding him, “Liao Chengfeng’s cultivation isn’t low and he has plenty of Personal Guards. He’s also close to the Third Prince and has Cultivation Race ties—so there’s an element of unpredictability. Don’t treat this as an ordinary case; you must proceed with even greater caution. Not only must the dossier be airtight—when you make your move, strike clean and fast, without hesitation or side issues. Understood?”

“Understood, sir.”