Chapter Thirty: Breakthrough

Leng Yichen seemed to smile, though the sound he emitted was chillingly somber. "Do you know what you are saying?" His tone was like a warning to Yefeng not to speak such treasonous words lightly.

"My Lord, forgive your subordinate's boldness, but you should have taken this step long ago. The current Emperor favors a culture of extravagance, leading his officials to follow suit, while the people suffer beyond endurance. Furthermore, the Emperor spends his days only on suspicion and power plays, bullying his own subjects while blindly offering concessions and seeking peace with neighboring nations. If this continues, the fate of Ningyuan will surely reach its end." Yefeng's words were like sharp blades, dissecting the systemic rot of the current court.

As soon as he finished speaking, a dagger flew past his cheek, slicing off a few strands of his hair. "Swallow those words back forever." Leng Yichen's voice was like a cold winter wind, carrying boundless majesty and warning.

Yefeng swallowed hard, picked up the dagger, and respectfully placed it back on the table. "Is there anything else?" Leng Yichen had returned to his calm demeanor, as if nothing had happened at all.

"Um... regarding the Third Prince, things do not seem well. Is intervention needed?" Yefeng ventured, testing the limits of Leng Yichen's patience.

"Hmph, with Shen Ningshuang there, it would be difficult for him to die even if he wanted to." Leng Yichen’s reply mocked Yefeng’s concern, showing profound faith in Shen Ningshuang’s capabilities.

Yefeng took the risk to say, "My Lord, the position of this Fourth Miss Shen is difficult to discern; one must remain cautious." His words were a reminder not to be deceived by appearances.

As Shen Ningshuang’s figure surfaced in his mind, Leng Yichen felt an inexplicable irritation. He disliked any uncontrollable variables. Shen Ningshuang had undoubtedly proven her strength to him, and he was now, in effect, allied with her. Since he intended to cooperate, distrusting a partner was a major taboo. Yet, there were too many secrets between her and Leng Zhaowen. Especially since she had personally admitted she was not born to the Shen family—what exactly was her true identity? And what was her agenda?

He shook his head, unable to find an answer, and waved Yefeng away. The surrounding silence returned. It seemed that only in this solitary quietude could he clear his thoughts and plot the future.

Deep into the night, all was still, as if the entire world had fallen into a deep slumber. Leng Yichen sat cross-legged on his bed, meditating. His posture was as straight as a pine, his body enveloped in a faint, ethereal veil. Wisps of indistinct mist swirled around him, dreamlike and illusory, as if he were in a chaotic realm between the celestial and the mortal. Suddenly, Leng Yichen felt a surge of intense heat within his body, as if a raging fire had been ignited in his dantian. In an instant, the scorching heat surged like a violent torrent through his limbs and bones. He was startled, but realized immediately that the mysterious mental cultivation technique he practiced had reached a critical juncture. He dared not slacken, focusing all his willpower to guide the energy along specific meridians, attempting to tame the violent power.

Shen Ningshuang was about to rest, shedding the day’s fatigue and letting her mind drift into the quiet night, when she suddenly sensed a powerful surge of spiritual energy from afar. It was as if a giant boulder had been cast into a calm lake, sending ripples spreading in all directions. "This is..." She was startled and immediately alert. Casting aside all hesitation, she tapped her toes against the window frame, her figure drifting out like a phantom. She moved with lightness, like a fairy descending upon the moon, treading through the water-like moonlight toward the Prince Dinghuan’s estate, her robes fluttering and snapping in the night wind.

Beads of sweat the size of beans rolled down Leng Yichen’s forehead, soaking his clothes. Soon, he felt a light-bearing spot the size of a soybean appear in his dantian, which felt hotter than ever before, as if being seared by coals. He did not know how long this lasted; it felt as long as a century, yet as brief as a heartbeat. Suddenly, his senses underwent a drastic transformation. Objects once far beyond his reach were now clearly discernible, and his body felt light as a feather, as if he could take flight with the wind. "Is this the result of a breakthrough?" he pondered, brow furrowed. He knew little of this mystical art; he was like a traveler groping through the dark.

Suddenly, he shuddered as a familiar aura, like a gentle breeze, drifted into his perception. His senses were sharper than ever, as if he had been reborn. He was certain someone was outside his window and, filled with vigilance, asked in a low voice, "Who are you?" His voice, though soft, carried an unquestionable authority that echoed in the silent night air.

Seeing that he had passed the critical stage and successfully formed a golden core, Shen Ningshuang felt relieved and intended to leave quietly. But his sudden question caught her off guard, as if she had been struck by lightning. She wondered, how had Leng Yichen detected her? This filled her with a newfound wariness regarding his true strength.

Leng Yichen realized that this aura was identical to that of the mysterious woman who had saved him. It was the same person as in the painting in his study—the mysterious woman cloaked in a hood, playing a jade-green flute, lingering in his heart like a phantom. "Don't go! Tell me who you are!" he shouted urgently, his voice filled with longing and frustration, like a drowning man clutching at a straw.

Shen Ningshuang’s breath hitched. She knew she had to remain perfectly rational and not be swayed by the seductive, water-like softness of his voice. She knew the time was far from ripe; once the truth was revealed, it would likely trigger an unpredictable tempest. Inside and outside the window, both their hearts were taut, the atmosphere so heavy it felt as if it could drip with water. Time seemed to stand still.

Shen Ningshuang spoke slowly, her voice seeming to traverse endless space, coming from the distant horizon: "Cultivate with focus. One day, I will appear before you." Her words were like a mysterious incantation, laden with promise and expectation. Having said this, she vanished into the night.

When Leng Yichen leaped out of the window, the aura had vanished without a trace, leaving only a faint lingering shadow in the night sky, fleeting as a shattered dream. He stood there, feeling lost and hollow, staring blankly at the night sky as if chasing the ghost that had already departed.

With wind beneath her feet, Shen Ningshuang arrived at Yuhua Pavilion in an instant.

Chapter Thirty-One