Chapter Fifty-Eight: Too Reckless (Double Section)

Standing at the foot of Renhuang Mountain, the brightly illuminated Forbidden City behind seemed utterly out of place compared to the shadowy, wild peaks hidden in darkness. Pei Xiunian looked up; the stone steps winding up the mountain numbered in the hundreds, possibly thousands, stretching endlessly beyond sight. Bathed in the luminous glow of the moon, this staircase resembled the spine of a pale dragon.

There were no troops stationed anywhere around Renhuang Mountain. It truly appeared to be an abandoned wilderness, quietly nestled in the night. Yet Pei Xiunian knew this was a deliberate façade crafted by Emperor Zhaoning. This mountain was originally the rear garden of the Forbidden City, neglected for many years, now scarcely visited by anyone. Such a place required no excessive measures lest it attract unnecessary attention.

Just as Pei Xiunian was about to ascend, the Empress Dowager—his alluring Aunt Meng—reached out and tugged his sleeve. He turned to her, noticing the seriousness in her moon-brighter visage; her brows knitted in hesitation as she confirmed once again, “Nian’er… have you truly thought this through? Who knows what lies upon this mountain? I possess only the barest cultivation; common traps and mechanisms are manageable, but if Emperor Zhaoning has hidden some of his Grade-A automata here…”

Pei Xiunian had considered these doubts. Formations in Great Zhou were rare and ordinary, but who could say how many intricate, interconnected traps lay buried on such a seemingly harmless mountain? There were countless formations in the world; to predict exactly which ones might be present or to avoid all possible triggers was impossible.

Moreover, there was no explicit sign forbidding entry. It was merely a deserted mountain—if a scholar, drunk with poetry, climbed it, who could object? Literary pursuits were hardly unusual in a realm of cultivators. In Great Zhou, there were plenty who followed the Way through literature. Scholars could pen histories, and with the backing of the Confucian sect, their words often held more sway than weapons; officials might not fear blades, but the pen of a literati could easily strike. A poem of exceptional brilliance would be passed down through ages, and tales of sudden inspiration leading to enlightenment were not mere legend.

Such stories were so widespread that even the most desolate places might unexpectedly encounter wandering poets. These itinerant scholars were renowned; they wouldn’t simply vanish without trace. If a formation on Renhuang Mountain caused a commotion, it would only become a liability.

Emperor Zhaoning must understand how unspeakable his actions were. Slaughtering heirs for alchemical purposes was one crime; undermining the dynasty’s fate another. If word spread, even a public confession would not reclaim the people’s loyalty. Yet if he attained immortality and absorbed the fortune of all princes, he might live as long as the empire, becoming Great Zhou’s sole eternal emperor.

Thus, Emperor Zhaoning would also fear drawing attention to Renhuang Mountain with any sudden disturbance. Unless one uncovered the heart of the mountain’s secrets, it shouldn’t be easy to trigger a formation by accident.

Pei Xiunian relied on his Heavenly Eye, confident that a casual glance wouldn’t set off anything so catastrophic. He brought the Empress Dowager along to make their presence seem natural. Besides, if Emperor Zhaoning truly coveted his Third Prince’s body, then Aunt Meng’s shapely legs would be indispensable.

Yet, on the day he pledged allegiance—the day the Fifth Prince died—Pei Xiunian had noticed nothing unusual in his conversation with Emperor Zhaoning. He had replayed their dialogue, reviewed it from both his own and the emperor’s perspective, and found no flaws.

So, was it some external factor in the two days after his pledge that aroused suspicion? Who could bear such a grudge? Pei Xiunian suspected the mysterious demon-communing figure, but so far, no trace was found.

Rather than dwell on such matters, he decided to ascend. He gently squeezed the slender hand still clutching his sleeve, relishing its warmth and smoothness like fine jade.

Meeting the Empress Dowager’s gaze, he comforted her: “A risky move is sometimes necessary, Aunt Meng. Opportunity waits for no one.”

She gave him a meaningful look, finally releasing his sleeve and following his stride. She pursed her lips, refraining from uttering, “So reckless,” recalling how he faced the two hundred thousand troops of Qingqiu with the same boldness. It was precisely this recklessness that had shaped Great Zhou’s current fate.

Upon ascending to the position of Empress Dowager, her aim was bloodshed among the court and the royal family’s decline, but not the collapse of Great Zhou itself. Her revenge should not harm the common people.

Pei Xiunian, suddenly appearing from outside the chessboard to join the game, unexpectedly fit her needs perfectly. If his identity and methods could be harnessed, it would propel her plans to new heights.

From Xiaoqin’s reports over the past two days, Pei Xiunian’s conduct and temperament had satisfied her scrutiny—at least as a prospective ally.

As for affection… Ha. As the master of the Yao Guang Sect, she had practiced the path of severing all emotions for years; how could she develop any feelings for a man?

Now, she needed Pei Xiunian’s trust. As he said, since both their enemy was Emperor Zhaoning, hiding too much would breed unnecessary suspicion and division—harmful, with no benefit.

But those hidden secrets were vital, critical; a single misstep could ruin everything. True understanding was never simple, and trust could not be forged overnight. Even if she wished to trust him, would he reciprocate?

Besides, who could guarantee this wasn’t a trap set jointly by Pei Xiunian and Emperor Zhaoning?

Her high-heeled palace shoes clicked on the stone steps. Raising her eyes, she found herself before the weathered yet still resplendent City God Temple. Lost in thought, she realized they had finished the climb.

The night wind brought coolness. The Empress Dowager gazed at the temple, its vermilion and green hues mingling under moonlight. Only the front hall was illuminated; the temple’s red pillars held the structure in darkness.

She glanced to the right, where an enormous bronze furnace stood, topped with a phoenix-shaped cover. Such a massive alchemical furnace could refine anyone.

She halted here, venturing no further. Cautious, she extended her vast spiritual sense from her feet, spreading it throughout.

A glimmer flashed in Pei Xiunian’s eyes as he focused on the dark temple. Its furnishings had long been removed; the vast hall was empty.

With his Heavenly Eye, he glimpsed a hidden chamber within the temple, neatly arranged with three exquisite sandalwood incense burners, each filled with identical pale fragments.

He recognized them: remnants of imperial alchemy, in plain terms, the ashes of princes—their bones unfit for medicine.

But why three burners? If memory served, only the First and Fifth Princes had died. Where did the third come from?

Had Emperor Zhaoning refined the late emperor? That would be a truly twisted family—father gone, and sons smiling.

Pei Xiunian was about to ask the Empress Dowager about the late emperor’s death when he noticed a twisted shadow inside the bronze furnace.

The shadow resembled the demon from Cao Family Village, with several long tails but no beastly form.

Thus, Emperor Zhaoning’s demon-raising was confirmed—even in the imperial city, he controlled such monsters. What was he plotting?

Was he feeding the princes to the demon?

This implausible thought lasted barely an instant before Pei Xiunian dismissed it; Emperor Zhaoning’s changing demeanor could not be a benefit from demon-raising.

Pei Xiunian scrutinized the furnace further, noting luminous white formations at both top and bottom.

This world’s formations ranged from red to purple; those used for functions other than attack, such as flight prohibition or invisible barriers, appeared white.

He was about to warn the Empress Dowager, but she was quicker. Through his Heavenly Eye, he saw her spiritual energy spreading from her feet.

This was the manifestation of invisible spiritual sense. The formation beneath the furnace grew brighter. Pei Xiunian was alarmed and called out loudly, “Aunt Meng, wait!”

But it was too late. With her cultivation, the Empress Dowager could cover all of Renhuang Mountain in moments, let alone a temple’s front hall.

Her immense spiritual sense swept through the temple. With a sharp sound, all external noise vanished—utter silence.

A transparent cage enveloped the temple’s front hall.

At that moment, the bronze furnace’s lid was slammed aside. Several pitch-black tails—no, this time nine serpent bodies—emerged.

A mountainous figure revealed itself, utterly different from Hangzhou before.

Nine snake heads, each flicking a crimson tongue. The Classic of Mountains and Seas records: “A serpent with nine heads, devouring countless men; wherever it passes, lands become marshes.”

This was Xiangliu, though not yet fully grown, much like the demon from Cao Family Village.

The Empress Dowager’s expression grew grim. Instinctively, she stepped before Pei Xiunian, facing the fully unfurled Xiangliu.

The nine-headed monster stared at her, its scarlet eyes radiating murderous intent. It knew who posed the greater threat.

In the next instant, several snake heads lunged like weapons, while others arched back to spray azure venom.

The venom sizzled and smoked as it struck the floor.

The Empress Dowager moved with lotus steps, her figure ethereal beneath the moon. Even Pei Xiunian, watching closely, could barely track her movements without the Heavenly Eye. Each attack seemed to graze her, yet always remained distant—like morning mist, elusive and dreamlike.

Suddenly, a glimmer appeared in her hand—a streak of true energy slicing through the air.

At that moment, Pei Xiunian noticed the second formation inside the furnace flare brilliantly.

Then, the light vanished from his vision, and the Empress Dowager’s movements slowed. Pei Xiunian realized he could no longer sense his own true energy.

So the formation detected true energy and forcibly suppressed cultivation? It complemented the cage formation—ironically, those who acted rashly might avoid triggering it.

But Xiangliu was unaffected. Its nine heads arched back, mouths filled with venom.

Pei Xiunian dared not linger. He leapt, grabbing the nearby Empress Dowager and pulling her into his embrace.

Warmth and softness filled his arms, but now was no time for idle thoughts.

Xiangliu’s venom rained down; Pei Xiunian felt a shimmering shield around him and was relieved—the Empress Dowager’s heart-guarding mirror was genuine.

He barely had time to breathe, dodging the jaws of one head, though the others continued their relentless assault.

Xiangliu’s attacks were coordinated; Pei Xiunian now understood how miraculous it was for the Empress Dowager to evade them.

Holding her hindered his movements; the amber light around them weakened, cracks spreading across its surface.

The heart-guarding mirror was no invincible artifact—it had limits.

The Empress Dowager lay quietly in his arms, slightly dazed. She guessed Pei Xiunian rescued her because if she died, he couldn’t escape either, yet her heart was still warmed.

Thanks to this accidental ordeal orchestrated by Emperor Zhaoning, she glimpsed Pei Xiunian’s true intentions.

“Put me down.”

Her gentle voice reached Pei Xiunian’s ears, but he ignored it, too pressed to listen. Feeling her struggle, he instinctively held tighter.

His mind was wholly focused on Xiangliu, dodging within the confined space, sweat pouring.

His body’s refinement showed its worth; otherwise, Xiangliu’s fangs would have pierced him long ago.

Just then, with a loud crash, the amber light vanished, and a volley of venom pierced his left shoulder, searing pain causing him to stumble.

His arms lightened as inertia sent him spinning; he landed with a thud, nearly brushing the crater Xiangliu’s head had gouged in the ground.

As he caught his breath, the monster’s remaining heads ceased their attack and stared straight at the moon. Pei Xiunian looked up as well.

A long sword descended from the heavens, blade snowy and radiant.

With a ringing crash, cold light split the moon, and a rush of wind shattered the silence—blood rain followed belatedly.

The Empress Dowager’s raven hair streamed in the wind, her pale brocade untouched by blood. She spoke softly, “Let’s go home.”