Seventy-two. As you wish.

Those words made things quite clear.
Seeking the Way, in the end, is nothing more than pursuing the path within one’s heart and comprehending the true purpose behind one’s cultivation.
It sounds simple enough—merely to understand why one cultivates at all.
Yet in reality, the search for one’s Way is the threshold separating the fourth and fifth realms, and this divide is by no means easy to cross.
Most begin their cultivation for vague reasons, making it exceptionally difficult to discover a Way that truly aligns with themselves.
There are certainly some who, after dwelling long in tranquil towers untouched by wind or waves, may suddenly grasp the Way in a single night—perhaps even after nothing more than drinking wine or composing poetry.
But such cases are exceedingly rare; Luo Xiaoning may be counted among them, but there is only one Luo Xiaoning in all the world.
Far more achieve the fifth realm only after weathering the storms of worldly life and piercing through to their own Way.
As for Pei Xiunian, whether or not he could so casually gain enlightenment, let alone when he might take a plunge into the mortal world, was of little consequence now. The pursuit of cultivation itself was not his primary concern at this moment.
If he could not kill Li Yan and take his place in a short time, Pei Xiunian would have no chance to cultivate in peace or develop at all.
Though the Emperor of Zhaoning had finally announced the death of the Fifth Prince to the world, this did not mean he had washed his hands of everything.
It simply meant the emperor had given up on refining another batch of pills for now. He was planning to carefully select the next “chosen one,” and what happened atop Renhuang Mountain would help him pinpoint his candidate.
Even if there were no obvious clues left behind, there were few in the Purple Forbidden City with motive to go to Renhuang Mountain at that time, and fewer still with the skill and means to silently trigger events and eliminate Xiangliu.
The Fourth Prince’s faction, placed under house arrest, could be ruled out. Whether or not the emperor knew the true identity of the Empress Dowager was uncertain, but he knew she had the means to accomplish such a feat.
What’s more, he already harbored some suspicion toward Pei Xiunian; otherwise, there would not have been such silence after today’s court assembly.
Should such an incident occur again, his suspicion of Pei Xiunian would swell instantly to the extreme.
Thus, the mastery of some cultivation technique now ranked very low on Pei Xiunian’s list of priorities.
Still, whatever suspicions the emperor might have, all those doubts would be resolved as soon as Pei Xiunian killed Li Yan.
After all, with such a critical piece lost, the emperor would have to set up another pawn to stir up an even fiercer struggle for the throne—the more princes drawn in, the better.
And his second brother, as a token of allegiance, was much more richly endowed with fate than the Fifth Prince. Pills refined from him would surely be more nourishing.
Pei Xiunian replied in a casual tone, “Then I’ll trouble Aunt Meng about this once I’ve reached the fifth realm.”
The Empress Dowager was not at all surprised by his attitude; for all the princes, cultivation was at best a secondary pursuit, let alone for him…
Pei Xiunian might not be a true prince, but he was the hottest contender for heir, and the emperor of Zhaoning saw the Renhuang Mountain affair as a looming crisis.
Where was there time for cultivation? The only reason he was being given the basics was so he would not be hampered when dealing with Yu Hongdou.
But what did surprise the Empress Dowager was that Yu Hongdou’s displayed cultivation was not much inferior…
Could a cloistered maiden from a noble clan really find time every few days to practice martial arts? Unless, of course, this was no more than surveillance…
But there was nothing to be done; Pei Xiunian had already accepted it readily, and as his so-called “aunt”—not even in name, truly—how could she help him go back on it?
As for the cultivation method…
Seeing Pei Xiunian’s indifferent expression, the Empress Dowager said no more; after all, it was not strictly necessary to reach the fifth realm before perfecting the technique.
To pierce through to one’s own Way—yes, that was the threshold of the fifth realm, but there was no rule stating one could not seek the Way beforehand.
Besides, even without the imperial aura, few princes would devote themselves wholly to cultivation.
For princes, the rewards of the throne far outweighed those of cultivation, whose greatest achievement was perhaps to guard the borders.
Should anything go awry, a newly enthroned brother might instantly brand him a traitor; the court had no shortage of powerful experts.
Unless one was born with peerless talent, but even then, after years of seclusion, the world would likely have changed beyond recognition.
The Empress Dowager sighed softly, lifting the chessboard before her. The yew board was polished and translucent, each grain and intersection clearly visible.

Even the black and white pieces in those two ornate cases were extraordinary. This was no priceless collector’s item; the board itself was a divine weapon.
“This is the Tidewatcher, crafted by the Grand Astromancer,” Meng Qingyuan said, slowly picking up a white piece between two slender fingers. “They say the Grand Astromancer of the Imperial Observatory couldn’t bear to use this himself. Who would have thought he’d simply give it to you? Quite unexpected.”
Her elegant, pale fingers curved and flicked; the white piece shot forth like a bolt of lightning, piercing the paper window and vanishing in a flash.
Then, the Empress Dowager placed a black piece on the board. After a brief pause, the white piece reappeared on the chessboard, gazing across at the black, as if in silent confrontation.
Pei Xiunian, a novice in all matters of cultivation, clicked his tongue in wonder. “How marvelous.”
She smiled at him. “This is a trivial use; the chessboard is capable of much more than serving as a hidden weapon.”
Meng Qingyuan caught a flicker of interest in his eyes, and for some reason, this odd emotion brought her a hint of satisfaction…
She was about to speak again when the realization struck her.
What was this?
In the past—no, even now—if she openly offered to teach cultivation, it would cause an uproar in the entire world of cultivators… yet now, she had to watch his mood before she could teach him. She hardly knew what to say.
Had she once again fallen into Pei Xiunian’s snare?
Oh well, what could she do? She was, after all, his aunt, and he always called her “dear elder sister.” There was no point in quibbling with one who played clever tricks day after day.
The Empress Dowager continued,
“If, during a game, you infuse your power into this board, you can create a barrier formation. Its size and duration depend entirely on your own energy. At that time, every piece you place on the board will be as lethal as a divine weapon striking at your opponent’s heart.”
“Now that the Tidewatcher recognizes you as its master, I can no longer demonstrate it for you.”
So it was also a formation disk?
Pei Xiunian ran his hand over the yew chessboard. He’d need expert advice; if he ever found himself in a pinch and tried to use the board as a club, who could say what might happen…
He was about to pry more secrets of strategy from this demonic temptress when she said,
“Still, using a chessboard as a weapon is rare. I know little about such things; if this weren’t the Tidewatcher, there’d be no reason to use it at all.”
She sipped her tea, then continued,
“After all, the world extols the Dao of Chess. Though the moves seem infinitely complex and the contest dangerous, any chessboard can be split with a single sword—no matter your strategy or design.”
How true—a single force breaks all schemes…
Though crude, this was a world where strength reigned supreme. If others upended the table and refused to play, even the most exquisite strategy would be rendered meaningless.
Pei Xiunian agreed. “So it is with all arrangements in the world.”
This remark seemed to surprise Meng Qingyuan. She pondered for a moment before responding,
“But not all boards in the world are so easily broken. Even if you could cleave them with a sword, it would require endless calculation.”
She reclined once more on the cushioned divan, gazing at Pei Xiunian. “Is there anything else you wish to ask me?”
After a moment’s thought, Pei Xiunian recalled something that seemed amiss.
“If the Grand Astromancer treasures this board so much, why would he give it to me upon our first meeting? Does it have something to do with the Imperial Observatory’s ability to divine fate?”
We have no ties of kinship… the Grand Astromancer didn’t even give this to Luo Xiaoning, but to me—what have I done to deserve it?
Pei Xiunian had assumed it was just another chessboard from the Imperial Observatory’s endless supply.
Only now did he realize it was no ordinary object. Yet, he showed no sign of delight; instead, his vigilance was roused.
Dealing with the Emperor of Zhaoning was headache enough. Now, with these inscrutable elders—their motives and allegiances unknown—interfering, who could know what might happen?
The Empress Dowager, seeing his concern, offered gently,
“The Imperial Observatory can read the stars, yes, but omens and fate are not the same. Even the Grand Astromancer can only glimpse fragments of the future—never anything as intricate as your true identity. That would be impossible to deduce.”

With this, Pei Xiunian was at last somewhat reassured. Indeed, if the Grand Astromancer could so easily divine his identity, then his aunt’s true nature would have been exposed long ago—how could she have been allowed to rise so far?
For the Imperial Observatory, the dynasty was everything, and the Empress Dowager’s actions would surely plunge Zhaoning into chaos.
Yet Pei Xiunian pressed for clarity, but the Empress Dowager cut him off,
“The Imperial Observatory’s research into fate is impeccable. Perhaps the Grand Astromancer glimpsed the fortune upon you and decided to take a gamble.”
This explanation was somewhat far-fetched—for someone like the Grand Astromancer to gamble so lightly? Still, it would have to suffice for now.
Pei Xiunian crossed his arms and bowed slightly. “Thank you, Aunt Meng, for clearing up my doubts. I’ll take my leave for today.”
“Ah—wait,” Meng Qingyuan called out as his figure receded, suddenly remembering something. “What are your thoughts on this ‘Martial Gathering’ mentioned in court?”
Pei Xiunian turned back, setting a pear core on the table. “The Xuantian Roll… which faction does it belong to?”
Meng Qingyuan stared at the pear core. So you peeled it for yourself, after all…
Setting down her teacup, she replied, “No clear answer yet. In any case, I doubt it’s the court.”
Pei Xiunian rinsed his hands, dusted off his robe before a tall mirror, and replied offhandedly,
“If it’s not the court behind the Xuantian Roll, then I think the Martial Gathering is an excellent opportunity. Right now, none of the great sects have stepped forward. Our Yao Guang Sect could well take the lead.”
The Empress Dowager stood to straighten his collar, hesitating, “But… we’re a demonic sect…”
Such an undertaking would surely consume much of the sect’s resources, but if successful, its future gains would be astronomical.
It would not be a mere festival, but something that could endure for generations.
But… the question was whether they had enough influence. The righteous and demonic paths had been silent for so long—how much momentum could the martial world muster?
Even the orthodox sects had kept quiet about the event. If a demonic sect took the lead, who would follow?
Pei Xiunian patted his aunt’s hand reassuringly.
“What of it? In this world, might makes right. As a demonic sect, we need not worry.”
“If the righteous sects won’t support us, we can simply spread rumors about them… Aunt, don’t forget I still have the Imperial Observatory’s official bulletin. That’s public opinion…”
“With that, we needn’t fear that the orthodox sects won’t show up. If they truly don’t, it’s the perfect chance for our own Qin to shine as the foremost of the younger generation. Let’s see how the righteous sects can sit idly by then.”
Meng Qingyuan’s eyes lit up. Her hands, fastening the fox-fur cloak at his shoulders, paused for a moment as she remembered this fact, and she answered gently,
“Very well… Aunt will listen to you.”
Not until Meng Qingyuan had personally fastened the cloak did Pei Xiunian say,
“Then, Aunt Meng, I’ll be off to visit Yu Hongdou.”
The Empress Dowager murmured her assent, watching his figure disappear into the snowy courtyard. A sudden pang of guilt rose in her heart.
She had planned to use him, yet he so wholeheartedly devised strategies for their sect. Yet, what could she give in return…
With Pei Xiunian’s attitude, she could hardly take issue with his remarks about “our Qin.” If he truly cared…
No, impossible.
They were Yao Guang Sect, not human traffickers. Even if Qin herself agreed, she could not decide for her…
Besides, the matter with Li Yan was far more pressing. Any talk of reward could wait.