Chapter Fifty-Nine: The Court Situation

In that fleeting moment of contemplation, Chifeng felt the blood in his entire body surge backward, his heart swelling to an astonishing size, his form flickering and overlapping, and the lips he bit were drained of all color.

"Ah—"

He silently mustered his magic to suppress the restriction's effect, but instead suffered a backlash; his blood rushed even faster, and he swayed unsteadily.

Even so, Chifeng forced down the blood that rose in his throat, clenched his teeth, and struggled to stand, quietly circling behind the peculiar man.

Just as he was about to raise his hand toward Gu Ruo, who sat there absorbed in his book, he was suddenly frozen in place.

Chifeng stood stupefied, only his eyes able to move freely, making them appear especially large. Yet the pain of his blood flowing in reverse gradually faded, and at last disappeared entirely.

Suddenly, a gust of authority swept over him, and the restriction over his mouth was lifted.

“It’s you?”

Chifeng looked at the man before him, who had changed positions yet remained composed and unmoved. He couldn’t help but admit—he was damnably handsome!

“Are you a god or an immortal?”

Gu Ruo set down his book and glanced at Chifeng, one brow slightly arched. “Why not wonder if I’m a demon or a monster instead?”

His tone was light, yet every word was clear.

“Pah, I don’t mean to praise you for your looks,” Chifeng retorted, catching his breath as he stared directly at that almost criminally attractive face. “The men of the demon and monster clans value strength—broad shoulders, narrow waists, robust bodies. Even their women favor that type. Unlike you immortals and gods, who look so frail a gust of immortal wind could knock you down. And yet, it’s those weak appearances that seem to be all the rage—tsk tsk…”

He sighed in regret. If his body weren’t so stiff, Chifeng would have pounded his chest in lamentation. Men as dashing and sturdy as himself were growing ever rarer in the Six Realms.

A true loss for all!

Suddenly, Chifeng pursed his lips in disdain. “Of all of them, it’s that Azure Dragon on Mount Wu who’s the most pretentious—always falling ill every few days, as if afraid the entire Six Realms won’t know that unruly demon lord has a soft spot for him.

Pretentious! Men from the immortal and divine realms are all so pretentious!”

Chifeng expected the inscrutable man before him to fly into a rage, or at least show some annoyance, but to his surprise, the other merely replied, “Well put. I quite agree.”

Not sure which part the man referred to, Chifeng looked at him uncertainly. Then he noticed the man cough a few times, still cradling a hand-warmer, appearing even more delicate—yet truly, his looks were extraordinary. Inexplicably, Chifeng felt not a trace of aversion, but rather a growing appreciation.

Could a man’s beauty truly transcend all boundaries of taste?

Perhaps that just meant that Yin Zhuo’er was simply not up to par.

The thought delighted Chifeng, and the hostility and suspicion in his gaze softened considerably.

“Are you an acquaintance of that mortal?”

He ventured to ask, for this man had noticed his discomfort and easily freed him from his pain—surely, his abilities were no less than that wretched mortal’s. There must be some connection.

He saw the man’s eyes quickly shadow over, as if lost in thought. If Chifeng hadn’t been a shrewd phoenix among demons, he might not have noticed at all.

“An old acquaintance,”

The simple reply convinced Chifeng that their relationship was far from shallow.

He hadn’t ventured out in over a hundred thousand years and had no idea what the world had become. Were mortals now so formidable? Had he missed some great age of soaring magical power?

Were True Gods now as common as dirt? After all, it had taken the shameless old man Zhuo Ri, a fearsome presence even among the gods, all his might to forge this unique divine pouch and imprison him within. Hardly an easy feat.

Everyone in the Six Realms believed the aloof Zhuo Ri of Mount Sumeru, cold as a flower atop a lonely peak, was a fiercely protective master. That was why the demon phoenix Chifeng had been suppressed.

But Chifeng knew the truth—the old hypocrite was anything but upright.

Protective? Removing threats? All nonsense!

Only he, Chifeng, saw through it from the start—the old man had his eye on Qing’er. Always inviting her to the Western Sea, always exploring secret realms together… one scheme after another. Poor Qing’er, not even thirty thousand years old, knew nothing of the world or the ways of men.

Without his guidance, who knew if she’d have fallen prey to that old fiend?

The thought of being locked away for thousands of years by that wretch sent Chifeng’s blood boiling.

Huff! Huff! Huff!

He recalled the mortal’s parting admonition—how she’d begged him not to let slip the slightest hint of her escape. Now, battered as he was, Chifeng’s body ached all over.

Her fists were fierce, her moves unpredictable, and she showed no mercy.

“If your old acquaintance asks, explain for me, will you? Cough—of course, I’m not afraid of her. But those delicate arms and legs of hers, if they broke, it’d be a hassle. Mortal bodies are frail; a torn muscle or broken bone takes a hundred days to heal. It’s not worth the delay or the harm to her health. I’m only thinking of her.”

The last words were spoken with particular bravado!

From the moment he started speaking, Gu Ruo’s gaze had never left his book.

“We may have known each other once, but we’re no longer close.”

“What?” Chifeng grew anxious. He knew that mortal was no easy mark; underneath the disguise of a tomboy, she packed a punch that was all too familiar.

It was a tale of endless woe!

“From what I know of her, if you expose yourself and rouse suspicion, she’ll surely thrash you.”

Hearing this in such a mild tone, Chifeng longed to clutch his chest and cry injustice. Alas, he was frozen in place, at her mercy!

“But if you truly want to avoid her anger, there is a way.”

“Oh?” Chifeng’s eyes shone with hope, blazing like twin suns, not at all concerned that they might set the hay in this cell alight.

Gu Ruo glanced up, his refined gaze flickering just once. Instantly, the spell binding Chifeng vanished, and even the injury from his blood’s reverse flow was entirely healed.

Chifeng marveled inwardly—this was no ordinary True God. A formidable one indeed!

Simple-minded as he was, Chifeng still knew that the path to True Godhood was not easily tread. Many immortals, no matter how profound their cultivation, never glimpsed that threshold.

Of course, there were prodigies among the aristocratic families. Yet what truly drew the Six Realms’ scorn and derision were those same aristocrats’ prodigal offspring—the worst of whom was a woman!

A true demoness!

Chifeng stretched his limbs and plopped himself down right beside Gu Ruo. Noticing the man’s frown, he scrambled to the seat across from him, keeping a prudent distance. So long as he avoided another beating from that mortal, he’d happily call this mysterious man “grandfather” if necessary.

“So, what’s your solution?”

Chifeng gazed expectantly, even propping one foot up in an attempt to project his usual demonic charm. He’d forgotten, though, that he now wore Jiang Lan’s face.

The motions of a brawny man performed by a slender, refined young noble only made for an odd spectacle.

When Qin Shu arrived, Gu Ruo was seated at the small, bright table, sipping tea and reading—not at all like a man visiting a prisoner, but rather one enjoying an outing. His manner was relaxed, his air completely at ease.

As for the young heir Jiang? He lay with his back to them on the bedding, as if sound asleep.

At the cell door stood a giant of a guard, nine feet tall at least. Though his eyes stared straight ahead, there was a constant sense of being watched.

Qin Shu thought to himself: The young master’s bodyguard is truly formidable—he sends shivers down the spine.

From the open doorway, Qin Shu bowed respectfully. “Young Master Gu.” Behind him, Liu Bu followed suit, echoing the salute but lowering himself even further; though a man of passion, he still revered the wise and virtuous.

This man had once been his guiding light in life!

“Come in,” Gu Ruo invited.

Qin Shu’s face lit up with relief. The beginning is always the hardest—since Young Master Gu had not given him a hard time over protocol, perhaps the night would pass without major incident. He signaled Liu Bu, who promptly drew a stack of documents from his sleeve and handed them over.

Qin Shu accepted them with both hands and respectfully offered them to Young Master Gu. “These are the particulars of the case involving the young heir. I humbly ask for your guidance.”

Gu Ruo glanced at the documents but did not take them.

Qin Shu’s hands grew stiff with awkwardness, yet he was secretly delighted. If Young Master Gu truly intended to trip him up, he’d have been sent packing with his entire household by morning. A minor rebuke here was a good sign.

“Did Xue Er come today?”

Qin Shu nodded. “He came at the end of the You hour, and left at the start of Xu, saying he’d visited the young heir here.”

While he spoke calmly, Qin Shu’s mind was in turmoil. This Young Master Gu was clearly not an ordinary person. The young heir Jiang was still lying there—who knew if he was truly asleep? To speak of his cousin right in front of him—wasn’t that a bit bold?

Despite his shock, what truly unsettled Qin Shu was the purpose of Young Master Gu’s visit.

Prime Minister Gu had always been a steadfast royalist. Though Young Master Gu had never openly taken a stance, he was close to the Emperor, their relationship both that of teacher and friend.

The Duke of England’s household, on the other hand, had supported the young Emperor since his ascent, owing to their ties with the Duke of Wei and the Empress Dowager. In both the court and public eye, they were the Empress Dowager’s chief allies, much like the Duke of Wei’s household.

Yet, the two families were not the same.

The Duke of Wei’s lineage had dwindled, relying solely on blood ties. The Duke of England’s household, in contrast, wielded real power—true nobility, the Empress Dowager’s right arm.

In recent years, the young Emperor had sought to rule in his own right, but the Empress Dowager repeatedly cited instability as reason to block him, and rumors of discord between them had swept the capital.

Prince Anping, young and capable, served as regent, his retinue filled with talented men—almost a court within a court. His son, too, was said to be a formidable figure, even more trusted by the ministers than the pretty, delicate young Emperor.

The court was in chaos, the world in turmoil.