Xuanqing Guard

It would actually be more appropriate to call the Emperor’s great tent a "military camp." This was a semi-permanent wooden structure set up year-round. It could provide defensive support for the Imperial Palace Guard who accompanied the Emperor, and it also allowed the Emperor to live more comfortably inside.

Since moving in here, the Emperor had not summoned anyone.

The area within fifty meters around the Emperor’s grand tent was strictly forbidden. Anyone who entered without permission would only end up dead. From a distance, one could see a dense forest of guards standing vigil all around, many with golden swords hanging from their waists.

Though these Golden Sword Cultivators were usually assigned to garrison duties protecting the Emperor, after all, the Emperor also had his Imperial Guards. Generally speaking, it was rare to mobilize the Golden Sword Cultivators on such a scale, and cases like this—where even Yang Xiusheng, the foremost of the Golden Sword Cultivators, was called upon—were even rarer still.

The interior of the Emperor’s great tent was heavy with moisture, but it was shrouded by the power of an Array, preventing the steam from escaping. Instead, it hovered and circled around the Emperor seated within.

The moisture wafted up from a large bath—one zhang in diameter—in which the Emperor was soaking himself.

The bath was brown and metallic, etched with Array patterns that at this moment maintained the basin’s temperature. Simultaneously, water currents flushed packs of medicinal herbs in special slots, ceaselessly infusing medicine into the bath, cleansing and soaking the body of the Emperor, Yang Jian.

The spider web on the Emperor’s chest had grown more hideous—swollen half an inch, blood-red in color, and, as the Emperor breathed, it seemed to throb faintly. Only when submerged in this medicinal bath, or in the warm soup behind Fuan Palace, did it quiet down, giving the Emperor some rare relief.

"Your condition is very bad—far worse than I imagined. I never thought that after only two years apart, you’d end up like this."

The speaker was an elder seated at the Emperor’s left. This man looked to be about sixty, his hair and beard pure white, making his true age indiscernible. Robed in a luxurious white long robe adorned with golden patterns, he bore both the immortal air of a Daoist and a sense of nobility. This was none other than the "King of Everlasting Victory," Yang Xiusheng, whom others had spoken of before.

Inside the tent were only the Emperor and Yang Xiusheng. Without orders, others dared not enter, and furthermore, the space was locked down by arrays set by Yang Xiusheng, all under his perception, making eavesdropping on their conversation nearly impossible.

The Emperor half-closed his eyes, his head resting on a soft pillow at the edge of the bath, his whole body flushed, yet there was a look of contentment on his face. Hearing Yang Xiusheng’s words, he replied with a smile: "Uncle, how old am I now? Two years, for you, are but a few rounds of closed-door cultivation—a blink of an eye. But for me, it’s been endless hardship, like treading a mountain of blades or a sea of fire. Heh, the days crawl by, and each day I watch this body wither a little more. Now, leaving the warm pools, I can only rely on these medicinal baths—or else the pain is unbearable.

Heh, don’t laugh at me, Uncle—every morning I attend court, it is pure torment. The time I can endure grows shorter and shorter. I don’t know how much longer I can persist."

Yang Xiusheng picked up a decoction from beside him and sniffed it. This medicine had been brought earlier by a eunuch for the Emperor to drink, and now, cooled at the side, its scent struck him as wrong. He frowned and said, "You’re drinking this kind of stimulant now? Courting death on your own?"

Yang Xiusheng did not believe the Emperor was unaware of the harm this medicine could cause. The only explanation was that the Emperor was taking it deliberately.

Indeed, the Emperor mocked himself: "What else can I do? These potions are the only thing keeping me from going mad with suffering and still able to handle affairs of state. As for courting death—heh, Uncle, do you think it’s better for me to live like this, or just die?"

The Emperor’s words left Yang Xiusheng speechless. Silence fell between them.

After a long while, the Emperor suddenly said, "Uncle, if back then I’d let my second brother ascend the throne, and went to cultivate with you, I’d be in the Primordial Pill Realm by now, wouldn’t I?"

"Mm. You had good talent back then—above average at least. If you’d been diligent, most likely you’d have reached the Primordial Pill Realm by now."

"What a pity. My brothers and I were all kept in the dark, thrown into a senseless struggle. Three died, one left, and as for me—I took the throne with pride, only to realize I was the greatest loser after all. Heh. Uncle, I recall you once advised me to give up the throne, but I mistook you for my second brother’s envoy and held a grudge against you for years."

Yang Xiusheng, too, recalled those past years. Memories surfaced one by one, causing him to lift the corners of his mouth—yet the faint smile vanished a moment later.

"I was already violating the ancestral precepts by warning you. But you didn’t listen, and I was powerless. The succession within the Royal Family has always been turbulent, whether there is bloodshed or not all depends on fortune. Back in the day, your father was quite crafty—he brought us brothers firmly to heel, and eventually overrode me, the eldest, to ascend the throne. In the end, who could have predicted fate? The outcome is never clear. Had I not entered Fenghong Manor later, my unusual status, I wouldn’t have discovered so many hidden twists beneath the throne."

Alas..."

The Emperor, for his part, seemed at ease and laughed: "Uncle, there’s no need to sigh for me. To have lived to now is already the blessing of our ancestors. Among the successive Emperors of our Royal Family, even if I were to die this very moment, I could rank among the top three in longevity, couldn’t I?

It’s just that affairs are tangled and messy, and some plans have been disrupted. I don’t know whether I’ll be able to make proper arrangements before I die."

"If there’s anything you need my help with, just say the word." As the foremost Golden Sword Cultivator, Yang Xiusheng was duty-bound to guard the Royal Family, and as Yang Jian’s uncle, he bore the responsibility both in public and private.

"Help me suppress Yang Yansi."

"Yang Yansi? So that’s why you suddenly brought me out of seclusion—to defend against him? But Yang Yansi has always been loyal to the Dynasty, his merits outstanding. Are you certain you want to move against him? And isn’t there renewed warfare at the Southern front? Aren’t you afraid the frontline soldiers will become suspicious?"

"The current Daoxing Chief of the Southern Border Army is Zuo Yuliang—he’s one of mine. He can keep the Border Army in check. As long as the Border Army doesn’t rebel, nothing will ignite into a blaze across the military. At most, there’ll be some barking dogs—kill them if need be, it’s nothing serious.

The key is Yang Yansi. His prestige in the Dynasty is simply too great. Back then, we had to elevate him as a ’War God’ to stabilize the hearts of the people—and in doing so, had to grant him real military power. Now his tail is too big to dock; he cannot be moved lightly.

But if you, Uncle, are willing to act—just suppress him, keep him from causing trouble, that will suffice. Only you in this Dynasty have the means to suppress him." The Emperor sat up straighter in his bath, his expression now devoid of earlier ease, eyes fixed on Yang Xiusheng to his left, awaiting his response.

"Yang Yansi is still related to the Royal Family—a collateral branch. His talent is excellent. By my observation, he’s already at Profound Sea Realm First Layer in Cultivation, with even more room to grow. But before me, he cannot stir up any waves. You need not worry." Solemnly, Yang Xiusheng nodded to the Emperor, immediately accepting this task.

Yet Yang Xiusheng still harbored doubts: "Just what has he done? From the way you speak, you only want him suppressed?"

"Hmph, he’s colluding with foreign enemies and secretly providing aid to them."

"What?!"