Chapter 143 — The One Who Teaches Kings

“Sir, might you be Master Wuhuo?”

Qi Wuhuo lifted his gaze ever so slightly. That title—he had not heard it in many years. No, to be more precise, in this era, there was scarcely anyone who would still call him “Master”, A multitude of thoughts flashed through the young Daoist’s mind, and in the end, his attention settled on the young Junwang before him—and the elder sister who, by all rights according to the path of history, should have perished.

The sister who was supposed to have died by poison, yet instead took him away from the capital, away from the Emperor’s watchful eyes.

And this name…

Qiong Yu?

Qi Wuhuo looked up again, his thoughts deep.

So then—the one who had sought his guidance earlier, asking whether cultivating the Yin Spirit could lead to enlightenment—was that also the Mountain Deity, Qiong Yu?

Yet she had not come today, apparently citing illness.

He considered the matters he had to undertake soon, as well as Qiong Yu’s current situation.

It would not be wise for her to draw too much attention while the Crown Prince still held power.

To do so would only bring her harm.

Thus, he answered calmly, “I am not.”

The joy on the young Qin Wang’s face slowly faded. In its place came a tinge of disappointment, but he quickly smiled with ease, as if naturally unbothered, and said: “That makes sense. How could such a coincidence occur under Heaven? Still, though Mister Qi is not Master Wuhuo, you too are living proof that this land is filled with heroes and talents beyond count.”

Then, a moment of pause.

From outside came a slightly impatient voice—Seventh Prince, laughing loudly: “Er-lang, Er-lang!”

“You’ve asked questions for over an hour now. Keep this up, and it’ll be dark before you’re done.”

“There’s nothing important going on today anyway—your elder brother here was planning to go to [Pingkang Ward] in Central Province, and hear some beauty sing a tune.”

Then came the rebuking voice of the Fourth Prince: “Seventh Brother, mind your tongue!”

The young Qin Wang suddenly came to a decision. He rose, stepped around the table, and bowed deeply before Qi Wuhuo, saying:

“Seven years ago, after the calamity of Jinzhou, this humble prince often heard my father sigh with bitter regret. He said that he had trusted too easily and thus failed to save the people from fire and water. After his death, I too felt that pain keenly—but the Emperor’s power had already solidified. With my meager strength, I could not avenge the three million lives lost in Jinzhou, nor the early death of my father.”

“But now, having heard your words, sir, it is as if long drought has met sudden spring rain.”

“My heart is filled with joy.”

“I humbly wish to take you as my master and follow your teachings with all due reverence.”

“May I thereby repay the blood-debt of the people of Jinzhou—and avenge my late father.”

Even Qi Wuhuo was slightly taken aback by the decisiveness of the young Qin Wang before him.

“You wish to take me as your master?”

“For what reason?”

The young Qin Wang replied: “First, I have seen in you, sir, the will to swallow the world whole.”

“My fourth and seventh brothers—each has their own gifts. In governance and in war, they surpass me as I am now. But in the end, they are still the sons of that Emperor.”

“They cannot be the blade in your hand, sir.”

“They cannot slay that tyrant.”

Qi Wuhuo lifted his gaze. In just a few sentences, the youth before him revealed a sharp resolve far different from when he distributed porridge or chatted idly with the young Daoist novices. Gone was the childish innocence—what emerged now was a chilling clarity of intent, enough to leave even [Master Wuhuo] surprised. And in that moment, he suddenly understood why the Emperor of that time had kept this prince firmly bound within the capital.

The Qin Wang leaned slightly forward and said respectfully: “Second—because you and I, sir, share the same cause.”

“You run yourself ragged over the matter of Jinzhou; so do I.”

“There is no need to worry that I would betray you.”

The young Daoist looked at him and asked: “Is it for the people’s blood-debt, or for your own?”

Silence fell.

The Qin Wang clenched his teeth, then answered truthfully: “To avenge my father.”

“But I am willing to become the blade in your hand, to slay a tyrant.”

The young Daoist closed his eyes for a long moment, then sat upright in his chair, hands resting calmly on his knees. He said:

“Then take me as your master.”

“I will not teach you cultivation—only a few simple truths.”

“Where you go from there is for you to decide.”

The Qin Wang was overjoyed. Without hesitation, he lifted the hem of his robe and knelt in formal obeisance, solemnly bowing as he called him teacher.

As he rose once more, Qi Wuhuo seemed to come to a sudden realization. He pointed toward the table and said: “Use your personal seal to draft a formal appointment, naming me as your teacher.”

Though puzzled, the young Qin Wang obeyed.

As the Qin Wang’s seal pressed down upon the document, Qi Wuhuo distinctly felt a thread of Human Emperor Fortune arise—drawn from the Dao of the Human Destiny—and in that instant, he realized: He could now summon and condense Human Dao Fortune from Heaven and Earth on his own.

Before this, he could only absorb the remnants left behind by the Crown Prince.

Now, he could draw it forth actively.

The title “Instructor of the Junwang’s Residence” was merely of the ninth rank, not high in the hierarchy.

The rate and amount of condensation had their limits.

But Qi Wuhuo merely channeled those wisps of power into the Kill the Thief Sword, tempering and refining it further.

The Qin Wang wiped his knees with a fine cloth, smoothing out the wrinkles and restoring his dignified appearance. Only then did he step outside, where he was immediately seized in a boisterous embrace by the Seventh Prince, who laughed loudly: “Hahaha! Erlang, Erlang! Do you enjoy chatting with Old Qi that much? Come, come—what did you ask him?”

The Crown Prince’s gaze turned subtly curious.

While slapping the broad, powerful shoulders of the Seventh Prince, Qin Wang coughed softly and said, “Cough… Seventh Brother, let go, let go—you’re squeezing a bit hard.” The Seventh Prince loosened his grip slightly. The young Junwang answered naturally: “I asked the Daoist a few things about cultivation.”

The Fourth Prince’s expression turned complex.

Even the Crown Prince’s gaze narrowed slightly.

The young Qin Wang smiled wryly and said: “…All of you elder brothers know full well—I’m destined to be no more than a leisure prince. The title may be high, but when it comes to cultivating Human Dao Fortune, I’ll never reach far. So I might as well find a different path—perhaps devote myself to the teachings of the Buddha or Daoism. If I can’t cultivate fortune, then to become a hidden cultivator in seclusion would be enough for me.”

The Seventh Prince’s laughter abruptly halted.

A strange sense crept into his heart—that perhaps he shouldn’t have brought up this topic. But he quickly burst into laughter again, “Hahaha! Ah, forget it, forget it! Fourth Brother, don’t look so grim now. Erlang, come along with your Seventh Brother today—let’s visit Pingkang Ward, find a few charming girls to play the qin and sing you a tune!”

“Hey hey hey, Fourth Brother, what’s with that look?”

“I get it, I get it.”

He patted the young Qin Wang on the shoulder, his thick brows furrowed tightly, then spoke with earnest seriousness: “Erlang, as your elder brother, I must speak plainly with you. As a member of the royal family, every action you take reflects upon the imperial house. Places like brothels and pleasure barges—such establishments are not to be visited. Even if you do go, it must be only to enjoy refined things, like listening to the qin, do you understand?!”

“Do not bring shame upon the royal bloodline.”

The Qin Wang could only nod helplessly.

The Fourth Prince gave a reluctant nod as well—this explanation, at least, could be accepted.

The Seventh Prince said: “If you’re planning to do anything else, you’ll need to change your clothes and sneak out in secret.”

At that, the Fourth Prince’s expression froze.

The Seventh Prince burst into hearty laughter once more. With one arm wrapped around the young Prince Qin, he turned back and cheerfully extended the invitation: “Old Qi, you want to come along? We’re not allowed meat, but that’s no issue for you, right? Hahaha! I’ll pick out a few pretty ones for you. Or better yet, shall I redeem a couple and gift them to you?”

The Fourth Prince stepped forward to block him, offering a slight bow and said: “Seventh Brother has spent too long stationed at the border.”

“His manners have taken on a touch of the crude temperament of soldiers.”

“Sir, I ask you not to take offense.”

Then, with an agreement to meet again should leisure permit, they finally took their leave.

Once the group had departed, the young Daoist lifted the brush in his hand, eyes lowered faintly. His Primordial Spirit gazed upon the currents of fate across the realm. Then, without warning, he raised the brush and made a single stroke—his brush as a sword—[severing] a thread of fate that lingered around him. This was one of the fundamental techniques among the [Hiding from the Teacher] methods that Yun Qin had taught him.

It was clearly only a single stroke.

Yet it was as if one had reached out and brushed against a dried mound of sand, setting the grains cascading with the lightest touch.

The fate and heavenly secrets surrounding the young Daoist were momentarily thrown into disorder.

Only then did he remove the mask. Beneath it was the face of a young man, with faint ripples—like those upon a still water’s surface—shimmering across Qi Wuhuo’s visage. In the blink of an eye, what appeared once more was that familiar figure of the young Daoist.

He seemed lost in thought.

Could it truly be that breaking the Crown Prince’s life fate had brought about this shift in fortune?

The Fourth Prince—renowned in the noble houses for his virtue and talent, with a longstanding reputation in the literary circles.

The Seventh Prince—favored among the sons of military meritorious families, a bold general who, at the mere age of fourteen, had entered the battlefield and returned with the heads of three enemies to his name.

And the young Qin Wang, who on the surface appeared weak and submissive, was one who merely followed the guidance of his elder sister.

But in truth, he was the one who could speak such words as: “I am willing to be sir’s blade, to slay the tyrant.”

At the moment those words left his lips, Qi Wuhuo could nearly foresee it: should this young Qin Wang one day ascend as Human Emperor, he himself would likely become a thorn in the youth’s heart. But then, why had all these princes—each of them—suddenly converged upon Zhongzhou?

The Fourth Prince possessed virtue, yet was meek when facing outward.

The Seventh Prince was fierce and bold, but entirely lacking in softness, not the type of ruler to bring peace and rest to the people.

And the Qin Wang, though still young, already showed signs of deep cunning and decisive judgment—capable of both taking up and letting go.

After a long while, Qi Wuhuo finally stood and departed.

Little Peacock asked: “Ah Qi, Ah Qi, what are we eating today?”

The young Daoist strolled through the streets, amidst the smoke and dust of mortal life, relaxed and at ease. His wide sleeves hung naturally, lacking the commanding air of earlier. He only smiled and replied: “How about clear broth noodles?”

Little Peacock pondered for a moment. “Is there meat?”

The young Daoist answered: “There is.”

Little Peacock asked again, “Is there egg?”

The young Daoist couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re a bird yourself, you know.”

“Ah… right…”

Little Peacock blinked in surprise, then after a moment of contemplation, asked seriously; “As long as it’s not peacock egg, then… egg is fine, right?”

Seeing its solemn expression, Qi Wuhuo gave a helpless smile and nodded.

Immediately, Little Peacock was delighted.

“Yay!!”

Little Peacock’s thoughts were always this light and carefree.

In the days that followed, Qi Wuhuo met with the young Qin Wang at the agreed-upon times and places. Using the insights gained from that dream-like span of decades in a single moment, he gave the youth guidance. And the more he taught, the more he felt that this young Qin Wang was truly a piece of unpolished jade—dense in thought and weighty of mind. Qi Wuhuo also gradually came to surmise: this young noble, who had always seemed obedient to his elder sister, likely hadn’t told her about taking him as a teacher.

Yet such matters could not be hidden for long.

In time, Qiong Yu noticed her younger brother’s unusual behavior. When she sternly questioned him, the youth hesitated and stammered, then eventually confessed everything: “I just wanted to give you a surprise, Sister… Not just you, I too can find the great sages of the land, and learn even more.”

He mumbled: “It’s not like your Master Wuhuo is the only one in this world who can be called a grandmaster…”

Li Qiongyu didn’t even lift her eyes, only gave a soft snort: “Hm?”

Thus, the young Junwang—keenly aware he had overstepped—rational and decisive, knelt down with a thud.

“I’m sorry, Sister. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Master Wuhuo isn’t yours.”

“He’s merely your Dao-friend.”

“I’m sorry, Sister.”

“Master Wuhuo is unparalleled in the world, a true grandmaster, amazing, absolutely amazing!”

The young man swiftly recited those words—it had already become something of a practiced chant. The young maiden could only sigh in resignation. Worried that her younger brother might be deceived by someone, she once again put him to the test. To her surprise, she found he had made remarkable progress. Not only that, but his whole bearing seemed to have undergone a subtle transformation—there was now a faint sharpness about him. Holding the written answers in her hand, she furrowed her brow slightly and, quite naturally, asked:

“Then what is your teacher’s name? Where is he from?”

The young Qin Wang answered:

“His surname is Qi, but he hasn’t yet told me his given name.”

Seeing a subtle shift in the girl’s expression, he quietly raised his hand and added: “It’s not Qi Wuhuo.”

“Certainly not. I’ve already inquired beforehand.”

“You’ve inquired?”

The girl, her features refined and delicate, with large and gentle eyes, merely smiled faintly without offering a rebuttal. She only said:

“Then go and ask your teacher this—why did he choose you as his disciple?”

The young Qin Wang responded as though it were a matter of course: “Isn’t it because our interests align?”

The girl’s tone remained calm as she said: “Go and ask again. Consider it my way of testing your teacher.”

“I’ve more or less guessed at his intentions.”

“Let’s see if our answers are the same.”

“Help me deliver this letter to him.”

The girl rose to her feet and ground the ink herself. Taking up the brush in her right hand, she dipped it in ink, and upon the blank page, she wrote four characters. One hand held the brush while the other swept back her sleeve. Staring at the words she had written, she seemed to sense something, and then she smiled slightly.

She laid the brush upon the brush rest, stood up, and rolled up the sheet of white paper, sealing it inside a lacquered box.

She handed it to the young Qin Wang, her eyes warm yet deep as an autumn pool, and cautioned:

“Do not open it.”

The youth muttered, “I know, I know.”

“I won’t open it. I won’t open it, alright?”

The next day, when he went to see his teacher, he asked about it. The young Daoist master lowered his eyes and said mildly: “She’s testing me?”

“She is your elder sister. For an elder sister to test her younger brother’s teacher is only natural.”

This time, Qi Wuhuo also picked up the brush with his right hand, dipped it in ink, and wrote a line of four characters. He handed it to the young Qin Wang as well, saying:

“Deliver this to your sister.”

“And don’t open it.”　

Again with the “don’t open it”?

Me, Qin Wang!

Am I a messenger pigeon or something?! You two are so close by—why don’t you just meet in person?!

The young Qin Wang opened his mouth, momentarily dumbfounded.

He felt like his whole narrative arc didn’t match that of a prince burdened with deep-seated enmity and grand aspirations.

More like one of those pigeons raised at the local courier station.

Still, he only cupped his hands in salute and obediently agreed.

And silently resolved: I’m definitely having pigeon soup tonight!

The young Daoist watched Qin Wang leave. On the table, a sheet of white paper remained—it was intelligence from the Mingzhen Dao Alliance: “The Crown Prince’s Hidden Dragon Guard has now surfaced. Returned from Eastern Commandery, bearing the Great Roc Ode. Route as follows—”

The previous leader of the Mingzhen Dao Alliance had perished in the calamity of Jinzhou.

Though the Dao Alliance did not dabble in the assassin’s trade, if someone happened to want to “pay a visit” to the Hidden Dragon Guard—and that visit happened to end with “unfortunate accidents”—wouldn’t that be entirely within reason?

The young Daoist sat upright.

From within the sword case, the Kill the Thief Sword let out a faint whistle.

So cold was its intent that the sleeves of the young Daoist felt soaked in icy water—a piercing chill rising naturally.

He glanced at the wooden box once more.

Meanwhile, the young Qin Wang raced home and handed the letter over to his elder sister.

The normally composed young lady waved her sleeve, dismissing her brother.

So the young Qin Wang turned and left again. He stared blankly up at the sea of clouds for quite some time, then suddenly called out: “Left and Right! Where are you?! Come forth!”

“Present.”

“Go to the post station and fetch me a few carrier pigeons!”

“Today, I’m having an All-Pigeon Banquet!”

Outside the window, the sunlight was just right. A gentle breeze stirred. Even the clouds seemed drowsy.

A fine, lazy sort of day.

The young Daoist raised his hand and opened the box, and at the same time, the gentle-eyed girl opened hers.

Both unfolded the slips of paper.

They saw the same familiar, yet somehow unfamiliar, words written across them.

Why exactly did you choose this young Qin Wang?

[A rare treasure(Qi Huo 奇貨) is worth keeping]

[A rare treasure (Qi Huo 齊惑) is worth keeping]

Qiong Yu’s lips curved ever so slightly. Her gaze remained serene as she carefully folded the paper and tucked it away with her dressing items, hiding it behind the mirror her mother had gifted her.

The young Daoist looked at the words [Qi Huo is worth keeping]—Qi Huo was another name for Qi Wuhuo.

His expression softened somewhat. The little peacock was preening its feathers nearby. He said absentmindedly:

“Ah Qi, Ah Qi, do we have anything good to eat?”

“Hmm? Something good to eat?”

“Eh? We don’t? Then why are you smiling?”

“Because there’s news from an old friend.”

“Oh… Are old friends like good food? Do they make people happy?”

The little peacock blinked in confusion, but Qi Wuhuo had already stood, tucking the slip of paper into its box and placing it within his sleeve. Then he gathered the intelligence from the Mingzhen Dao Alliance and stepped out. On the Dao Alliance intelligence sheet was a map, with a single line beneath it:

[Location of the Hidden Dragon Guard]

Now that there’s word from an old friend…

Then it’s time to collect a bit of interest.

From within the case, the sword let out a clear cry—

Time to sever a head.