Chapter 11611 — The Seventy-Third Generation Qi Ye

Without the boon of the ten-thousandfold time-flow, their intensive training could hardly match that of Wei Baizhan and the others, yet under Jiang Xiaoshang's meticulous tutelage, a complete transformation was only a matter of time.

As for the Inner Royal Court, with Wei Baizhan, Li Qinghe, and the rest of the Ten Great Sins at his side, Wei Zhao had manpower enough and to spare.

Wei Zhao's side took a brief respite, while every other faction, not one of them idle, busied itself with covert schemes and grand maneuvers without end.

The Prince of Qi's estate.

Alone, the Prince of Qi came to the ancestral shrine of the estate, drew a deep breath, and with his own hands pushed open its doors.

In an instant, several ancient and mighty presences, sealed away in the river of time, swept over him.

At once the Prince of Qi bowed low.

"The seventy-third generation, Qi Ye, humbly petitions the venerable ancestors to emerge from seclusion."

Within the shrine, all was still for a long while; before his eyes there was only emptiness, nothing at all.

The Prince of Qi prostrated himself in reverent obeisance, lying flat and not daring to rise.

His heart was a turmoil of unease.

Unless utterly driven to it, he had no wish to open the shrine.

For one thing, he did not care to disturb the ancestors' pure cultivation; for another, he knew well that these ancestors, like the old monsters entrenched in the other houses, now belonged to the Inner Royal Court, and that to meddle in the affairs of the Inner Royal Court came at a colossal price.

Besides, no one who had managed a house well and comfortably wished to find a few extra overlords suddenly enthroned above his head.

But now he was truly backed into a corner.

He had knelt and kowtowed to Wei Zhao and, on the surface, weathered that ordeal—but who could say whether Wei Zhao would press his advantage?

Should Wei Zhao come to his door with the Ten Great Sins, the Prince of Qi's estate, with its present strength, could not withstand him at all.

The only recourse was to summon forth these few ancestors.

After a long while, the candlelight within the shrine flickered faintly, and a hollow voice sounded: "What is it?"

The Prince of Qi's heart quivered; he hastened to recount the day's events in brief.

Moments later, several presences within the shrine stirred to life one after another.

In the end, the Prince of Qi heard only a single sentence.

"When he comes to our door, slay him."

The Prince of Qi's heart jolted; he opened his mouth but said nothing.

As to how Wei Zhao ought to be handled, he held a different view. He had indeed suffered a humiliation beyond measure, but strictly speaking, cooperation might not be entirely out of the question in days to come.

Only, now that several of the old ancestors had been invited out of seclusion, what came next was no longer his to decide.

Much the same scene was playing out in the great princely estates and the various clan powers.

The waters of the Inner Royal Court ran far deeper than anyone had imagined.

Wei Zhao's reappearance on the stage was one stone hurling into a thousand waves, plunging the already treacherous currents of the Inner Royal Court into a murk of shifting tides and unpredictable peril.

The Estate of the Prince of Han.

Han Jiechen sat upon the princely throne, his face the color of iron.

"Wei Zhao is a wolf with savage ambitions; he will never let the matter drop so easily. What are we to do?"

The high-ranking men of the Estate of the Prince of Han exchanged glances, and not one dared make a sound.

Let it not be forgotten that the Estate of the Prince of Han had once received Wei Zhao's great benevolence.

That Han Jiechen now sat upon the seat of the Prince of Han was entirely owing to Wei Zhao as well.

By any ordinary reckoning, the Estate of the Prince of Han ought to have stood with the Estate of the Prince of Zhao—dyed-in-the-wool partisans of Wei Zhao's line.

Unfortunately, Han Jiechen plainly did not see it that way.

In his eyes, at least, Wei Zhao's hand had played some part in his rise—but the greater part had been his own doing.

And more than that, seated as he now was upon the seat of the Prince of Han of this age, he ought to weigh the interests of the Estate of the Prince of Han above all else; as for Wei Zhao, he might be shown some consideration when the matter was of no consequence, but when the true moment came, Wei Zhao must stand aside.

Regarding Han Jiechen's earlier choices, the crowd nursed a good deal of private grumbling, though none dared step forward and object openly.

And now that events had come to this pass, their foresight had been all the more vindicated.

Han Wu cleared his throat and said, "My King, given the ties between us and Wei Zhao, there is truly no need to keep up this confrontation. Better to invite him over and speak the matter out plain. From what I know of Wei Zhao, he will not drive things to the very end; give him a step down, and he will naturally take it."

"After all, there remain many interests held in common between us and him."

Many nodded, one after another.

Han Jiechen, stung into fury and shame, snatched up the inkstone at his hand and hurled it straight at him: "He made this King kneel and kowtow to him, and you would have this King swallow his anger still, and make peace with him besides?"

Han Wu, caught off guard, took the blow square and was at once a mask of blood.

The assembled men fell silent as cicadas in winter, their eyes turning as one to the Chief Secretary of Han.

By private friendship, the Chief Secretary of Han stood closest to Wei Zhao; at a moment like this, he alone could still make himself heard.

The Chief Secretary of Han curled one corner of his mouth and said, "My King, rein in your anger. I for one think we might be generous—invite him over for a meal."

Han Jiechen's brows shot up in a fury: "I am to invite him to a meal?"

"Do not be angry yet, Your Majesty. Hear me out first."

Han Changshi said darkly, "Wei Zhao made Your Majesty kowtow to him and stripped Your Majesty of face. Then all we need do is make him kowtow in return, and Your Majesty's face is restored."

The whole crowd was dumbfounded.

Make Wei Zhao kowtow to Han Jiechen? Such a maneuver was even possible?

Han Jiechen's eyes lit up. "You have a way to make him kowtow? Speak."

Han Changshi smiled with profound meaning. "Forgive me for keeping you in suspense. When the time comes, Your Majesty will know. I guarantee Your Majesty will be satisfied."

Han Jiechen was half doubtful, half convinced, but at last he slapped the table and declared, "Good! I entrust this matter wholly to you!"

"As you command. Then I shall go make preparations."

Han Changshi cupped his hands in salute, cast the assembly a glance not without mockery, and at once drifted away.

The others exchanged looks.

None could say when it had begun, but Han Changshi had come to feel like a different person altogether, his manner of doing things utterly at odds with his past.

Some could not help but suspect—surely Han Changshi had not been replaced by an impostor?

Yet after several probes, open and covert, they could find no flaw at all, and in the end had no choice but to let it drop.

Back in his own courtyard, he came to a secret chamber.

Han Changshi took out a mirror, and what appeared in it was another face, abnormally pale.

Han Changshi frowned. "This body is nearly spent as well. Perfect timing—the next one shall be that Wei Zhao. To think he can move the whole Inner Royal Court with a single hand and stir up its winds and clouds. I am really rather looking forward to it."

On the pale face surfaced a strange, sinister smile.

The Divine Kingdom of Lu.

Guan Zhengxuan looked at the garishly dressed, bewitchingly beautiful man before him and could not help frowning, his tone turning impatient.