Chapter Forty-Six: Warning

In the garden, verdant branches swayed gently, and several stalks of emerald bamboo whispered in the breeze. Upon a path paved with porcelain-white pebbles, two figures stood side by side.

The man on the left wore a full beard, his head broad like a leopard’s, eyes ringed and fierce. Though dressed in a crimson official robe embroidered with clouds and swallows, and crowned with a ceremonial headdress, a wild and robust aura clung to him, as if a mighty bear had suddenly taken up the study of ethics—a creature out of place, no matter how one looked at him.

He was the fifth son of the Tong family, Tong Xiangyan.

Though his cultivation was only at the Fetal Breath stage, he was one of the rare practitioners in the Tong family and, for this reason, much relied upon by Tong Gaolu, who often entrusted him with important tasks.

At this moment, Tong Xiangyan gazed at Tong Gaolu in confusion, his large ox-like eyes filled with bewilderment, unable to grasp the meaning behind Tong Gaolu’s words.

Beside him stood a young man whose skin gleamed with the luster of jade. His nose bridged his brow, his eyebrows slanted sharply, and his stature was tall, heroic, and extraordinary. It would be hard for anyone to believe, without seeing it firsthand, that the pillar of the state, General Tong Gaolu—though over forty years old—appeared as a young man suffused with ethereal grace, younger even than his younger brother Tong Xiangyan, barely resembling a peer of his own generation.

“Since I mastered the Daoist arts inscribed upon the ‘Golden Seal of Earth’s Gate,’ my flesh has become pure and impervious, each drop of blood brimming with divine radiance. With a single invocation, it’s as if I could shift celestial powers and move rivers and mountains.”

Tong Gaolu spoke, furrowing his brow deeply. “Yet just now, a sudden pain twisted in my heart, as if some calamity were about to descend…”

A faintly sinister and cruel look played across his features, though his transcendent aura obscured it, lending his appearance a further degree of handsome allure. But this frown could not hide his otherworldly bearing, and his true nature showed through.

“Brother, what nonsense are you spouting?” Tong Xiangyan scoffed, undisturbed by Tong Gaolu’s caution, and laughed with disdain.

“Ever since you hammered those three reckless imperial retainers to death on that last hunting expedition, who in the capital doesn’t respect our family? Who doesn’t fear us? Old Rong Tuo, who loves nothing more than visiting brothels, hasn’t dared to step out of the palace since those retainers died—he’s so frightened he nearly wet himself, hasn’t touched a woman in half a year! And you’re still afraid of that flock of birds?”

His words were coarse, and even Tong Gaolu couldn’t help but smile.

After a moment’s contemplation, he shook his head. “You make a fair point, but it’s rare for my body to sound an alarm. I cannot ignore it…”

Tong Gaolu turned to leave. “I won’t attend the court assembly today. Perhaps another time.”

As he turned, Tong Xiangyan grew anxious and grabbed at his brother’s sleeve.

“Brother! All those high officials are waiting outside! If you don’t attend the court, won’t it look like you’re afraid of that old dog Rong Tuo?”

Tong Xiangyan pleaded, “Our family is at the height of its power—if you withdraw now, what will people think? Besides, you’re only at the Qi Refining stage; there’s no such thing as celestial omens or divination at this level. Nonsense! I say you just overindulged in women last night and damaged your vital essence!”

The Tong family now stood at the very center of the imperial stage. Every action drew countless eyes and stirred endless speculation.

Tong Gaolu’s retreat would appear faint-hearted to outsiders, sure to provoke a storm of gossip.

“You fool, how could weakening the kidneys cause pain in the heart?”

Tong Gaolu cursed with a laugh, but after another moment of thought, remained undecided.

The pain that had twisted through him was now gone, as if it had been nothing but a momentary illusion.

Tong Xiangyan’s argument made sense: it was only the Qi Refining stage—how could there be such mystical sensations or prophetic abilities? Even with his remarkable Daoist arts in body cultivation, surely… surely he could not reach such a level?

“Well, enough—let’s go!”

After long deliberation, Tong Gaolu finally stopped hesitating. Before moving, he asked, “Where is Ji Zhen? I haven’t seen him for days.”

“Fourth brother is at Chunhua Pavilion, playing with men. He’s got no time for court.” Tong Xiangyan caught on quickly and hastened to explain, “I even visited that filthy place the other day and saw him embracing a man. He found me a nuisance and sent me away with a few words.”

“Useless thing!”

Tong Gaolu cursed mildly, but his heart eased. If Tong Ji Zhen was unharmed, then perhaps it wasn’t Rong’s clan plotting mischief. After all, who leaves the roots when cutting the grass? Losing a strategist like Tong Ji Zhen would be a headache for the Rong clan as well.

“Let Qian Qi come along. Didn’t he want to follow me? Let him prove himself!”

Tong Gaolu gave his final instructions and strode toward the gates, Tong Xiangyan quickly following.

Outside the mansion, the avenue teemed with carriages and crowds, bustling with activity.

As Tong Gaolu emerged, those who had waited bowed deeply, clamoring “Great General!”

Tong Gaolu smiled, cupped his hands to all sides, and, lifting the silk curtain, entered a carriage. The driver flicked his whip, and instantly, the carriages outside began to move, filling the road, a formidable procession.

Lights shimmered from the hills, gold and jade gleaming, silks and brocades intertwined.

As the carriage passed through a grand red lacquered gate, Tong Gaolu, having dozed for a few moments, suddenly opened his eyes, lifted the curtain, and glanced outside.

He saw that the officials who had recently pledged themselves to him had already been quietly separated from his carriage. As the palace gates clattered shut, they were cut off from his group.

He found himself in a long corridor. With the doors sealed, countless archers appeared atop the walls, bows drawn and arrows ready, murderous intent thick in the air.

“Brother! Is Rong’s clan trying to kill us?!”

Seeing the gates suddenly close and realizing only their own people were trapped inside, even the dull-witted Tong Xiangyan sensed something was wrong.

“Mere ants—one sweep and they’re gone. What’s there to fear?”

Countless arrows darkened the sky, whistling toward them. Tong Gaolu sneered, not bothering to shield himself, not even closing his eyes.

He condensed his Fetal Breath into a single blade of energy, swept it through the air, and dozens of archers on the left wall lost their heads in an instant.

As the arrows from the left ceased, he sneered again, channeling his Fetal Breath to the right. This time, however, a sound like clashing metal rang out, and his attack was blocked.

“Withdraw now—staying will only mean pointless death.”

Chen Heng appeared in a flash, effortlessly catching Tong Gaolu’s attack and addressing the remaining archers.

These mortals, stunned by Tong Gaolu’s earlier display, wasted no time in thanking him and fled in panic.

“And who might you be?” Tong Gaolu regarded Chen Heng coldly, his heart filled with suspicion.

“A nameless wanderer, here only to invite you to your death,” Chen Heng replied with a slight smile.

At that moment, four streaks of light rose—members of the Rong clan and their retainer, Huang Zaichen.

Rong Tuo, seeing Tong Gaolu, could no longer restrain his murderous intent. He drew a gray iron chain from his sleeve and, with a sudden motion, lashed it toward Tong Gaolu’s followers.

The chain lengthened with the wind, transforming in an instant into dozens of yards. The high officials and nobles, mere mortals, had no hope of resistance; in moments, men, carriages, and horses were reduced to mangled flesh, slain instantly.

Tong Gaolu ignored their cries for help, only flicking the chain away when it threatened Tong Xiangyan.

“Brother, why didn’t you save them?” Tong Xiangyan, sweating, hurried over—he had nearly been struck down by the magic chain.

“This is trouble indeed. I wonder how Rong’s clan managed to enlist this man,” Tong Gaolu said, not looking at him, but fixing his gaze on Chen Heng. “Soon I won’t be able to protect you. Run and find Ji Zhen at Chunhua Pavilion.”

“What?!”

Tong Xiangyan was astonished, never expecting matters to reach such a perilous point. He gritted his teeth and fled.

“Qian Qi, you once served as a retainer for our Rong clan. How could you turn traitor and follow the national villain?”

Having slaughtered Tong Gaolu’s followers, Rong Tuo felt an unspeakable satisfaction. He ignored Tong Xiangyan, laughing loudly.

“If you leave now, I’ll let bygones be bygones. Otherwise, you’ll all die here!”

At these words, a short, middle-aged man near Tong Gaolu’s side suddenly changed expression.