Volume One: Turmoil in Yan and Yun Chapter Twenty-Two: Years Pass Since This Departure (Part Three)
The so-called Carefree Pavilion that Feng Muyun mentioned was an organization dedicated to answering questions.
Throughout the ages, such organizations had always existed. After all, information itself was one of the most valuable commodities. Yet the Carefree Pavilion was unlike those renowned intelligence networks of history.
They answered every question, so long as you dared to ask.
They turned no one away, so long as you could pay.
Most crucially, they were everywhere and impossible to miss. From the capital to the most remote villages, wherever people gathered, the Carefree Pavilion could be found.
As long as you could afford the price, you could discover the answer to any question in the world within the shortest span of time. The so-called “Taoist Canon of Ten Thousand Volumes” was merely a selection the Pavilion’s members had made from the sea of all books.
This was not to say that everyone in the Carefree Pavilion had read through the entire Taoist Canon, though there were indeed many among them who had.
No one doubted the Pavilion’s expertise, especially after that notorious secret involving the old Emperor and Empress Fengyi became common knowledge.
Even fewer would question the strength and background of the Pavilion, for at that time, the old Emperor had not yet ascended. If it had been easy to eradicate the Pavilion, the old Emperor would never have allowed his youthful indiscretions to become the talk of the realm.
In truth, even now, there were still officials who would from time to time write memorials proposing the abolition of the Carefree Pavilion, but without exception, every one was rejected by the Divine Emperor.
Those earnest, incisive memorials were either ignored by the Divine Emperor or left to molder and rot in some forgotten corner of the Inner Cabinet.
Feng Muyun had not expected the Fourth Prince to pick up on such talk; he was somewhat surprised, but not suspicious. “The Carefree Pavilion sets itself among mortals, naturally it does not concern itself with matters beyond the world. But that does not mean they are ignorant of them.”
He gazed at the men and women on the martial stage, then at a few tightly shrouded spectators in the stands, and continued, “Under heaven, is there truly such a thing as a world beyond the red dust?”
The Fourth Prince smiled. “Who can say what a storyteller imagines?”
Feng Muyun shook his head. “I hear that Elder Chen Haoyun has been making a scene in court again.”
The Fourth Prince replied, “Chen Haoyun petitions to sanction the Carefree Pavilion every ten days or so.”
“Has it ever made any difference?” Feng Muyun asked.
The Fourth Prince said, “Regardless of what’s possible, the Carefree Pavilion is still the place most likely to know what lies north of the northern frontier. Father would never truly move against them.”
Feng Muyun was silent for a moment. “The Divine Might Fortress might know a little, but it too has long been hidden from the world.”
“Then it is all the more impossible to touch the Carefree Pavilion,” the Fourth Prince replied.
Feng Muyun sighed softly and said nothing more.
For cultivators, there were many things to fear—heart demons, bottlenecks, the ordeal of ascension.
But their deepest terror always came from the far north.
Ordinary people held little impression of this race, for after the battle between the Demon Lord and the old Emperor, the demon army had withdrawn three hundred li beyond the border of the Divine Dynasty. The lands in between had fallen to ruin, gradually giving rise to the barbarian tribes. Since then, not a trace of the demons had been seen within the borders of the Divine Dynasty.
It had been over eight hundred years.
A century was enough to forget much; what then of eight centuries?
Thinking of this, Feng Muyun could not help but feel a twinge of emotion. “Back then, the old Emperor deliberately weakened the influence of the demon race, lest the hearts of the people be thrown into turmoil. Now, I wonder if that was right or wrong.”
Time was not the only factor; there had also been human interference.
The Fourth Prince said, “It does the common folk no good to know these things. Better they live in peace than worry about distant troubles.”
Feng Muyun suddenly laughed.
The Fourth Prince paused, puzzled. “Why does Your Highness laugh?”
Feng Muyun waved a hand. “I was reminded of something Yang’er once said as a child.”
The Fourth Prince made a sound of acknowledgment. “And what did the second young master say?”
Feng Muyun looked toward the direction Feng Yang had gone. “He said, ‘Adversity breeds survival; comfort brings death.’”
The Fourth Prince fell silent, pondering for a long time before saying, “The second young master... possesses the makings of a statesman.”
Feng Muyun smiled, saying nothing.
In truth, Feng Yang had once said something else as well.
When there is no law within nor threat without, the end is always near. Yanbei needs loyal ministers, not rebels.
His gaze swept over the third elder, who was feigning unconsciousness at the side, and his eyes darkened.
The Fourth Prince sensed Feng Muyun’s attention and hesitated to speak.
Feng Muyun said, “If Your Highness wishes to speak, please do not hold back.”
The Fourth Prince replied, “There are still some positions left among the Shadow Guards of the Crown Prince. I believe Yanbei has several suitable candidates.”
Yanbei could not afford chaos. The root of the matter was that the Feng family could not afford chaos. If the intelligence was accurate, the Feng clan might soon face its greatest internal strife since the founding of the fiefdom—a disaster not just for Yanbei, but for the entire Divine Dynasty.
Thus, he wished to solve the problem at its source.
But Feng Muyun did not agree. In a low voice, he said, “If I recall correctly, the foremost requirement for a Shadow Guard is loyalty. Your Highness’s kind offer is appreciated, but mishandling such matters could bring utter catastrophe to Yanbei.”
The Fourth Prince considered this and decided to say no more.
...
...
“There is indeed a problem with the Feng family,” the Fourth Prince said softly, seated by the window and looking out at the twilight over Yanyun.
No one answered him.
“The trouble is, I don’t know how to solve it,” he said again.
Still, no one responded.
“My eldest brother sent me to Yanyun not just to see what kind of man Snow’s future husband might be, but above all to maintain stability,” the Fourth Prince sighed. “Yet I can’t pay the price of Yanbei King’s wariness, nor that of the third elder’s ambition.”
Suddenly, a sword’s note echoed through the empty room, and someone spoke. “That’s not a price Your Highness is required to pay.”
The Fourth Prince sighed again. “What I cannot comprehend is—what promise did my second brother make to the third elder’s faction that made them believe they could take over the Yanbei fief after unseating Feng Muyun?”
“That promise is meaningless, no matter what it was,” the other person replied.
“Exactly. We all know my second brother’s promises are worthless, so why did the third elder believe him?” the Fourth Prince wondered.
The other person said no more.
The current Crown Prince and Grand Marshal were on good terms, and by extension, the Yanbei fief was in their good graces—hence the Fourth Prince’s mission.
From today’s events, it was clear the third elder had received some promise from the second prince; otherwise, he would not have dared to act so brazenly against Feng Muyun in broad daylight.
Where had things gone wrong?
He could not figure it out.
Just then, there was a knock at the door.
The Fourth Prince opened it to find Bai Jian standing outside.
As the strategist among the Eighteen Riders of Yanbei, he had been responsible for the Fourth Prince’s safety and daily affairs since his arrival in Yanyun.
“General Bai, what brings you here at this late hour?”
“Duty requires I check in,” Bai Jian replied.
The Fourth Prince was momentarily taken aback. By reputation, Bai Jian was not one for such words—at least, he would not have said them lightly.
“I also wanted to ask about my father,” Bai Jian added.
In the Divine Dynasty, there was a blade, a sword, and a spear—the Feng family’s Overlord Spear, and the Bai family’s Longevity Sword.
The Feng family resided in Yanbei; the Bai family had long lived in Wuyang.
So the general was homesick, the Fourth Prince mused quietly.
He invited Bai Jian inside and closed the door behind him.
“After Elder Bai retired, he withdrew to a small temple in South Wuyang. He spends his days chanting sutras and honoring the Buddha—he’s quite at peace.”
Bai Jian glanced at the calming incense on the table and fell silent for a moment before saying, “As long as he is well.”
The Fourth Prince smiled. “Though Elder Bai has long been absent from court, by rank he remains a high minister. The court will surely look after him, so you need not worry.”
Bai Jian smiled as well. “It’s not a matter of concern. It’s just that things to come may implicate him, so I wanted to ask in advance.”
The Fourth Prince made a sound of acknowledgment, still puzzled.
A sword’s note rang out.
A cold gleam, bright as the moon.
The Fourth Prince felt a sharp pain. Looking down, he saw a sword tip protruding from his chest.
He was even more bewildered. He wanted to turn his head to ask why.
Perhaps he turned too forcefully—he had only just moved his neck when his head fell from his shoulders.
Bai Jian watched all this with icy detachment.
“So much for the loyalty of the Shadow Guards,” he remarked.
The other man said, “Do you wish