Volume One: Turmoil in Yan and Yun Chapter Eight: The Fourth Prince
Few young people ever utter words about the vicissitudes of the world, for they lack experience and can hardly discern the course of the future with any accuracy. Yet in two distant places, the same judgment had been reached. One of them was the Yannan Prefecture in the north.
Feng Yang rubbed his aching eyes and said, “Your Highness need not be concerned. Even if the Azure Garment House were to reappear in the world, the cult could never ignite a second Scarlet Moon.”
The Fourth Prince was taken aback. “And why is that?”
Feng Yang replied, “Because there can never be a second Guest Amidst Flowers upon Mount Tian.”
“Who is this Guest Amidst Flowers?” the Fourth Prince inquired.
Feng Yang thought to himself that the decline of the Academy since the southern incursion of the Demon Clan was not without cause. Since Feng Yang did not answer outright, the Fourth Prince pressed again.
Catching himself, Feng Yang quickly replied, “The former master of Mount Tian was known by that title.”
Only then did the Fourth Prince recall that the Scarlet Moon was forged by the joint efforts of Mount Tian and the Azure Garment House. Why, then, did the world speak only of the Azure Garment House and never of Mount Tian?
As if divining his thoughts, Feng Yang explained, “Mount Tian was obstructed at Mount Song. Otherwise, that blood moon of years past might truly have come into being.”
The Fourth Prince was startled. “Wasn’t the Zen Sect isolated then?”
Feng Yang said, “It was precisely after their struggle with Mount Tian that the Zen Sect chose seclusion.”
But the Fourth Prince knew that was not the whole truth.
Feng Yang continued, “The Zen Sect was gracious to Li Jin Xing. How could he have plotted to murder the abbot? Moreover, when the Divine Emperor ascended the throne, the red-dusted heir of Buddha sat in conversation with him all through the night. Thus, we should not judge by the distant rumors, but by the clear accounts.”
“What happened then?” the Fourth Prince asked.
Feng Yang pondered, then said, “The abbot of the Zen Sect, along with seven of the Ten Vajras, perished together with the Guest Amidst Flowers—perhaps.”
“Why do you put it as a question?” the Fourth Prince probed.
Feng Yang replied, “Because no one ever saw the Guest Amidst Flowers' body—only the shattered Sky Net Fan was found in the mountains.”
“If his life artifact was destroyed, it would be nigh impossible to survive, no matter his power,” the Fourth Prince remarked.
Feng Yang considered this and agreed. “That is indeed true.”
Suddenly the Fourth Prince said, “Because of you, I look forward all the more to meeting your elder brother tomorrow.”
Feng Yang smiled wordlessly.
The Fourth Prince asked, “With such insight and breadth of vision, yet you seem unable to cultivate?”
“Cultivation is a gift from the heavens,” Feng Yang answered. “It cannot be forced.”
“That’s not what I meant.” The Fourth Prince gazed at him fervently. “Have you ever considered entering officialdom?”
Most of the Divine Dynasty’s army was composed of ordinary men, but to become a formidable general guarding a realm, one’s strength of cultivation mattered more than strategy and cunning. Feng Yang, unable to cultivate, could only expect so much on the battlefield. Yet entering the court as an official did not require peerless strength.
The Fourth Prince felt he had offered Feng Yang a superb opportunity.
But Feng Yang declined calmly.
“Why?” the Fourth Prince asked in puzzlement.
Feng Yang did not answer. Instead, he said, “Your Highness just mentioned looking forward to meeting my brother tomorrow—yet why wait? If you wish to see him, why not tonight?”
The Fourth Prince was taken aback.
Feng Yang glanced at the sky outside. The time had come.
“Your Highness, would you care to walk with me?”
…
…
At the northern foot of the Yan Yun mountains, inside a small tavern.
“Every time I return to Yan Yun, I must come here—not for anything else, but for these two sand scorpions.” Feng Qi gazed hungrily at the stone pot before him, its red broth bubbling, peppercorns and chilies rising and falling, with a hint of black carapace visible within.
Floating in the broth were sand scorpions, their flesh incredibly tender, melting away at first bite. Paired with Bashu-style hotpot seasoning, it was a delicacy rarely found in the north.
Feng Qi used a fork and plate to fish out a scorpion, donned gloves, and broke open its thick shell to reveal meat stained red by the marinade.
His face lit with satisfaction; he could not wait to take a bite, and, mouth full, mumbled, “How is the Crown Prince?”
Murong Xue wondered why the topic had suddenly shifted to the Crown Prince.
Feng Qi chuckled, “Why? Don’t you like him?”
Murong Xue’s hand trembled slightly as she gripped her chopsticks. “What did you say?”
Feng Qi said, “The Prime Minister is the Crown Prince’s tutor—the Murong family and the East Palace must have much contact. Judging by the rumors, any young maiden would fall for him. It’s hardly surprising.”
Murong Xue replied, “Those aren’t rumors—they’re the truth.”
That was an admission.
She saw nothing wrong in liking the Crown Prince.
No one saw anything wrong with liking the Crown Prince.
Feng Qi, recalling all he had heard from every source, only responded, “Perhaps.”
Murong Xue ignored him, imitating his moves and cautiously picking up a piece of scorpion meat. After tasting it, her eyes widened in surprise.
Feng Qi, expecting this, grinned in triumph.
Murong Xue, cheeks tinged pink, realized he already knew her feelings. “You just took me away like this—what of the people at the prince’s manor?”
The change in topic was abrupt.
Feng Qi was unbothered. “Father will handle it. It won’t be a major issue.”
“So you brought me here just for hotpot?”
“We’re waiting for someone—they should be here soon.” Feng Qi idly played with the scorpion meat in his bowl as he spoke.
Murong Xue then noticed the square table was set with four places, two of them still empty.
“Your Highness, we have arrived.”
She heard a young man’s voice outside, and then someone pushed aside the private room’s curtain.
Murong Xue saw a face nearly identical to Feng Qi’s. This, she thought, must be the second son of Yanbei, Feng Yang.
Then she noticed the Fourth Prince behind Feng Yang, and, startled, stood up at once.
The Fourth Prince pressed a finger to his lips, signaling silence, then nodded toward Feng Qi.
Feng Qi said, “Long time no see, Your Highness.”
The Fourth Prince smiled, “It has been ten years since we last met—I have missed you.”
Feng Qi’s expression was strange, half amused. “Missed me?”
The Fourth Prince’s look was a bit awkward, yet forthright. “As children, I misunderstood you. It was nothing but childish temper. Now, though I come uninvited, does the heir not welcome me?”
“A guest from afar is always welcome,” Feng Qi replied, gesturing to the table. “Yan Yun offers the finest fare. Please, Fourth Prince.”
The Fourth Prince looked at the sand scorpions, but did not refuse.
After several rounds of wine, the Fourth Prince set down his chopsticks. “What is your view on the cult, my lord?”
Feng Qi countered, “Did my younger brother not tell you?”
“He is well-read and insightful, and our conversation was most enjoyable,” the Fourth Prince said. “But you have studied the entire Daoist canon. I wish to hear your opinion as well.”
Feng Qi chuckled, “Then all the more unnecessary.”
The Fourth Prince was taken aback and looked at Feng Yang in disbelief.
Feng Yang scratched his head, a bit embarrassed. “I only just finished reading the volumes ‘Dao Shen’ and ‘Dao Yuan’ recently—they will take time to digest.”
Murong Xue finally understood the topic of their conversation, and her lips parted in silent surprise.
The Fourth Prince sighed, “Turbulent waters give rise to heroes—how true the ancients were!”
Feng Qi waved a hand, smiling. “You flatter me, Fourth Prince.”
The Fourth Prince turned to Feng Yang. “Second Young Master, once more I urge you to enter officialdom. For someone of your talent, lingering only in Yanbei is not fitting.”
After a pause, he sighed, “With your ability, are you not the equal of Li Jin Xing or Dou Xiao Tong?”
To compare Feng Yang to Li Jin Xing and Dou Xiao Tong was no small praise.
At present, Feng Yang was not their equal.
Even in ten years’ time, he might not be.
But how old was Feng Yang now?
When Li Jin Xing and Dou Xiao Tong had mastered the Daoist canon, were they not just so?
Feng Qi remarked indifferently, “Li Jin Xing still heads the Death Orders, and Dou Xiao Tong has long wandered beyond the world’s affairs. What benefit do they bring to the Divine Dynasty?”
The Fourth Prince replied, “Li Jin Xing and Dou Xiao Tong each repelled the Demon Clan twice—such feats…”
Feng Qi interrupted, “The first time was due to Wei Sanmu, the second to the old emperor. When did those merits become theirs?”
Against absolute power, intellect serves only as an accessory.
The Fourth Prince found some truth in this.
Yet he also thought such reasoning was flawed.
Feng Yang suddenly said, “But if not for them, how many more would have died in the Divine Dynasty?”
Feng Qi glanced at him.
The Fourth Prince’s eyes brightened, and he laughed, “That’s just it!”
Feng Qi replied, “But in the end, it was the old emperor and Wei Sanmu who fought the Demon Lord head-on, giving strategy its chance, was it not?”
The Fourth Prince looked at Feng Yang.
Feng Yang shrugged. “It’s all mutual achievement. If things had been left to Wei Sanmu and the old emperor alone, human casualties would likely have been many times worse.”
He thought for a moment. “That would truly have been a cataclysm.”
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