Chapter Twenty-Six: The First Step into the Imperial Court

Su Zhiqiu walked in the snow alongside a group of fox demons, silently following their lead. She had no idea what thoughts occupied the others, but she knew well that the one lying in the ice coffin at hand was without doubt the substitute of Li Xiunian.

Plans indeed could never keep up with changes; the Celestial Master had awakened much sooner than she anticipated. When Su Zhiqiu conversed with Pei Xiunian in Great Zhou, she had considered that Qingqiu might lack the means to verify a person’s identity, but she had not factored in the Celestial Master. That being was likely older than the founding of Qingqiu itself—harboring doubts against such an existence was meaningless.

Her calculation had been that, although her brothers and sisters suspected the one in the coffin was a substitute, no one could produce evidence. She had plotted to use decisive force to stabilize her faction as soon as her house arrest ended; after that, whether the body was a substitute or not would become irrelevant.

But now everything was different. At this critical juncture, consequences would not remain the same. She had been estranged from the affairs of the court for days, ignorant even of current events. If word got out now that the Third Prince was a substitute, it would become the final straw leading to her dismissal.

Su Zhiqiu clenched her fist and gazed at the sky. The snow swirling down was no ordinary snow—it was a memorial sealing her fate. How she hated it!

She could not help but think of Pei Xiunian—if she were stripped of her title now, any hope of redeeming her former disgrace would become a fantasy.

Before the princess of Qingqiu could vent her frustration by kicking at the snowdrifts, they arrived at the ancestral land of Tushan.

This awe-inspiring, majestic paradise was naturally formed; its translucent dome gleaming like jade, a marvel of creation. At the center of this blessed realm lay an enormous white fox, tails undulating with a supernatural rhythm behind it. Even though Su Zhiqiu had seen the Celestial Master before, the awe and reverence she felt never dulled.

Such a wondrous giant fox was the foundation of Qingqiu’s nationhood—the trump card that emboldened Qingqiu to invade Great Zhou or any border at will.

Now, all the fox demons of the Qingqiu line had gathered. Together, they bowed deeply to the mountain-like fox, while the younger generation prostrated themselves.

The Celestial Master, accustomed to centuries of such rituals, responded with casual indifference. It raised its head, wiped its face with a paw, and then directed its gaze to the ice coffin nearby.

The fox queen, clad in deep blue robes, stepped forward and offered a graceful bow. She spoke succinctly: “Celestial Master, our expedition to Great Zhou ended in defeat.”

The great fox regarded them with an expression both remote and serene; when it opened its mouth, it spoke in the tongue of men: “Such is but one strand in the fate of Qingqiu—none can alter it. How many of our soldiers returned? Nine in ten lost?”

A general at the queen’s side replied, “Reporting to Celestial Master, though our supply lines were cut, it is said Her Highness the Princess took the Third Prince of Great Zhou hostage and escaped. Our losses in retreat were minimal.”

The fox overlapped its two snowy paws, lifting its eyes to the heavens beyond the crystalline ceiling, where myriad stars glittered. Its tone remained detached: “Such a result was unexpected—beyond anything foreseen by divination.”

After a pause, it added, “The people involved in this conflict have, through a tangle of chance and error, thrown the celestial patterns into chaos—the divination is now in disarray.”

From the mouth of such a fox, these words lost any air of mystification. The Celestial Master made no further clarification; among the fox demons, none dared respond or question further.

After a brief silence, a court elder pointed at the ice coffin before the Celestial Master and, somewhat nervously, asked, “Celestial Master, may we ask—is the one in the ice coffin truly the Third Prince of Great Zhou?”

At this, the giant fox fixed its gaze, bright as a lantern, upon the coffin. All the fox demons watched its movements intently.

Then, they saw the Celestial Master open its jaws, seize the coffin, and chew it as if it were a sugar cube, swallowing it whole. This development left some of the younger fox demons shocked—Su Zhiqiu not among them. Whether it was her illusion or not, she felt that with each swallow, the Celestial Master’s aura grew more substantial.

Having devoured the coffin, the great fox lay back down and said impassively, “This is indeed the bloodline of Great Zhou’s royal family.”

The foxes of the ancestral land exchanged uncertain looks, their faces shifting between shock, disbelief, and acceptance.

Yet the one most deeply shaken was Su Zhiqiu herself. Her moon-pale face turned ashen with fear. If this was the royal bloodline of Great Zhou, then who was now serving as the Third Prince?

The man she had met in the tower—who was he?

As a fox demon of Qingqiu, she could see through any human disguise at a glance, no matter how skillful the technique. Yet that day, the man had no cultivation, his meridians blocked—he was not using a disguise.

Su Zhiqiu recalled his words: “I am a substitute as well. My name is Pei Xiunian. The one in the coffin is the real Third Prince. I killed him a few days ago and took his place.”

Remembering those words now sent a chill down her spine that had nothing to do with the winter night. Sweat broke out on her trembling body beneath the moonlight.

Who was he, truly? Should she reveal this secret? If so, to whom?

Her mind was a muddle. The news was so explosive it defied belief, yet she remained silent. She blamed the human Heart’s Desire Pill inside her—those human elixirs were terrifying. If this went on, even if she had the chance to redeem herself, would she not become Pei Xiunian’s plaything?

She raised her eyes to seek solace from the Celestial Master, only to realize that at some point, the great fox had already closed its eyes.

—

Pei Xiunian woke early; by the sun dial in the courtyard, it was still the second hour of morning. Yet he felt no fatigue, only vibrant energy.

Peering within himself, he sensed that the qi vortex in his core had grown denser yet again. Two years of crossing worlds had not been in vain; now he possessed a constitution that allowed his cultivation to grow simply by eating or sleeping.

He still lacked the methods and techniques to truly embark on the path of cultivation, but with his current identity, once he returned to the capital, such things would be within easy reach.

For now, he had nothing pressing to do but wait for the emperor’s envoys to escort him—since there were rumors of the prince’s abduction, surely the court would send experts or esteemed guardians to accompany him.

As for whether those sent might be the masterminds behind the demonic collusion in Xiangyang? That was possible—but now, even if they were, there was nothing they could do. Pei Xiunian had already set the stage.

He enjoyed his breakfast while a servant brought him a fresh broadsheet, a new sensation in the inner city. The headline read: “His Highness the Third Prince and Heroine Jiang Decimate the Demon Den.”

The first line blared: “Shocking! The renowned Cao Manor revealed as a den of demons—monsters rampant. According to Division Head Ke Zhen of the Celestial Observatory, on that fateful night…”

Pei Xiunian sipped his tea and set the broadsheet aside, glancing out at the beautiful day. He mused, “I didn’t expect these news sheets to become popular so quickly. It seems any attempt to control the flow of information is already too late…”

Xiao Qin at his side smiled brightly. “But weren’t these very broadsheets your idea, Your Highness?”

She lifted a corner of the paper, where bold characters credited the concept: “Broadsheet Idea: Pei Xiunian.”

Xiao Qin explained, “In Jiangdu City, I realized these broadsheets could be mass-produced to record real events, so I arranged for the Celestial Observatory to handle their distribution. The Hangzhou branch was the first to adopt them; sales are excellent, and the dividends considerable.”

“Is that so?”

“Mm… I didn’t want you to be angry, so I sent word in secret.”

No wonder his carrier pigeons had been missing those days.

Pei Xiunian’s face lit up with delight. He sprang up and hugged Xiao Qin fiercely; were it not for the presence of the household maids, he would have kissed her on the spot.

Whoever said little Qin was useless clearly knew nothing!

Flustered, Xiao Qin buried her head against his chest, her cheeks aflame, too shy to move.

Pei Xiunian could barely contain his joy. Did this not count as a pilot run for his own industry? And it was an official newspaper, no less! In a world as information-starved as this, the profits would be considerable.

Money was the key to having a voice in court—especially with the Ministry of Revenue, which cared for nothing but silver. A generous contribution to the national treasury would be the first step in winning them to his side.

While Pei Xiunian was lost in these pleasant thoughts, a servant’s cry rang out from beyond the gates of the Prince of Qi’s manor:

“Minister Sun and Guardian Zhao request an audience!”