Afterwards, Zhou Liang revealed the entire plan to Chen Jiancheng. In order to gain Chen Jiancheng’s trust, he also told a few embarrassing stories about Huang Yanjiong, intending to subtly belittle Huang Yanjiong and elevate Chen Jiancheng.

As he spoke eloquently, Chen Jiancheng’s expression grew increasingly serious, increasingly anxious, and increasingly pleased. It seemed he was more than just satisfied with the plan.

After listening to everything, Chen Jiancheng immediately stood up and ordered the followers beside him to treat Zhou Liang as if he were a Protector of the Qingfeng Sect from that point on. All matters of food, clothing, and living standards were to match those of the sect leader himself.

This kind of treatment was supposed to be given only after the plan’s successful execution, but now it was granted in advance. It had to be said—Zhou Liang truly bought into this approach. The root of his pettiness was that he greatly enjoyed being pampered. He would be happiest if the whole world revolved around him.

Since Chen Jiancheng had shown his stance, Zhou Liang naturally responded in kind. He stood up as well, performed a deep ceremonial bow to Chen Jiancheng, and spoke a few flowery words of blessing, signifying that he had officially joined the Qingfeng Sect. Chen Jiancheng nodded in satisfaction and then turned and left.

However, right after their cheerful conversation ended and they separated, both men’s expressions immediately darkened. Inside the room, Zhou Liang began to wonder how many Protectors Chen Jiancheng actually had around him. He had been here for so long and hadn’t seen a single one. Was Chen Jiancheng deliberately keeping him apart from the other Protectors, or had he simply not brought Zhou Liang into his real inner circle?

The difference between the two seemed subtle, but to Zhou Liang, it meant a great deal. The latter meant he still wasn’t fully trusted—normal enough. The former meant he was being actively excluded from Chen Jiancheng’s team. He hated that feeling of isolation. After all, based on his past experience, it was always him isolating others, not the other way around.

…

Meanwhile, after leaving Zhou Liang’s room, the expression on Chen Jiancheng’s face gradually vanished without a trace. When he returned to his own quarters, he didn’t lie down again but instead sat at the table, pondering in silence for a long time before finally shaking his head.

It wasn’t that Zhou Liang’s plan was bad—at least from what he had just heard, it was quite feasible. Zhou Liang was vengeful and petty. He insisted on using Huang Yanjiong, likely with the intention of eliminating a personal enemy. Regardless of whether the King in the North survived or not, Huang Yanjiong was certainly doomed. That would benefit Zhou Liang, but for the Qingfeng Sect, it would all be in vain.

So it wouldn’t do—he couldn’t rely solely on Zhou Liang.

With this thought, Chen Jiancheng’s mood became more irritable.

That fool Li Xiuheng—after receiving two years of protection from him and countless benefits, including three beautiful women given to him by Chen Jiancheng—had utterly failed. Not only had the rebellion in Yizhou been quickly suppressed, but the Xianbei invasion had also failed. Even Li Xiuheng himself had died without any value.

After Li Xiuheng’s death, it was a complete loss for the Qingfeng Sect. Not only had their early investment failed, but they had also made a formidable enemy out of the Xianbei. It would now be much harder to use them again in the future.

The value of a living person far outweighed that of a dead one. Even though Chen Jiancheng wished he could cut Li Xiuheng into pieces, at the time, Li Xiuheng had still been useful. He had once disclosed to the Qingfeng Sect that among Qu Yunmie’s subordinates, there was a man named Yuan Baifu. This man was completely different from Qu Yunmie—kind-hearted and sentimental. He could have been used by Li Xiuheng. If Li Xiuheng had been smart, he wouldn’t have fled Yizhou or betrayed the Qingfeng Sect to join others in defecting to Huang Yanjiong. Instead, he should have stayed in Yizhou and tried to win Yuan Baifu over.

If he had managed to turn one of Qu Yunmie’s top four commanders, that would have at least partially redeemed his earlier failures.

Then Chen Jiancheng might have been generous enough to let him keep his corpse intact.

…

What was the point of saying any of this now? Li Xiuheng was a fool. If he had been clever, he wouldn’t have been so thoroughly manipulated by the Qingfeng Sect from the beginning.

Chen Jiancheng had a bad habit—he liked to repeatedly revisit past events, constantly blaming those who had made mistakes, and imagining how perfect things could have been if only those people hadn’t failed.

For example, if Li Xiuheng hadn’t made mistakes, the Northern Army would already be hated and on the verge of collapse.

If Xizhu hadn’t made mistakes, Sun Renluan would already be dead, and Yang Zangyi would realize what a foolish thing he had done.

Unfortunately, there were no “ifs” in this world. Chen Jiancheng sighed, then turned his head and asked the subordinate nearby, “When will the Grand Protector return?”

The subordinate silently looked at him and replied, “Your subordinate does not know. The Grand Protector didn’t retreat with the other followers. He had someone deliver a message for you, Master. He said you shouldn’t worry about his whereabouts. He asked that you consult Zhou Liang more for strategies to better understand the enemy. If everything goes well, once the Northern King is eliminated, our unresolved feud with the Xianbei may also be resolved smoothly.”

Chen Jiancheng raised his eyebrows slightly. As a fellow man of the Central Plains, he didn’t hold much fondness for the Xianbei either. Whether there was a grudge or not didn’t matter much to him. What upset him was that the Xianbei were a powerful nation. Without their covert support, things on his side had indeed become difficult for a while.

Forget it—he decided to follow the Grand Protector’s advice.

Earlier, when he heard that Xiao Rong was arresting Qingfeng Sect spies, Chen Jiancheng had grown anxious, fearing the Grand Protector had been caught too. However, he soon received word that the Grand Protector was fine. None of the agents Xiao Rong had sent out had discovered his true identity.

Despite his worry, Chen Jiancheng also felt a bit smug. See? No matter how highly the outside world praises you, you still couldn’t match with my Grand Protector. Just like your Northern King—he can do nothing but fight. He is destined to be defeated by me.

However, this bit of smugness didn’t last long in Chen Jiancheng’s heart. He was still very concerned for the Grand Protector’s safety. His concubines were scattered across the realm—he would feel pained if even one of them died, like a puzzle missing a piece after being carefully assembled. Yet even if you added all the concubines together, they didn’t equal one Grand Protector.

If something happened to the Grand Protector, it wouldn’t be like losing a puzzle piece—it would be like the entire house holding the puzzle had been burned to the ground.

…

After thinking it over again and again, he still gave his subordinate an instruction. “Tell him to come back early after he finishes his task!”

The subordinate nodded and agreed obediently.

＊

Zhao Xingzong has been living quite a complicated life these days.

First of all, after defecting to the Northern King, his life was nothing like what he had imagined. Forget about strategizing and shining brightly—every day, he just went to report to the Buddhist Son. While the Buddhist Son meditated with his eyes closed, Zhao sat nearby reading books and writing. Once the meditation ended, they would handle some trivial matters together.

To be precise, Zhao handled the matters while the Buddhist Son wrote letters to others.

The Buddhist Son’s social circle almost included every noble and royal in the realm. One day he wrote to this king, the next day to that prince. One day Zhao Xingzong even discovered that the Buddhist Son was writing to a certain princess from another country.

Zhao Xingzong was utterly shocked. His mouth opened and closed like a goldfish’s. He had a lot to say, but when he looked at the Buddhist Son’s kind and compassionate face, he couldn’t get a single word out.

He just felt that his own thoughts were too impure.

…but was this really appropriate? How could a monk write letters to an unmarried princess?

Secondly, Zhao Xingzong was deeply frustrated to find that hardly anyone in the royal mansion could remember his name. Even the most affable Grand Chancellor Gao once accidentally called him “Zhao Yaozu.” Zhao Xingzong’s heart shattered into pieces, yet he still forced a smile, clutching his broken heart as he walked away.

Being neglected was bad enough, but what Zhao really couldn’t accept was that ever since the end of the summer retreat, the Buddhist Son had suddenly become extremely busy. He stopped writing letters or dealing with chores and spent all day outside, sitting and conversing with other monks. According to them, these were “debates.” As more monks and commoners gathered around him, Zhao increasingly realized that he and the Buddhist Son didn’t belong to the same world. Under the Buddhist Son’s radiant light, he was gradually becoming just a mediocre person. If this went on, he would truly become nothing more than the Buddhist Son’s follower.

Zhao Xingzong had always believed that following the Buddhist Son was merely a test arranged by Xiao Rong—to evaluate his character and ability. He never intended to stay by the Buddhist Son’s side. After all, he didn’t even believe in Buddhism—he believed more in Daoism. He couldn’t accept the Buddhist notion of suffering. As someone with a great dream, Zhao Xingzong had only one goal in life: to bring glory to the Zhao family and become a clan leader more revered than his ancestors.

……

Someone like him could never chase happiness in the afterlife. For him, everything in this life was the most important. When he was younger and recovering from illness, he even considered becoming a Daoist priest, since Daoists pursued immortality. At the time, Zhao thought living long was crucial—only by living long could he fulfill his grand ambitions.

That idea was ultimately abandoned. The reason was the founding of Southern Yong. In its early days, many new laws were issued—one of which restricted Daoists. No longer would they be supported by the people, instead, they had to support the state. Every registered Daoist had to pay an annual tribute: one sheet of paper, one ingot of ink, and one dou of rice.

Everyone knew how expensive paper was. The Zhao family was poor, and they simply couldn’t afford it. It was already hard enough to fund Zhao’s education, let alone donate paper for free. No Zhao family member would have agreed to such a thing.

In fact, the tribute was supposed to be paid collectively by the Daoist temples. As long as incense offerings continued, the burden wasn’t heavy. Zhao didn’t understand this. He made a fuss for half a year and then never mentioned becoming a Daoist again.

……

Following the Buddhist Son from dawn to dusk every day, Zhao Xingzong’s patience had nearly reached its limit. On this particular day, when he had just returned to the palace, he saw a group of people in Daoist robes leisurely heading toward the residences of Gao Xunzhi and others.

Zhao couldn’t help but rub his eyes—how had Daoists gotten in?

＊

These Daoists had been invited by Xiao Rong.

To be exact, they had been gathered by Gao Xunzhi at Xiao Rong’s instruction. After filtering out the unreliable and overly ambitious ones, the suitable candidates were selected.

The recent crackdown on spies made Xiao Rong realize something—the Qingfeng Sect was incredibly formidable. Even under immense pressure, they still managed to plant over a hundred spies in Chenliu City—and that was just the number of those caught. Who knew how many more had gone undetected?

However, most of these “spies” were just ordinary civilians who had simply followed Qingfeng Sect’s instructions, occasionally passing on information about Chenliu. The real spies were those who received the intel—the higher-ups in the sect.

The deceived civilians huddled fearfully in a room, terrified that Xiao Rong would order their execution. Their cries and curses filled the air, irritating the soldiers guarding them.

That night, they were all taken away. The most aggressive ones were sent to various temples. Since this was an era of chaos, nearly every temple had a basement used as a refuge—ideal for hiding people.

Once locked up below, with statues above and monks preaching, Xiao Rong planned to leave them there for half a month to see if the hypnotic chanting might calm them down.

As for those who didn’t react much and merely kept their heads down silently—clearly not troublemakers, but also too stubborn to repent—they were sent to Daoist temples instead. Unlike monks, Daoists weren’t in high demand, so they had the time to talk with them one-on-one. Xiao Rong didn’t expect these people to be enlightened, but if they had to believe in something, Daoism was still better than a cult.

The best treatment was reserved for those who cried in fear. Xiao Rong had them watch as the first two batches were dragged away like criminals. The remaining ones assumed they were next and began writing their wills in tears. Only then did Xiao Rong send people to gently bring them out, soothing them along the way. They were told the rest of the Qingfeng Sect had already left Chenliu and abandoned them.

The crying civilians: “…”

They wanted to cry even harder.

At their lowest point, the prison doors opened, and the guards told them they could go home. The Northern Army didn’t harm its own people. Even though they had leaked secrets under deception, they were now expected to recognize who truly cared for them.

Thinking they were doomed but suddenly seeing hope, they burst into even louder sobs. While kneeling to thank the soldiers, they suddenly sprang up and bolted, terrified that the soldiers might change their minds.

……

Not far off, Xiao Rong and Gao Xunzhi watched the scene. Gao Xunzhi looked skeptical. “They won’t believe in the Qingfeng Sect again, will they?”

Xiao Rong said, “They still will.”

Changing beliefs wasn’t easy. If half of them gave it up, that would already be considered very open-minded.

Gao Xunzhi thought the same and sighed. “They’re still a hidden danger.”

Xiao Rong looked at him and chuckled softly. “Chancellor, dangers can never be completely eliminated. Just like the yin-yang symbol—where there’s light, there’s shadow. There will always be those who want to ruin what we’ve built, but it won’t be these people. They just want to live peaceful lives. Once they go back and find the other believers have all vanished, even if they still believe, they won’t dare help the Qingfeng Sect again.”

Hearing this, Gao Xunzhi looked at him with a helpless expression.

Xiao Rong paused, unsure why Gao Xunzhi looked so helpless.

Seeing his puzzled look, Gao Xunzhi sighed again. “Ah Rong.”

Xiao Rong: “…Yes?”

Gao Xunzhi said, “I don’t know what the yin-yang symbol is.”

Xiao Rong: “…”

His expression froze.

Gao Xunzhi glanced at him, shook his head, and left.

Watching him leave, hands behind his back, looking like a man hiding his great deeds, Xiao Rong finally realized what had just happened. It felt absurd and funny at the same time. In the end, he shook his head and turned to look northwest—toward the city of Shengle.

The sun was setting. It had been nearly a month since the army set out. Mid-autumn was approaching, and so was the festival.

Another season of separation loomed. Who knew when people would finally find a true reunion?

＊

Many believed Xiao Rong invited the Daoists to suppress the Qingfeng Sect. Even the Daoists themselves thought so, but this was just a facade Xiao Rong took advantage of.

In reality, the Qingfeng Sect could no longer stir up trouble in Chenliu anytime soon. From a long-term perspective, Xiao Rong’s real aim in supporting Daoists was to counterbalance the growing power of Buddhism. At the same time, he hoped to gain certain benefits from the Daoists.

Currently, north of the Han River, nowhere was safer than Chenliu. These Daoists could freely return to their original trade—commonly known as alchemy, but properly speaking, chemistry.

……

To say Daoists only practiced alchemy would be false. They had many skills. For example, they believed everyone needed to expel the “three corpses” to cleanse their bodies and prevent illness. With persistence, one could even achieve immortality. Ignoring the immortality part for now, the cleansing aspect led them to develop many pills—some deadly, some not. In fact, some had deworming effects.

There were also “fasting pills” invented by Daoists—one pill could supposedly stave off hunger for three days. Realistically, they only worked for one day, after which the person felt like their own stomach was eating them. Still—surviving one day without food was already impressive. It was the ancient version of compressed rations!

Most important to Xiao Rong, however, was a material Daoists used to seal their alchemy furnaces—called Liu Yi Mud (Six-One Mud).

Also known as divine mud, this clay was used on pottery-based alchemy furnaces (since not everyone could afford bronze or iron ones). Pottery was prone to cracking or even exploding. Liu Yi Mud solved this by reinforcing the exterior, preventing leaks, and improving the pills’ quality.

Xiao Rong didn’t care whether it improved alchemy. He cared that it was the perfect heatable bed (kang) insulation!

Think about it—using this mud for bed heating could save so much firewood!

……

 

 

Edited by: Antiope

 

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