Chapter 84: “You said Shen Yanzhou resembles whom?”
The air in Emerald Bamboo Courtyard froze momentarily; even the rustling of bamboo seemed to fall silent.
When Yu Chenyu heard his words clearly, she couldn’t help but be taken aback. A strange, indescribable feeling rippled within her heart.
“Encouragement?”
“What counts as encouragement?”
Even with her composed temperament and experience, she found herself a little dazed and puzzled at this moment.
Could this be considered a comfort?
“This has nothing to do with me. Whatever Mother deems as encouragement—then it shall be that.”
Shen Yanzhou smiled as he tossed the question back to her.
Yu Chenyu’s delicate brows furrowed slightly. After a brief pause, something seemed to occur to her. Her lips curved in a faint smile.
“Very well. But you’ll only receive it on the day you depart.”
Shen Yanzhou would never shoot the hawk before seeing the rabbit.
Naturally, she wouldn’t be so foolish as to release the rabbit early.
“It’s settled, then. Mother mustn’t go back on her word.”
Shen Yanzhou smiled again. He wasn’t in any hurry anyway—there was no chance he’d be departing within the next few days.
After all, the Empress’s birthday was still months away.
When he returned to his room, Shen Yanzhou contacted Fu Yuying to inquire about the situation deep within the Hundred-Thousand Mountains of the Southern Border.
Fu Yuying frowned slightly as she explained the current state of affairs.
The situation was much as he had anticipated—beast hordes had already been herded en masse into the region. The Demon Suppression Army, under royal decree, was tasked with slaughtering these monsters and had followed closely behind.
Hidden sects like Luofu Cloud Cavern had immediately formulated countermeasures, coordinating with neighboring sects to activate protective formations and fortify their defenses based on terrain advantages.
The Southern Border was shrouded in miasma and teeming with venomous insects. Though Shamanic Arts were not as suited for direct combat as the Martial Path, when paired with corpse-controlling Gu, they could yield unexpected results.
“Shen Tian is already being escorted back to the Imperial Capital.”
“When you refined that human puppet, did you leave behind any method of control?” Shen Yanzhou asked.
He didn’t believe Fu Yuying would overlook such a contingency.
Fu Yuying sighed softly. “Refining a human puppet is no easy matter. Any conventional control method would leave flaws that are easily detected. After discussion among the elders, we only left behind a single strand of control thread within the puppet’s body. This thread can only disrupt the puppet’s will, causing bouts of madness or confusion.”
“During the hostage exchange, the strategist beside the Demon Suppression King, Ge Qixing, used the Ancient Seven-Star Mirror to examine the puppet’s entire body, ensuring no discrepancies remained. This strategist is said to have inherited the legacy of the Ancient Seven-Star Sect, and that mirror is rumored to possess the power to illuminate the Netherworld. The elders dared not act rashly, fearing any mishap during the exchange might spark war.”
She had long known the Demon Suppression King would not take such a loss lying down and would inevitably retaliate.
But she hadn’t expected the counterattack to come so swiftly.
No sooner had the hostage exchange concluded than the beast tide breached the borders—and the Demon Suppression Army’s iron cavalry had already reached the edge of the Hundred-Thousand Mountains.
“Ge Qixing truly is a formidable man…”
Shen Yanzhou nodded. It could only be said that sects like Luofu Cloud Cavern had underestimated the Demon Suppression King’s ruthlessness and vindictiveness.
“Do you have any countermeasures in place now? Simply defending against beasts and the army won’t last long.”
“So long as the beasts remain, the Demon Suppression Army will not withdraw from the mountains.”
“And as for when the beasts will be eradicated—that depends entirely on Shen Jingxiao,” Shen Yanzhou said.
If this dragged on, the Demon Suppression Army might even establish a permanent foothold within the Hundred-Thousand Mountains.
For hidden sects like Luofu Cloud Cavern, that would be akin to a guillotine suspended above their heads, ready to fall at any moment, blood spraying everywhere.
The reason they were called hidden sects was precisely because they avoided worldly entanglements. Even when they took in disciples, they did so quietly, never flaunting it like the secular sects.
Thus, each hidden sect had very few elders and disciples.
Since ancient times, it had been said—commoners do not fight the officials. Now, even those worldly sects had entered court service, contributing to the Great Qian Dynasty’s prosperity.
These hidden sects, if spoken of bluntly, were little more than hermits and outlaws dwelling in the mountains—
unruly, untaxed, and potentially destabilizing elements that could threaten the dynasty’s security.
Hence, even the court officials who knew of them would seldom interfere.
A trace of helpless bitterness appeared on Fu Yuying’s beautiful, immortal-like face. Even she now felt powerless, unable to think of a solution.
Before, when the Demon Suppression King extended his reach into the Southern Border and enslaved hidden sects, he had at least shown restraint.
But now, he had brazenly stationed the Demon Suppression Army in the Hundred-Thousand Mountains—
and all under the guise of rightful authority.
Even she was now under considerable pressure.
The entire sect had begun to doubt whether her decision to cooperate with Shen Yanzhou and abduct Shen Tian had been wise. The debates had grown heated.
If not for her master, the sect leader, stepping in to suppress the turmoil, she would likely already be facing censure.
Though she knew this wasn’t her fault—the disagreement had stemmed purely from how the puppet had been refined.
“For now, all we can do is hold off the advancing Demon Suppression Army as best as possible…” Fu Yuying sighed.
Shen Yanzhou said nothing further.
He understood well that Luofu Cloud Cavern was not a place where Fu Yuying’s word alone could dictate matters. Unless she succeeded the sect master’s position, her authority remained limited. From the start, she should not have shown such mercy regarding Shen Tian’s puppet.
That puppet had been Luofu Cloud Cavern’s sole bargaining chip against Shen Jingxiao—handing it over so readily could only invite disaster.
Even if conflict had erupted during the hostage exchange—even if blood had been spilled—so what?
At least they would’ve retained a hold over Shen Tian.
In the end, their shortsightedness and softness had led to this.
“The secret art for manipulating the control thread—do you have it?” Shen Yanzhou suddenly asked.
Fu Yuying froze. The moment she heard his question, she knew Shen Yanzhou intended to help them—no, to help her.
After all, even if the Hundred-Thousand Mountains ran red with blood, it had nothing to do with him anymore.
A warm current welled within her heart.
“The secret art for manipulating the control thread comes from a technique in the General Compendium of Puppet Dissolution of Luofu Cloud Cavern. Without a full foundation in the Shamanic Arts, even knowing the incantations would not suffice to master it.”
“However, if Young Master Shen wishes to learn, I can secretly teach you,” Fu Yuying said.
As the sect’s saintess, she had the authority to do so.
Shen Yanzhou had never studied the Shamanic Arts, but since this was a secret technique—something akin to the Selfless Sword Heart—he could likely master it directly through his system.
“Go ahead and teach me directly,” he said.
“After Shen Tian returns to the mansion, find a way to contact Shen Jingxiao and have him withdraw his troops. Say that Shen Tian has been afflicted with an ancient shamanic Gu poison—if it isn’t resolved, he will remain forever insane and deranged.”
“Though it’s merely a stopgap measure, delaying him even for a while is worth it,” Shen Yanzhou added.
For now, there truly was no good way to halt Shen Jingxiao’s advance into the Hundred-Thousand Mountains.
“Many thanks, Young Master Shen.”
Fu Yuying’s heart was filled with warmth. Without delay, she passed on the secret technique for controlling the Control Thread to Shen Yanzhou.
She could hear the confidence in his tone. Could it be that he truly could master it—and even possessed some knowledge of the Shamanic Arts?
“The secret arts of the Shamanic Path—I may lack a spirit medium, but among the Three Thousand Daos, all paths lead to the same end. If I use Primordial Qi to perform it, it should still work.”
Shen Yanzhou took up brush and paper, writing down the secret art she had just transmitted.
[General Compendium of Puppet Dissolution, Part III: Control Thread]
Before long, numerous details and information about the secret technique surfaced upon the interface before him.
“As expected, it can be learned.”
Without hesitation, Shen Yanzhou invested his points and learned it. In an instant, a flood of knowledge and experience related to the art surged through his mind.
The Control Thread was not particularly difficult—it was divided into four stages.
However, Shen Yanzhou had only just begun and did not waste too many of his basic points.
He had accumulated quite a number of them over the past few days, and after mastering this secret art, three still remained.
“When that so-called True Heir is welcomed back, this technique should give Shen Jingxiao quite the surprise.”
Shen Yanzhou raised his hand slightly; a faint, near-invisible thread flickered into existence and then vanished into the void, as if connecting to a puppet somewhere far away, with a subtle resonance between them.
At that very moment, while the entire Imperial Capital of the Great Qian Dynasty was closely focused on the calamity of beast invasion in the Southern Border—
Deep within the imperial palace, inside the Hall of Cultivated Mind, a luxurious incense burner released fragrant smoke from Spirit Sandalwood of Peach Blossom Mountain. Wisps of mist drifted into the air, faintly transforming into blurred forms—bells, cauldrons, swords—each glimmering with spiritual radiance.
Emperor Mingde, dressed in a blue silk robe embroidered with dragons, sat quietly upon a meditation cushion, eyes closed. Wisps of imperial dragon qi coiled about him, as if a true dragon circled above his head.
Beside him, the Chief Eunuch Wei Gong stood respectfully, holding a teapot and serving at his side.
“The true inheritance of the Martial God—it actually fell into the hands of Shen Jingxiao’s false son?” Emperor Mingde asked evenly, eyes still closed.
“In this old slave’s opinion, it seems so. The inheritance within Wu Ruyue’s body is formidable, transcending the First Rank, yet compared to the inner strength and true qi cultivated by Shen Yanzhou, it pales in comparison.”
“This old slave actually lied back then,” Wei Gong said respectfully. “I secretly raised my power to the Fifth Rank, yet still came up short—while Shen Yanzhou clearly held strength in reserve.”
A hint of surprise flickered across Emperor Mingde’s face. Opening his eyes, he mused, “The Martial God Realm lies beyond the First Rank. None in this age can touch it. Such a realm, though profound, within the Imperial Capital of the Great Qian Dynasty, I too can stand firm—relying upon the fortune of ten thousand subjects and the dragon qi of the imperial Dao.”
“The power you speak of, displayed by Shen Yanzhou, has already far surpassed what any First Rank cultivation art could grant.”
“What he obtained… is not the inheritance of the Martial God.”
Wei Gong froze for a moment, then gasped. “Then, Your Majesty means—the inheritance he received is not of this world? That it comes from beyond it?”
Emperor Mingde neither affirmed nor denied. Shrouded in imperial dragon qi, his indistinct face held eyes deep as a starry sea.
Wei Gong could not help but ponder deeply, murmuring, “A cultivation art surpassing the Martial God’s Inheritance—such a thing is unimaginable. If Your Majesty had such a technique for reference, perhaps you could truly break that boundary and advance even further.”
Emperor Mingde remained silent, lost in thought.
Wei Gong bowed even lower, then asked cautiously, “Would Your Majesty like to summon him to court? Shen Yanzhou is a clever man. Since he dared to reveal his talent and power—unveiling the secret of these years of feigned mediocrity—he must be desperate to find a powerful patron. Otherwise, one day soon, Shen Jingxiao will surely persecute him.”
“With such an extraordinary cultivation art, he surely knows how to handle it properly.”
Emperor Mingde suddenly turned his head toward Wei Gong. His face, regal and unreadable, betrayed no emotion.
Wei Gong froze, thinking he had misspoken, and quickly lowered his head, not daring to meet his gaze.
“Even you now… presume to speculate upon me?”
After a pause, Emperor Mingde’s calm voice carried faint displeasure.
Cold sweat streamed down Wei Gong’s back as he stammered, “Your Majesty, please forgive this old slave! I only wished to help Your Majesty ascend further—never did I mean to question Your Majesty’s heart!”
Emperor Mingde sighed softly. “Do I seem so petty to you? Shen Jingxiao has followed me for years, fighting across all fronts—yet even he suspects me so. And now, even you think the same? Does ascending the dragon throne truly change a man so much?”
“How I was before—am I not the same now?”
Wei Gong had no answer. He could only wipe the sweat from his brow again and again.
Though he was a man wielding great power—second only to the Emperor—in front of Mingde, he was still nothing but a servant forced to guess his master’s mind at every turn.
“You said that when you first saw Shen Yanzhou, he reminded you of someone?”
Emperor Mingde waved his hand and turned away, his tone faint, tinged with disinterest.
Wei Gong blinked, realizing what he had meant to say earlier. He hesitated. In the past, mentioning that name was harmless.
But now, His Majesty seemed to be in no mood.
“Speak freely,” Emperor Mingde said, aware of his old companion’s thoughts since childhood.
Wei Gong bowed his head and said softly, “At first sight, this old slave was reminded of Lady Qingshu.”
“What did you say?”
Emperor Mingde froze as though he hadn’t heard clearly—but in the next instant, he abruptly turned around. His eyes blazed with golden light, sharp and overwhelming, like a true imperial dragon about to burst forth from the clouds.
Wei Gong was crushed beneath the weight of that aura and nearly lost his balance. He quickly explained, “When this old slave saw Shen Yanzhou for the first time, I couldn’t help but think of Lady Qingshu. His bone structure and eyes—they’re far too similar! Were it not for his masculine features, I would have suspected—”
“Qingshu…”
Emperor Mingde no longer listened to Wei Gong’s murmured words. His hand rose to clutch his chest as he whispered the name. Then, his fist clenched tightly, and a torrent of dragon qi erupted, shaking the surrounding halls with a thunderous roar.
Throughout the palace, countless guards and imperial soldiers were startled, dropping to their knees and bowing toward the Hall of Cultivated Mind.
Wei Gong could only smile bitterly, helplessly. He knew that uttering that name would provoke such a reaction.
But he hadn’t done it on purpose. It was simply that in that single glance—Shen Yanzhou had looked too much like her.
After all these years at Emperor Mingde’s side, he knew well—the portrait of that woman still hung upon the bookshelf nearby.
That face… how could he ever forget it?