To Help or Not to Help

The meeting ended on a somewhat discordant note.

Yet the ripples of the discussion would continue to spread.

Minister Wang’s explosive proposal would not fade simply because he himself had dismissed it—there would undoubtedly be those who supported his strategy.

After all, ruthless as it was, could it not also be the optimal solution at present?

Or rather, the optimal solution for those currently holding power.

After the meeting concluded, Zhao Xuan did not linger in the council hall as he usually would.

Now, he felt utterly drained, a deep weariness creeping into his heart.

Minister Wang’s plan would, without question, make Zhao Xuan the greatest beneficiary.

As a man, he had merely followed his instincts in making his choice.

But as an emperor, Minister Wang’s strategy was the correct path.

Cold detachment was the most essential virtue for a ruler.

Making this decision left Zhao Xuan feeling as though he had tied a noose around his own neck.

Zhao Xuan returned to the Hall of Mental Cultivation, his expression grave as he waved away the palace maids and eunuchs in attendance.

Those who served close to the emperor were masters of reading the room.

They immediately lowered their heads and retreated with hushed steps, closing the doors behind them.

Yet one figure remained—an elderly man in pale-red eunuch robes, his hair white as snow, standing motionless in place.

His gaze followed Zhao Xuan as the emperor, disregarding all royal decorum, threw himself onto the dragon bed and buried his face in the pillows.

In the past, he would have spoken up to remind him of propriety.

But now…

Lin Wen spoke softly, "Your Majesty has done well enough."

A muffled voice emerged from the pillows:

"Lin Wen, leave me be for a while…"

Lin Wen said nothing, standing silently where he was.

In troubled times, no amount of caution was excessive—even an emperor could not control everything.

Receiving no reply, Zhao Xuan understood.

But he did not press further.

Zhao Xuan lay still for a time, his mind growing heavy with drowsiness, when suddenly a eunuch’s voice called from beyond the doors:

"Your Majesty! A distinguished guest has arrived!"

Lin Wen watched as Zhao Xuan, who had been on the verge of sleep, jerked upright in fury and turned to snap:

"What fool of a eunuch dares breach protocol like this?! Drag him out—"

"It’s fine!" Zhao Xuan cut him off, smoothing the creases in his dragon robes as he asked, "Which family does this guest belong to?"

Lin Wen quickly stepped forward to help straighten the emperor’s attire.

The eunuch outside replied, "They bear the Xuanwu Token—they claim to be from the Tianyan Sect of Central Province."

Zhao Xuan froze, his face first blank with shock, then alight with unrestrained joy.

Without waiting for Lin Wen to finish adjusting his robes, he pushed open the doors himself and demanded:

"Where is the guest?!"

"Waiting in the side hall."

Zhao Xuan trembled, feeling as though he were in a dream. He took two deep breaths to steady himself.

Abandoning all imperial pomp, the emperor broke into a sprint toward the side hall.

"What kind of tea is this? You serve a guest this?" Chu Xingchen took a sip and nearly winced—the brew was weak, with a stale, musty aftertaste.

The palace maid serving him bowed deeply in apology.

"This is our finest Da Hong Pao, reserved only for the most honored guests. Even His Majesty rarely drinks it."

Chu Xingchen didn’t press her further. With a flick of spiritual energy, he gently lifted her back upright.

Then, he retrieved a pouch of his own tea leaves from his spatial ring and set it before her.

"Use mine instead," he said.

The maid exhaled in relief, nodding as she took the pouch.

Chu Xingchen leaned an elbow on the table, glancing at Li Yingling, who was flipping through a royal chronicle nearby.

"Find anything useful in there?"

Li Yingling, having read halfway through, didn’t hesitate:

"Less informative than unofficial histories."

The maid’s hands trembled slightly.

Couldn’t they have waited until she was gone to say such things?!

Chu Xingchen’s gaze shifted to the entrance, and he sighed.

"Finally, the man himself arrives."

The maid peeked toward the doors just as they swung open.

There stood Zhao Xuan—breath ragged, hair windswept and disheveled, robes slightly askew—with Lin Wen, the emperor’s shadow, close behind.

The maid’s heart nearly stopped at the sight. She hurriedly turned back to her task.

Zhao Xuan’s eyes locked onto Chu Xingchen, seated at the head of the room. He remembered him vividly—the star of the banquet, the sect that had drawn the attention of every attending faction.

He had suspected then that the Yuzhou City sect had the Tianyan Sect’s backing.

Now, his guess was confirmed. And thankfully, he had ordered his court to extend goodwill to Chu Xingchen.

Whether it was the Xuanwu Token or the generous subsidies for Yuzhou City’s sects, Zhao Xuan had ensured all formal courtesies were observed, regardless of whether Chu Xingchen needed them.

He didn’t know the man’s purpose, but things couldn’t possibly get worse now.

Best to treat him as reinforcements.

Zhao Xuan clasped his hands and bowed. "Esteemed Senior—"

"Tired from running?" Chu Xingchen interrupted, gesturing to the seat opposite him. "Have some tea first."

Zhao Xuan blinked, studying Chu Xingchen’s calm expression before cautiously taking the offered seat.

With a wave of spiritual energy, Chu Xingchen sent a freshly poured cup to Zhao Xuan.

The emperor glanced between Chu Xingchen and Li Yingling, still absorbed in her book.

Lin Wen stepped forward, resting a hand on Zhao Xuan’s wrist before he could lift the cup. Bowing to Chu Xingchen, he said humbly,

"The Xuanwu royal family has long-standing protocols—"

"Lin Wen!" Zhao Xuan snapped, shaking off the eunuch’s grip. Without another word, he downed the tea in one go.

Lin Wen could only retreat with a resigned sigh.

A tense silence settled over the hall.

Chu Xingchen broke it gently:

"You didn’t have to drink it. I just thought you might be thirsty after running here."

"My apologies for the undignified display," Zhao Xuan said with a strained smile.

Chu Xingchen shook his head, taking a sip from his own cup. One sip was all it took to confirm the truth—the tea wasn’t bad. The maid simply didn’t know how to brew it.

Chen Baiqing had served him this same variety before, and it had been incomparably better.

He shook his head again—his palate had been spoiled by his third disciple.

After a pause, Zhao Xuan could wait no longer. "Might I ask if Senior has come to aid Xuanwu in its plight?"

Lin Wen sighed inwardly. From the moment Zhao Xuan entered, he had surrendered all control of the conversation.

Whether it was the unbearable weight of his burdens or Chu Xingchen’s masterful grasp of human nature, the emperor was entirely at the other man’s mercy.

Chu Xingchen chuckled. "Naturally."

Zhao Xuan exhaled as if a mountain had been lifted from his shoulders.

The mountain-like pressure weighing on him was, in truth, nothing more than a trivial matter for the Tianyan Sect—resolved with just a word.

Yet, he swiftly shouldered that burden once more.

Chu Xingchen continued, "We came to intervene, but the Tianyan Sect will not intervene on His Majesty’s behalf."

Zhao Xuan was taken aback. What kind of answer was that?

If those were his words, wasn’t he just here to sightsee and mock the situation?