Roaring Dragon-Chapter 116: Night Banquet at Qian Palace (5)

Guo Ziyan truly hadn’t expected it—Da Qian really was a land of prodigies. Out of nowhere, they'd produced a living immortal like Xie Jinhuan who'd slapped him clean across the face in front of everyone.

Faced with Xie Jinhuan’s question, he hadn’t even figured out how to respond when the Northern Zhou shaman beside him asked first:

“Why do you know the sacred arts of our Beiming Sect?”

Xie Jinhuan raised his right hand—da-da-da~—arcs of lightning crackled in his palm.

“I aim to master all schools. I’ve dabbled in many disciplines since childhood, so I know a bit of everything. Besides, this is a legacy passed down by the ancestors. Are you saying it belongs solely to your sect and we people of Da Qian aren’t allowed to learn it?”

If he had only shown proficiency in blessing rites, it would’ve been no different from knowing Daoist spells—no one would’ve said anything.

But the Tranquility Chant Xie Jinhuan just used was Beiming Sect’s signature sacred art. It was like slightly tweaking Zihui Mountain’s Five Thunder Demon-Smiting Mantra—a clean case of skill theft.

The Northern Zhou shaman wanted to argue it was an exclusive technique, but even if it was stolen, the fact that an enemy had infiltrated and extracted such core knowledge was impressive in itself. Complaining about it only made Northern Zhou look weak.

Guo Ziyan raised a hand, silencing the shaman with a smile.

“I didn’t expect Young Master Xie to be not only a martial prodigy but also skilled in music. I’m truly enlightened.”

“You flatter me, Lord Guo.”

With nothing more to say, Guo Ziyan could only yield. The surrounding officials beamed with delight, basking in reflected glory.

The Qian Emperor, unaware that the man standing before him was a grave-robbing master of cursed tombs, also laughed heartily:

“So young, and yet so talented and versatile. Bestow upon him a Kirin Pendant—take your seat.”

“Whoa...”

Everyone present showed open envy. More than a few prodigies looked like they were about to cry from sheer jealousy.

The Kirin Pendant, formally called the Kirin-Grasping-Tome Token, symbolized the harmony of martial and literary prowess. Da Qian revered the mythical kirin, and this pendant was only awarded to those who had rendered great service.

More than a symbol, it was also a functional artifact—a portable spirit-gathering array. It nourished the body of the average wearer and acted as a qi-acceleration amplifier for cultivators. No duplicates existed on the market, and its honorary value was immeasurable.

Even Xie Jinhuan, normally calm, was visibly moved. After offering thanks, he returned to his seat.

Wei Lu and the others were still stunned. As Xie returned, they raised their cups across the table.

“Brother Xie, you’re amazing. Martial and scholarly in equal measure! What was that piece called? Never heard it at the... uh, at the music society...”

“Five Tigers Sealing the Generals—composed by my master, never made public.”

“Oh, I see... I offer you a toast.”

...

All around, ministers and noble ladies whispered among themselves, their gazes lingering on Xie Jinhuan. It was written all over their faces—they were thinking about finding him a daughter-in-law. But with the Dan Prince already eyeing him for a son-in-law, none dared speak up.

Linghu Qingmo, seated nearby, looked at Xie Jinhuan shining under the spotlight, her eyes practically sparkling.

After he finished dealing with the toasts, she leaned in to pour him more wine.

“Xie Jinhuan, since when do you know how to beat war drums? I thought you were going up there to swing a sword and scare the envoy...”

Smack~

Before she finished, the thick-browed scoundrel beside her darted in and planted a quick kiss on her lips, then resumed sitting upright like nothing had happened.

“I’ve studied a bit of everything since I was a kid. Just been busy solving cases recently, so I haven’t had a chance to show off these little tricks.”

?!

Linghu Qingmo felt the warm touch lingering on her lips. Her face turned beet red. She glanced around to check if anyone noticed, then furrowed her brows and, with a glare, discreetly reached behind his back and gave him a sharp twist at the waist.

“Speak. And you better not get mad!”

Xie Jinhuan wasn’t about to waste this golden opportunity. Knowing she wouldn’t dare hit him seriously in public, he leaned closer and asked:

“Mo Mo, who’s that old man with the goat beard?”

Linghu Qingmo twisted a few more times, but seeing no reaction—and no safe word—she gave in, grinding her teeth.

“That’s Ye Shirong, Viscount of Lie’an. Why are you asking?”

“Ye Shirong...”

Xie Jinhuan had heard of him.

Ye Shirong’s background was murky. His title came from a pivotal event back in the eighth year of Jian’an.

That autumn, during a chaotic uprising, the Qian Emperor and the Dan Prince had escaped the decimated Ten Kings Palace with the help of loyal retainers. Rather than flee, the emperor gathered a few elite warriors to sneak into the capital—Ye Shirong was one of them.

Street rumors claimed he once took a bullet for the emperor, suffering injuries that never fully healed. He was granted his title afterward but faded into obscurity.

A former royal deathsworn...

Xie Jinhuan confirmed with his ghost-bride—Ye Shirong was indeed hiding a demonic cultivation base. Realizing his unusual background, Xie glanced toward the emperor on the throne.

He felt suspicion—but not certainty. Weighing his options, he decided to put the thought aside for now.

“Old Ye’s beard looks great. What do you think if I grow a goatee like that?”

“?”

You’ve definitely had too much to drink!

Linghu Qingmo turned away with a huff and began petting Meiqiu, ignoring this shameless man entirely...

——

Whoosh!

Boom-boom—

Not long after, the banquet ended. On the square outside the Linde Hall, hundreds of palace performers began dragon and lion dances, while fireworks lit up the night sky—turning the plaza into a field of daylight.

The emperor and empress had been moved to the top of the Panlong Promenade. Eunuchs stood behind them holding peacock-feathered fans. Cao Fo’er stood nearby with his horsetail whisk. Princess Changning and others were also close at hand.

Xie Jinhuan, tipsy from three rounds of wine, stood with Wei Lu and others at the white stone balustrade, watching the festivities. Next to him was Mo Mo, still pretending to be mad and waiting for him to apologize.

Many ministers, flushed with drink, chatted among themselves, most of the talk centered on Xie Jinhuan’s earlier performance.

Li Gongpu, ever the emperor’s lapdog, had few friends. No one wanted to be seen near him, especially not during such festivities. He stood alone near the promenade, hands behind his back, watching the fireworks and waiting in case the emperor summoned him.

Xie Jinhuan took a glance—Li Gongpu looked slightly drunk. Should be easy to manipulate.

But the emperor, Cao Fo’er, and Li Gongpu were too close together. Approaching him risked exposing himself. Xie considered a workaround and leaned toward Linghu Qingmo.

“Who’s that in the crimson robe?”

She, holding back Meiqiu from causing chaos on the plaza, gave a quick look around:

“That’s Lord Hou Jiyie. What are you up to?”

“Just going to say hi.”

With that, Xie Jinhuan approached a group of civil officials and bowed:

“This junior, Xie Jinhuan, greets Lord Hou.”

Hou Jiyie, a disciple of Fan Li, held the title of Minister of Justice. A notoriously upright man and one of the imperial court’s legendary hardheads, he had a deep-seated grudge against bootlickers like Li Gongpu.

But toward an upstanding, competent youth like Xie Jinhuan, Hou Jiyie was all smiles.

“No need for formalities, Nephew Xie. If not for your display earlier, we’d have spent the next three days furious over that damn Northern Zhou envoy.”

The civil court was as cliquish as any martial sect. Hou’s companions—all senior censors or similarly sharp-tongued officials—nodded in agreement.

“Exactly. Guo Ziyan hasn’t said a word since. Damn satisfying...”

Xie Jinhuan made some polite replies, then lowered his voice and asked:

“I heard something today—apparently Lord Li owns the original manuscript of Sage Ye’s Ode to Luojing, and it's gone missing. I’ve studied Ye and Elder Fan’s calligraphy since I was young. It pains me greatly...”

Hou Jiyie’s expression shifted as he glanced at Li Gongpu—like he was looking at a mangy old dog.

“That piece was a gift from His Majesty himself...”

The other old dogs nearby had long been itching to tear into Li Gongpu. Now they leaned in and muttered darkly:

“He dared lose a royal gift? If it’s not found soon, I’ll have to file a formal denunciation...”

“Nephew Xie, you mustn’t get ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) involved with that old snake. Nothing but poison behind that smile...”

Whisper-whisper...

Meanwhile, over by the Panlong Promenade...

With no one wanting to make small talk with him, Li Gongpu stood by the rail, watching the show, feeling somewhat out of place.

But then he sensed something wrong out of the corner of his eye.

Turning, he saw—Xie Jinhuan. The same man who’d just stolen the spotlight in the Linde Hall, now standing beside that iron-headed Hou and several loudmouth censors... whispering.

Every now and then, they glanced at him.

Their looks practically screamed: Let’s skin him alive.

?!

What the hell is that brat up to?!

Li Gongpu’s heart skipped. Those fogies had enough clout that even a glance could make the emperor second-guess himself.

He might not be toppled, but Xie Jinhuan was utterly unpredictable. Who knew what twisted idea he was feeding those high-power blabbermouths?

He tried to ignore it—but the pressure from behind was too strong. He shuffled closer, pretending to pace, using two ministers as cover to quietly eavesdrop.

But Hou Jiyie and the others weren’t stupid. Seeing Li Gongpu creeping closer, they immediately switched topics.

Xie Jinhuan, who could chat about anything with anyone, fell right into the new conversation—waiting patiently for his demoness wife to start stirring the pot...

...

“Northern Zhou’s empress dowager seized power with an iron grip. Three months in, she’s already purged half the Yan Capital court...”

“At this rate, she might claim the title of Empress Regnant...”

“No surprise, those Zhou barbarians have always been bold. They’ll probably make her husband the ‘Imperial Consort’ or some nonsense...”

...

Li Gongpu, stroking his beard while eavesdropping, heard nothing incriminating. Still, the fact that his mere presence had shut down their plotting soothed him a little.

Time passed. The dragon dance procession spiraled across the plaza, the dragon body erupting in colorful fireworks that drew every gaze.

Li Gongpu watched too—until a chill autumn breeze brushed past. Dizzy from wine, he blinked—and then noticed something.

He turned—just in time to see the Qian Emperor, dressed in his dragon robe, coughing into a silk handkerchief like usual.

But when he pulled it away—he paused.

A dark red stain.

What—?!

Li Gongpu’s heart slammed in his chest. He instinctively wanted to rush over, but the emperor had already folded the cloth and looked around. Seeing that no one had noticed—not even the empress, the crown prince, or the nearby attendants—he gave Cao Fo’er a slight signal to remain calm, then resumed watching the show as if nothing happened.

But then he glanced at the cloth again—silently—and shifted his gaze to the crown prince.

That gaze was complicated. But its meaning was clear.

It was the gaze of a dying father—reluctant to let go, yet full of pride.

Could it be... His Majesty’s already terminally ill? Already beyond saving?

Whoosh—whoosh—

Boom—!

Fireworks exploded overhead. The square lit up in splendor.

But Li Gongpu felt like he’d plunged into an icy pit. It was as if his own life had just run out.

He, more than anyone, knew where his power came from. He knew his reputation. He wasn’t irreplaceable like Cao Fo’er, Lu Wuzhen, or Hou Jiyie.

As long as the emperor lived, he was the loyal lapdog. As long as he didn’t touch a forbidden line, no one in court could touch him.

But if the emperor died, his best-case ending would be dying with dignity—buried in the royal tomb to serve His Majesty in the afterlife.

If he didn’t die with dignity, there were a hundred men in court who would make him die with dignity. Even if he wanted to be dignified, they might not let him.

And the empress wouldn’t save him. The crown prince had no reason to. No one else could.

What do I do... what do I do...

Li Gongpu clenched his hand beneath his sleeve. He no longer cared about eavesdropping. Whatever those fogies said—they couldn’t kill him.

Only the emperor could kill him.

And only the emperor could protect him.

After a long moment, he turned his gaze again toward the Panlong Promenade—this time, toward the crown prince, Zhao Jinghuan.

He understood: the emperor didn’t want him getting close to the prince. Any overstep would be his doom.

But if the emperor died—he’d be doomed anyway.

And judging by what he just saw... time was running short.

If he wanted to preserve the Li family’s wealth and power for another thirty years, there was only one path left.