Resentful Aura

The system's light screen suddenly popped up. She scanned a few lines, her pupils contracting slightly.

【Story Quest detected: “Chiyan Imperial Dynasty · Doubt of National Fortune”. Red Grade card pool “Magpie Bridge Fairy Whispers” unlocked. Upon completion of the Story Quest, an additional Purple Grade outfit “Phoenix Palace and Golden Throne” will be rewarded.】

She stared at those lines twice, quietly making up her mind.

Qi Yan was going to the Chiyan Imperial Dynasty, and Chu Zhixun was returning as well. Now, the system had triggered a Story Quest at this exact moment. There was a high probability she would have to tag along on this trip.

The wind on the Tiance Platform gradually picked up, causing the faint glow of the spiritual runes along the edge of the formation plate to flicker.

Qi Yan stood up and took two steps toward the stone steps. Chu Zhixun followed for a step but stopped, looking as if he had something to say but was still hesitating.

Qi Yan did not turn around. He merely tilted his head slightly, his voice carried by the wind: “Pack your things. We depart the day after tomorrow.”

Lin Zhiyue stood at the edge of the Tiance Platform a little longer, then turned to follow behind Qi Yan and Chu Zhixun.

After returning to her courtyard, she sat before her desk and pulled up the system screen again to read the quest description.

Only by completing the entire Story Quest could she unlock the Phoenix Palace and Golden Throne outfit, and the quest itself would also award Premium Draw Tickets. This meant that if she was lucky, she might be able to snag two outfits in one go.

This deal was simply too good to pass up!

...

On the morning of their departure, a small silver-white spirit boat was docked at the north gate of Tiance Palace.

Qi Yan stood at the bow, the hem of his robe fluttering in the morning breeze.

Chu Zhixun stood by the cabin door with his broad-bladed heavy sword on his back, his expression a bit more solemn than usual.

When Lin Zhiyue boarded, she saw Cen Xi'er already seated by the window inside the cabin, raising a hand to greet her.

Xiao Yuan boarded right after Cen Xi'er, carrying a small bundle. He sat down next to her without saying a word.

Lin Zhiyue's gaze swept across the cabin, finally landing on Jiang Yuezhan. He was walking up the stone steps, his iron sword hanging from his waist and a small cloth pouch on his back. It looked as though he had packed his bags long ago, rather than joining on a whim.

She stepped aside at the cabin door, waiting for him to come aboard before asking, “Are you coming too, Junior Brother?” She had assumed Jiang Yuezhan would prefer to stay in the sect and practice his swordplay.

Jiang Yuezhan found a seat at the back of the cabin, resting his iron sword across his knees. His tone was as flat as ever. “The situation in the Chiyan Imperial Dynasty is unclear. Since there is danger, it's a good opportunity to gain some experience.”

Lin Zhiyue glanced at him, asked no further questions, and sat down next to Cen Xi'er.

Once the spirit boat ascended, it cut through the morning mist and headed straight south. Below them, the mountains of Tiance Palace gradually shrank into a continuous expanse of dark blue, with clouds churning like waves underneath.

After flying for most of the day, the spirit boat began to descend.

Lin Zhiyue looked down through the porthole. The imperial capital of the Chiyan Imperial Dynasty came into view. The city was several times larger than Yunting City, with dark brown brick walls and a crimson banner hanging above the city gates.

Inside the city, streets intersected in a grid, and roof tiles lined up in neat rows. Carriages and pedestrians could be seen flowing through the streets like colonies of ants.

The spirit boat landed on a vast plaza outside the main palace gates.

When Lin Zhiyue hopped down from the spirit boat, the moment her feet touched the ground, she felt an indescribable sense of discomfort. She looked up at the sky. The sunlight was bright but not glaring, and the wind was not cold, yet a faint, imperceptible gloom seemed to hang in the air.

In front of the plaza, the palace gates had already swung wide open.

The Emperor himself, accompanied by several ministers and imperial concubines, stood before the gates to welcome them. As Qi Yan stepped off the spirit boat, the Emperor stepped forward a couple of paces and clasped his hands in greeting.

The Emperor was nearly sixty, tall but slightly portly, with graying hair at his temples. Traces of his youth lingered in his eyes and brows. He wore a crimson dragon robe. Behind him, the ministers and concubines lined up on either side, each bearing a polite, gentle smile.

Qi Yan stood before the Emperor, responding to his polite pleasantries with a poised posture and steady tone.

The Emperor mentioned that a welcoming banquet had been prepared for them in the evening, and then instructed Noble Consort Su Qing'er to lead them to their quarters to settle in.

Su Qing'er wore a pale purple palace dress, the hairpins swaying gently in her hair. She walked ahead with a beaming smile to lead the way, her tone soft and polite as she assured them that their accommodations had been arranged and that they should not hesitate to inform the maidservants if they lacked anything.

Lin Zhiyue walked in the middle of the group, following Cen Xi'er through one corridor after another.

At first, she did not pay much attention to this Noble Consort. But as they walked, she noticed a detail: whenever the distance between herself and Su Qing'er shrank to within three paces, a faint chill would rise on the surface of her skin, identical to the feeling she had when she first landed.

Lin Zhiyue's steps faltered for a fraction of a second before she resumed her normal pace, her expression not changing in the slightest.

Su Qing'er stopped at the entrance of their quarters. After giving a few instructions, she nodded at them with a smile and turned to leave.

Once she had walked away, Lin Zhiyue entered her assigned room, shut the door, and turned to look at Cen Xi'er, who had followed her inside. Lowering her voice, she asked, “That Noble Consort... did you feel it?”

Cen Xi'er nodded. “As soon as she got close, I felt something was off. It felt chilly. I thought I was just overthinking it.”

A few knocks sounded on the door, and Chu Zhixun pushed it open to enter, followed by Xiao Yuan and Jiang Yuezhan. Once the group gathered inside the room and exchanged glances, they realized that everyone had felt that eerie chill.

Just then, Qi Yan's voice drifted in from the doorway. Unbeknownst to them, he had been standing under the corridor. Holding a teacup in his hand, his gaze swept over the group, and he uttered four words in a flat tone: “That is resentful energy.”

Hearing this, Lin Zhiyue's back tensed slightly.

Resentful energy—she had read about this in books. It was an accumulation of negative spiritual energy formed when the resentment of living beings before death attached itself to a living person. If it accumulated to a certain extent, it could cause poor blood circulation and frailty at best, or affect one's luck and invite disaster at worst.

If the chill on the Noble Consort was truly resentful energy, then what clung to her was likely not something that could be accumulated from just three or five lives.

Chu Zhixun remained silent for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was lower than before. “I know a bit about this Noble Consort. She is the concubine-born daughter of Minister Su, and she has enjoyed continuous favor since entering the palace fifteen years ago. In the imperial harem... no one's hands are entirely clean. But the level of resentful energy on the Noble Consort doesn't seem like something that could be gathered from ordinary palace power struggles.”

The room fell silent for a moment. Qi Yan set down his teacup, turned to walk toward his own room, and said in a flat tone, “Observe first.”

Lin Zhiyue withdrew her gaze and exchanged looks with the others.

...

The welcoming banquet was held in Zhengyang Hall on the west side of the palace. It was brightly lit, and the sound of traditional music could be heard even across the corridor.

Qi Yan was seated on the right side of the main seat in the hall, with Chu Zhixun sitting below him, his expression solemn.

Lin Zhiyue and the other disciples were arranged at seats slightly further away. The tables were laid with delicacies and wine cups unique to the Chiyan Imperial Dynasty, while palace attendants bustled between the tables to pour wine and serve dishes with light, nimble movements.

Before the feast began, the Emperor spoke a few pleasantries from the head of the hall, essentially expressing gratitude for the presence of Tiance Palace and wishing for good relations between the two sides.

Qi Yan raised his wine cup and responded politely, his attitude neither warm nor cold, perfectly maintaining the propriety expected of an honored guest.

As he spoke, the ministers frequently raised their cups and gathered around, eager to converse. Some praised the far-reaching reputation of Tiance Palace, others asked if the Venerable had a pleasant journey, and some even beat around the bush to probe into the current state of Tiance Palace.

Each time, Qi Yan merely replied with a flat “Mhm,” “I am well,” or “No need for formalities,” deflecting the roundabout probes one by one. His tone was polite but left no room for further questioning.