Su Jinyu

Lin Zhiyue sat at her seat and picked up a piece of food with her chopsticks. Just as she brought it to her mouth, before she could even swallow, a sudden rush of hurried footsteps and faint clamor echoed from outside the hall.

An armored soldier was briefly blocked by the guards in front of the hall, but he immediately cried out, “Urgent report—!” and broke free from their grip to barge into the hall.

His armor was covered in dust, looking as though he had ridden hard and fast from the battlefield. His face was pale, his lips chapped. After scanning the hall, he knelt straight down in the center of the room.

The Emperor’s face darkened. He set his raised wine cup back on the table, his voice carrying the displeasure of having his mood ruined. “What is this commotion? You dare disturb the elegant mood of our honored guests? Can you bear the responsibility for this—”

“Your Majesty,” the messenger’s voice was hoarse and urgent, as if he had squeezed out these few coherent words with the last of his strength, “the Grand Protector General... has fallen in battle.”

The hall instantly fell dead silent.

The traditional music had stopped at some unknown point. The musicians looked at one another in confusion, and the dancers in the center of the hall retreated to the sides, not daring to move.

The Emperor’s hand on the table clenched slightly. His expression shifted from irritated displeasure to a frozen blankness.

Lin Zhiyue’s chopsticks paused in mid-air for a brief second before she set them back on the edge of her plate.

She had heard from her senior brother that the Grand Protector General was the pillar of the Chiyan Imperial Dynasty.

The old general had guarded the northern border for decades, repelling dozens of invasions by the Taiyuan Imperial Dynasty. As long as he was on the battlefield, the troops of the Taiyuan Imperial Dynasty did not dare step foot past Beiqing Gate.

Now that the news of his death in battle had arrived, it meant a gap had opened in the northern defense line, and Beiqing Gate might have already fallen.

The Emperor fell silent for a moment before speaking again, his voice much deeper than before. “Has the Taiyuan Imperial Dynasty already captured Beiqing Gate?”

The messenger kept his head low and did not answer, but his silence was an answer in itself.

Lin Zhiyue sat unmoving in her seat, her gaze sweeping across the suddenly tense faces of the ministers in the hall and the Emperor’s fingers tightening on the edge of the table.

The banquet did not break up immediately. The Emperor forced himself to say a few diplomatic words to reassure everyone, saying things like “we shall discuss the military situation later” and “there is no need for everyone to panic,” but the atmosphere in the hall had clearly changed.

The ministers frequently glanced at the sky outside the hall, as if waiting for more detailed news.

Lin Zhiyue took advantage of the moment she lowered her head to pick up food to glance at Chu Zhixun. He sat below Qi Yan, and from the moment the messenger entered, he had not touched his chopsticks again.

The candlelight in the corner of the hall flickered, casting swaying shadows on the walls. The food and wine at the welcoming banquet were still steaming, but no one raised their cups anymore.

Early the next morning, Chu Zhixun appeared by the stone table in the side courtyard with two prominent dark circles under his eyes.

He took a sip from a bowl of spiritual tea and rubbed his brow, looking as if he had barely slept at all last night.

Lin Zhiyue, Cen Xi'er, Liu Fengyao, Xiao Yuan, and Jiang Yuezhan sat down around the stone table one after another, their eyes landing on him.

Chu Zhixun set down his tea bowl, rubbed his face, and spoke with the low, hoarse voice typical of someone who had stayed up all night. “Last night, Father and Master talked until midnight, and I was listening from the side. Father said the first time the national fortune had an issue was ten years ago. That year, a sudden flood occurred in the south, destroying three counties and drowning nearly a hundred thousand people. At first, Father thought it was just a natural disaster, so he asked the royal enshriners to set up an altar and pray for blessings.

“But over the last ten years, disasters have struck one after another—a blizzard in the north froze thousands to death, an epidemic broke out in the east and spread across half a province, and even a swine flu occurred in the capital. Although these were all resolved, each drain severely depleted the treasury and the strength of the people.”

At this point, he picked up his tea bowl and took another gulp. “The four enshriners have tried every method available over the years—praying to the heavens, suppression, altering feng shui, and setting up formation plates. Not a single one worked. It wasn’t until a month ago that the Chief Enshriner casually mentioned if it could be that the national fortune itself is dwindling.”

The area around the stone table fell silent for a moment.

Chu Zhixun continued, “All these years, Father has been trying to find a way. He once wrote a letter asking me to return, but I resented him for not taking good care of my imperial mother, so I ignored it and let it drop. Looking back now, I was too willful...

“That’s why this time, using the excuse of his birthday banquet, he invited Master to make a trip. He knows Tiance Palace doesn’t easily interfere in the affairs of mortal dynasties, but he said he was truly out of options.”

After he finished speaking, there was a brief silence. He glanced at the expressions of the others around the stone table and added, “The enshriners are still staying in the palace. Master said he will go meet them today.”

Lin Zhiyue placed her teacup back on the table, her fingertips lingering against the side of the cup.

The natural disasters that had occurred over the last ten years—floods, blizzards, epidemics, and swine flu—each seemed like an isolated, accidental event when taken on its own. But when placed within the framework of a “declining national fortune,” they were like a string of beads, each sliding along the exact same axis.

Furthermore, they had all occurred within the last ten years. This specific timeframe made Lin Zhiyue somewhat suspicious.

Xiao Yuan suddenly asked, “Are those enshriners cultivators?”

“Yes. The highest cultivation level is late-stage Golden Core, and the lowest is early-stage Golden Core.”

“Then did they notice the resentful energy on Su Qing'er?” Lin Zhiyue pressed.

Chu Zhixun shook his head. “They never mentioned it. They likely didn’t notice.”

“They are also at the Golden Core Stage, so how could they...” Xiao Yuan frowned.

Chu Zhixun explained, “Junior Brother Xiao, the spiritual energy of Tiance Palace is different from this place. When we cultivate, we absorb pure spiritual essence, making us extremely sensitive to turbid energy. But the mortal realm is different—the spiritual energy here is naturally mixed and impure. The Chief Enshriners have lived here for so long that their five senses have long been dulled by this turbid energy, so it’s normal that they can’t perceive it.”

...

Lin Zhiyue and Cen Xi'er decided to start their investigation with Su Qing'er. Women’s intuition told them that the resentful energy on Su Qing'er was definitely not simple.

Instead of going directly to Su Qing'er, they first sought out a low-ranking maidservant who did odd jobs to gather information.

The young maidservant’s surname was Sun. She was around twenty-three or twenty-four years old, worked as an errand runner in the imperial kitchen, and was a notorious gossip who loved to spill everything. On top of that, she particularly admired cultivators.

When Lin Zhiyue and Cen Xi'er had just asked a couple of questions, her eyes lit up, as if she were looking at some legendary figures.

It wasn't until Lin Zhiyue steered the conversation toward the Noble Consort that the young maidservant first glanced warily at her surroundings. After confirming there was no one else nearby, she lowered her voice and shared some details.

“Her Highness the Noble Consort is a concubine-born daughter of Minister Su’s manor.

“Speaking of which, there’s something the entire capital knows about—Her Highness had an older sister born of the legal wife, named Su Jinyu. She was exceptionally beautiful and had a gentle temperament. Earlier on, she was betrothed to Xie Tianci, the heir of Marquis Jing'an. The two families were of equal social standing, and everyone believed this marriage was a done deal.

“Who would have thought that Xie Tianci would suddenly call off the betrothal? He even did it publicly during a banquet at the Minister's manor, leaving her absolutely no face. Miss Su could not bear such humiliation and fell ill within three months. Afterward, she was never able to marry, and in just over a year, Miss Su’s life force was completely spent, and she passed away.”

Lin Zhiyue squatted next to the young maidservant to help her pluck vegetables, asking casually as she worked, “Then how did Her Highness the Noble Consort enter the palace afterward?”

“Her Highness the Noble Consort...” The young maidservant lowered her voice even further. “She entered the palace not long after her sister’s death. But after that incident with the Xie family, the Su family’s reputation was already ruined. Reasonably speaking, a daughter of the Su family shouldn't have had such a great opportunity again.

“I don't know how she managed to get in... but in any case, she entered the palace and has remained favored ever since. However, there is one thing that’s quite strange. Five years after the Noble Consort entered the palace, that Heir Xie suddenly became possessed. Some of the commoners said Heir Xie was receiving his retribution. This servant didn't dare pry any further, so I only know this much.”

After saying this, she picked up her vegetable basket, bowed, and quickly walked away with her head lowered, as if afraid that saying even half a sentence more would bring trouble upon her.