Chapter 34: Slandering a Prince is Asking for Death

Farewell, we won’t be meeting again. What, should I stay and wait for a big reveal during the evening wash-up when everything is exposed?

And the powder on my face is nowhere near the quality of modern industrial products. I had to eat in tiny bites just now, and even wiping my mouth had to be done carefully—one wrong move and my disguise would’ve been blown.

Zhao Xichi was visibly disappointed, but he dared not offend this person by forcing him to stay.

In his eyes now, Master Yuntai was a virtuous, reclusive sage.

To forcibly detain someone like that would be improper—not something a true gentleman would do.

What’s more, Master Yuntai claimed his senior brothers were even more skilled than him. If that’s true, the people backing him must be truly extraordinary. Zhao Xichi couldn’t afford to offend someone from such a mysterious and powerful sect.

So, he had no choice but to order someone to bring a 500-tael silver banknote and sent him off respectfully.

He Yanxin was a man of his word—he sold the information for exactly the price he stated, and refused to take more than 200 taels.

In the end, Zhao Xichi added the initial 20 taels as a personal gift, which He Yanxin gladly accepted with a smile.

“No need to see me off, my lord. We cultivators follow the path of drifting clouds and flowing water—coming and going freely,” He Yanxin said with a hearty laugh, flourishing his sleeves for a final dramatic exit.

Time to dip!

As He Yanxin turned the corner and vanished from sight, Zhao Xichi said in a low voice to the guard beside him, “Follow him, see where the master is going—but make sure he doesn’t notice.”

He had no ill intentions—he just wanted to know where this sage was headed in case he ever needed to find him again.

Besides, the man was too mysterious. It would’ve been impossible to feel at ease without knowing more.

But after less than half an hour, the guard returned and reported that he’d lost track of the man. He described how he’d tailed him, lost sight of him, searched everywhere—and still couldn’t find him.

Zhao Xichi’s face was a mixture of amazement and respect. “Truly a master who moves like clouds and mist, leaving no trace behind.”

For years to come, Zhao Xichi loved telling people about the time he met a hidden sage.

Especially after his youngest son actually became the top scholar in the imperial exam—he even wrote a memoir glorifying Master Yuntai, making him sound almost mythical. Readers of the book would be left with wild imaginations about this mysterious figure.

But that’s a story for another time.

Once He Yanxin was gone, Zhao Xichi immediately sent two of his guards to the provincial capital to investigate the movements of Prince Qi’s estate.

Though he was inclined to believe the sage, he still needed to confirm things for himself. It would be careless to place absolute trust in the word of a single person.

The two guards rode hard and reached the provincial capital by the next day. They began discreetly gathering intelligence in and around the city. After several days of circling through the town and its outskirts, they discovered something unusual.

Every two days, Prince Qi would lead a large group of men out to a secluded valley outside the city. Disguised as woodcutters, the guards climbed to the side of the mountain and heard the distant sound of loud shouting and chanting.

To hear more clearly, one guard crept closer—almost getting spotted by sentries.

This particular guard was a former soldier and immediately recognized the calls: military training drills—and involving no fewer than ten thousand men.

The two hurried back to report.

Upon hearing this, Zhao Xichi slumped into his chair, drained. He had been wavering between belief and doubt all this time—but now the truth was almost undeniable.

Time to go. Quickly.

What else could he do? The problem was, he had no evidence.

They’d heard the sounds of drills? Prince Qi could easily claim it was just his personal guard going through regular training.

How could a mere seventh-rank county magistrate, with no hard evidence, accuse a prince—an imperial son—of plotting rebellion? That kind of thing doesn’t even happen in dramatic fiction.

Even the emperor couldn’t just arbitrarily arrest a feudal prince for treason—evidence is required.

Not to mention, the prince in question was the emperor’s favorite youngest son. Zhao Xichi had seen that with his own eyes back in the capital.

And if the emperor asked, “How do you know this?” Oh, because some mysterious sage named Yuntai told me?

With no proof—that would be a death sentence.

Zhao Xichi couldn’t help wondering: does the governor of Qi Prefecture know? Do other officials know? And are they supporting the prince?

Feudal lords didn’t have the authority to conduct their own civil service exams, so county-level officials like himself were appointed by the central court—they were capital officials sent out on assignment.

But who among them could resist the temptation of glory and power? If Prince Qi succeeded in rebellion, anyone who helped would rise with him.

Zhao Xichi finally admitted to himself: he could do absolutely nothing.

Was he supposed to take ten servants and try to stop a rebellion? Impossible. Worse, he needed to get out as soon as possible, before he got dragged into any of this.

His best option was to return to the capital immediately and inform his influential relatives in the Zhao clan who held court positions. Let those with real power make a formal report.

He couldn’t send a letter either—what if it got intercepted? That would mean death.

Three months. What could be done in three months?

Before Prince Qi started requisitioning rice shops, he could buy and store grain ahead of time, so at least the locals would have something to eat before he left.

He could also discreetly spread rumors to warn the populace—helping them escape before the city gates were sealed.

He just hated how weak he was, how powerless to stop this man-made catastrophe.

He was just a small, insignificant figure. This wasn’t a problem he could fix with one report to the court.

Prince Qi had been preparing for too long—the arrow had already been drawn and could no longer be held back.

Even if the court got wind of the plot and came with an imperial decree to arrest him, did anyone really believe Prince Qi would obediently disband his troops and return to the capital for trial? Of course not. He would fight back.

This war was unavoidable—whether now or later.

Zhao Xichi spent the whole afternoon in his study pondering the situation. That evening, returning to the back courtyard and seeing his wife and child resting on the bed, he finally made up his mind.

To return to the capital from Yongqing County by carriage would take a full month. But his wife had just given birth, and the child was still an infant—traveling now was out of the question.

Now he was really stuck.

As the head of the county, he couldn’t leave without a valid reason. If the deputy magistrate or head clerk found out and reported it, those left behind—his wife and child—would be in danger.

Once you have weaknesses, everything becomes more complicated.

He would have to wait at least twenty more days. Zhao Xichi closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and made the difficult decision: he would leave only after his wife had recovered from childbirth. They would all leave together.

For some reason, he had a terrible feeling that if he left them behind, something awful would happen—something he couldn’t bear.

(End of Chapter)