Chapter 653: Returning to the Jianghu

Chapter 653: Returning to the Jianghu

In the annals of history, there were hereditary titles, evolved from the earliest aristocratic systems; such titles were inseparable from power, and the formation of great clans likewise evolved from this.

From several dynasties prior, inherited titles had already been reduced in rank; after a few generations, the title would vanish, and to gain a new one, one had to earn merit.

Bestowing an empty hereditary title had been attempted by some dynasties; at first, the numbers seemed small, but year after year they increased, eventually fostering a brood of idle parasites—hardly an ideal solution.

Yet every plan must be judged by its context; in the present circumstances, this was the most suitable, the fastest way to stabilize the rear. If it truly meant raising a herd of pigs, that would actually be good for the court. As for whether the numbers would swell each year, everyone was still in their prime and could continue to manage it step by step.

Tang Wanzhuang spoke of "not being a vessel," but she was actually referring to the Cui clan. If even the Tang family could inherit a marquisate, what about the Cui?

Even if it was merely an empty title, not as formidable as before, it would at least guarantee your descendants an iron rice bowl—far more secure than others. As long as the state did not fall, there would always be a meal for them.

With this safety net, would you dare to throw yourself into the new tide, compete with commoners and religious devotees in the imperial examinations, and embrace the new land tax system?

The sword is already broken; restoring it to its former state is impossible. Will you take this step down?

If you want to step down, do it quickly; delay, and there will be no merit left to claim...

Compared to Li Shentong's massacre of the nobles, this approach was the gentlest... unless you were determined to establish a new dynasty.

Zhao Changhe pondered for a while, thinking that this might not work on Yang Jingxiu and his ilk, but it should have some effect on Old Cui—at least enough for negotiation. If talks failed, he could always elope with Yangyang.

With that thought, he let out a sigh: "I can try."

Tang Wanzhuang fixed her beautiful eyes on him and said softly, "Husband, when you leave the capital, you must be careful... Things are different now. Before, though you were dazzling, you were not the key in anyone's eyes, and they wouldn't go to any lengths to deal with you. But now, anyone with clear eyes knows that you are the linchpin holding this new dynasty together... Including the gods and demons—once their gazes were drawn to the late emperor, but now they will focus on you, especially since you hold the Heavenly Book..."

Zhao Changhe laughed heartily: "It's been a long time since I faced the pressures of my early days in the jianghu; I'm feeling a bit restless. What are gods and demons? I've killed one, and I can kill a second!"

Tang Wanzhuang looked at him, full of battle spirit, with a hint of playful reproach as if watching a big child, yet she felt fondness in her heart.

If Zhao Changhe had changed a lot now, the lawless, unruly spirit was still buried deep in his bones—the very thing that attracted Cui Yuanyang and her, Tang Wanzhuang: that spirit which ignited even more drive in adversity.

Now Zhao Changhe appeared to be the supreme authority of this dynasty, but in truth, the dynasty was as fragile as a newborn infant. Whether in terms of power or high-end martial force, the pressures it faced were far greater than before; this was the true nadir, with destruction possible at any moment.

Tang Wanzhuang's stubborn defense of Xia Longyuan was also a key point. Everyone said Old Xia had caused chaos—that was true—but objectively, as long as he lived, there would be no complete collapse. Now that he was gone, true chaos reigned... If it wasn't chaotic enough, it was because Zhao Changhe was holding things together and cleaning up—something no one had anticipated before, except Tang Wanzhuang, who had glimpsed only fragments.

Now, the most dangerous person in the world was Zhao Changhe, but he could not hide in the capital's Imperial Ancestral Temple like Xia Longyuan, because he had too much to do.

"You... when you need to disguise yourself, do so. Don't be stubborn." Tang Wanzhuang finally rose gracefully, walked to the other side of the tea table, and gently nestled into Zhao Changhe's arms, offering a kiss: "I will assist His Majesty together with your lover. When you return, you will see the most prosperous and stable rear."

Zhao Changhe held her and joked, "Are you sure you and your lover won't be at odds?"

Tang Wanzhuang's eyes shimmered with a hint of allure: "I have fought with her for fifteen years... Now it seems that the struggles of the first half of life were merely a rehearsal for the second half; we will continue to contend for a lifetime..."

As she spoke, she slowly leaned close to Zhao Changhe's ear and whispered, "Remember to come back safely. Then... Wanzhuang and she... will fight for you on the bed."

This promise was more effective than any warm reminder to "be safe." Zhao Changhe swore that even if the Heavenly Dao itself descended, he would cut it down with his blade and crawl back to the capital!

...

Departure from the capital was set for that very day.

As Xia Chichi had said, these few days seemed wanton, but they were actually a crucial process of internal stabilization, indispensable. But once the task was done, one could not continue to wallow in the boudoir, trying every permutation and combination...

The situation was now extremely urgent; there was no chance to play the tyrant.

Tang Wanzhuang's seduction was actually a promise for the day when the world was settled—then she would be willing to indulge in any debauchery with him.

Sanniang had already left ahead, going to the Yellow Sand Collection, where she had once been a "collective head" for a time before growing bored and resigning.

Though she hadn't been head for long, having held the post made a difference. That place was indeed the Four Symbols Sect's base beyond the Great Wall, staffed by elite sect members; she knew the situation well, and there was a mobile force available. Once the Black Tortoise returned, it would stir up a storm beyond the frontier.

After all, in the eyes of outsiders, she was truly an unfathomable great demon.

Zhao Changhe disguised himself as a sallow-faced man in his early common attire, mounted the Dark Steed, and headed straight for Qinghe.

The Dark Steed could fly, but he dared not use it for flight—that was the most tragic thing now... because it was too conspicuous. For now, his quiet departure from the capital was unknown to anyone, but if he flew on horseback and fell into the eyes of some observant god or demon, it would be like shouting "Fire at me!"

For the sake of the future goal of Wanzhuang and the Vermilion Bird competing on the same stage, a little caution was necessary.

Qinghe was only seven hundred li from the capital, with no mountain barriers along the way—a flat, open plain. Zhao Changhe was accustomed to observing the landscape along the road, and this time he truly felt the tension in Hebei.

On his earlier journey to the capital, the stretch from Qinghe to the capital was a prosperous area under the emperor's feet. Though there were refugees and beggars, merchants and travelers flowed like a stream, post stations dotted the route, and there were resting places almost every few miles. But this time, he found many post stations deserted, the whole route desolate.

Passing through some towns, people looked at him with fearful eyes, only relaxing when they saw he was a lone rider.

"Thought it was war..." In a tavern in a town, a drinker at the next table explained to Zhao Changhe: "Brother, with that tall horse of yours galloping wildly, if not war, you must be a messenger soldier..."

Zhao Changhe remained impassive: "Why would Hebei and the capital go to war?"

"Isn't that common knowledge? The late emperor cut off the foundation of the great clans. Do you think the Qinghe Cui are pushovers? They've been at daggers drawn for a long time."

"The Qinghe Cui don't represent the whole Yan-Zhao region."

"Pretty much... The late emperor only knew how to tamper with swords, not do anything else. Over the years, every major clan has become like a separate state spanning prefectures and commanderies. Saying the whole Zhao region belongs to the Cui might be an exaggeration, but two-thirds? That's about right. The remaining third belongs to the Lu..."

Another drinker chimed in: "Hey, do you think the Asura King being enfeoffed as the Prince of Zhao has something to do with this?"

"You mean giving the Cui's territory to the Asura King?"

"I think there's something to it. Wasn't the Prince of Zhao originally betrothed to the Cui family's young lady? Given the current atmosphere, I'd say it's up in the air..."

Zhao Changhe: "..."

This Prince of Zhao title was an emergency measure forced by Tang Wanzhuang publicly demanding that Xia Chichi betroth him—at the time, there was no leisure to consider the political significance of a single character; it was just a random surname to fob off. But if someone with an agenda spun it, it seemed to have some plausibility. At least, how the Cui family would view it was hard to say...

This mission seemed to have other complications...

The Wang, Li, and other clans would not want the Cui to rekindle that betrothal with Zhao Changhe; they would use every means to sabotage it.

If that were the case...

"Sir, your wine is here~" The waiter cheerfully brought over wine and meat, smiling, "Sorry to keep you waiting..."

Zhao Changhe looked with a half-smile at the steam rising from the hot wine before him and muttered to himself, "I go out for a meal and encounter a jianghu tale of poison and assassination—it's been so long since I last experienced this, how nostalgic... But I never expected the Listening Snow Pavilion's tricks to have improved so little. Truly disappointing..."