Chapter 117: A Naive Young Girl, An Ill-Timed Romance

Three copper coins transformed into six, scattered around the chessboard without a trace of spiritual energy.

The middle-aged man in gray understood the material of the coins but could not fathom the force required to break them apart.

As the man in gray stood in shock, the robed elder’s expression grew even more refined—whether with joy or sorrow, it was hard to tell.

Suddenly, the man in gray slapped the elder's shoulder and laughed heartily, “He’s alive.”

The elder smiled wryly, exclaiming, “My innate Xuan Iron copper coins!”

The man in gray chuckled, “No matter. As long as the empire endures, treasures are never lacking.”

The elder felt there was no use continuing the conversation. This man cared only for the survival of the Great Song, indifferent to others’ gains or losses.

Helplessly, the elder lowered his head, unsure if he mourned the loss of the treasured heirloom passed down by his master or was contemplating the chessboard’s turning point.

Fragments of copper coins lay scattered across the board with no apparent pattern. The opened paths appeared unobstructed, seemingly indicating that the person represented by the divination was destined for rapid rise.

Yet, upon closer inspection, the three routes leading to the tortoise shell were ultimately blocked by the shell itself.

The elder murmured softly, “Could the secret lie here?”

Noticing the elder’s furrowed brow, the man in gray examined the changes on the board as well.

After a moment, he said gravely, “The mystery lies with His Majesty himself, though whether it is good or ill, I cannot say.”

The elder sighed, “At first glance, it appears ill-fated—it implies the imperial capital is blocking that person’s path. But viewed another way, it might mean that person is drawing closer to the capital.”

The elder refrained from naming who exactly was blocking the path, only referring to the imperial capital, implicitly meaning the sovereign of the Great Song seated upon the throne.

Though this reigning monarch was foolish and cruel, he remained the legitimate heir of the Song lineage, and loyalty was the foundation of any subject.

Therefore, even though three of the four great families involved in this rebellion wielded power across the court and foreign mystics from distant lands were implicated, the imperial tutor and the patriarch of the Shangguan family remained steadfastly loyal to their emperor.

The robed elder was the current imperial tutor; the man in gray was the patriarch of the Shangguan family.

The imperial tutor avoided discussing the merits or faults of His Majesty, and the patriarch understood this unspoken rule but did not press the matter.

He only said, “Let us hope this is a favorable turning point. That will depend on your efforts, Imperial Tutor.”

The tutor smiled bitterly, “I fear we won't last another ten years.”

The patriarch’s eyes darkened as he whispered, “That person listens to you most. We rough men can only strive outside; all internal and external affairs rest upon you.”

The tutor lowered his head and sighed deeply, gazing out the window at the tower beneath which autumn had arrived. Yellow leaves drifted down, resembling the gradual decline of the empire itself.

---

At a street corner, the elderly shopkeeper, sensing his end was near, hoped to see the coming spring, clinging to a sliver of hope.

The imperial tutor suddenly said, “General Lan is the empire’s strongest warrior; how could he have been harmed by those people?”

The patriarch pondered briefly before replying, “The capital’s prefecture investigated; it seems foreign mystics were involved.”

The tutor asked, “The token has disappeared as well?”

The patriarch nodded in acknowledgment.

The tutor tapped the window railing, releasing a cloud of dust that shimmered in the sunlight like a veil of light.

“You should understand that token is more than just a military emblem—it’s merely a facade for the outside world.”

The patriarch’s face shifted slightly, puzzled. “The Gate to the Outer Realm will open in a hundred years. Without the token, how can we face the demon soldiers’ assault?”

The tutor nodded solemnly, gazing at the blue sky above the empire, a bitter smile touching his lips.

“The divination’s subject feels familiar—I wonder if I know him. Still, I only hope he can fulfill the prophecy and protect the empire.”

---

In the northwest of the Great Song, the mountains and forests were picturesque.

Strange peaks and peculiar stones stood tall, the scenery undeniably beautiful. Yet frequent natural disasters rendered the area sparsely populated, and cultivators were few.

With fewer people, chaos was scarce; deception and treachery between men diminished, replaced by a touch of kindness.

The forest abounded with spiritual herbs, beneficial for healing and strengthening the body.

It was late autumn. Fallen leaves blanketed the ground as a young woman in a blue dress stepped softly upon them.

She used a sickle to sift through the branches along the path, occasionally crouching to pick something.

Her delicate features bore traces of youth, perhaps only sixteen or seventeen, yet her eyes revealed a steely resolve beyond her years.

Her brow furrowed in frustration; it seemed she could not find what she sought.

“Mistress says there should be Spirit-Repelling Grass here. How could there be none?” she muttered.

Continuing her search, she flipped aside fallen leaves and dead branches. After several attempts, her tense brow finally relaxed, replaced by a sweet smile.

Squatting lightly, she gently lifted a branch, reached in with her slender hand, undeterred by the insects within, and retrieved a sprig. Smiling faintly, she rose and began retracing her steps.

The path was long and tranquil; she did not encounter a single soul.

After an unknown stretch of time, the sun stood at the tops of willows, revealing a peach blossom grove.

---

Humming a tune, the woman quickened her pace, following the creek.

Despite the autumn season, the peach blossoms flourished unusually well. The breeze stirred petals into the water, causing no ripple but adding a serene elegance.

At the grove’s end lay a village, fields and mulberry and bamboo groves crisscrossed by winding paths. The sounds of chickens and dogs filled the air, as if a world apart.

One chimney released wisps of smoke, followed by others in silent sequence.

The woman hurried along the field path toward a small wooden house.

Before the house was a modest but neat courtyard, where several peach trees bloomed.

She stepped briskly into the yard and pushed open the wooden door.

Inside, the room was elegantly appointed, filled with a faint herbal fragrance mingled with subtle peach blossom scent.

A large wooden tub occupied the room, containing a person whose eyes were tightly shut, seemingly unconscious.

The person wore tattered clothes, faintly purple beneath the bloodstains that darkened the fabric.

Beneath the torn garment, long wounds were visible.

The woman sighed and swiftly placed the gathered herbs into the tub, gently closing the lid before stepping out.

Mist began to rise from the water, which seemed to have reached a boil.

The person inside showed no fear of the scalding water, keeping their eyes shut.

Suddenly, a jade pendant floated up from the water—a delicate, exquisite piece, clearly precious.

A dark aura emanated from the pendant, enveloping the young man inside the tub, releasing a white mist that drifted downward.

The visible wounds on his body began to heal rapidly, until he appeared unharmed, as if never wounded.

At that moment, the young man slowly opened his eyes, took the pendant, scanned his surroundings for danger, and then closed his eyes once again.

“Clean clothes are on the table. Change into them yourself, and come out to eat shortly,” came a soft voice from outside the room.