Chapter 75 The Imperial Marriage Scandal

At the hour of Chen the next day, the gates of the Chen Manor were pounded upon.

Three knocks—steady, powerful, and evenly spaced. It was the protocol of officialdom.

The gatekeeper pulled back the latch, and upon seeing the spectacle outside, his legs went weak, nearly causing him to collapse onto the threshold.

Grand Preceptor Wen Zhong.

Clad in the court robes of the Grand Preceptor, his hair bound in a golden crown, he held a bright yellow imperial decree. Behind him stood two rows of the Imperial Guard honor guard.

Their armor gleamed, lining the way from Vermilion Bird Avenue all the way to the manor gates.

The gatekeeper scrambled inside, his voice cracking with urgency.

"Young Master! Grand Preceptor Wen has arrived! He's brought an imperial decree!"

Grand Preceptor Wen Zhong stepped into the manor, his pace unhurried.

His gaze swept calmly across the courtyard—the bamboo grove was sparse, the rockery elegant, and a few koi in the fish pond swam lazily.

There were no piles of gold or silver, no displays of fine silks.

It looked more like a hermit's residence.

The Heavenly Eye on Grand Preceptor Wen Zhong's forehead twitched slightly; though he didn't intentionally open it, his peripheral vision had already scanned the Qi of the entire courtyard.

Clean.

Too clean.

Chen Yuan straightened his clothes and came out to greet him, lifting his robes to kneel with his hands raised flat above his head.

Grand Preceptor Wen Zhong unfurled the bright yellow silk and read aloud in a resonant voice.

"By the decree of Emperor Yi—Lord Wende, Chen Yuan, possesses both talent and virtue, having served the state with merit;"

"The female general who protects the nation, Huang Yuerong, is a heroine who rivals any man, her loyalty and bravery commendable."

"A marriage is hereby bestowed upon the two, to be wed on an auspicious day. A thousand taels of gold, a hundred bolts of silk, and three hundred acres of fertile land east of Zhaoge are granted as dowry. By imperial command."

Every word was a favor, every sentence a display of vast imperial grace.

Kneeling on the ground, Chen Yuan accepted the decree with both hands, his expression as calm as still water.

"Your servant, Chen Yuan, thanks Your Majesty for your great grace."

A few words. No more, no less.

As Grand Preceptor Wen Zhong handed the decree to him, the moment his fingertips touched the other's palm, he felt a steady pulse.

No acceleration, no trembling.

Grand Preceptor Wen Zhong was secretly startled.

It wasn't joy, nor fear, nor rejection.

There was nothing at all. This level of composure—let alone an eighteen-year-old—not even veteran officials of the third rank or higher in the court could achieve it.

"Lord Wende, His Majesty's grace is profound; you should prepare well," Grand Preceptor Wen Zhong said politely, offering the standard formalities.

Chen Yuan stood up and nodded with a smile. "Rest assured, Grand Preceptor. I shall follow the imperial will."

Grand Preceptor Wen Zhong turned to leave the manor. As he crossed the threshold, his peripheral vision caught a glimpse of figures moving behind the bamboo curtains of the rear hall.

Without stopping his pace, the slit of his Heavenly Eye twitched slightly.

He couldn't clearly sense the aura of the figures.

It was as if an invisible barrier stood behind the bamboo curtains, letting nothing through.

Grand Preceptor Wen Zhong withdrew his gaze, his expression unchanged. He mounted the Ink Kirin and led the honor guard toward the palace city.

The front hall fell silent.

Holding the decree, Chen Yuan walked back to the table. Just as he set the silk down—

*Bang.*

The door to the rear hall was kicked open.

Bixiao stormed out, her eyes practically spitting fire.

"A marriage decree?! What right does he have to decree a marriage?!"

Her voice was kept low, but every word sounded as if it were squeezed through her teeth.

"A Mortal emperor dares to arrange a marriage for a Disciple of the Sect of Interception?"

Qiong Xiao followed, pulling at her sleeve, her eyes already reddening.

"Second Sister, don't be impulsive..."

But her own voice was trembling.

The teacup she held had cracked at some point.

Tea dripped through the crack, but she was completely oblivious.

Bixiao rushed up to Chen Yuan and stared at him.

"You accepted it?"

Chen Yuan pushed the decree to the corner of the table.

"If I didn't, Emperor Yi would have an excuse to charge me with defying an imperial decree by tomorrow."

Bixiao was momentarily speechless, her chest heaving even more violently.

"Then do you actually intend to marry her? To marry that Mortal female general?"

Yunxiao walked out from the rear hall.

Her steps were light, stopping three paces behind Bixiao.

She didn't stop Bixiao, nor did she speak.

Her heavy gaze fell on Chen Yuan's face, waiting for his answer.

That look sent a chill down Chen Yuan's spine.

He took a deep breath and spoke.

"This decree isn't a blessing; it's a second blade."

"Emperor Yi wants to use Huang Yuerong to bind me, and even more so, to use her as an informant. If I refuse, it would play right into his hands."

Bixiao sneered.

"So you plan to compromise? To turn the act into reality?"

Chen Yuan looked at her.

Inside Bixiao's anger today was something he had never seen before. It wasn't rage.

It was fear.

Qiong Xiao suddenly interjected in a small voice.

"Then... do you actually like her or not?"

The room went silent.

Bixiao's breathing hitched. Yunxiao's fingers resting by her knees curled slightly, her fingertips digging into her palms beneath her skirt.

Chen Yuan remained silent for two breaths.

"She is my comrade-in-arms, my benefactor. But regarding this marriage decree—"

He paused, his voice dropping extremely low.

"I know what I'm doing."

Bixiao stared at him for three breaths.

She huffed and turned to leave.

As she passed the doorframe, her shoulder slammed hard against the edge.

She ignored it.

And she didn't look back.

Qiong Xiao bit her lower lip and followed her out with hurried steps.

Only two people remained in the room.

Yunxiao walked to the table, picked up the decree, slowly rolled it up, and placed it into a nearby wooden box.

Her movements were extremely light, as if she were doing something trivial.

"Senior Sister—"

Just as Chen Yuan began to speak, Yunxiao raised a hand, cutting him off.

"Everything you said is correct."

Her voice was flat, without a hint of emotion.

"I understand Emperor Yi's calculations, and the decree cannot be refused."

She snapped the lid of the wooden box shut and looked up.

In those eyes that were usually gentle and serene, there was something Chen Yuan had never seen before.

It wasn't anger, nor was it jealousy.

It was a certainty far deeper, heavier, and more terrifying than either.

"The Lotus Seal on your body was planted by my own hand."

After saying this, she turned and left the room.

The door closed neither too hard nor too soft, just right.

Chen Yuan sat alone in the empty room.

The Lotus Seal on his chest grew slightly warm. He glanced down and gave a wry smile.

The smile lasted only for a breath.

His gaze shifted to the wooden box on the table, a flash of coldness vanishing in his eyes.

Emperor Yi wanted to trap him with a marriage contract.

The first blade was the impeachment, the second was the marriage decree, and the third was the transfer of his father.

A series of three blades, each one striking at his Foundation.

This game of chess was far more complex than Emperor Yi imagined.

In less than an hour, the news spread throughout Zhaoge.

The Huang Residence.

On the martial grounds, a long spear was being brandished into a blur of cold light.

The spear tip shredded the air, creating a sharp, piercing sound; no one dared approach within a thirty-foot radius.

Huang Yuerong had been practicing alone on the martial grounds for half an hour.

Three sets of tea service lay shattered on the floor of the main hall. The Imperial Guard messenger had been cursed out the gate by her, and the steward stood under the corridor, not daring to breathe loudly.

The spear's momentum suddenly ceased.

Huang Yuerong leaned on her spear, her chest heaving violently, her forehead drenched in sweat.

Blood seeped again from the scar on her right arm where the bandages had just been removed; she glanced down but ignored it.

"Decreed marriage."

She chewed over those words in her mouth as if grinding a piece of gravel.

It wasn't that she had never thought about getting married.

But she had never imagined being bestowed upon someone like a piece of merchandise.

And she certainly hadn't never considered the person she would marry being Chen Yuan.

She sat down by the edge of the martial grounds, the spear resting across her knees.

The fires of Broken Soul Ravine, the blood of the Altar of God, the cinnabar map inside that silk pouch—that man had sat in the rear command tent and saved three thousand lives with a single piece of paper.

When she crawled out alive from under the mountain-overturning seal, the first thing she saw was Zi Shou's furious face, but the second thing she thought of was that youth in white.

Did she like him?

Huang Yuerong gripped the spear shaft tightly, her knuckles turning white.

She didn't know.

She only knew that when Emperor Yi issued this decree, he was definitely not doing her a favor.

"This old lady's life was earned by myself; it's not something anyone can just use as a favor."

She stood up, the spear tip carving a deep furrow into the ground.

"But if that Chen Yuan dares to refuse—"

She stopped mid-sentence.

Her grip on the spear tightened even more.

Outside the main gate of the Huang Residence, a gatekeeper poked his head in and asked cautiously.

"Miss, His Highness the Crown Prince sent someone to ask if you would like to enter the palace tomorrow—"

A spear flew with a whoosh and thudded into the doorframe, less than two inches from the gatekeeper's ear.

"Get out."

The gatekeeper fled.

North of Zhaoge, in the study of the Chen Manor.

Chen Yuan sat alone by the window, the chessboard already mostly filled with black and white pieces.

He held a white piece between his fingers, twirling it twice, but did not place it down.

The sound of Bixiao sharpening her sword came from the courtyard.

She wasn't actually sharpening it; she was rubbing a stone against the scabbard, making a screeching sound that set one's teeth on edge.

Qiong Xiao squatted by the fish pond, throwing handful after handful of fish food.

The koi in the pond were so full their white bellies were turning up, yet she continued to scatter the food.

Yunxiao was not in the courtyard.

Chen Yuan glanced back toward the rear courtyard, set down his game piece, picked up a brush, and drew a circle next to the words "Xuanshuang Pass" on the city defense map.

Emperor Yi's third blade had already fallen.

Transferring his father to the bitter cold of the northern border—a promotion in name but a demotion in reality.

Three blades in succession; what would the next step be?

He set down the brush, his gaze darkening.

He could wait no longer.