Chapter 76 The Grand Master of Night Chess

Night fell.

Chen Yuan changed into a dark-colored robe and did not leave through the front door.

He circled around the rockery in the backyard, tapped his toes on the wall, and landed silently in the alley.

The Wuwei Sutra suppressed all his Qi, allowing his entire being to blend into the night; even his shadow faded by thirty percent.

On the courtyard wall, Bixiao opened her eyes.

She sat cross-legged on the glazed tiles, hand on her sword hilt, about to leap and follow—when a hand pressed down on her shoulder.

Yunxiao stood behind her, having arrived at some unknown time.

"Let him go."

Bixiao tilted her head: "He's alone—"

"He knows what he's doing."

Bixiao stared at Yunxiao for two breaths before swallowing her words.

Her sister rarely spoke in such a tone. The last time was on Jinao Island.

Back when Gu Ziyuan braved the Zhenlong Chess Game alone to trap and kill the Long-eared Dingguang Immortal.

Bixiao released her sword hilt, sat back down properly, and let out a huff.

"Don't come looking for me if something goes wrong."

Yunxiao didn't respond. Her gaze fell on the direction Chen Yuan had vanished, as still as a jade carving.

—

Chen Yuan crossed three dark alleys and stopped at the back door of the Grand Tutors Mansion.

The door wasn't closed.

It was left ajar, a sliver of lamplight leaking through the crack.

He pushed the door open, walked through a narrow corridor, and stood still at the study door.

Only one candle burned inside, casting a dim, yellow light.

Grand Preceptor Wen Zhong sat behind the table, an old chessboard and a pot of tea laid out before him.

Two coarse ceramic bowls sat there without saucers.

This was not the etiquette for receiving guests.

It was the manner of two men on a battlefield, squatting by a campfire and gnawing on dry rations.

"Sit."

Chen Yuan lifted his robe and sat down, picking up a white piece.

Grand Preceptor Wen Zhong held the black pieces.

There were no pleasantries, no polite formalities.

The sound of pieces being placed echoed in the empty study, one after another, at a steady pace.

Fifteen moves in.

Grand Preceptor Wen Zhong suddenly spoke: "You didn't come to see me just for the sake of the marriage decree."

Chen Yuan pressed down a white piece with a crisp sound.

"Since the Grand Preceptor is straightforward, this Junior will not beat around the bush."

Grand Preceptor Wen Zhong scoffed: "If you intended to beat around the bush, you wouldn't have come through the back door tonight."

Chen Yuan stopped smiling.

"The Grand Preceptor was in the North Sea for three years. Do you know what Zhaoge has become now?"

Grand Preceptor Wen Zhong didn't answer and placed a piece.

Chen Yuan continued unhurriedly.

Seventeen memorials impeaching loyal officials had been submitted within a single month.

The rewards for the heroes of the Eastern Yi war were unevenly distributed, and the veterans returning from the front lines were privately cursing.

Crown Prince Zi Shou had obtained military power, but Emperor Yi had simultaneously stuffed three civil official overseers by his side.

Someone in the court was secretly colluding with external forces—he didn't mention Chi Jingzi's name, using only four words to cover it.

"The Heavens are restless."

Grand Preceptor Wen Zhong's movement to place a piece paused for half a breath.

Then, his playing style changed abruptly.

The frequency of his moves quickened by thirty percent; it was no longer a leisurely probe, but sharp and forceful strokes like a cleaver or an axe.

Every move was a verification—verifying whether the things Chen Yuan said were the same as what he had secretly investigated in the three days since his return to court.

One move. Two moves. Five moves.

All correct.

Not just 'mostly' correct. The details were precise down to the month, the names, and the memorial serial numbers.

In fact, some matters went even deeper than what he knew.

Grand Preceptor Wen Zhong put the black piece in his hand back into the box.

The vertical line in the center of his forehead silently split open a thin slit—the Heavenly Eye.

This was not intentional.

Having cultivated for hundreds of years, the Heavenly Eye was already tied to his instincts; when his alertness reached a certain threshold, it would open uncontrollably.

A sliver of extremely fine immortal power swept through the slit toward the youth opposite him.

Inside Chen Yuan's body, the Wuwei Sutra operated as usual.

The Taiyi Peak cultivation, the Dao charm of the Great Dao Golden Wheel, and the aura of the Shangqing Immortal Arts were all suppressed cleanly.

What appeared in Grand Preceptor Wen Zhong's Heavenly Eye was exactly the same as on the hunting grounds during the day—

A blank sheet of paper.

Grand Preceptor Wen Zhong withdrew his gaze, his expression unchanging.

But his attention had already shifted to the chessboard.

A person's chess style cannot lie.

The moves of the youth before him were not the patterns a Mortal should have.

The rhythm and breath hidden within those intersecting black and white pieces, the direction of the key points, the timing of sacrificing pieces...

The control over the entire board was like a smooth bronze mirror, reflecting the veins of the world's operation.

When Grand Preceptor Wen Zhong cultivated in the Jie Sect, he had played countless games against his Master and Junior Martial Uncles.

Golden Spirit Holy Mother's chess was sharp, Zhao Gongming's was overbearing, and his own was as steady as a rock. But the chess of this "Mortal youth"—

It didn't belong to any of those.

It was alive.

On the thirty-first move, Chen Yuan placed a white piece.

The moment the piece touched the board, an extremely faint charm diffused outward.

Ancient, profound, and carrying something that transcended the level of techniques.

It was fleeting, so fast that even a Taiyi Golden Immortal's Divine Sense might not be able to lock onto it.

But the Heavenly Eye locked onto it.

Grand Preceptor Wen Zhong's fingers stiffened at the edge of the chess box for three full breaths.

He didn't ask further, nor did he expose it. He simply carved that flash of Dao charm firmly into the depths of his memory.

Then he did one thing.

He pushed the chessboard aside.

"Regarding the marriage decree," Grand Preceptor Wen Zhong stared at him.

"What do you plan to do?"

No more probing, no more beating around the bush.

The veteran's way—when the blade is at your throat, stop talking nonsense.

Chen Yuan met his gaze.

"Neither refuse nor marry. Delay."

Grand Preceptor Wen Zhong frowned: "Delay until when?"

"Delay until Emperor Yi withdraws the decree himself."

Grand Preceptor Wen Zhong's eyebrows lifted.

Chen Yuan didn't finish his sentence.

He only gave the first half—make Emperor Yi realize the cost of the marriage far outweighs the benefits.

As for how to do it, he kept half of it to himself.

Grand Preceptor Wen Zhong picked up the coarse ceramic bowl, took a sip of tea, and set it down.

"Do you know that this old man is also a Disciple of the Jie Sect?"

The study fell silent.

The candle wick popped once, the flame jumping.

The hand Chen Yuan used to hold the bowl paused for a moment, then he brought the tea to his mouth and swallowed.

"I know."

Grand Preceptor Wen Zhong stared at him: "You knew and still dared to come. Aren't you afraid I'll report your background to His Majesty?"

Chen Yuan put down the bowl.

"If the Grand Preceptor wanted to report, he wouldn't have said only those eight words to Emperor Yi today."

Grand Preceptor Wen Zhong said nothing.

Chen Yuan said calmly: "'Talent is real, ambition unseen.'—That's what the Grand Preceptor said, right?"

Grand Preceptor Wen Zhong threw his head back and laughed three times.

The laughter rolled around the empty study a few times before stopping abruptly.

His Face returned to its stern coldness, and his voice was kept extremely low.

"I will say this only once."

"I am a Disciple of the Jie Sect, and I am also the Grand Preceptor of Great Shang. These two identities have never conflicted within me."

"Whoever makes them conflict—"

He looked into Chen Yuan's eyes. Golden light shimmered heavily within the slit of the Heavenly Eye, radiating majesty without anger.

"No one's Face will be of any use."

Chen Yuan stood up, cupped his hands, and bowed.

"This Junior has committed it to memory."

He straightened up and walked toward the door. As his hand touched the doorframe, he stopped.

"Grand Preceptor."

"Hmm?"

"Emperor Yi has a third strike."

Grand Preceptor Wen Zhong's breath hitched for a beat.

Chen Yuan's back was to him, his voice very faint.

"My father, Chen Lie, is likely going to be transferred to Xuanshuang Pass."

A breath of silence.

Chen Yuan pushed the door open and left without looking back.

Behind him, the door closed.

Grand Preceptor Wen Zhong sat alone at the table, a remnant game before him.

The lamplight stretched his shadow very long, and the golden light in the slit of the Heavenly Eye flickered.

He sat in that position for a long time.

Then he reached out and pinched the white piece Chen Yuan had placed last.

He looked at the position of that piece three times over.

Under the siege of black pieces across the board, the white pieces were in a dead end.

Except for this one move—placed in an extremely inconspicuous corner, neither attacking nor defending, seemingly a stray stroke.

But following this piece and projecting in all directions, every line led to a way out.

It was the only 'eye' in a board full of dead pieces.

Grand Preceptor Wen Zhong put the piece back in its original place, stood up, and blew out the lamp.

In the darkness, his voice was very soft.

"Interesting."

—

Thousands of miles away, in a side hall of the Zhaoge Palace.

The Commander of the Secret Guards knelt on one knee, presenting a secret letter sealed with wax with both hands.

Emperor Yi opened it and read it line by line.

"Chen Yuan left his manor and went to the Grand Preceptor?"

"Yes. He stayed for half an hour."

Emperor Yi placed the secret letter over the candle flame, watching it burn to ash.

"My Grand Preceptor has only been back at court for three days, and someone is already knocking on his door."

He let out a laugh. The mirth did not reach his eyes.

"Issue a decree."

The secret guard lowered his head.

"Move up the transfer order. Read it out in the hall during tomorrow's morning court."