Chapter Thirty-Five: If It Is a Seed, Sooner or Later, It Will Sprout

Tonight, the Shanglin Court was no longer as lively as before; the turmoil of the day had yet to subside. If not for the intervention of several level-headed generals within the court, the repair of its gates would not have proceeded so smoothly, nor would the attendants of the Shangguan clan have managed to leave Chang’an Street with such ease.

The four who returned to the Tiance Academy were all preoccupied with their own thoughts. Li Fu and the others had not yet emerged from the story the Toastmaster had told, while Yang Ning was deeply curious about what exactly had transpired at the Imperial Ancestral Temple that day.

“Speak—what happened, exactly?” Yang Ning asked after a moment of silence.

Li Fu looked at him, his expression grave. “Do you really wish to know? This concerns the royal family.”

Yang Ning considered it and replied, “Isn’t it always about the royal family in the Eastern Capital? It’s nothing but power struggles.”

Li Fu shook his head, about to refute Yang Ning, but then realized he wasn’t wrong. When all was said and done, most of the events of the past eight centuries in Great Tang were connected to imperial power.

From Emperor Taizong, to the Holy Empress, and now to the present sovereign—whose hands are unstained by blood? That cold throne seemed like a fruit of dark magic, exposing the most ruthless and shadowed sides of human nature.

Who would imagine one’s own son would attempt patricide? Who would suspect that the one sharing one’s pillow every night would plot in the shadows, hiding secrets unknown to all? Even the ginseng soup placed to one’s lips could be laced with her own poison.

In the house of emperors, affection seemed nonexistent.

Yang Ning listened quietly to Li Fu’s retelling, feeling a chill creep over him.

Cold wind slipped through the unlatched window, causing the candlelight to flicker incessantly. The four sat cross-legged inside, yet none made a move to close the window.

“So, what the histories record is all false?” Yang Ning looked at Li Fu.

Li Fu considered, then said, “Not entirely. They simply hide all the unspeakable deeds.”

After a pause, Yang Ning asked, “Why did the Toastmaster tell you all this today? Does the late Crown Prince truly have living descendants in the Eastern Capital?”

In the minds of the Tang aristocracy, there had only ever been one true Crown Prince—Li Chengqian, the eldest son of Emperor Taizong.

Others were appointed by later emperors, but none met a good end. The Tang Crown Prince’s coronet seemed like a curse. To wear it was to face decapitation or exile.

Yang Zixu scratched his head, his eyes turning. He turned to Yang Ning, “Did it ever occur to you that you might be that descendant?”

This time, Yang Ning did not knock his head, but replied seriously, “Impossible. A royal child must have a golden tally and a jade tablet from birth. Without the jade tablet issued by the Grand Ministry of Rites, one cannot claim royal status. Even a lost imperial scion must possess the family’s jade tablet; without it, even the highest ministers and the Toastmaster’s word would not suffice to restore their place. I was brought from Yanmen Pass to the Eastern Capital by my foster father. I’ve never had such a thing since I can remember, so how could I be that person?”

Yang Zixu replied, “True enough. If you had anything of the sort, I’d be the first to know. It’s not as though I haven’t seen you in over a decade.”

Chu Ge, however, was unusually quiet. Since entering the room, he’d barely spoken, his gaze fixed on Li Fu.

“What is it?” Li Fu finally noticed Chu Ge’s stare.

“I think it’s you,” Chu Ge replied quietly, his tone calm and unhurried, as if stating something trivial.

All three, including Li Fu, were puzzled.

“If I’m not mistaken, you were raised by the Grand Preceptor. Sixteen years ago, on that night, the Grand Preceptor bathed half of Chang’an Street in blood. Then he left the Eastern Capital, vanishing from the aristocracy’s sight. You’ve just turned sixteen, matching the time of the Grand Preceptor’s departure. Of course, that alone proves nothing. But the Grand Preceptor personally taught you—an honor reserved for imperial offspring. And who tied your hair for you? The Toastmaster! Who else in Great Tang, aside from the late Crown Prince, has received such treatment? For centuries, only Li Chengqian.”

Yang Ning’s brows arched; Chu Ge’s words were not unfounded. Indeed, the Toastmaster had only ever tied hair for the late Crown Prince.

Moreover, that night after leaving Daming Palace via the Vermilion Bird Way, the Marquis of Martial Valor had coveted the “Sole Soul” divine spear in Li Fu’s hands. If not for General Xu Changhai and the Tiance cavalry arriving at the third cross street, the spear would have been lost. In the Eastern Capital, who else could so easily deploy the elite of Tiance but the Marquis of Martial Valor? And the Marquis was the Grand Preceptor’s closest friend.

“Chu Ge is right. The Toastmaster has resided in the Imperial Temple for nearly two centuries with no word to the outside. Even the emperor struggles to see him, let alone the nobility. Yet since the Lantern Festival, his name has surfaced thrice in the Eastern Capital, each event involving you. Furthermore, the Toastmaster said that the seed was well protected by Taizong’s legacy. And Taizong’s legacy is none other than Tiance.”

Yang Zixu suddenly spoke; he’d known Li Fu longer than the others, and even they didn’t know about the “National Policy” incident. If it was the “National Policy,” who but the ruler could study it? Moreover, Tiance’s duty was not only to defend Tang but also to safeguard the imperial succession. If Taizong truly left a secret edict, Tiance would obey it. Provided the late Crown Prince’s descendant did not harm Tang, the entire house and army of Tiance would serve him as their lord.

Li Fu shook his head. By Chu Ge and Yang Zixu’s logic, he was the most likely suspect. He’d come to the Eastern Capital seeking the mystery of his origins. Many times he’d asked his master, but the response was always silence. Yet he could not believe himself to be that seed.

Silence fell once more. All their faces darkened.

Li Fu clenched his teeth, his voice cold. “I am not that seed. The ruthlessness of the imperial house is not the work of one or two generations. If it takes rivers of blood for personal gain, then it’s better that such a seed never sprouts.”

Yang Ning understood, as did Chu Ge, but Yang Zixu had a different view.

“Don’t forget, that seed will sprout sooner or later, just like the lotus in the pond. No matter how long it’s buried, a hundred or a thousand years, when the time and soil are right, it will bloom. And in Taizong’s last years, the throne was handed to the late Crown Prince—only to be stolen.”

“And Taizong? Wasn’t his throne seized as well?” Li Fu sighed, his tone calm and sincere.

Yang Zixu, a little agitated, retorted, “Taizong did seize the throne, but Emperor Gaozu left no clear heir. Why shouldn’t Taizong take it? The late Crown Prince’s descendant is different—Taizong left a secret edict.”

“Did he? That’s only what the Toastmaster claims. None of us have seen it.” Li Fu bowed his head, his face unreadable.

“If the Toastmaster says it exists, then it must. So long as there’s a trace, it remains in the world. Yes, it must still exist. The current Tang, beset by internal and external woes, is all the doing of that fat fool on the Taiji Hall. Tang needs new blood—complete renewal!” Yang Zixu’s voice grew sharp with anger.

Severe medicine for grave illness, harsh laws to restore order. Such is written in the Book of Tang Rites.

This was precisely Yang Zixu’s meaning.

Not only Yang Zixu, but Chu Ge, Yang Ning, and even Li Fu himself felt he was right.

For a century, Tang had indeed become sickly. The borders were held only by Tiance, and the garrison at Yumen Pass hadn’t rotated in years. The elite forces of founding Tang had been wasted in the wars for the throne. Even the vital Azure Cloud Armored Army had nearly been disbanded.

All this, because of royal infighting.

Within, the emperor favored the Shangguan family. The Divine Strategy Army maintained ambiguous ties with them. If not for the Dragon Guard and a portion of Tiance’s elite cavalry in the Eastern Capital, who could guarantee the Shangguan clan would not become another Wu family? That Shangguan Yan would not become another Holy Empress?

Yang Ning lightly patted Yang Zixu’s hand, signaling him to stop. To declare someone the late Crown Prince’s descendant without conclusive evidence would only bring trouble.

“That’s enough for tonight. Whatever needs saying, let’s discuss it tomorrow. Zixu, don’t return home tonight. Stay here at Tiance Academy,” Yang Ning said, standing and glancing seriously at Yang Zixu.

...

Back in the room temporarily assigned to Li Fu at Tiance Academy, his eyelids felt heavy with fatigue.

His heart weighed down—not only by the day’s events, but more so by the words of Yang Zixu and Chu Ge.

In the rice-scented village, his master had never revealed his origins, only that he hailed from the Eastern Capital. Yet in just a few months since arriving, so much had happened—Lantern Festival examinations, the Toastmaster, the Shangguan family, his master’s true identity...

All of it was closely entwined with him, burdens no sixteen-year-old should bear.

Li Fu approached the bed, intending to rest.

But his gaze was drawn to the long case on the table—the “Sole Soul” divine spear of Taizong within.

He recalled the Toastmaster’s words from earlier, walked to the table, and opened the case. The black dragon-etched spear glimmered strangely in the candlelight.

On its exquisite shaft, faint, slender lines seemed to flow—traces left by years of battlefield slaughter...