Chapter Nineteen: What About Me?

The standoff before Shanglin Garden was gradually calming, and Shangguan Qing was already contemplating how to slowly diffuse the conflict. After all, the threat from Xu Changhai still rang in his ears from the day before. If Xu truly lost his mind... the consequences were unimaginable. Sixteen years ago, the Grand Tutor had already turned words into action...

Yet the brief peace was shattered by the approaching thunder of hooves on Chang’an Street.

Squadrons of armored cavalry converged from different directions, their purpose unmistakable.

A sickly-looking middle-aged man appeared at the gates of Shanglin Garden. After surveying the scene, he immediately understood what had transpired. Frowning at Shangguan Yu, he said, “Go back.”

Shangguan Yu regarded him coldly, saying nothing but pointing to his injured right arm, clearly unwilling to leave so easily.

This middle-aged man was none other than Shangguan Yu’s second uncle, Shangguan Ning, commander of the left wing of the Divine Strategy Army responsible for the defense of the Eastern Capital. A contingent of Divine Strategy cavalry stood behind him.

From the other direction came the Iron Cavalry of the Dragon Martial Army, guardians of the Eastern Capital, led at the front by none other than His Highness Prince Jingwu, the Emperor’s younger brother.

Ever since Xu Changhai had revealed Li Fu’s identity the day before, nearly every noble household in the capital knew: Li Fu was the heir of the Grand Tutor!

Judging by Li Fu’s age, it was clear the Grand Tutor had left the capital not long after Li Fu’s birth. Over the years, rumors involving the royal family had abounded, implicating not only the Grand Tutor but first and foremost the Heavenly Strategy House.

And now, it was not only these two squadrons at the gates of Shanglin Garden. Down Chang’an Street, a black banner fluttered ominously. Prince Jingwu felt a chill, for the three great generals of the Heavenly Strategy House stood nearby, with three thousand elite soldiers at their backs! Recalling Xu Changhai’s words the previous day outside the Shangguan residence… it was evident that today’s events would not be easily resolved.

Could it be that Lord Marquis Diwu’s intentions differed from the Emperor’s? Was he truly preparing to overturn that old case and oppose His Majesty?

Prince Jingwu looked at the three thousand Heavenly Strategy elites not far away, and unease crept into his heart. Many in the capital had lived through that fateful night two hundred years ago, but few understood the truth behind it. The Emperor’s ascension had not been secured merely because he commanded the Divine Strategy Army; it had been the intervention of the wine minister, Marquis Diwu, and Lord Zhangsun, with their secret machinations, that had proved decisive!

Yet whether it was the incident at the Shangguan residence or today at Shanglin Garden, all signs pointed to the rising tension between the Heavenly Strategy and Divine Strategy factions! Though the Emperor had not yet issued an edict on these events, if the matter could not be quelled, the fragile peace at court and in the army would be shattered!

A ruler’s wrath could lay corpses across a thousand miles; should His Majesty’s fury be provoked, neither the Heavenly nor the Divine Strategy Houses could withstand it.

For now, Prince Jingwu could only do his utmost to maintain order, lest the capital witness a repeat of that night two centuries past.

The conflict that had been suppressed the day before was now reignited by today’s events, burning even fiercer. In the current Tang, aside from the five protectorates on the frontiers, only a handful of armies within the realm could be mobilized at will—and the Heavenly Strategy forces were the most formidable among them! The Shangguan family was playing with fire.

Prince Jingwu did not spare the Shangguan family’s dignity, berating them sternly in public.

Shangguan Yu’s face grew ever paler, his anger mounting.

Prince Jingwu’s arrival with the Dragon Martial Guard had not only deprived him of any chance to retaliate, but also humiliated him by rebuking him on Chang’an Street before the gathered crowds!

No matter his fury, Shangguan Yu was powerless. Prince Jingwu stood firm before the gates of the Heavenly Strategy Academy.

Most crucially, in the distance, the three great generals of the Heavenly Strategy House watched with three thousand elite troops, their eyes fixed like predators on the scene before Shanglin Garden. If that madman Xu Changhai was driven to desperation, he truly was capable of anything—this was no idle threat. Any veteran in the army knew of “Madman Xu”; if he lost control, not even the Emperor might dare condemn him to death.

Shangguan Yu looked at Li Fu and the other two, raising an eyebrow. He took the reins handed to him by his personal guard and barked, “Let’s go!”

“To go?”

The same word, yet with a different tone, carried an entirely different meaning.

Yang Zixu, spear in hand, fixed him with a gaze. “You think you can just leave?”

In today’s fight, Yang Zixu and Jiang Moyuan had gravely wounded four of Shangguan Qiyu’s personal guards, and Li Fu’s sword had dealt Shangguan Yu a severe injury. If not for Shangguan Qing’s intervention, Shangguan Yu might have already met his end at the point of Yang Zixu’s spear.

But it was Shangguan Yu himself who had shattered the gates of Shanglin Garden.

Prince Jingwu frowned slightly, glancing at the young master of the Heavenly Plume General’s family. He recalled the many rumors circulating through the alleys of the Eastern Capital about this youth. Now, hearing his words and observing his actions, he found him reckless, with little regard for the greater good.

“You think you can smash my garden gates and walk away? Is there such a thing as getting off scot-free in this world? Did your dead ghost of a father never teach you how to apologize?”

Yang Zixu strode forward two steps, pointing at the ruined gates behind him.

It was hardly a mystery why Shangguan Yu had appeared at Shanglin Garden’s gate. It was because, the previous day, Li Fu had caused the Shangguan family to lose face; even when the family’s banner was cut down before their own mansion, they dared not protest, and several hundred soldiers had been slain before their eyes, with the perpetrators departing unchallenged.

Yet for all this upheaval, no imperial edict had come from the palace. How could the Shangguan family swallow such humiliation?

“If I recall correctly, you’re not even of the Heavenly Strategy House. Since when did the Yang family become their lapdogs?”

Shangguan Yu accepted a riding whip from a nearby guard, idly caressing the jade bead on its handle.

“And what about me?”

Before Yang Zixu could reply, a middle-aged man, gentle as warm jade, strolled forward from not far off and spoke.

Shangguan Yu hesitated, not recognizing the newcomer.

“Marquis Shengwu!? You—you—what are you doing in the Eastern Capital?!”

Prince Jingwu stared in disbelief at the middle-aged man before him.

The man smiled and replied, “And why shouldn’t I be here?”

Prince Jingwu frowned, his tone turning cold. “What are you saying? You know perfectly well! Before his death, the late Emperor left a command, ordering you to guard the Anbei Protectorate for life, never to set foot in the capital! As a subject, do you dare defy the Emperor’s dying decree?”

“The Emperor’s decree… I stopped heeding those centuries ago. If I remember rightly, you were present at the time. Have you forgotten?”

The Marquis Shengwu’s smile vanished, his face becoming impassive. “You’re correct—the imperial edict at Tongguan ordered the Marquis Shengwu to guard the pass for all eternity. But I am no longer the Marquis Shengwu. The decree was for the Marquis Shengwu; what has that to do with me? I remained at Tongguan all these years because he was my father. But don’t forget, the late Emperor’s final testament stripped me of my title. I am no longer Marquis Shengwu—I am now Prince Ji, and I have come to the Eastern Capital in that capacity.”

“I can rightly say that I am both the guardian of Tongguan as Marquis Shengwu, and the twelfth son of the Middle Emperor—Prince Ji.”

“The Marquis Shengwu must remain at Tongguan forever; Prince Ji is not bound by that. The late Emperor never forbade Prince Ji from traveling. Is there a problem?”

Prince Jingwu looked at him, emotions warring within. He knew of the two edicts Marquis Shengwu spoke of: one had been issued after the Marquis had deserted his post at Tongguan, allowing Northern Yan to seize the pass and invade the Tang. It had taken the Emperor himself, leading the army in person, to reclaim it. Before leaving Tongguan, the Emperor had commanded the Marquis Shengwu never to take a single step beyond the pass.

Because of that campaign, the Emperor had contracted a fatal illness and died not long after returning to the capital. On his deathbed, he revoked all honorary titles from his sons, leaving only their royal peerages earned at adulthood.

With a sigh, Prince Jingwu said, “Centuries have passed, yet your nature is as unyielding as ever, your presence just as formidable. It was always so.”

The Marquis Shengwu replied impassively, “Yes, I lost Tongguan. But why did the late Emperor not punish me? Why? Because I was not at fault. That year, the pass was indefensible, and the Emperor knew it. Yet he chose not to believe it, stubbornly thinking the pass impregnable for generations. And what was the result? I held out for three months and still could not withstand Northern Yan’s assault. Given all that, why should I not be unyielding? Why should my presence not be formidable?”

Chang’an Street fell silent, broken only by the sound of the north wind scattering plum blossoms.

Neither those at the gates of Shanglin Garden nor the many hidden further down the street spoke a word.

The Marquis Shengwu’s words revealed long-buried secrets of the past.