Chapter Fifty: Beneath the Way, All Are but Ants

The Third Steward looked up and saw that the Lady’s expression remained unchanged. Resolute, he gritted his teeth and said, “I understand.” He picked up a knife in his right hand, and with one swift motion, he severed his own left hand, letting it fall to the ground.

Blood splattered several feet, and he convulsed in agony, unable to utter a word, nearly fainting from the pain.

At that moment, the guards who had gone to the restaurant finally rushed out. They were about to report to the Lady when they saw Yan Yunfei present; immediately, they kept their distance, not daring to let him notice them.

Yan Yunfei swept his gaze across the distant figures, then let out a cold snort. “Let this matter rest here. But if I find any recurrence, it won’t just be a hand next time!”

With that, Yan Yunfei burst into laughter and strode out of the mansion, singing as he went, “Though battered a thousand times, still strong and firm, let the winds from all directions blow! Wonderful, indeed!” Yang Riduan followed closely behind, hands at his sides.

Once outside the mansion, Yang Riduan said, “Master, you also drank at the Tianran Residence at noon. Shouldn’t we attend to the locust plague now?”

Yan Yunfei shook his head. “No. There are still two days before the locusts arrive. Though that Liu fellow is greedy, his strength is considerable. If he takes action, he should be able to stop the locusts. For now, we’ll secretly observe Chu Youcai.”

Yang Riduan asked, “Master, what do you mean?”

“I sense that he’s already laid the foundation for his Dao Heart; he’s not simple. And today, when he recited ‘Bamboo and Stone,’ he showed intention to enter the Way through poetry. If he truly is a fine jade, I ought to guide him.”

Yang Riduan replied softly, “Yes. But tomorrow, no matter what, Master must deal with the locusts. Otherwise, if they reach the outskirts of Yanzhou City, it may be too late.”

“I know!” Yan Yunfei said impatiently, striding forward with great steps.

At this moment, watching Yan Yunfei stride ahead with the wind, Yang Riduan felt a warmth rise in his heart. Master claimed to be evaluating Chu Youcai’s talent, but in truth, he worried for Chu Youcai and Hongyu, wishing to protect them in secret—just as he had once protected him. He sighed inwardly: Master’s secret concern for Chu Youcai revealed his unease about the Lady, proving her cultivation was no less than his own. It seemed their journey in Yanzhou would be fraught with obstacles.

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Meanwhile, in the Prince of Chu’s mansion, the Third Steward watched Yan Yunfei’s departing figure, resentment flickering in his gaze.

He pressed on his own acupuncture points to stop the bleeding, applied wound medicine both internally and externally, and only then did the pain subside a little. In a low voice, he asked the Lady, “Madam, do you wish to act against Yan Yunfei again?”

The Lady replied coldly, “Do you have the life to take him down?”

The Third Steward fell silent.

The Lady spoke indifferently, “Your work has been sloppy. From now on, you’re relieved of your steward duties. Go and serve as a menial worker in Dongxi Courtyard.”

The Third Steward’s face turned ashen. “Madam, for thirty years, if I’ve no great merits, I’ve at least worked hard…”

But two young attendants quickly escorted him out.

Just then, the Chief Steward approached the Lady, bowing deeply, a sharp light in his eyes. “Madam, the eldest young master has sent word. He has now broken through his Dao Heart and cultivated ten years of Daoist power.”

“Good.” The Lady nodded. “Since he has cultivated ten years of Daoist power, there is none who can rival him in the Prince’s mansion. There is no need to trouble with Chu Youcai. Beneath Daoist power, all are but ants; no one else can stir up any trouble. This time, the position for the Prince’s mansion is certain to be Awei’s.”

Her gaze grew cool and deep. “This year’s Zhuxian Academy holds unimaginable opportunities, rare in a thousand years. Go now and investigate—see who in Yanzhou might threaten Awei. Within a month, eliminate them all in secret. No more mistakes.”

“Yes.” The Chief Steward bowed, his body resuming its earlier stoop.

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Chu Youcai and his companions returned home, all breathing a sigh of relief. They never expected to encounter Yan Yunfei by chance, much less to receive such timely help.

But Chu Youcai knew that, had Yan Yunfei not appeared today, he would have been at daggers drawn with the Prince’s mansion. If the Lady herself had acted against him, what could he have done?

A sense of urgency welled up within him.

His own cultivation was still far from sufficient. Though his name had been cleared, what of it?

Beneath Daoist power, all are but ants. In the world inside the Dragon Pearl of Mount Tuo, he had died under the opponent’s blade technique without even touching Lei Yinyang.

Moreover, without Daoist arts, even if mortals possessed cursed treasures, their lifespans would eventually be exhausted.

Cultivation—only cultivation could save him!

Chu Youcai immediately entered his room and began to attune his mind to the changes of the stars and heavens.

But this time, he sensed something different—as if, within his body, in that icy snow-filled valley, an ancient pine tree had appeared.

Straight as a mountain, towering into the clouds.

A thought struck Chu Youcai—could this be the effect of his poem, “Bamboo and Stone,” laying the foundation for his Daoist arts and resulting in a breakthrough?

His reputation had not yet improved, and “Bamboo and Stone” was not widespread, so he could not have gained any literary aura. Yet something unusual had occurred. What could it be?

He pondered for a long time but could not solve the riddle. He set the matter aside and continued his cultivation.

To his surprise, this session was as smooth as splitting bamboo. He could even sense the icy valley within his body beginning to condense, absorbing the breath of heaven and earth, gathering the intent of a snow-capped peak.

Chu Youcai felt that if he could form this snowy peak, he would break through the final barrier to cultivating Daoist arts.

He was overjoyed, as if seeing the dawn of hope.

As he cultivated, Yun Cuixian halted outside his door.

She had countless words she wished to say to Chu Youcai—she wanted to know his past, to share hardships with him, to face the storms of the future together. But seeing his solemn concentration, she set aside her thoughts for the moment and quietly kept watch.

Suddenly, she heard the old madam in the next room cry out in pain.

Yun Cuixian’s heart tightened. Had something gone wrong with the medicine her husband had prepared?

Without hesitation, Yun Cuixian hurried next door.

There, she discovered a malignant sore on the old madam’s leg, oozing pus and blood.

The old madam lay in bed, enduring the pain, while Shangguan Wanru held a knife, wanting to cut the sore but unable to bring herself to do it.

Though Shangguan Wanru was skilled in martial arts, her concern made her hesitant, and dealing with such a sore required delicate skill—she simply did not dare.

Without delay, Yun Cuixian took the knife, and gently cut into the sore, causing pus and blood to flow out at once.