Chapter 347: Parting

Meanwhile, the Eldest Prince found himself begrudgingly ushered into the commander's grand mansion, the tension in his jaw a palpable reminder of the ridicule he'd been dodging all day. Yet, just as he was ready to spit venom and assert some semblance of power, his scathing words evaporated the moment his gaze fell upon the figure lounging in the main seat.

A mask obscured the face, but the air of command was unmistakable. The leader of the Seven Stars Bureau. Here? Of all places?

The memories hit him like a whip. Every ounce of humiliation and degradation he'd suffered at this person’s hands surged back into sharp focus. His mind replayed that fateful day in the Bureau’s Hall of Punishment—the cold eyes, the biting words, the calculated cruelty. His skin burned with the lingering echo of shame, fury mingling with the heat that flushed his face. He froze in the doorway, as if rooted there by the sheer force of his spiraling emotions.

“Eldest Prince,” came a voice as smooth as silk but sharp as a blade. Wu Yong, who had stepped forward to offer a polite bow, couldn’t hide his own flicker of disbelief. Of all the twists fate could conjure, discovering the Shizi as the head of the Seven Stars Bureau was one he hadn’t prepared for. A revelation like this—so explosive it practically begged to be buried—made him wonder if his knowledge would soon require his silence... permanently.

Gu Chengde, for all his composure, barely managed to contort his lips into something resembling a smile. "The Leader of the Seven Stars Bureau," he murmured, the words heavy with forced civility. "I never expected to find you here."

"Did you not?" came the reply, the tone edged with quiet amusement. The implication hung in the air, a razor-sharp mockery of the prince’s dismay. "I thought a man of your... insight would hardly be surprised."

The subtle dig lingered, daring the Eldest Prince to respond while a silent, palpable tension settled over the room.

The eldest prince already felt that something was wrong, but he still plucked up the courage to ask, "I don't understand why you're saying this."

"Eunuch Li, real name Li Ping." Seeing the sudden change in the eldest prince's expression, Gu Yanxi sarcastically raised the corners of his mouth and continued with shocking words, "A remnant of the Chao Li clan."

"This is impossible!" Gu Chengde interjected without thinking. "She has been with me for seven years, loyal to me. Even when I was exiled, she quietly followed to serve me. Although I did not always consult her for every decision, she remained faithful and never caused me any harm. How could a person like that be a remnant of the Chao Li tribe? Absolutely impossible!"

"Never caused you any harm? If that's true, you should still be the Emperor's hopeful eldest son, the most promising contender for the heir."

"What does that have to do with her?" Gu Chengde, already full of resentment, erupted in anger. "Who pushed me out of that position? Who made me lose everything? Who didn't even spare my family, cutting off my hope for redemption? It's you, it's the Seven Stars Bureau!"

"Was it me who made you present the elixir to the Emperor?"

"I..." The eldest prince was at a loss for words, torn between guilt and regret. Although he knew that he had done something shameful, how many emperors in history had taken such elixirs?

He just wanted his father to entrust him with more responsibilities.

"Do you know that if the Emperor takes the elixir for another two months, there will be no cure for the overdose?"

The eldest prince found it unbelievable, not believing a word of it. He sneered, "Don't try to fool me, there are many emperors in history who have taken elixirs for decades, how long has father been taking it?"

It was true! He had been careless.

Gu Yanxi's eyes softened a bit. The First Prince had his own selfish motives, but he never thought of risking the Emperor's life. He believed that the elixir he had provided was just a normal one, and there wouldn't be any problem even if it was taken for three to five years. However, he didn't realize how much harm had been done through his actions.

"Li Ping has admitted that she is a remnant of the Chao Li tribe." Indicating for Chen Tu to pass over the evidence, Gu Yanxi added, “If you’re so stubborn as to doubt that the Emperor’s life was nearly snuffed out by that elixir you provided, then by all means, head back and confirm it yourself. The Chao Li tribe’s resurgence isn’t up for debate—it’s a reality. And even though you’ve fallen from grace, stripped of your princely rank, don’t pretend you’ve forgotten the weight of imperial matters. Think long and hard about the excuses you’ll craft for the Seven Stars Bureau on your way back. Chen Tu, take him away, make preparations, and return to the capital early tomorrow morning."

“Yes, sir.” Chen Tu’s reply was brisk as he escorted the stunned prince, whose eyes darted between the damning evidence and his diminishing sense of authority, out of the room.

Wu Yong, who had thus far stood as silent as a shadow, finally broke his silence, his tone carrying a hint of skepticism. “Are we seriously letting him return to the capital?”

“There are demons swarming Yingshan Pass in numbers too great to ignore. Leaving him here would be a liability,” Gu Yanxi said, stripping off his mask and revealing a rare glimpse of vulnerability. “I’ve been too idealistic in the past. You’ll take charge of Yingshan Pass. Use the Hua family’s resources wisely—especially the wise old man from the Hua family. Don't forget that the ancestors of the Hua family had military advisor Hua Jingyan, who helped Founding Emperor conquer the world single-handedly. He might have left something for future generations."

Wu Yong nodded, his face taut with understanding. “I’ll handle it.”

“Good. Act with resolve when the situation demands it—I’ll shoulder the consequences.”

A silence thick with unspoken camaraderie hung between them before Wu Yong straightened, offering the most formal military salute, one imbued with both respect and reluctant admiration.

It was no secret that the Shizi was more valued by the Emperor than the princes in the court. Sometimes, he even secretly hoped that someday this man would ascend to that position. No prince, no matter how polished, could hold a candle to the Shizi. His bearing, his strategy, his ruthless grace—they all echoed the Founding Emperor’s indomitable spirit.

But deep down, Wu Yong also knew one immutable truth: no matter how much they revered the Shizi, he and the imperial princes were fated to remain worlds apart.

*

At the crack of dawn, as the first tender rays of light brushed the horizon, the doors of the Hua family opened. The early risers, ever-curious and quick to gossip, caught sight of the eldest granddaughter—Hua Zhi—finally stepping into view after what felt like an eternity of absence. Trailing behind her like shadows were the rest of the Hua clan, murmuring their farewells, their gestures warm but their sincerity painfully thin.

Still frail from her incomplete recovery, Hua Zhi opted to ride alongside Gu Yanxi, a decision that likely sparked whispers among the crowd. Meanwhile, Zeng Han, ever the obedient soul, allowed himself to be guided by Jia Yang on horseback, though his demeanor suggested he'd rather be anywhere else.

“I’ll be leaving now,” Hua Zhi said, her tone clipped . "I will take care of things at home, so you don't need to worry."

Hua Yizheng, weighed down by the message she'd left him the previous day, could do little more than repeat himself, his voice tinged with sadness. “Be cautious. Always put your safety above all else.”

Hua Zhi acknowledged him with a simple nod—no promises, no reassurances, just the cold efficiency of someone who knew the value of actions over empty words. Her gaze shifted to her father, the man of perpetual silence. He offered no farewell, no parting advice, only a barely perceptible nod, as though withholding words was his personal brand of affection.

Her eyes swept over the assembled family members, each face a study in polite detachment, and she bowed slightly from her horse. “Take care,” she said, her words as perfunctory as they were final.

Gu Yanxi, always quick to move, gave a curt incline of his head before nudging his horse forward. The thundering hooves soon faded into the distance, leaving behind a silence that was as heavy as it was damning.

As the sound of hooves faded, the area in front of the Hua family fell quiet. Hua Yizheng lingered, his hands clasped behind his back, his steps deliberate as he approached the spot where his granddaughter had once fought so fiercely. “It was here,” he said, his voice slicing through the quiet. “Right here, where Zhi’er stood against those cloaked in black, ready to lay down her life. Funny, how quickly your memories fade.”

His words hung in the air like a challenge, daring anyone to meet his gaze or deny the truth. But no one did. Without waiting for a reply, he turned, his hunched silhouette retreating into the house. The weight of unspoken disappointment clung to him like an old, ill-fitting coat.

Hua Pingyu, standing to the side, trembled slightly. His jaw tightened, his fists clenched within the sanctuary of his sleeves. The injustice gnawed at him. He loathed the way the family’s loyalty had evaporated overnight, as though Hua Zhi’s sacrifices were mere fleeting inconveniences. But he said nothing. He’d been told not to.

“Say nothing,” she had commanded him on that fateful night. “Do nothing. The Hua family will always belong to the Hua people.”

Her words had made sense then—cold, calculated sense. Yet now, watching the same people who owed her their lives avert their gazes and turn their backs, the logic felt like poison. How could they? How could they so effortlessly erase the image of her standing there, drenched in sweat and blood, defying death itself?

How dare they forget so quickly?!?!

———TN: Let it be perfectly clear that when we speak of the Hua family in exile, we aren't merely referring to Grandpa Hua himself along with his sons and grandsons, as some might naively assume. No, the reality is far more extensive—and dare I say, a touch more complicated. This illustrious banishment includes not just dear Grandpa Hua, but also his three brothers, along with their own sprawling contingents of sons and grandsons. So, before anyone dares to downplay the breadth of this familial exile, perhaps they should take a moment to appreciate just how impressively crowded that lineage truly is. ———

*

Seated atop his horse, Gu Yanxi cast a glance downward, his dark eyes lingering on Ah Zhi's radiant, unbothered smile. She never cared for such trivialities, and he knew better than to drag them into the conversation. Instead, his voice dropped to a velvet murmur, tinged with an almost reluctant concern. “Does the wound still itch?”

“No,” she replied smoothly, her tone easy, as though dismissing the discomfort was second nature. “Shao Yao’s medicine is potent.” The truth was, the fresh scar tissue had been gnawing at her nerves these past few days, the relentless itch of healing an undeniable nuisance. But with Shao Yao’s steady hand and expert care, she’d managed to escape much of the misery. Granted, the need to reapply the salve every two hours was a test of her patience, but she bore it well—or at least pretended to.

“If you feel even the slightest discomfort on the journey, tell me,” Gu Yanxi instructed, his voice carrying a weight that implied this was less a request and more an unspoken demand. “Don’t think you can just endure it.”

“I know,” she said, her words carrying a teasing lilt. Without hesitation, she leaned into him, her head resting against his arm as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Her gaze met his, bold and unflinching. “I wouldn’t dare hold back with you.”

There was a flicker of something unreadable in his expression as he bent forward, the movement deliberate and unhurried. His forehead brushed hers—soft, fleeting, yet undeniably intimate. And just as he pulled away, there it was: a subtle pang of realization. He hadn’t really touched her, not yet.