The next day, Meng Qi, carrying his sword and knife, escorted Lu Guan, Batu and others to the outside of the palace city, where several imperial experts were already waiting.
“Marshal Lu, the Right Chancellor is guarding the palace city, so there should be no danger,” Meng Qi said in a cold tone.
Lu Guan nodded slightly: “The Right Chancellor will definitely accompany us to find the young master of the Jiang Clan. There’s no need for you to wait here. Do whatever you need to do.”
Meng Qi pretended to hesitate before replying: “Marshal Lu, the matter of the peace talks being a deception is of great importance. I wish to inform each of the four princes individually, so they can prepare accordingly.”
Lu Guan paused for a moment, then thoughtfully said: “Go ahead.”
Without the martial prowess, connections, or status of Right Chancellor Wang Derang, maintaining strict neutrality would only provoke the combined resentment of the four princes—’I’m going out of my way to court you, a penniless and powerless general, yet you refuse to acknowledge my favor?’
Therefore, adopting a cautious and measured attitude would help dispel such resentment. As long as there remained hope of gaining his support, most princes would be reluctant to harbor hatred or turn against him. More importantly, it was still unclear which prince sought secret peace talks with the Western barbarians to gain leverage for ascending the throne, and whether he even knew the talks were a deception. These were matters that required careful probing, and the current pretext was perfect.
After watching them enter the palace, Meng Qi expressionlessly turned left along the palace wall toward the Princes’ Quarter, walking at a steady pace, seemingly as if he were merely taking a morning stroll.
He had no specific plan for whom to visit first or last, intending instead to simply proceed along the road and visit whichever prince’s mansion he encountered first.
Upon entering the Princes’ Quarter, Meng Qi’s eyes immediately fell upon the mansion of the Seventh Prince in the distance. He approached it with a neutral, indifferent expression and stated his purpose.
The gatekeeper was very courteous, without the usual vulgar habit of demanding money, and quickly went inside to report.
This slightly surprised Meng Qi. That the Seventh Prince was favored by the old emperor indeed indicated he was no ordinary man. At the very least, his ability to discipline and manage his subordinates was impressive—small details revealed much.
Before long, the gatekeeper led Meng Qi to a flower pavilion. A young man in casual attire and a headband lounged comfortably on a reclining chair, exuding ease and nonchalance, as if Meng Qi were not a stranger but a long-time friend.
With an elegant demeanor, he smiled at Meng Qi without rising: “You’re just as I imagined the ‘Soul-Shocking Sword’ Meng Xiao would be—cold and sharp, a natural swordsman. But even more impressive than I expected, truly a man of refined grace and striking presence.”
“Thank you for the compliment,” Meng Qi accepted it without hesitation. “Your Highness, the peace talks are a deception.”
Several guards with prominent temples stood in the pavilion, and Meng Qi could also sense the presence of unseen observers.
The Seventh Prince chuckled but remained lying down, his right hand holding the lid of his teacup: “Whether it’s a deception or not has nothing to do with me. I’m not the one making decisions. To be honest, I value my reputation highly. I enjoy a good reputation both in my father’s eyes and among the scholars. I cannot bring myself to agree to territorial concessions for peace.”
“Your Highness, your actions have won the hearts of many, and you have considerable influence among court officials regarding the peace talks,” Meng Qi bluntly pointed out the Seventh Prince’s modesty.
Yet, the prince refrained from using the royal “I,” making him seem more approachable and admirable.
The Seventh Prince chuckled again: “No wonder you’re the ‘Soul-Shocking Sword’ Meng Xiao. Your sword techniques are purely offensive, and so are your words, leaving me no room to counter.”
He suddenly sighed mid-laugh: “Had my father remained clear-headed for another year, your words would have been spot on. At that time, my position would have been firmly established, and the throne would have been mine by right. But now, many loyal ministers have begun distancing themselves from me, and the number of martial experts I can rally is limited.”
“But I cannot retreat. Once the game has begun, I no longer have the luxury of stepping out. Because I am no longer just myself.”
Sunlight filtered through the lattice windows of the pavilion, casting golden spots on the Seventh Prince—bright and dazzling, yet carrying a faint sadness and melancholy.
Looking at this elegant young nobleman reclining before him, Meng Qi did not speak further but simply asked: “Your Highness, who do you think desires the peace talks?”
It was strange that this man would openly discuss matters of succession and rivalry before a stranger like himself—whether it was a sign of shallowness or a deliberate act meant to mislead.
The Seventh Prince gave Meng Qi a half-smiling, half-serious look: “If I had to guess, it would be Third Brother and Fourth Brother.”
“Hmm?” Meng Qi, the cold-faced swordsman, waited for an explanation.
“The Western Khan Modun is indeed a disciple of the Yin Master from the remnants of my clan. But that doesn’t mean they are natural allies with the Central Plains’ Mo Sect. On the contrary, the Mo Queen, who seeks to unify the Mo Sect, and the Yin Master, who hopes to use the Western forces to consolidate his power, are locked in an irreconcilable conflict. They can never join forces,” the Seventh Prince casually remarked.
Was he trying to distance himself from suspicion? Meng Qi mused.
The Seventh Prince continued: “The Eldest Prince has nearly been the Crown Prince for two decades. No matter how much Father suppresses him, his influence remains formidable. With Father’s intentional cultivation of me, I have loyal supporters in both the court and the military. Third and Fourth Brothers, however, fall far behind in this regard. They rely heavily on martial experts for support, which lacks stability. If they were to ascend the throne, they would have to purge my forces and those of the Eldest Prince to secure their rule.”
“Therefore, they prefer peace before war. They are unwilling to confront the Western barbarians now.”
“One can also stabilize internal affairs through external conflict, seizing the momentum to act decisively,” Meng Qi replied noncommittally.
The Seventh Prince smiled and then asked: “People often say I conspire with the Mo Sect. Have you heard such rumors, Meng Xiao?”
“I have,” Meng Qi replied succinctly.
The Seventh Prince shook his head: “It is the officials who govern the empire, and they all come from the Confucian school, which regards the Mo Sect as heretics to be eradicated. If I were to seek support from the Mo Sect, I would immediately lose all hope of ascending the throne.”
Planting the seeds of governance first, then cultivating a new bureaucratic system to replace the current Confucian establishment… Meng Qi mused inwardly.
“Your reasoning is sound,” he replied outwardly with a straight face.
The Seventh Prince spoke a few more words, and without further ado, ended the conversation by offering tea as a sign for Meng Qi to leave.
After leaving the Seventh Prince’s mansion and walking for a while, Meng Qi arrived at the mansion of the Fourth Prince. The gatekeeper stood upright, hand resting on his sword, exuding a fierce and imposing aura.
Managing his household like a military commander… the thought suddenly crossed Meng Qi’s mind.
The Fourth Prince’s gatekeeper was stern and unsmiling, yet before Meng Qi could even announce his arrival, a steward came out to invite him in.
“His Highness has long admired Meng Xiaoxia’s sword skills. Upon hearing of your arrival in the quarter, he sent me to await you at the gate,” the steward flattered.
Each of the four princes held a princely title.
Meng Qi nodded slightly: “The Fourth Prince is a disciple of the Sword Emperor. His sword techniques should be no less than mine.”
He then fell silent, maintaining his cold swordsman demeanor, as he was led into the study.
The Fourth Prince’s study was large, one wall lined with military treatises, the other displaying various swords.
With his back to Meng Qi, he pointed at one sword: “This is the Tengxiang Sword. It is three chi, three cun, and three fen long, forged from a falling star, indestructible, and capable of slicing through iron like mud. My master wielded it in his youth, earning great renown.”
“This is the Chiyue Sword. It is three chi long, its blade dark red, like the moon reflected in blood. It intoxicates those it strikes. It was once used by the ‘Mad Drunken Sword’ of the Leftist sect…”
He spoke as if he had finally met a kindred spirit, eagerly sharing his collection with Meng Qi, his enthusiasm evident.
Meng Qi, naturally, did not hide his admiration. His eyes sparkled as if he wished to take them all, thinking of the countless merits he could earn.
“…This is the Tiemu Sword, the last sword my master carried before he abandoned swordsmanship,” the Fourth Prince turned to face Meng Qi, letting out a long sigh. “I too am devoted to the sword path, yet burdened by worldly affairs, I cannot break free. I can only watch you ascend to the highest realm of swordsmanship. It has been many years, yet my master has never before praised another swordsman so highly.”
He regarded Meng Qi as a fellow swordsman, using the word “I” freely.
As Meng Qi listened to the Fourth Prince’s lament, a mischievous impulse stirred within him. He spoke solemnly: “Can the ambitions of an emperor be cut down? Can wealth and glory be severed? Can the entanglements of mundane affairs be sliced through? If you are truly devoted to the sword path, then obstacles must be cut down one by one!”
The barrage of questions caused the Fourth Prince to sway slightly. Though he had always carried himself with the strength of a dragon and tiger, a hint of pallor now appeared on his face.
He remained silent for a moment before bitterly smiling: “No wonder you, so young, have already mastered such formidable sword techniques. That phrase you uttered on the stone bridge—’You are not worthy of me drawing my sword’—truly stirred my blood. Unfortunately, I do not possess your unshakable sword heart…”
He sighed: “The Western barbarians invade, and the people suffer. I only wish to lead a hundred thousand troops to save the people from calamity.”
“Your Highness, the peace talks are a deception. Are you aware of this?” Meng Qi did not respond directly.
The Fourth Prince nodded: “I understand your purpose. I will do everything in my power to stop the peace talks.”
“Your Highness, do you know which prince desires the peace talks?” Meng Qi asked the same question.
The Fourth Prince hesitated slightly: “The Crown Prince is regent. If he did not desire peace, the current situation would not have arisen. However, he may not be aware that the peace talks are a deception.”
Meng Qi asked no more, exchanging a few insights on sword techniques before taking his leave.
After walking a considerable distance, Meng Qi finally saw the Crown Prince’s mansion.
The gatekeeper of the Crown Prince’s mansion wore an air of arrogance, openly demanding bribes.
Meng Qi coldly stared at him, enhancing his aura with the Shape-Shifting Technique, without uttering a single word.
The gatekeeper soon felt his scalp tingling under Meng Qi’s icy gaze, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. He gritted his teeth and hurriedly went inside to report.
Before long, he returned, slightly smug, saying: “The Crown Prince does not wish to see you. He says he already knows.”
“Very well,” Meng Qi thought calmly. He turned and left without showing any emotion. A refusal to meet was itself a statement.
At the other end of the Princes’ Quarter stood the mansion of the Third Prince.
As Meng Qi stepped onto the threshold, the main gate opened, and a sharp-eyed Cao Zhan came out with a beaming smile: “You’ve truly become famous throughout the capital. The Prince has been waiting for you since early this morning.”
Seeing him dressed in embroidered robes and jade sash, Meng Qi smiled: “You’re doing quite well yourself.”
“Not too bad,” Cao Zhan grinned. “The Prince has recruited many martial experts, naturally needing someone familiar with martial arts affairs to manage them. I happen to be skilled in this area, so I’ve been doing fairly well and have even been rewarded with secret manuals and weapons.”
“Not bad at all,” Meng Qi sincerely praised him. Back during his first cycle mission, he hadn’t been nearly as successful as Cao Zhan—acquiring secret manuals and weapons without spending a single merit point.
Throughout the journey, Cao Zhan made every effort to build rapport with Meng Qi, flattering him constantly. He knew that this old companion had now become a renowned figure of great importance, and according to the Ranks of Men, he was even more skilled in saber techniques.
Passing through courtyards and halls, as soon as they entered the study, Meng Qi saw a man in his thirties dressed as a prince, wearing his shoes backward, rushing forward with great enthusiasm:
“Xiao Meng, you’ve finally arrived!”
He bore a slight resemblance to the Seventh Prince, but his tone was warm and his gestures full of respect, making Meng Qi feel genuinely valued.
Luo Shengyi stood behind the Third Prince, his expression calm, a slight smile on his face, showing none of the irritation he had displayed when Meng Qi visited the other princes. Ge Huai’en was not present, possibly assigned to other duties.
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