Mo Li

Seeing that everything was fine, the two Madam Xus and Qin Zheng took their leave. Shortly after, Mo Xiuyao returned. He frowned unhappily at the sight of Ye Li holding the restless Mo Xiaobao in one arm while using her free hand to read a book to pass the time. Hearing footsteps, Ye Li quickly set the book aside and stood up with a smile. "You're back? Were you hurt?"

Mo Xiuyao snorted lightly, casually picking up the swaddled Mo Xiaobao by the cloth and walking toward the bed, startling Ye Li. Even though the baby was securely wrapped, seeing a one-month-old child dangled like that was terrifying. Only after Mo Xiuyao placed the baby back in the cradle—and Mo Xiaobao didn’t cry but instead stared at him with wide, round eyes—did Ye Li relax.

She was about to discuss Mo Xiaobao’s safety with Mo Xiuyao to prevent the child she had worked so hard to bear from being accidentally harmed by his own father. But before she could speak, Mo Xiuyao let out a muffled groan and sat down by the bed, a trickle of blood seeping from the corner of his lips.

Ye Li’s heart lurched in alarm, instantly forgetting any intention to scold him. She hurriedly stood to call for Shen Yang, but Mo Xiuyao grabbed her wrist and shook his head. Frowning, Ye Li studied him carefully. Aside from his slightly pale complexion, nothing else seemed amiss. Relieved, she wiped the blood from his lips and asked, "Why didn’t you say you were injured? Didn’t you say it was a draw and that Zhennan Wang vomited blood?"

Mo Xiuyao smiled faintly. "Lei Zhenting is, after all, one of the four greatest martial artists in the world. Fighting him was bound to come at a cost."

Ye Li glared at him. "So, Zhennan Wang vomited blood in public, while you, Wang Ye, waited until you got home to do it?"

Mo Xiuyao chuckled but didn’t argue. Of course, he couldn’t tell A Li that Lei Zhenting hadn’t originally intended to vomit blood—he had simply been provoked into it. In other words, Lei Zhenting hadn’t coughed up blood from injury but from sheer fury.

Recalling the final palm strike exchanged with Lei Zhenting, Mo Xiuyao couldn’t help but frown. The title of Western Liang’s greatest martial artist was well-deserved. In terms of technique, with both hands intact, Mo Xiuyao might have had a slight advantage if he went all out. But when it came to inner energy, he still seemed slightly inferior.

Not that it mattered. He wasn’t even thirty yet, while Lei Zhenting was nearly fifty. If his inner energy could already surpass Lei Zhenting’s, then the latter’s reputation as Western Liang’s strongest would hardly be credible.

Besides, even without relying on inner energy, he could still kill him.

The mere memory of that old man’s gaze on A Li made murderous intent surge uncontrollably in Mo Xiuyao’s eyes. He suddenly felt that his final words to Lei Zhenting had been too restrained. That old, ugly man wasn’t even fit to glance at his A Li.

Lost in thought, Mo Xiuyao absently touched the mask on his face.

Ye Li watched him curiously, reaching out to feel his forehead. "What’s wrong? Are your injuries serious?""It's nothing," Mo Xiuyao smiled. "I was just wondering if Lei Zhenting will be able to attend tomorrow's banquet." Ye Li sat down beside him and chuckled, "What's there to wonder about? So-called banquets are just formalities." The truly important matters were always settled before or after the banquet. The full moon celebration was merely a show for ordinary people. As for whether Zhennan Wang could attend—surely Xiu Yao wouldn't have been so reckless as to beat Zhennan Wang into bedridden incapacity?

That day, Ruyang City was once again abuzz. Though most hadn't witnessed the Martial Arts Contest between Zhennan Wang and Prince Ding, the entire city knew of it. After the contest ended, supporters of both sides were left crestfallen, silently mourning their depleted purses. Only the exceptionally handsome Han Mingxi, who had run the betting pool, wore an increasingly alluring smile. After all, Prince Ding himself had admitted to a draw with Zhennan Wang—with no clear winner, Han Mingxi naturally took all.

The Han residence, located not far from Prince Ding's Estate, was Han Mingxi's base in Ruyang City. At that moment, Han Mingyue was beaming at a table piled with silver notes, ingots, jade pendants, and jewelry. Feng Zhiyao sat nearby, casting a sidelong glance at the gleeful Han Mingyue and snorting in displeasure. Han Mingxi looked up, walked over, and sat beside him with a smile. "What brings Third Master Feng to my humble abode?" Feng Zhiyao glanced at the still-unpacked treasures on the table and asked, "How much did you make?"

Han Mingxi raised an eyebrow and proudly flashed a number. Feng Zhiyao was instantly consumed by envy, glaring fiercely at him. "Fifty thousand taels?" That included his own eight hundred taels! Han Mingxi gave him a scornful look and laughed. "Third Master Feng, you really underestimate Prince Ding and Zhennan Wang. Fifty thousand? Five hundred thousand taels!" Feng Zhiyao froze. His envy instantly deepened into outright hostility, his gaze now fixed on Han Mingxi as if he were a towering mountain of gold—belonging to someone else. No wonder so many people loved running gambling dens—this was a venture with ten thousand times the profit. No, Han Mingxi hadn't even needed capital—it was pure profit.

With a sigh of regret, Han Mingxi said, "What a shame Prince Ding and Zhennan Wang arranged their contest privately. If it had been a grand duel... announced two months in advance across all of Chu or Western Liang..." Then, forget five hundred thousand—five million might have been possible. Missing such a colossal money-making opportunity pained him deeply. Perhaps the Han family had an innate talent for wealth. Over the past year, Han Mingxi had gradually come to understand his elder brother's once-maddening obsession with money.Feng Zhiyao glared at him discontentedly for a long while before drawling, "Wang Ye wants you to deliver the money you owe him as soon as possible." Upon hearing this, Han Mingxi flew into a rage, eyeing Feng Zhiyao warily. "Why should I? This is money I earned myself!" Feng Zhiyao scoffed, "Don't be naive. If Wang Ye hadn't publicly declared it a draw in the end, do you think you could've swept the pot? Wang Ye said he'll only take fifty percent from you." Given how Zhennan Wang had vomited blood on the spot, no one could've objected if Wang Ye had insisted on claiming victory.

At the mention of this, Han Mingxi's anger subsided somewhat, replaced by curiosity. "What exactly did Prince Ding say to Zhennan Wang in the end?" Though his martial arts were mediocre, he had some insight. Originally, after that final palm strike, Zhennan Wang hadn't been seriously injured—certainly not to the point of vomiting blood on the spot. But then Prince Ding whispered something in his ear, and suddenly, Zhennan Wang spewed a mouthful of blood. Clearly, he had been enraged!

Feng Zhiyao replied lazily, "How should I know? Hand over the money. I don’t have time to count coins with you."

"So, you're here on behalf of Prince Ding to demand money from me?" Han Mingxi said bitterly. Had he known this was Feng Zhiyao’s purpose, he would’ve had him thrown out the moment he stepped in. Feng Zhiyao raised an eyebrow and grinned. "Got a problem with that? Or should I tell the entire Mo Family Army that you and Wang Ye colluded to rig the outcome?" The Mo Family Army wouldn’t dare trouble Wang Ye, but they could certainly crush Han Mingxi. Remembering the disgruntled faces of the martial artists who had lost their bets, Han Mingxi swallowed his anger and grudgingly counted out 250,000 taels from the table for Feng Zhiyao to take away.

Pocketing the money, Feng Zhiyao stood up, satisfied. Wang Ye had promised to return his own 800 taels—he wasn’t greedy, just didn’t want to lose money.

Meanwhile, in the Han residence, as Han Mingxi lamented his drastically diminished earnings, Mo Xiuyao sat in his study, smiling contentedly at the stack of banknotes Feng Zhiyao had delivered.

Feng Zhiyao looked at him in confusion. "250,000 from Han Mingxi, plus another 150,000 from various smaller gambling rings in the city—that’s 400,000 taels in total. Xiu Yao, what do you need so much money for?" More importantly, if Prince Ding needed funds, couldn’t he get them from anywhere? Why resort to such methods?

Mo Xiuyao glanced at him leisurely. "Who placed the biggest bets?"

Feng Zhiyao chuckled. "Isn’t it obvious? The foreign envoys and nobles, of course. The commoners in Ruyang City could only afford a tael or two at most. I heard Mo Jingli bet a full 50,000 taels on Zhennan Wang. Hmm… Princess Anxi also wagered 30,000, but she bet on you, Wang Ye." These were the ones with relatively decent relations with the Mo Family Army. As for the Western Liang and Northern Rong factions—like the Seventh Prince—they had eagerly poured money on Zhennan Wang, if only to spite Prince Ding’s Estate. Little did they know Wang Ye would sweep the pot in the end.

Mo Xiuyao said, "This money is for Mo Xiaobao’s full-month celebration. Did you expect Prince Ding’s Estate to foot the bill?"

Feng Zhiyao fell silent. Shouldn’t the full-month banquet for the heir of Prince Ding’s Estate be paid for by the estate itself? Wang Ye, your stinginess knows no bounds.Mo Xiuyao couldn't care less about his subordinates' silent complaints. Why should he spend his own money entertaining those fools he couldn't stand? Waving his hand dismissively, he said, "Go ahead and allocate the funds directly to Zhou Yu. Isn't he the one handling these matters anyway? If there's any left, distribute it as red envelopes to the city's residents." Feng Zhiyao silently bowed in admiration. So not only had His Highness vented his anger by beating up Zhennan Wang, but he had also recouped all the expenses for the Little Prince's full moon banquet, with the leftover change serving to win over the people's hearts? Compared to the old master, Han Mingxi's money-making skills were practically trash.

After nearly half a month of bustling activity in Ruyang City, the full moon banquet for the Heir Apparent Ding was finally held as scheduled. Truth be told, whether it was a full moon banquet, birthday celebration, wedding feast, or even a coronation ceremony, these events were all much the same—the only difference lay in the scale of extravagance. This banquet, like the previous one, was held atop the eastern city tower of Ruyang City.

When Mo Xiuyao led Ye Li by the hand up to the main seat on the city tower, everyone present was stunned into silence. Mo Xiuyao, who had always worn a silver half-mask, had finally removed the mask that had accompanied him for nearly a decade. But what was revealed was not the terrifying scars and disfigurement everyone had expected. Under the glow of lanterns and candles, his silver-white hair cascaded freely down his back, loosely tied with a silver ribbon. A few stray strands framed his strikingly handsome and noble features. Those seated below could see no trace of hideous scars—not even the slightest blemish. What unfolded before their eyes was undoubtedly a pale yet undeniably dashing and elegant man.

There was no shortage of handsome men present that day, but the only one who could remotely compare to the lofty, unattainable figure in regal purple robes with flowing white hair was the composed and ethereal Qingchen Gongzi, Xu Qingchen, clad in white. Yet while Qingchen Gongzi embodied celestial serenity—pure as a lotus, tranquil as the moon—the silver-haired man resembled the sharpest sword, the most exquisite gem, or the coldest, most forbidding ice atop the highest peak. Even his smile carried an intimidating chill and overwhelming presence.

"Truly worthy of Prince Ding. With such bearing, who in this world could match him besides Princess Ding?" Even Princess Anxi, whose heart belonged solely to Xu Qingchen, couldn't help but marvel at Mo Xiuyao.

Hearing this, Mo Xiuyao lifted his gaze to Ye Li standing beside him, his faint smile brimming with contentment. Back when Li'er was betrothed to Mo Xiuyao, the Xu Family had harbored no small amount of guilt. If Prince Li's abandonment accounted for half the reason behind the arranged marriage, the Xu Family bore at least equal responsibility. Now, seeing Prince Ding healthy and whole, standing side by side with Li'er, the Xu Family could only rejoice wholeheartedly."Princess Anxi speaks wisely. I have long heard of the extraordinary grace of Princess Ding. Truly, the reputation does not disappoint," Yelv Hong, the Crown Prince of Northern Rong, chimed in, his eyes filled with admiration as he looked at Ye Li. Naturally, Ye Li was a beautiful woman, but her appearance could not be called breathtakingly stunning. What truly captivated people was the aura and spirit she exuded effortlessly. Standing beside someone like Mo Xiuyao, even the most beautiful woman in the world would easily fade into the background. But Ye Li did not. She stood calmly by Mo Xiuyao's side, a gentle and elegant smile gracing her lips. Her serene and refined countenance, paired with those deep and tranquil eyes, was like a peerless peony quietly blooming. Who said peonies had to be opulent and overwhelming? Graceful, dignified, and naturally majestic—this was unmistakably the bearing of the king of flowers.

"Greetings to Prince Ding and Princess Ding."

"Please, no formalities," Mo Xiuyao said, holding Ye Li's hand as he waved his sleeve and laughed heartily. "Thank you all for traveling so far to attend our son's full-month celebration. My wife and I hope tonight will be a joyous occasion where both hosts and guests fulfill their roles, and no one leaves sober!"

"Prince Ding, since tonight is the Little Prince's full-month celebration, might we have the honor of seeing the young prince?" someone immediately asked. Though everyone knew this so-called full-month banquet was merely a pretext, since they had come, they ought to at least catch a glimpse of the prince. Mo Xiuyao smiled faintly. "Why not?" The wet nurse carefully carried the swaddled child onto the high platform, and Ye Li, smiling, took the baby into her arms. Despite the late hour, Mo Xiaobao was surprisingly awake. His round, watery eyes gazed up at Ye Li, and whether he truly recognized her or simply knew her scent, he burst into giggles the moment he was in her arms. Ye Li lifted him slightly so the crowd below could see him. The little one, unafraid of strangers, lay obediently in her arms, his big eyes staring curiously at the people below—though in truth, he couldn’t possibly see them clearly.

"The Little Prince is truly blessed with extraordinary charm and intelligence!" the crowd praised in unison. From his seat, Yelv Ye laughed loudly and asked, "Prince Ding, has the Little Prince been given a name yet?"

Mo Xiuyao replied calmly, "Indeed. Mr. Qingyun himself bestowed the name upon him: 'Yu' above, 'Chen' below."

Mo Yuchen. In truth, many present had already learned of Mo Xiaobao's name through various channels, but hearing it spoken directly from Mo Xiuyao's lips carried an entirely different weight. Nanzhao, with its vastly different culture and customs from Great Chu, felt little impact and merely praised it as a fine name. Northern Rong, being a barbarian tribe beyond the frontier, had only limited exposure to Central Plains traditions. The ones truly shaken were Prince Zhennan of Western Liang and Great Chu's Mo Jingli.Yu Chen—such a name almost blatantly revealed Mo Xiuyao's expectations for this child, or rather, his own ambitions. Mo Jingli looked up at Mo Xiuyao, who sat leisurely on the high seat with Ye Li in his arms, his heart surging with emotions. He had never quite understood what kind of feelings he harbored toward Mo Xiuyao, but at this moment, he clearly knew how much he envied him. Yes, envy. Even though they both ruled over their own territories, he would never dare to openly give his child such a name. Thus, Mo Xiuyao's son was named Mo Yuchen, while his own son could only follow the generational naming convention of the imperial family, called Mo Yunxiao. Even though they both stood in opposition to Mo Jingqi, Mo Xiuyao could openly invite dignitaries from various nations, carrying himself like a true king. Meanwhile, he could only secretly engage with foreign powers. In the eyes of those dignitaries, Prince Ding and Prince Li had never been on the same level. Not to mention, the elegant and beautiful woman now nestled in Mo Xiuyao's arms should have been his wife. Yet, even as jealousy burned like venom in his heart, he could only sit quietly below, watching Mo Xiuyao bask in glory and triumph.

Ye Ying, seated beside Mo Jingli, naturally noticed the emotions flickering across his face. A mocking smile curled at her lips, but when she lifted her gaze to Ye Li, it turned bitter. Once, she had taken great pride in pulling Ye Li down and entering Prince Li's Palace, even feeling a twinge of pity for her half-sister who had married into Prince Ding's Estate. But now, both as royal consorts, one sat above thousands, commanding the vast Mo Family Army and Prince Ding's Estate, basking in the undivided love and devotion of the most exceptional husband. The other, burdened with a sickly child, had been imprisoned in the capital, and now, even after finally escaping, found herself lost among a crowd of wives and concubines, barely holding onto her place. Who, then, was truly the one to be pitied?

"Mo Yuchen? A fine name," Zhennan Wang remarked, his gaze lingering on the child in Ye Li's arms for a moment before offering his praise.

Mo Xiuyao accepted the compliment without modesty, replying calmly, "It is indeed a fine name."

Yelv Ye stood up with a smile and said, "For the Heir Apparent Ding's full-month celebration, I have brought a gift from Northern Rong. I hope Prince Ding will not find it unworthy."

Mo Xiuyao looked down at Yelv Ye from his elevated seat and replied with a faint smile, "How could I be so discourteous as to reject a gift from the Seventh Prince, who has traveled so far? I shall thank you on behalf of my son."

Yelv Ye chuckled and raised his hand, blowing a peculiar whistle into the air. A sharp cry echoed from above as a dark shadow swooped down swiftly, heading straight for the high platform where Mo Xiuyao and Ye Li sat. The crowd below gasped in alarm. Only when the shadow emerged under the torchlight did they realize it was not black at all—but a massive, snow-white bird. Its wings spread wide, its sharp talons gleaming menacingly in the firelight as it lunged toward the three on the platform.

Amid the gasps of the crowd, the great white bird seemed to collide with something invisible, stopping abruptly several feet away from them. Undeterred, it continued to flap and struggle, yet before it lay nothing but empty air—as if an unseen barrier blocked its path. Only then did the onlookers recognize it—a magnificent white eagle.The white eagle was blocked by an invisible barrier, unable to approach Ye Li and Mo Xiuyao. Yet it refused to leave, instead frantically flapping and screeching. Ye Li frowned slightly, covering Mo Xiaobao's ears with her hand as she coldly glared at the eagle and commanded, "Silence!"

The palpable chill in her voice made even the proud eagle shiver involuntarily, but it only screeched louder in response. Mo Xiuyao smirked coldly. "How insolent!" With a flick of his wide sleeve, he effortlessly caught the powerful eagle and flung it away—directly toward Yelv Ye's seat.

Seeing the eagle hurtling toward him with no ability to resist, Yelv Ye had no choice but to leap back hastily. The eagle crashed right into his now-empty chair, dazed and disoriented. In its confusion, it couldn’t distinguish friend from foe—the moment it regained its balance, it lunged straight at Yelv Ye.

Yelv Ye was horrified. This white eagle was the fiercest bird of prey in the Northern Rong grasslands, feared even by wolf packs. A single swipe of its talons could take half a man’s life. Desperate, he blew his whistle, trying to regain control, but the eagle had been thrown too violently by Mo Xiuyao—its vision was still spinning with stars. Hearing the whistle, it instinctively charged forward, forcing Yelv Ye to retreat swiftly with his Light Body Skill.

And so, the crowd could only watch in stunned silence as Yelv Ye was chased in circles by the very eagle he had sent, unsure whether to laugh or pretend they hadn’t seen a thing.

Mo Xiuyao narrowed his eyes, enjoying the farce before him. Ye Li held Mo Xiaobao in her arms, watching calmly while occasionally reaching out to tease the wide-eyed little one. Mo Xiuyao's earlier flick of his sleeve hadn't been so simple—Ye Li, sitting right beside him, had clearly seen him sprinkle some strange powder onto the white falcon as he swept it into his sleeve. Though she didn't know exactly what it was, the falcon's current behavior gave her a good idea. The best part was that with the falcon flailing around like this, even if it were caught later, there would likely be no trace of the powder left on it. More importantly, the falcon had been a gift from the Northern Rong people—if anything happened, it would be their own doing.

Watching Yelv Ye being chased around in disarray by the dizzy falcon, Ye Li smiled faintly and said, "Alright, someone take the Seventh Prince's gift."

"Yes, Wang Fei," two shadow guards stepped forward, flanking the falcon from both sides. If the bird had been flying high, they wouldn't have been able to catch it, but now, weighed down, it could barely stay airborne. After a few attempts, the two managed to subdue the falcon and secure it in a sturdy cage brought by the attendants. Only then did the gathered crowd let out a sigh of relief.