Taizong, having narrowly escaped death, was still shaken. He let out a long sigh before noticing the silver-haired, white-robed figure standing gracefully before him—Tang Lici. On the opposite rooftop, the pursuing assassin, seeing the clamor of voices and realizing the Imperial Guards would soon surround him, gritted his teeth. He drew a strangely mottled long arrow from his sleeve and, with a swift motion, shot it with all his might toward Taizong’s head.
The arrow cut through the air with a sharp whistle. Tang Lici’s lips curled slightly, his expression faintly amused as he swept his sleeve to block it. Unexpectedly, upon contact, the arrow corroded the fabric with a hiss, piercing straight through. Taizong gasped in shock, but Tang Lici reacted swiftly, grabbing him with his left hand and pulling him aside. The arrow whizzed past Taizong’s head, severing strands of his hair and sending several pearls tumbling to the ground before embedding itself two feet deep into the bodhi tree behind them with a resounding thud.
"Capture the assassin! Protect His Majesty!" The Imperial Guards surged forward, quickly subduing the would-be assassin. Yet, given the palace’s stringent security, how had this intruder infiltrated the Ciyuan Hall, and how had he known the Emperor would pass by? Though the assassin was apprehended, the guards felt a chill in their hearts—if the Emperor held them accountable for negligence, punishment would be unavoidable.
Taizong glared as the assassin was bound tightly, then turned his gaze to Tang Lici, who had just saved his life. Still stunned, he opened his mouth several times but found no words. Tang Lici steadied him, channeling a stream of Inner Energy to calm his nerves and restore his composure. After a long moment, Taizong finally spoke, "Take him away. Order the Dali Temple to conduct a thorough investigation. I demand answers—if the reason behind this is not uncovered, all those on duty today will face harsher penalties!" The arriving guards knelt in unison, replying, "Yes, Your Majesty!" Taizong gripped Tang Lici’s hand tightly as the shaken eunuchs hastily gathered the fallen pearls. The group hurriedly left the garden, heading toward the Funing Palace.
Upon entering the palace gates, additional guards were stationed without Taizong’s orders. Seated and sipping tea, Taizong finally took a proper look at Tang Lici and exhaled in relief. "Imperial Uncle, your martial prowess is extraordinary, and your timely intervention merits reward. What would you like?" Tang Lici smiled and bowed. "This humble servant merely acted by chance. I dare not claim credit, nor seek reward." Taizong chuckled. "I suspect no reward would impress you. Very well, I shall grant you two words: 'Leisurely Retirement.'" Tang Lici bowed in gratitude. Taizong teased, "Aren’t you curious what 'Leisurely Retirement' means?" Tang Lici replied softly, "Your Majesty jests with me." Taizong laughed heartily. "Free and unrestrained, with leisure to roam the world, admire flowers and willows, cultivate the arcane—and, of course, the ability to save your Emperor in dire moments. Am I wrong?" Tang Lici bowed again. "What happened earlier was merely coincidence." Taizong patted his shoulder. "I know you bear me no ill will, and that is enough. Heaven sent you to me—there must be divine purpose. Perhaps destiny intends for you to lend me your strength." Tang Lici smiled faintly, responding with humility. Taizong’s laughter grew even more buoyant, nearly forgetting the peril he had just faced.The chief eunuch Wang Ji'en helped Emperor Taizong remove the ceremonial crown he wore for court audiences. Several pearls had fallen from the crown—all rare treasures—but struck by arrow energy and dashed against the ground, their surfaces were now scratched, no longer smooth and lustrous. Wang Ji'en placed the damaged pearls into a separate box, instructing the Imperial Household Department to replace them with new pearls matching the color and shape of the originals. He ordered a junior eunuch to deliver the box to the department before assisting the emperor in changing his attire.
In the dungeons, the Dali Temple swiftly interrogated the assassin, delivering a preliminary report within an hour. The assassin was revealed to be a Khitan who had infiltrated the palace to kill Taizong, motivated by grievances from the Song-Liao wars. However, when questioned about how he had entered, how he knew the emperor would pass by Ciyuan Hall, and the origin of the poisoned arrow, he could provide no clear answers. He claimed only that he had long planned the assassination but lacked a way into the palace until, the previous night, someone had sent him a letter with a map of the palace and the poisoned arrow. Since the letter was written in Khitan script, he assumed the mastermind was likely a Khitan. Taizong was furious, but with the Song dynasty struggling in the war against Liao, there was little he could do despite his rage. He ordered increased security in the palace and decreed that anyone who leaked news of the assassination attempt would be executed immediately.
That night, the palace was abuzz with activity, and no one noticed that among the pearls sent to the Imperial Household Department, one was no longer the Green Charm but a sea pearl nearly identical in color, size, and weight. Tang Lici stayed with Taizong late into the night before taking his leave. As he departed, he heard that an Imperial Guard had accidentally killed the assassin, sparking another uproar in the palace as officials investigated who was responsible.
The night breeze was crisp, but dark clouds veiled the moon, casting a cold, ungentle light. Tang Lici boarded his carriage outside the palace, and the coachman set off toward Luoyang. The carriage swayed, and the chilly night wind seeped through the curtains. The deserted streets echoed with the lonely clip-clop of hooves, like a dream tapping on cold stones.
A figure leaped onto a rooftop, watching the carriage depart. His robes fluttered in the wind as he gazed for a long while before sighing softly. The man was Yang Guihua. How had the assassin suddenly obtained the map and poisoned arrow? And why had he died so abruptly? Yang Guihua harbored suspicions, but the orchestrator had been too meticulous, leaving no trace or evidence. If it was him—why would he stir such chaos in the palace? To win the emperor's favor? Yang Guihua doubted it. The true motive demanded thorough investigation.
Inside the carriage, Tang Lici was well aware of the pursuer behind him. Today's events were a disruption, impossible to hide from sharp eyes. But Yang Guihua... He smiled faintly. No match. The night mist drifted in through the curtains as he raised his left hand. Two scars on his wrist had yet to heal, and now a third was still bleeding.
Songshan Shaolin Temple.Pu Zhu, newly appointed as the abbot, had not left his monastic cell for an entire day. Da Cheng, Da Bao, and the others thought little of it—Shaolin Temple was a place of quiet cultivation, after all. It was hardly unusual for a monk to remain secluded for days or even weeks on end. Inside the cell, Pu Zhu sat silently before a table, clad in black robes with his long hair loose, neither contemplating Buddhist teachings nor practicing martial arts.
Though the room was empty, a faint fragrance lingered in the air. Pu Zhu's expression was somber as he stared at an unfinished game of chess on the table. After a long while, he let out a deep sigh.
"...You... are no longer a saint..." In a daze, he recalled a voice murmuring softly, tenderly in his ear. "Pu Zhu... Pu Zhu... Did you know, from the moment we first met in Willow Valley, I could tell you were never meant for monastic life? Your heart burns too fiercely—too much attachment to this world... too eager... and to me... too kind..." The sweet voice grew increasingly unfamiliar as his mind wandered. "You love me—love me as a man loves a woman..." He heard his own voice reply, stiff and unnatural. "But you—you were never a woman..."
"Hahaha... The abbot who preaches detachment and equality for all sentient beings—does even he cling to distinctions of gender?" The voice laughed lightly. "Male bhikkhu, female bhikkhu—both are disciples of the Buddha." He whispered hoarsely, "You—you—"
"I need you to do something for me..." the gentle voice continued. "Don't worry, I won't ask you to violate your conscience with murder or arson. I only ask... that you lead Shaolin to remain silent on matters concerning the Central Plains Sword Association—past and future." Pu Zhu replied quietly, "You want Shaolin to stand apart from the turmoil of the martial world?" The melodious feminine voice answered, "For now, yes." Pu Zhu's tone cooled. "What are you planning within the Sword Association?" The woman's voice softened further, "Pu Zhu..." sweet and coquettish, "Don't you trust me?" Pu Zhu faltered. "I..."
"Shh... I would never harm Shaolin. You have my word." The voice remained honeyed and tender, yet to Pu Zhu, it now carried an entirely different meaning. No explicit threat had been made, but he understood all too well—the newly appointed abbot of Shaolin had, on the very night of his ascension, committed an unspeakable transgression. That the person who shared his bed had been a man made the scandal all the more damning. Should this disgrace become known, his own ruined reputation would be the least concern; Shaolin's centuries of honor would be obliterated in an instant, reduced to a laughingstock of the martial world. For Shaolin's sake, he could not refuse. And yet... yet some part of him still clung to hope—for an explanation from this enigmatic woman in peach robes.
Unconsciously, Pu Zhu sighed again. For the first time in his life, he felt utterly lost—unable to face himself, the future, or Shaolin. Were a formidable enemy to attack now, he would draw his sword and fight. To die in battle would be heaven's greatest mercy.
But Shaolin had known no worthy adversary for centuries. Even the masked man in black from days prior dared not challenge the temple openly. No matter how bold one's claim to be the world's finest, against a hundred skilled Shaolin monks, victory in direct combat was impossible."Tap tap." Two light knocks sounded outside Pu Zhu's monk quarters. Pu Zhu responded in a low voice, "Enter." A young novice stepped in, bowing to Abbot Puzhu. "Abbot, someone has left a letter at the mountain gate, requesting your review." Pu Zhu stood up and took the letter. The novice clasped his hands and withdrew, catching a faint scent in the room but giving it no further thought.
The letter was from Shao Yanping, filled with lengthy congratulations on his new position as abbot. After pages of rambling, Shao Yanping wrote, "Should you encounter any demonic obstacles, Shao Yanping sincerely offers a swept bed and clear tea, awaiting the abbot's visit." Pu Zhu's brow furrowed slightly, his emotions churning uncontrollably. In the past, his mind would have been as clear as a mirror, able to overlook any double meanings on paper. But after that night, even the slightest hint was enough to unsettle him completely. What did Shao Yanping mean by this? Had he foreseen that Pu Zhu would face such obstacles? Yet no matter how wise Shao Yanping was, he could never have imagined the deadlock Pu Zhu now faced... Suddenly, Pu Zhu's hands grew clammy with sweat. Blind obedience was no solution, and the truth couldn't remain hidden forever. Should he confess openly, accept the monastery's discipline, and then take his own life in atonement? Or should he leave Shaolin for a place where no one knew him? Or perhaps—simply end his life quietly, abandoning the great Shaolin Temple to its fate? Every option violated his core principles as both a monk and a man. How could he choose? What should he forsake?
"Abbot." A voice spoke slowly outside the door. "May this old monk enter?" Pu Zhu started slightly—it was Dacheng Chanshi. He replied softly, "Please come in, Elder Dacheng." With a creak, the door opened again, and the tall, white-bearded elder monk stepped inside. Seeing Pu Zhu holding Shao Yanping's letter, his expression remained unchanged as he said calmly, "Abbot, you should move to the abbot's quarters. This room will be taken over by novices. Have you prepared the belongings you wish to take with you?" Pu Zhu hesitated, momentarily speechless. "This..."
"Amitabha," Dacheng Chanshi intoned. "If the abbot is uneasy, this old monk can clean the quarters, and you may entrust this letter to me as well." Pu Zhu's face paled instantly, and he stood abruptly. "You—" Dacheng Chanshi continued in a composed tone, "Has the abbot forgotten the words of Benefactor Tao? She instructed you to safeguard Shaolin's lineage and avoid contact with the Central Plains Sword Association. Have you forgotten?" Pu Zhu trembled violently, his face alternating between shades of green and white. "You—you—" Dacheng Chanshi clasped his hands. "This old monk means no disrespect to the abbot. But there are matters that, even if unspoken, the abbot must not forget. Otherwise, it would bring great harm to Shaolin. I urge the abbot to reconsider." Pu Zhu stared at him, at that wrinkled, benevolent face, unable to fathom how this revered elder could be one of Xifang Tao's followers. When... when had she recruited Dacheng Chanshi? Could it be... could it be another seduction scheme? Overwhelmed by shock, fury, madness, and jealousy—emotions he had never experienced in over thirty years—his inner energy surged chaotically in his chest, and he suddenly coughed up a mouthful of blood. Dacheng Chanshi watched him coldly. "The abbot bears heavy responsibilities. Please take care of your health." With that, he prepared to take his leave."Wait!" Pu Zhu shouted sharply. "The abbot... the matter of the abbot... was it also her idea for you to help me... help me..." Dacheng Chanshi smiled faintly. "If not for this, given the abbot's past deeds, it would have been difficult for him to become the supreme leader of Shaolin and a pillar of the Martial Arts World. Are Da Bao, Da Hui, and Da Shi truly inferior to the abbot in any way? Amitabha, the abbot should think carefully—think again and again." He pressed his palms together and withdrew.
Pu Zhu stood in the room, overwhelmed by shock and fury. The world he had believed in for over thirty years had suddenly collapsed. So... so... so this was the truth... She... she... Years of friendship, countless joyful conversations under the moonlight—oh, dear friend, how could I believe you after you set up such a sinister scheme? Were you truly this malicious? To have Shaolin stand idly by—what exactly do you intend to do with the Central Plains Sword Association? What do you want with Shaolin Temple? And what... what do you want with me?
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