Chapter 11: The Prince Falls into the Well, the Immortal Arrives in a Palanquin

Zhao Shisong pointed at a large, seemingly ordinary compound as he explained slowly.

Follow this street all the way, and you’ll reach the Jiazi Hall—the imperial treasury. The history and state secrets of the Zhao Kingdom, along with many ancient artifacts, are stored there. But the hall is guarded so fiercely, not even birds dare approach.

Ning Changjiu followed his gaze. The deep gates and grand courtyards, stone lions and lanterns, guards patrolling in orderly fashion—all seemed untouched by the recent turmoil within the imperial city.

Beside him, Ning Xiaoling rubbed her eyes, still half-asleep. After her senior brother had roused her moments ago, she hadn’t even had time to ask what was happening before being dragged out in a daze.

Ning Changjiu withdrew his gaze.

Such immense sword intent and killing intent.

Zhao Shisong’s fist tightened inside his sleeve before he laughed.

Over a hundred years have passed since Zhao’s founding. Naturally, the Jiazi Hall houses many weapons of slaughter.

Ning Changjiu glanced at the girl beside him.

Junior Sister, can you sense anything?

Ning Xiaoling looked at the vast palace grounds, frowned, and shook her head.

Zhao Shisong observed the delicate, charming young girl.

I hear this little sister Xiaoling was also attacked last night?

Ning Changjiu nodded.

It was also her people.

Ning Xiaoling recalled last night’s events, still shaken.

Thankfully, Senior Brother arrived in time to pull me to safety.

Zhao Shisong sighed.

Truthfully, I’ve never understood why a cultivator of your caliber would choose to follow Ning Qinshui. What exactly are you after?

Ning Changjiu avoided the question, merely smiling.

Even if I’d been a moment later last night, my junior sister wouldn’t have died. This little girl is quite formidable.

Ning Xiaoling froze, lowering her head slightly. For a fleeting moment, her expression grew utterly detached, as if a blizzard swept through her eyes before settling back into calm. Then she lifted her head and offered a faint smile.

What nonsense are you talking about, Senior Brother?

Ning Changjiu ruffled her hair and smiled faintly. Zhao Shisong watched the pair of senior and junior siblings, finding them increasingly inscrutable.

The three gradually distanced themselves from the Jiazi Hall.

Zhao Shisong’s status was exalted; along the way, everyone who saw him would bow and exchange pleasantries. Ning Changjiu paused with them, quietly observing the ancient city awakening before them.

Beyond the archway beneath the imperial palace walls, a vast lake soon came into view. Mist swirled over its center, crimson leaves piled along the shore. Palace maids tossed fish food into the water, sending ripples across the surface.

Zhao Shisong remarked with a smile.

This is Phoenix Lake, not man-made. Zhao was built amidst towering mountains and rugged terrain—no easy feat indeed.

Ning Changjiu glanced back. The imposing, resplendent imperial palace clung to the mountain slopes, while the imperial city itself was laid out on flatter ground. Beyond the continuous rows of palaces, market districts interlinked, and extending further, villages and fortresses were arranged with deliberate order.

Zhao Shisong recalled something and sighed deeply.

In the past, the Zhao Kingdom once held vast fertile lands in the south. But over a decade ago, much of it was ceded to the Rong Kingdom in exchange for temporary peace… Alas, later, because of that incident involving Prince Xiang’er, it was all destroyed.

Ning Changjiu pointed south of the great lake.

Following this road ahead, is that where the Grand Preceptor’s residence lies?

Zhao Shisong nodded.

Yes. Just a couple years ago, the Grand Master still had a full head of black hair and was full of vigor. But now that the nation’s fortune is in decline, the Grand Master, who bears the nation’s fortune, has also grown old and frail.

Ning Changjiu inquired.

If the Grand Master bears the nation’s fortune, what does the Witch Master bear?

Zhao Shisong replied.

The Witchmaster lineage primarily interprets ancient esoteric texts, preserves Daoist teachings, and guards the city. The Witchmaster’s authority over the Imperial City ranks second only to His Majesty. Thus, should the Imperial City be destroyed, the Witchmaster would suffer backlash. When the Bloodfeather Lord once wreaked havoc upon the Imperial City, it was the Witchmaster himself who intervened to suppress the chaos.

Ning Changjiu was puzzled.

The Grand Master upholds the fortune of the entire nation, while the Witch Lord upholds the fortune of a single city?

Precisely so.

Ning Xiaoling listened nearby and murmured.

Well, that makes the Grand Master sound rather more formidable.

Zhao Shisong gave a bitter smile and offered no reply. Ning Changjiu sensed he was withholding something, but since it touched upon Zhao’s state secrets, he refrained from pressing further.

The three walked along the lakeshore. Ning Changjiu gazed at the fallen crimson leaves strewn across the ground and asked in puzzlement.

The records state that the Bloodfeather Lord was a demonic bird at the threshold of the Purple Court, possessing a very high rank. Why would it appear in the imperial capital of Zhao?

Zhao Shisong replied.

The founding of Zhao’s capital reclaimed vast stretches of wilderness. Perhaps that land was originally the Bloodfeather Lord’s domain. To have it seized without cause would naturally provoke its wrath.

Was that Bloodfeather Lord slain?

Only driven away. The Witchmaster suffered severe injuries in the process.

As they exchanged questions and answers, they covered considerable distance. Mist like gauze shrouded the great lake, while behind them, rays of the rising sun pierced through, each beam like a sharp sword slowly parting the chilly fog. On the opposite shore, armed guards moved back and forth. Behind their crisscrossing figures lay vast stretches of shattered ruins.

The Qianyudian?

Ning Xiaoling stood on tiptoe to peer across. Her gaze pierced through the corridors between high walls, catching only a faint glimpse of the collapsed corner of the once-grand hall. Even after so much time, the scattered bricks and tiles along the path still carried a damp, murderous aura.

Zhao Shisong stood with one fist clenched before him and the other hand behind his back, his gaze filled with sorrowful lamentation. The hall once revered as sacred ground had, after a raging inferno, failed to rise like a phoenix from the ashes.

It’s a pity I never met Her Majesty. Her divine beauty can only be glimpsed through Prince Xiang’er.

Ning Changjiu clasped his fists respectfully.

Thank you, Your Highness, for enlightening me along the way.

Zhao Shisong waved his hand dismissively.

It’s nothing compared to the life-saving grace of the young Taoist.

Ning Changjiu inquired.

I’d like to explore the grounds with my junior sister. Would that be acceptable?

Zhao Shisong replied.

Of course. But remember—the secret vaults and restricted areas I mentioned earlier? Young Taoist, you must not venture there without permission.