Xia Wuyang spoke with Su Ling’Er for a while and fed her half a bowl of ginseng soup before getting up to leave.
He could, of course, see Su Ling’Er’s silent complaints and grievances, but now was not the time to clear up the misunderstanding. That could wait for a later day.
With him by her side, how could Su Ling’Er possibly have been in danger? To him, this whole affair was merely a performance.
As he walked out of the side hall, the warmth on his face vanished in an instant, replaced by an icy chill.
He did care for Su Ling’Er to some extent. After all, she had slept with him so many times. As the saying goes, a single night as husband and wife creates a bond that lasts for a hundred days, to say nothing of the many nights they had shared.
But since she hadn’t been in any real danger, he didn’t let it concern him too much.
What truly concerned him were the deeper implications behind this assassination attempt.
Since the Northern Desert Da Kuo Royal Court dared to activate spies who had been dormant for years, it meant they could no longer wait and had decided to strike back.
The restless factions in the Imperial Court would likely seize this opportunity to make their own moves as well. It seemed Great Xia would know no peace for some time to come.
Xia Wuyang looked toward Qianqing Palace, a cold glint in his eyes. ’Xia Shengming, the coming situation will be even more of a delight for you. I wonder if you’ll be able to bear it?’
Even after "helping" Xia Shengming find a group of "true culprits," Xia Shengming’s happiness wouldn’t last long.
Finding the "true culprits" was only the beginning. The real headache was the wars on the northern and southern borders. Those would be the key to deciding everything.
But for now, none of this had much to do with him. The more Xia Shengming suffered, the more delighted he became. This was all a good thing, as far as he was concerned.
What he needed to do now was to continuously improve his Cultivation Power and prepare to sweep away all obstacles in the future.
Xia Wuyang turned and walked back toward the Practice Room.
Sunlight from outside the hall streamed through the window lattice, casting mottled patterns of light and shadow on the floor.
His figure gradually faded into the darkness—a darkness that symbolized safety and patient endurance. It was as if he was hiding once more.
The Deep Palace was like a game of chess: once a move is made, it cannot be taken back. One careless step, and the entire game is lost.
And the one playing with the black pieces had already laid the trap, waiting for his opponent to walk right into it, all while continuously capturing their pieces.
The weather grew hotter and hotter, much like Emperor Xia’s increasingly frayed temper.
Catching that group of "true culprits" from the Northern Desert Da Kuo Royal Court brought him only a few days of joy, an emotion that did not last.
Days of torrential rain had finally ceased, and for once, the skies above White Jade City cleared.
But the humid heat permeating the air became even more cloying, like an invisible net cast over the entire city, making it difficult to breathe and instilling a desperate urge to escape.
In Taiye Pool near the Eastern Palace, the lotus flowers had completely wilted in the steam-like heat. Their ruined petals drooped, revealing scorched, yellowed centers and emitting a sickeningly sweet scent that was beginning to sour—the first sign of rot. Yet no one paid them any mind.
Within the Deep Palace, the atmosphere was just as thick and oppressive, leaving many of the Palace Attendants to walk on eggshells.
The war in the Northern Territory was at a stalemate, progress on the Southern Border was slow, arguments in the Imperial Court were incessant, the Princes and Princesses were constantly infighting, and Emperor Xia’s temper grew increasingly volatile.
Yangxin Hall in Qianqing Palace had become a forbidden zone. Palace Attendants went out of their way to avoid it, terrified that one wrong move would draw the Emperor’s wrath. The lightest punishment was a caning; the heaviest was death.
Yet amid this oppression, some people smelled a business opportunity, oblivious to the fact that the Death God was closing in.
Yixiang Building, one of the top three brothels in White Jade City, had been in business for many years.
This building was located on Fengyue Street, east of the Imperial City, and took up nearly half the block. It stood five stories tall, with intricately carved beams and painted rafters. Exquisite Glazed Wind Chimes—quite a number of them—hung from the eaves. When the night wind blew, their tinkling could be heard from a great distance.
By day, its doors remained tightly shut, appearing somewhat subdued. But as soon as the lanterns were lit at dusk, it transformed into the most decadent and hedonistic place in all of White Jade City, captivating countless members of the Nobility and the wealthy elite.
It was now afternoon. The building had yet to open for business, but a secret meeting was underway in a private room on the top floor.
The private room was decorated with a level of luxury far beyond an ordinary person’s imagination.
The floor was covered with Persian Carpets, the walls were adorned with Erotic Paintings by famous artists of a previous dynasty, and an Antique Shelf displayed all manner of priceless trinkets. The air was thick with the scent of Suhe Fragrance. Everything in the room screamed a single word: money.
In the main seat sat a gracefully-aging, beautiful woman who looked to be around forty. She wore a crimson-purple ruqun embroidered with golden Peonies, her hair was swept up in a high bun, and pinned with a Red Gold and Jadeite Hairpin. Dongzhu pearls the size of pigeon eggs dangled from her earlobes, looking priceless at a single glance.
She was the owner of Yixiang Building, known to all as Lady Yu. It was impossible to say how many members of the Nobility and wealthy elite had been her honored guests, or to how many she had brought pleasure.
Across from Lady Yu sat two men.
The man on the left, dressed like a wealthy merchant in a sapphire-blue silk shirt and waving a folding fan, was in fact Qian Tong, the Chief Shopkeeper of Yixiang Building.
The one on the right was a grim-faced old man in a gray robe, fiddling with a pair of Iron Galls in his hand. This was Zhao Wu, also known as Iron Hand, the Guard Chief of Yixiang Building. He had, impressively, already reached the realm of a First Grade Grandmaster.
"About the Eastern Palace... is the information reliable?" Lady Yu raised her teacup and gently blew the foam from its surface. Her voice was soft and seductive, but her gaze was sharp as a knife, laced with a chilling intent.
Qian Tong lowered his voice. "It’s absolutely true. No doubt about it. Our mole in Wenhua Hall sent word. Ever since the last assassination attempt, the elder Crown Prince has locked himself away. He only spends a few hours each day fooling around in his hall; the rest of the time, he hides in the Practice Room to recuperate. An Imperial Physician said in private that his Essence Qi is completely depleted. He’s only being kept alive by harsh, potent drugs and probably won’t last more than a few months."
A glint of greed flashed in Lady Yu’s eyes. "How many women are in the Eastern Palace now?"
"Dozens of concubines, all of them peerless beauties gathered from across the land. Most of them are fair game, though a small number with powerful backing are off-limits. Then there are several hundred Palace Maids, all exceptionally beautiful, with close to a hundred of them being true stunners." Qian Tong reeled off the details as if listing his own family treasures, his face flush with excitement. "And the elder Crown Prince has always been generous to his women. The monthly stipends for these concubines and Palace Maids are at least three times that of ordinary Palace Attendants. The personal fortunes they’ve saved up over the years are not insignificant. All told, it must be at least a million, if not more."
Lady Yu licked her lips like a hyena that had caught the scent of blood. She was growing restless.
"The women *and* the wealth," she said slowly, the words dripping with irrepressible excitement. "If we handle this right, we’ll make a fortune."
Although Yixiang Building was known as one of the three great brothels of White Jade City, business had been difficult in recent years, getting worse with each passing year.
Especially with the wars raging in both the Northern Territory and on the Southern Border, wealthy merchants and tycoons had tightened their purse strings, and the number of clients had dwindled significantly.
Coupled with competition from other brothels, the establishment’s income had been declining for some time. If things kept on like this, they might not even be able to cover their expenses.
If they could get their hands on the women of the Eastern Palace, it would be a deal with astronomical returns—an absolute windfall.

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