Lian, Rex's only daughter and the renowned general of the Yan Fu army, stirred immense welcome and curiosity in the capital.
Mounted on a steed, clad in full armor, wearing a fanged ghost mask, she silenced awestruck children. They feared the "ghost-faced general" might snatch them away at night.
Such a flamboyant procession naturally drew more than just common folk. Other factions watched from the shadows.
A stunning woman leaned against a low wall's shadow, unnoticed, her presence concealed. Xian's dreamy eyes lingered on Lian astride the horse.
After a long gaze, Xian blinked and looked away. A shadowy Demon Sect agent appeared silently, kneeling before her. "Saintess, the elders send word urging you to return and cease this willfulness."
"Hmph!" Xian snorted coldly. "Return to be Dan's cauldron? Go ask the Grand Elder what the Demon Sect's rules are."
"The Saintess answers only to Azhur, the Holy Lord," she said. "My duty is to serve and honor him, preserving my purity and chastity. Dan fancies himself the Holy Lord?"
The agent froze, kneeling motionless, not daring to respond.
This agent held considerable sway in the capital and a decent rank in the Demon Sect. He knew well the sect's current state and the filth festering beneath its surface.
How had the Demon Sect fallen from a top-tier power in the demonic path to barely clinging to its facade? Factional splits played a part, but the root cause was simple: no leader.
Founded and raised to greatness by Azhur, the supreme Holy Lord, ten thousand years ago, the sect had once thrived. Few today believed it, but the Demon Sect had once stood among the righteous factions, and no small player at that.
But since Azhur vanished, splits and rival factions emerged. Over millennia, disciples left to form their own schools, and repeated failures in struggles saw it expelled from the righteous immortal ranks in the previous dynasty. Ruthless elders then turned it fully to the demonic path, better a head among rogues than a tail among the righteous.
To Xian, it was a pathetic collapse.
Now, beyond its own members calling it the Demon Sect, the cultivation world dubbed it the "Devil Sect." Far from dominating the demonic path, its decline worsened daily amid internal strife.
After much thought, they pinned it on one reason: Azhur was gone.
Over ten thousand years, generations of elders and protectors had replaced the old, losing their awe and fear of Azhur. This generation's elders and Dan, the powerful Right Protector, not only usurped his authority but now eyed Xian, the Saintess.
Dan and his father, the Second Elder, openly schemed to be elected as the new Holy Lord, a blatant ambition everyone saw through.
The Grand Elder and Mo, the Left Protector, desperate to halt the sect's decline, tacitly allowed Dan's greed to maintain a veneer of unity.
If Dan wed Xian, the Saintess, he'd have a legitimate claim to lead the sect.
"Saintess," the agent hesitated before managing, "please consider the greater good."
"The greater good, the greater good," Xian laughed in fury, her anger blooming like a flower, radiant and graceful. "Azhur is merely missing, and you're all ready to crown a new master?"
The agent opened his mouth but stopped.
Saintess, Azhur's been gone for ten thousand years. Unless he's an immortal god, he's just bones in a grave. Why cling to this delusion?
But he said nothing, only sighing deeply. "I'll report to the Grand Elder."
Xian fell silent, gazing at Lian, surrounded by flowers and adulation, and murmured, "I envy you, standing so openly in the light."
Free to express her heart, basking in the spotlight.
Whether Qing or Xian herself, they were so fortunate. Paired with Feng, any of them would be a divine couple from a fairy tale.
And her?
Xian stood in silence, for a long, long time, until the crowd dispersed and the streets emptied.
A single tear fell, stirring a wave of exhaustion and wounded sorrow.
Lian, of course, didn't know a girl watched her from the shadows along the imperial road, nor that it sparked such melancholy. If she did, she'd likely laugh it off, even celebrate one fewer rival.
She wasn't some soft southern maiden, willing to share a husband. In her eyes, love was a pursuit with no middle ground.
A wild horse of the border, Rex's prized jewel, the north's princess, a proud eagle of the vast desert - share her beloved with others? No, she wasn't that timid or generous.
Even if it were Qing or Suya, she'd fear nothing.
"General Lian, halt!"
The imperial guard commander stopped her at the palace's inner gate. As a soldier, he admired Lian's feats, charging into the desert, smashing barbarian camps, but as the guard's leader, duty came first. With a hint of apology, he said, "To see His Majesty, Tai says you may keep your armor, but please surrender your weapons. This concerns His Majesty's safety."
A common man could spill blood in five steps, let alone a peerless general who danced through armies and raided across a thousand miles.
No matter how lenient Ren was with Lian, he wouldn't gamble with his own life.
Better safe than sorry. History held tales of careless kings stabbed by envoys, blood staining the floor. Lessons learned.
"Understood!"
Lian nodded, finding no fault. If Ren lacked even this caution, she'd think him too weak.
She handed over her weapons, removed her helmet and ghost mask, and stood in heavy armor. Her sun-tanned, wheat-colored skin exuded health and vigor, sharp features radiating valor, yet softened by a breeze-like calm from the plains. Her phoenix eyes shone with spirit, her dark hair tied into a long ponytail.
Crossing the wide, solemn palace corridors under Tai's guidance, she reached the resplendent, austere Golden Lotus Hall.
Unlike the casual meeting with Wally in the Heart-Nurturing Hall, this audience wasn't with a powerless, wealthy merchant but the daughter of the mightiest feudal lord. Beyond the etiquette of subject and sovereign, it carried the weight of central-local tensions. Meeting in the Heart-Nurturing Hall would've been a slight.
"Lian, general, pays respects to Your Majesty!"
Lian knelt on one knee, fists clasped, offering a military salute rather than a full subject's bow.
"Heh, rise, my dear general."
Ren didn't mind, unbothered by the breach in protocol. He wasn't like Ming, who'd suspect treachery over a gesture and plot punishment within days.
If Ming saw Lian's military salute, he'd likely take it as Rex flexing power, soon scheming to humble her in retaliation.
But Ren wasn't that man, at least not yet.
As Lian stood, Ren asked kindly, "Truly, heroes emerge young. Lian, a woman outshining men, guarding Bright Hua's borders, saving countless lives - a great deed! As a prince, I gnashed my teeth at the barbarian threat, wishing to fight myself. Father often spoke of Rex with awe and praise. How is Rex's health now?"
His knack for bending the truth was masterful.
Ming might've praised Rex in youth, but in old age, he cursed him daily in the palace as a wild wolf, unfit as a subject or son. Even historians noted Ming's tantrums over Rex.
Officials, wisely silent, kept their heads down, not daring to call out Ren's fib.
"Thanks to Your Majesty's concern," Lian replied. "Rex is well, eating heartily, drawing bows, riding as ever."
"Good! Rex has guarded Bright Hua's borders for over thirty years, his merits endless. His health is a blessing to the empire."
"Someone, draft an edict: Rex's benevolence and patriotism warm my heart. I hereby elevate him to a hereditary duke of the highest rank, title passing to heirs regardless of gender, retaining governorship of two provinces and command of northern forces, with lands granted."
The court stirred at these words. None expected Ren to be so generous, not only mending ties with Rex but leaving his military power intact, a stark contrast to Ming's policies.
Even Lian's expression shifted, her heart shaken. She'd braced for Ren to make things difficult upon her arrival, not anticipate such courtesy, even affirming Rex's control over the north.
"Lian thanks Your Majesty!"
Lian drew a memorial from her chest, handing it to Tai to present to Ren's throne. "Before I left, Rex wrote this memorial, insisting I deliver it to Your Majesty."
Ren had offered a peach; Rex now returned a plum.
"Good, good, good!"
Ren's eyes lit up with joy and excitement as he read, repeating "good" thrice.
The memorial was brief, just a few lines, yet it thrilled Ren.
Rex had decided: "Henceforth, northern officials will be appointed by the court; the Northern Marshal's house will not interfere. Of the northern army's eight lieutenants, four will be named by the emperor."
The northern army remained, but it was no longer solely Rex's. Official appointments signaled the court's takeover of the north's key affairs and finances.
The effects wouldn't show immediately, but in time, the north would cease to be Rex's domain, becoming Ren's.
No wonder Ren was ecstatic.
Though not instant, this achieved the feudal reduction Ming had failed to accomplish in a lifetime. Freshly enthroned, Ren had succeeded, a triumph over his father that thrilled him more than most victories.
It was also a political signal. Rex's compromise set a precedent, a model to gradually dismantle other feudal powers.
Lian, head bowed below the throne, touched another memorial hidden in her armor's gauntlet seam, sighing inwardly.
Rex had written two memorials before sending her to the capital.
If Ren chose reconciliation and compromise, she'd present the one just given. If he mirrored Ming's ruthless suspicion, aiming to crush Rex entirely, she'd offer the other.
Ren had chosen wisely, no surprise given the support he'd garnered to claim the throne so decisively.
An emperor willing to compromise was far better for subjects than a brilliant but stubborn one.
"Lian, you've worked hard."
Ren, after a burst of glee, calmed himself and said, "But you and the Yan Fu army must remain in the capital for now, guarding me and the palace."
Recent stirrings of factions in the capital, subtle clashes between righteous and demonic forces, hadn't escaped Ren, the city's true master. He hadn't forgotten Feng's recent uncovering of Tao's plot either.
Signs pointed to an impending reckoning, him in the open, enemies in the shadows. With Tao's cunning, Ren had never let his guard down, rallying the righteous path and stationing heavy troops around the capital, wary of any slip giving Tao an opening.
He'd never underestimated his brother.
He could only counter these schemes as they came, but with the empire's might, no matter the plotting, it'd be like an egg against a stone, futile, settling into dust.
Now, with the north's elite Yan Fu army in the capital, Ren would use them well. Battle-hardened troops were a boon, a pillow arriving just as he dozed.