Chapter 65: Nearly Demonic

Fang Qiutan said, “Cultivators emphasize spiritual roots and vital energy. The admiration from mortals can nurture a kind of vital energy. For those whose primordial spirits scattered upon death, if they are enshrined with incense and offerings by millions over generations, gathering that vital energy, they might reassemble their primordial spirit and reincarnate.”

Li Cong narrowed his eyes. “If Cui Wangshu sits in that position, won’t she also receive this vital energy from worship?”

Fang Qiutan shook his head. “Your Majesty, she originally has no spiritual root. The position of Chief Minister carries too heavy a murderous aura; it is the head of all officials. While it receives the admiration of the world, it must also bear the karma.”

“Having taken her Heart’s Blood, she has lost the protection of spiritual energy. Your Majesty’s earthly karmic ties and the karmic obstacles of Great Zhao’s people will all fall upon her.”

Li Cong’s suspicions arose again. “Are you truly not deceiving me?”

Fang Qiutan chuckled and waved his whisk, retrieving an object from afar. He said, “Your Majesty, why would this poor Daoist deceive you? The cultivation world and the mortal world do not intersect. By principle, for this poor Daoist to intervene in mortal karma would invite heavenly punishment. But you wish to escape the mortal dust, and this poor Daoist desires the corpses of all on future battlefields. Our mutual cooperation is already the best arrangement.”

Li Cong stared at him without speaking. Back then, Fang Qiutan had approached him, claiming he could help him escape the mortal dust in exchange for the corpses left on every future battlefield in Great Zhao.

He had heard that some cultivators took crooked paths, ones not tolerated by the Heavenly Dao, but that was Fang Qiutan’s affair. What he wanted was merely a chance to escape the dust.

“Remember what you said today. If I discover any disloyalty, I will naturally find ways to make you wish for death.”

A strange smile hung on Fang Qiutan’s aged face, giving him the look of an evil cultivator. “Your Majesty can rest assured.”

It was true that cultivators could not intervene in mortal karma, but the methods he used were mortal ones—heavenly punishment would not fall upon him.

These past few days, snow blanketed the Capital City. Thick layers accumulated on rooftops and streets. Charcoal fires burned inside houses, dispelling some of the chill. A gust of wind burst into the room, suddenly jolting the person on the bed awake from the cold.

Cui Wangshu opened her eyes and looked toward the window. The sky outside had already darkened.

Had she slept so long?

The Soul Preserving Pill combined with the Golden Blood Powder had saved her life. A faint pain in her chest reminded her of everything that had happened that day.

She pursed her lips and rose. Recalling the dream from today, Cui Wangshu frowned. It was already the second time she had dreamed of that scene on a snowy cliffside.

Others might disregard their dreams, but Cui Wangshu was proficient in Divination Chips—her dreams carried prophecies.

Her gaze darkened slightly. Everything was set to begin half a year later, after winter had passed. How could there be such heavy snow?

A wave of panic surged in her heart. Cui Wangshu couldn’t resist wanting to use the Divination Chips, but then she remembered Wang Xian’s words.

She could not use the Divination Chips now, or half a year from now, she would not recover to her best state.

Suppressing her unease, Cui Wangshu donned a cloak and left Xiaoyun Pavilion.

The woman’s slender frame was wrapped in the oversized cloak. Snowflakes clung to her ink-black hair. The swaying hem of the cloak brushed over the accumulated snow on the ground as she ventured alone into the cold night.

Two days before New Year’s Eve.

Before the morning court session, Cui Daoyuan approached Cui Wangshu with a gloomy face. He narrowed his eyes and said, “Remember to return to the residence today.”

Cui Wangshu nodded. “Yes.”

Staring at her face, Cui Daoyuan frowned. “Why does your complexion look so poor? Are you ill?”

Nearly half a month had passed before Cui Daoyuan noticed she was ill.

Cui Wangshu’s lips were still somewhat pale, and she visibly exuded weakness. She pursed her lips and said, “With the recent snowfall, I might have caught a chill last night.”

Displeasure flashed in Cui Daoyuan’s eyes. He scolded, “Don’t ruin the major event.”

Cui Wangshu’s expression remained indifferent, showing no clues. “Father, rest assured.”

At the morning court, Li Cong’s probing gaze swept over the Cui father and daughter. Seeing the impatience in Cui Daoyuan’s eyes as he entered, his heart grew more certain.

Especially since he had received the impeachment against Cui Daoyuan yesterday. Today, when the matter was raised, Li Cong wielded the rod high but set it down lightly, merely issuing a verbal reprimand. This provoked even greater dissatisfaction among the aristocratic families who had impeached Cui Daoyuan.

In the Cui Residence.

Cui Daoyuan lifted his gaze to stare at Cui Wangshu, his eyes like those of a venomous snake. “Is this the brilliant idea you gave me?”

Cui Wangshu curved her lips. “Father, why not wait quietly for tomorrow and see if the result is what you desire?”

Silence filled the study, broken only by the howling wind and snow outside. Father and daughter locked eyes—one probing, the other resolute.

After a long while, Cui Daoyuan snorted coldly. “Fine, I’ll give you one last chance.”

Leaving the Cui Residence, Cui Wangshu boarded a carriage and headed toward Xiaoyun Pavilion. A relaxed air showed between her brows, without a trace of the weakness she had displayed during the day these past days.

Entering the room, she stood by the stove. The warmth from the charcoal fire dispelled the frost from her body.

“Creak—”

Cui Wangshu curved her lips. She had come…

Before she appeared, that cold voice laced with faint anger rang out. “Why did you help Cui Daoyuan resolve this matter?”

Cui Wangshu turned and looked at Xun An, who had just rushed back from Jiangnan. She curved her lips. “You’re back.”

Xun An frowned slightly. “You haven’t answered me yet.”

Cui Wangshu did not reply. She pulled out a stool and sat down, pouring two cups of tea. She said indifferently, “Sit.”

Xun An sat on the chair with a cold face. She had hurriedly wrapped up affairs in Jiangnan, only to return and find that Cui Wangshu’s first task for her was to help that old man Cui Daoyuan deal with the court gossip.

Cui Wangshu placed the teacup before her. Her gaze fixed on the void, her pupils pitch-black, her tone terrifyingly calm. “To make someone perish, first drive them mad.”

Lately, Cui Daoyuan had grown increasingly irritable, his patience waning. The Emperor’s people deliberately called him a senile fool—a crude provocation—yet he exploded in rage.

Xun An looked at Cui Wangshu’s face, which smiled without reaching her eyes, and furrowed her brows. “Did you arrange it?”

Cui Wangshu curved her lips but did not answer directly.

Xun An lowered her gaze. Cui Wangshu was nearly demonic—too clever.

“I know what to do now.”

She recalled how Wang Xian had cursed Cui Wangshu tonight while chatting with her, calling her a stubborn donkey for insisting on taking that half-bowl of Heart’s Blood. There were other ways, yet she chose this self-damaging path.

At first, Xun An hadn’t understood why Cui Wangshu did it, but just now, meeting those calm, extraordinary eyes, she roughly understood Cui Wangshu’s true intentions.

In this play, everyone was immersed in their roles—including her and Wang Xian, all guessing what part Cui Wangshu played. Yet they didn’t know she had always been the utterly calm and clear-headed spectator.

On the stage, everyone performed—except Cui Wangshu.

This time, she had acted too frail, so frail that everyone thought she hadn’t made her move yet. In truth, three months ago, she had removed herself from the Capital City’s sight, yet she had never once stopped controlling things here.

Upon her return, she used the Heart’s Blood extraction to hide herself under the guise of illness, appearing on the verge of collapse, as if her life hung by a thread with no threat left.

She elevated both the Emperor and Cui Daoyuan higher and higher. The two watched each other’s jokes, becoming her puppets, striking at one another, hoping for the other’s death.

Little did they know, when the snipe and clam fought, the fisherman benefited. The two self-proclaimed hunters would ultimately face the fate of the hare dying and the hound cooked.

What a move of killing two birds with one stone—it made Minister Cui appear innocent and pitiable from start to finish, at the mercy of others.

Most terrifying was that no one knew when her plan truly began, how many purposes each step served. By the time you realized, every retreat was severed, and the net she wove for you was airtight, link by link.

Xun An swallowed. Suddenly, she felt fortunate to be Cui Wangshu’s friend, not her enemy—otherwise, she might not even know how she died.

Cui Wangshu’s meaningful gaze fell on Xun An, making her fidget. Cui Wangshu chuckled lightly and asked, “You seem… afraid of me?”

If Jiang Ci had been there, she would immediately recognize Jiang Chenbi’s shadow in Cui Wangshu’s current expression.

But Xun An had never met Jiang Chenbi and felt unnerved by her stare. “A little.”

Cui Wangshu lowered her gaze and said, “You’ve been away from the Capital City for nearly five years. You’ll get used to it.”

For the first time, Xun An found Cui Wangshu somewhat unfamiliar. But recalling how she had navigated those old foxes in court over the years, she felt she wasn’t so terrifying after all.

If not forced by circumstances, how could a perfectly fine person become this bone-chewing, bloodless figure?

Xun An lifted the teapot and poured tea for them both. Raising her cup, she said, “Wangshu, I was just unaccustomed earlier. Don’t overthink it. I’m always on your side.”

Cui Wangshu was amused by her earnest demeanor. For someone like Xun An, who wasn’t good with words, these words already showed her true heart.

She lifted her tea, relaxed her expression, and curved her lips. “I’ve never doubted you. In my heart, you and Jiang Ci are both very important friends to me—just like that discomfort you mentioned earlier.”

She smiled helplessly and continued, “I’m just used to it.”

With tea in place of wine, the two exchanged smiles.

The three had met as young girls at Xiaoyun Pavilion. Years of fighting side by side had forged a wordless friendship. Later, Xun An’s family fell into trouble, and she returned to Jiangnan, but it did not affect the bond between the three. At any time, they could entrust their backs to each other.

Gathered at Xiaoyun Pavilion, the two chatted at length. Xun An realized Cui Wangshu had changed a lot—yet seemed unchanged.

Occasionally, her eyes revealed a repression Xun An couldn’t comprehend, as if in that moment she could hardly breathe. Yet it felt like that was the real her, borrowing that second to drop her mask and rest.

But her temperament was too unpredictable, her emotions shifting too quickly. Before you could discern the feeling in her eyes, she had already changed expressions. So many changes gave an impression of stillness.

Others might not notice, but Xun An had known the more vibrant Cui Wangshu of old, so she detected these subtle shifts.

Though not in the Capital City these years, she knew how this “Minister” had stirred storms in the court. Xun An had long witnessed her methods.

Though today refreshed her understanding, Xun An knew that no matter how Cui Wangshu treated others, toward her and Jiang Ci, she remained the Cui Wangshu who once took a blade for her.

Gazing at the fireworks outside the window, Cui Wangshu curved her lips and said softly, “New Year is coming…”