Chapter 206: Familial Betrayal

Li Ce returned to the city gate's bulletin board and saw that thirty fortresses had already been marked; any further markings would penetrate deep into Tibetan territory. Upon seeing Li Ce's return, Qing Feng approached hurriedly, his expression far from relieved. He anxiously added, "They sent someone... Not Ye Langzhong, but—"

"But what?"

Li Ce's urgency surpassed even Qing Feng's—it was no mere surface agitation. His fiery gaze, sullen complexion, and hurried steps betrayed a man unable to maintain his usual composure and equanimity in the face of adversity.

"Your Highness, please come and see for yourself." Qing Feng led the way back to the residence. There, they found an unfamiliar corpse lying on the ground—missing an arm, exactly the one that matched the previously sent limb. The two men who had delivered the body knelt and presented a map.

"This man forced Ye Langzhong off the cliff and was executed for it. The previously sent limb was not Ye Langzhong's; we ask for Your Highness's pardon."

Both men were in their twenties, dark-skinned and robust, speaking fluent Chinese with fearless resolve in their voices.

"Ye Langzhong fell from the cliff?" Li Ce stepped forward. Qing Feng saw Li Ce stagger, nearly falling, and hurried to steady him. Straightening, Li Ce demanded coldly, "Where?" His voice was like a drawn sword, vibrating with tension.

"The location is clearly marked on the map," one of the men replied. "Our master insists this was an accident and begs Your Highness not to reveal the Tibetan fortress's location. Our men are searching for Ye Langzhong; Your Highness may also join the search. The sooner he is found, the greater his chance of survival."

Li Ce lowered his gaze to the map, and darkness engulfed him as if descending into an abyss. After a long moment, he discerned the rivers and mountains drawn, with a marked spot indicating where Ye Langzhong fell.

"Your master," he said coldly, betraying no concealment of his murderous intent, "is Princess Gesang Meiduo of Tibet."

The men said nothing, tacitly acknowledging the accusation.

"Return and tell Gesang Meiduo," Li Ce's long fingers clenched the map with an ominous intensity, "if Ye Langzhong dies here, I shall consign the entire Tibetan delegation to the grave!"

The very notion of annihilating an entire delegation over one fifth-rank official seemed extraordinary. The kneeling envoys exchanged glances, attempting to rise but found their limbs too weak.

"Prepare the horses."

Li Ce turned and strode forward, suddenly clutching his chest where a surge of metallic, saline blood threatened to choke him—but he swallowed it down. He could not collapse. Not now.

The wind in the capital was harsher than in Jinzhou. Two palace guards standing at the gate whispered behind shelter from the gusts.

"The wind's been strong these days; many carrier pigeons from the Flying Servant Enclosure have been lost. The Deputy Commander was furious."

"Flying Servant" referred to carrier pigeons; the enclosure was where the guards bred them.

"Our Deputy Commander's luck is enviable. His father-in-law is the Minister of Revenue, overseeing finance; his brother-in-law is Prince Wei, managing state affairs. No wonder he has time to meddle even in trivial matters like the pigeon enclosure."

"Fortune aside," the other guard said, "some things remain unattainable. Haven't you heard? Miss Shu of the Princess's household refused to marry the Deputy Commander. Such a pity."

"What pity? Don't you know? The Deputy Commander is infatuated with that female official from the Ministry of War. He wanted to court her, but she rejected him, and they fell out!"

"That female official? Just say she's the fiancée of Prince Chu!"

At this, one guard lowered his voice in warning.

"Silence!"

Before their words could trail off, the Deputy Commander Yan Congzheng strode up, clad in crimson court robes and black armor. The wind could not ruffle his armor as he stood in the gust, smoothing his sleeves and turning to the sheltering guards with a stern gaze.

"Idle chatter?"

The guards trembled and dropped to one knee, apologizing.

"The Observatory warns of strong winds these days. Stay vigilant." Yan Congzheng did not reproach them harshly.

"Understood." The guards retreated to their posts, hearts uneasy yet curious. Yan Congzheng's recent presence guarding the palace was unusual—normally, it was Bai Tongling who took charge. Yan had hurried home because a household steward had sent word that Hua Ge'er was injured. Hua Ge'er was the childhood name of Li Beichen, son of Prince Wei Li Chen, who often stayed at Yan's residence for archery lessons. Yan, doting on his nephew, taught him not only archery but also etiquette, music, literature, and arithmetic with great care.

Yet upon arriving, Yan found no sign of the boy. His father Yan Lian and sister Yan Shuangxu sat poised in the main hall, awaiting him. The injury was evidently a falsehood.

"As a mother, you," Yan Congzheng's expression shifted from worry to anger, "would stoop to cursing your own child and deceive me into returning?"

Despite his anger, Yan's posture remained upright, his broad sleeves hanging heavy, the contents within shifting slightly as he moved.

"Shulou!" Yan Lian commanded sternly. "Enough."

"Shulou" was Yan Congzheng's courtesy name—meaning 'iron resolve guarding the city,' perhaps a foreshadowing of his martial path. His relationship with his father was strained; upon hearing this, Yan Congzheng turned to leave.

"If there's nothing else, I'll take my leave."

"Stay!" Yan Lian rebuked sharply. "Do you have no respect?"

Yan Congzheng returned reluctantly, kneeling stiffly. "Father, if you have any orders, please command."

Yan Lian's anger flared again, but Yan Shuangxu quickly intervened, gently coaxing her brother. She pushed a neatly folded paper across the table and implored, "Your brother-in-law requests your help."

Yan Congzheng eyed his sister warily.

"Nothing major," Yan Shuangxu said lightly, "several relatives, grown men still loitering the streets with no proper employment and marriage looming. Your brother-in-law hopes you can leverage your influence to get them into the imperial guards."

Aristocratic youths in the capital favored posts in the imperial guards—not for pay but for the honor of guarding the imperial city.

"Still the Lu clan?" Yan Congzheng asked. This was a recurring affair. Since Bai Fanxi's appointment, the city's guard rosters were littered with Lu family names. He had even been warned discreetly to distance himself from Prince Wei, lest he be dragged into messy factional strife. After all, a prince was but a prince—better to curry favor with the crown prince.

Yan Shuangxu smiled awkwardly. They had never placed Yan clan members; only Lu relatives were involved.

"One isn't," she pushed the roster again with a trace of embarrassment. "Sorry to trouble you."

"For this, I needn't be summoned back." Yan Congzheng's gaze lowered, voice indifferent. He wished his father would uphold the righteous path, remain loyal as the emperor's minister, and refrain from entanglement in the bloody succession struggles. Whoever ascended the throne, they were servants of the Great Tang.

"You overthink!" Yan Lian lectured. "The court is busy, and you've been on duty these days. Handle your brother-in-law's requests promptly."

Yan Congzheng nodded and stood. Yan Shuangxu presented a cup of tea.

"Your throat must be dry—drink before you go."

Taking the roster and tea, Yan hesitated momentarily. His sister's concern for his welfare was genuine, but this was the first time she had personally handed him tea. Surely she bore no ulterior motive—yet they still had favors to ask. He sipped, meeting her concerned gaze, then drank again.

"Sis," he said, returning the cup, "though the crown prince is confined to the Eastern Palace, His Majesty still values him and will not change his succession plans. You and Prince Wei…"

His expression shifted, brows knitting deeply, eyes clouded. Gripping Yan Shuangxu's arm, he whispered, "Sis, I…"

He stepped back, raised his hand to his forehead as the paper slipped from his grasp, unfolding to reveal names—mostly Lu surnames, hastily scrawled and evidently forged.

Yan Congzheng abruptly spun and staggered outside, a piercing headache shattering his senses. Blood surged turbulently through his veins, followed by a crushing drowsiness.

Behind him stood his family—or were they not? What family would poison their own kin with such vile schemes? They even enlisted his help first, lulling him into false security.

Yan Lian rose swiftly, moving to intercept him at the door. But Yan Congzheng had already turned to the window, not attempting to climb out—after all, the Yan estate was enclosed; escape was impossible.

He raised his sleeve and pulled a hidden cord. Suddenly, a white object leapt from his sleeve, landing beyond the window. The bird took flight instantly, vanishing into the wind.

Barely sustaining himself, Yan leaned against the wall and slowly collapsed to the ground.

"What was that?" a blurred voice asked—his sister's.

"A flying servant," Yan Lian replied gravely, "a carrier pigeon of the imperial guards. But fear not, the message tube was empty."

Yan Congzheng lost consciousness.

In the void between light and dark, a pale arm stretched toward him.

"Brother Yan, how do you like this peach blossom?"

"Beautiful—but not as beautiful as you."