Qingfeng Courtyard

The next day.

East of the city, Qingfeng Courtyard.

The person stood by the window. Outside, snow fell heavily. The plum trees in the courtyard had shed their last leaves, their branches adorned with long icicles.

"It's been snowing these past few days, only clearing up yesterday. People are saying it's a blessing from a Dragon Palace immortal for Master Tong."

The old gardener, tending to a peony of unparalleled beauty, chimed in with some local gossip.

He had never encountered such a generous employer in Pingding City before.

Thirty taels to hire him, just to make this peony bloom. He couldn't fathom what kind of family background would spend money like flowing water.

He glanced subtly at the back of the person by the window, secretly guessing their identity. They must be either rich or noble.

"What else are people saying about the Tong family?"

"They say that for Master Tong's sixtieth birthday, the gifts he received were truly extraordinary. One room filled with gold, another with silver, a third with brocades and silks, and a fourth with pearls and jade."

"Four rooms? Interesting."

"Master, there's something even more interesting."

"Oh?"

"Some say those four rooms can't compare to four specific items. Do you know which ones?"

"Which four?"

The old gardener said proudly, "Pillar of the North, the Filial Son Stabs the Scripture, Immortal's Gift of Scales, and the Cult Master's Gifted Wine."

"Indeed, they can't compare."

The young man walked to the table, looking at the peony that was stubbornly refusing to bloom.

The same soil, the same pot, the same fertilizer, the same pruning.

Why wouldn't it bloom?

Why him, of all people?

He chuckled, "Old Dong, you really do know a little bit about everything. What else have you heard?"

The gardener, wanting to prove he was worth the thirty taels paid by his employer, racked his brain for gossip he'd heard at the Sihai Grand Teahouse.

"There's also something about the Third Young Master of the Tong family making a fool of himself at the banquet. I didn't hear the specifics, but I can go ask and tell you tomorrow?"

Tong Yukang's smile widened. "Do you think this peony will still bloom?"

"The weather is getting colder, I'm afraid it will be difficult. I'll do my best."

"Then forget it. You don't need to come tomorrow."

"Master, I..."

"Get out."

After the gardener left, the peony pot crashed to the ground, scattering soil and ceramic shards.

A dark figure leaped in through the window, landing silently on the ground. Dressed in simple cloth and wearing a bamboo hat, he clearly wished to conceal his identity. He walked to the table.

"There are people watching outside the courtyard."

"I know."

"Do you know who they are?"

"My father."

"Why?"

"It might be because of Yang Lianting."

Tong Yukang poured two cups of hot tea. "Pu'er aged for more than five years naturally mellows, transforming from raw to ripe. Its nature is gentle, and its aroma is rich, perfect for dispelling the cold in winter."

The figure glanced at the mess on the floor, picked up a teacup, and asked, "Do you have a personal vendetta against him?"

Tong Yukang thought for a moment, then shook his head.

"Then you really lost your composure yesterday."

Tong Yukang sneered, "I'm not a saint. It's normal to lose my composure occasionally!"

The figure was silent for a moment, then asked, "Any recent news?"

"Dongfang Bubai returned to Blackwood Cliff, and it seems he left again."

"Dongfang Bubai left Blackwood Cliff? Can his whereabouts be traced?"

"How can you even ask that? You, a cripple who knows no martial arts, trying to track Dongfang Bubai's movements? You might as well ask me to capture Dongfang Bubai for you, wouldn't that be easier?"

"Heh heh, it would be best if you could capture him. I meant investigating through Yang Lianting. While Dongfang Bubai was away, there should have been some channel of communication between them."

"Yang Lianting is not as simple as he appears. If you rush like this, you'll get into trouble sooner or later."

"It's not me who's rushing, it's the higher-ups! As long as Dongfang Bubai remains in power, Lord Wan's plan cannot be implemented."

The porcelain lid swirled around the rim of the cup, skimming off the foam. The tea leaves slowly unfurled in the boiling water. Tong Yukang glanced at the man in the bamboo hat and sneered, "What's the use of rushing? The Sun Moon Divine Cult's century-old foundation, if you truly examine its roots... Zhang, Han, Zhu, Peng, they were only slightly luckier than the founding emperor back then. It was only then that the Han family became the orthodox lineage of the realm-"

The Man in the Bamboo Hat quickly stopped him, "Thousand-Household Tong, these are not words you or I should speak!"

That night.

In the backyard of the Tong Mansion, within a small pavilion.

A few footprints on the snowy ground extended all the way to the front of the pavilion.

The copper stove blazed with a roaring fire, and the lamb chops, roasted with honey, were perfectly golden brown, emitting an irresistible aroma.

The lid of the pot trembled like a playful little rabbit, pushed by the steam, and the aroma of wine surged forth.

The four Tong father and sons each occupied a side.

"The Divine Cult's expansion northward has not gone smoothly. Eldest Son, you need to put in more effort."

"The foremost martial arts power in Shuntian Prefecture is the Loyalty and Filial Piety Hall, which seems to be colluding with the Imperial Guards. Several times the authorities have secretly intervened, otherwise, this child would have already wiped out those scoundrels."

Tong Yuhai, in his early forties, bore a strong resemblance to his father. At sixteen, he began following Tong Baixiong, roaming the martial arts world. Now, he was a powerful Incense Master of the Sun Moon Divine Cult, stationed in Shuntian Prefecture, where the Capital City was located.

Tong Baixiong frowned, "Martial arts matters should be settled within the martial arts world. This is an unspoken understanding between the Imperial Guards and the Divine Cult. If it weren't for the traitors within the Cult causing trouble and the Halls fighting amongst themselves, Wan Chonglou would never dare to act like this!"

Tong Yuhai asked, "In my opinion, at critical moments, shouldn't we make a move to deter the Imperial Guards?"

"Six years ago, that would have been possible. But now, with unrest within the Cult, a full-scale war with the Imperial Guards would mean, Eldest Brother, I fear the Wind Thunder Hall would be left to bear the brunt of it, dealing with external enemies while also guarding against Yang Lianting, making it difficult to cope."

Tong Yuzhong was in the private salt business and was the biggest illicit salt dealer in the capital, earning a fortune daily. He was Eldest Brother Tong Yuhai's financial backer, and their relationship was close, though their styles differed.

Tong Baixiong pondered, "I agree with Eldest Son. We still need to make a move to deter them, but we must control the extent of it. The Wala Tribe is very powerful on the grasslands, and the Imperial Guards wouldn't dare to commit their full strength to a war."

Tong Yuhai chuckled, "Alright, after the New Year, I'll return to Shuntian Prefecture to make arrangements."

The three father and sons drank and ate meat, chatting about martial arts matters, quite contentedly.

Meanwhile, Tong Yukang sat alone in a corner, cold and desolate.

Tong Yuhai saw this and joked, "Third Brother, you're well-read and always insightful. Why are you so quiet tonight? Are you unhappy that your brothers are back?"

Tong Yukang chuckled lightly, "Where did you get that idea, Eldest Brother? I'm more than happy that you're back."

Seeing his dispirited appearance, Tong Baixiong couldn't help but ask, "Third Son, do you still remember what happened yesterday?"

Tong Yukang sighed, "Father, I was impulsive yesterday. I shouldn't have said those things at the banquet."

Tong Baixiong asked, "Do you have a past grievance with Zhang Yu?"

A look of sorrow crossed Tong Yukang's face, "Father, do you see me that way?"

Tong Baixiong frowned, "Oh, if it's not a past grievance, then why did you repeatedly make things difficult for him?"

Tong Yukang forced a smile, "I've never met him before. I was worried about Father."

Tong Baixiong was confused, "Worried about me? What do you mean?"

"Father must know that Wu Lianjiang is a staunch confidant of Cult Master Ren. I also heard that Young Miss Ren has taken a liking to Zhang Yu. If Father accepts Wu Lianjiang's disciple into the Wind Thunder Hall, there are already whispers on Blackwood Cliff. If you show him further undue favor, I fear Eastern Cult Master will become suspicious of you."

Tong Yukang's tone was filled with worry.

Tong Baixiong pondered for a moment, "Zhang Yu is Wu Lianjiang's disciple and also a disciple of the Sun Moon Divine Cult. I don't believe he can't distinguish priorities and betray us to join the now-nominal Young Miss Ren."

"I fear the power of public opinion. Others will only say that Father is deliberately observing."

Tong Yukang picked up the iron tongs and poked the firewood, making the fire in the stove burn brighter.

He glanced at his second brother and gently put down the tongs.

Tong Yuzhong said, "Third Brother is right. Regarding the Immortal's Gift of Scales matter, even if it's true, it seems Father shouldn't have appointed him as an Incense Master. Years ago, when someone offered the Blue Carp, Cult Master Ren promoted that person several ranks. If someone with ill intentions connects these two events, it might be disadvantageous to Father."

Tong Baixiong nodded slightly, "Second Son, I hadn't considered this point..."

Tong Yuhai laughed, "Isn't he a Deputy Flag Master? I think promoting him to Flag Master would be more than enough. He's truly a promising talent. It's not too late to promote him further later on."

Tong Baixiong nodded, looking at Tong Yukang with satisfaction, and smiled, "It was Father who misunderstood you."