There was a question Shen Tang had unconsciously ignored for years.
What, exactly, was the Way of the Feudal Lord?
Yuan Liang and the others had speculated that it might be related to agriculture, but Shen Tang had never clearly sensed its presence, let alone taken control of it. One thing was certain: the Way of the Feudal Lord was not the same as the Way of the Scholar. So what was the Way of the Scholar for someone like her, who cultivated both civil and martial paths? The Way of the Scholar was about questioning one's heart and understanding one's true nature. Shen Tang didn't believe she lacked the temperament to possess it.
Watching the officials around her get tossed about by the Perfection Ritual, she couldn't help feeling curious—and envious.
Looking back now, she couldn't help but wonder—
Did she truly have no such path?
Or did she have one, but simply never realize it?
She felt she had only been distracted for a moment, but Chu Yao saw it differently. His lord's eyes had gone blank, as though all life had been snatched from her in an instant, leaving behind a cold clay statue. The sight inexplicably rattled him. It took several soft calls before she came back to herself.
"It's nothing. I'm fine."
She signaled to Chu Yao not to worry.
But just as Chu Yao cupped his hands to take his leave, Shen Tang—who had just said she was going to rest and recover—suddenly spat out a mouthful of blood. Her features contorted horribly from the wrenching pain in her heart. Her hands and feet stiffened like a puppet's, unable to move, and she pitched forward.
The sight nearly scared the soul out of Chu Yao.
"My Lord—"
A streak of light shot out from