The marquis's estate had a towering, imposing gate,
dark red throughout and studded with copper nails—seven rows across and seven down, forty-nine in all, as befitted a marquis. Three hundred years had passed without the slightest fading.
Above it hung a plaque personally bestowed by the founding emperor, bearing the words "Eastern Pacifying Marquis's Estate." On either side of the gate stood seven armored guards holding halberds. Its grandeur was beyond words.
An old man in black robes presented a calling card. Before long, someone led him inside.
This was the "Brother Qiu" who had fought at Fierce Tiger Stronghold. The moment the tide turned against him, he had fled for his life, only returning to the estate recently, after confirming it was safe.
The black-robed elder followed a steward through twist after twist. Black-armored soldiers guarded the entire route. Their squad leaders were at least at the inner qi stage, and the soldiers were no weaklings either, having made some progress in body tempering.
Before long, he arrived at a secluded place under even tighter guard and walked in on his own.
Someone was already inside.
The moment he entered, his attention was drawn to a middle-aged man with a dragon's stride, a tiger's bearing, and the wary gaze of a wolf and an eagle. The man was in his forties and wore only a simple brocade robe, yet he possessed an intangible pull that made people listen to him and obey without thinking.
Qiu Di's eyes shifted slightly.
A master physiognomist in the cult had calculated that the Eastern Pacifying Marquis before him possessed "dragon qi." With the foundations inherited from his ancestors, he was a man who could become emperor one day.
Qiu Di scoffed at that.
The cult had poured its support into him, supplying whatever