Rebellious Disciple, Your Filial Devotion Has Gone Bad

Evergreen Temple, at the foot of the mountain.

A carriage fashioned from ebony stood parked there.

Its grain was like ink staining the heavens, its color understated and mysterious.

The carriage bore carved dragon patterns, all the work of master craftsmen, revealing the lofty status of its owner.

A tall white horse with flood dragon blood in its veins snorted hot breath through its nostrils.

"Your Highness, the carriage is ready."

A soft, melodious voice rang out.

A beautiful woman in moon-white palace attire approached with lotus-like steps. Her bearing was dignified and elegant, carrying the gentle charm of Jiangnan's water towns.

Her curves were exquisite and flawless, as though Heaven itself had painstakingly sculpted her.

The woman was Yun Menglan, Fang Heng's personal maid.

Yun Menglan had once served Fang Heng's mother consort, and the two had been as close as sisters.

After Fang Heng moved out of the palace, his mother consort bestowed her upon him to tend to his daily needs.

Matters great and small within the prince's residence generally passed through Yun Menglan's hands.

Though she held no official title, she was in truth the chief steward of the prince's residence.

After completing his first cultivation session, Fang Heng decided to return to the prince's residence.

After all, he could not explain the origins of the immortal root within him to outsiders.

If he entered the Dao and broke through within Evergreen Temple, the people of Evergreen Temple would inevitably discover it.

Then there would be no explaining it clearly.

Therefore, Fang Heng intended to return to the prince's residence before breaking through and entering the Dao.

As for where the immortal root had come from?

Naturally, he would place all the credit on the Life-Nourishing Art.

Wasn't the founding patriarch of the Life-Nourishing Art the same way?

Since he had not witnessed the instant the Life-Nourishing Art reached perfection, even Daoist Xuanqing could not distinguish truth from falsehood.

A Daoist a few years older than Fang Heng escorted him down to the foot of the mountain.

"Senior Brother, this is far enough."

"Where is Master? Why haven't I seen him today?"

Upon hearing Fang Heng's question, Senior Brother Lin Yichen wore an indescribably strange expression.

He cleared his throat and answered perfunctorily.

"Master is feeling unwell and couldn't come to see you off, Junior Brother."

"Feeling unwell?"

Fang Heng raised a brow, looking surprised.

Daoist Xuanqing was an expert of the Daoist School's Tenth Realm and had long been immune to all illness.

He had been perfectly fine last night, even helping Fang Heng purge poison.

Could he be feeling unwell after just one night?

The flames of gossip ignited in Fang Heng's eyes.

"Junior Brother, there's no need for you to worry about Master."

"Master merely suffered a little accident."

His senior brother's evasive, cryptic tone only stirred Fang Heng's curiosity further.

"Did he break a leg?"

"Cough, cough! It's not that serious, just a minor flesh wound."

"Master's wife is mighty!"

Fang Heng nodded slightly, then turned to the beautiful woman in moon-white palace attire.

"Aunt Yun, bring out the best Trauma Medicine."

"Junior Brother, it truly is only a small injury. There is no need to make such a fuss."

Lin Yichen hurriedly declined.

But Fang Heng had already made up his mind and forcibly stuffed the Trauma Medicine into his senior brother's hands.

"Senior Brother, this is your junior brother's filial devotion. You must deliver it to Master."

"This is imperial Trauma Medicine. You can't buy it outside."

Lin Yichen did not know whether to laugh or cry.

Filial devotion?

Junior Brother, were you sure this was filial devotion?

Wasn't it a knife plunged into Master's heart?

After giving away the Trauma Medicine, Fang Heng boarded the carriage.

Before leaving, he did not forget to lift the curtain and remind his senior brother.

"Senior Brother, don't you dare forget your junior brother's filial devotion."

A quarter of an hour later.

An enraged voice came from Daoist Xuanqing's room.

"Rebellious disciple!"

"Your filial devotion has gone bad!"

The wheels rolled onward with a rumbling clatter.

Evergreen Temple was not far from Yujing City to begin with.

Before long, Yujing City's walls came into view.

"Kind sir, have mercy. Give us something to eat."

Tattered refugees gathered around, their faces yellow and wan.

They were so gaunt that a gust of wind seemed capable of blowing them over.

Fang Heng lifted the carriage curtain and looked up.

Dense crowds of refugees surrounded Yujing City like a nest of ants.

In the bitter winter cold, refugees occasionally collapsed by the roadside and froze into ice sculptures.

"Aunt Yun, give them some food."

"Your Highness, I will see to it at once."

Yun Menglan instructed the guards to distribute flatbreads to the refugees.

The hard flatbreads, difficult to swallow, became supreme delicacies in the refugees' mouths as they wolfed them down.

"Thank you, benefactor!"

"Our benefactor has a bodhisattva heart."

Drawing back his gaze, Fang Heng frowned and asked unhappily.

"Why are there so many refugees outside Yujing City?"

"There was a severe drought in the northwest this summer, and not a single grain was harvested."

"After winter began, refugees came flooding toward Yujing in groups."

Yun Menglan brushed aside the strands of hair hanging down, her voice as gentle as ever.

"Where is the Prefect of Yujing?"

"Is he drawing a salary for nothing?"

"He can't even settle the refugees properly."

"Your Highness, the Capital Inspection is imminent. Prefect Chen is busy pulling strings. How would he have time to care about refugees?"

Only after Yun Menglan's reminder did Fang Heng recall that this was the year of the Capital Inspection.

"With so many refugees outside Yujing City, isn't he afraid of being impeached?"

"I heard that Prefect Chen has been visiting the Eastern Palace very frequently these past few days."

Fang Heng opened his mouth as though to say something, but ultimately fell silent and kept it to himself.

When prosperous, aid all under Heaven; when poor, preserve oneself alone.

He did wish to speak for the people and impeach Prefect Chen.

But it involved the Eastern Palace.

His slight frame could not bear the crushing weight of the Eastern Palace.

Just then.

The fragrance of meat spread through the air.

The crowd of refugees immediately stirred.

Someone could be heard shouting.

"The female Bodhisattva has come to distribute porridge!"

"Our benefactor has a bodhisattva heart!"

The densely packed refugees surged forward like sardines.

Before long, they had completely surrounded the female Bodhisattva distributing porridge.

From atop the carriage, Fang Heng looked from afar.

He saw a young woman of sixteen or seventeen distributing porridge amid the crowd.

She wore no makeup, yet possessed beauty that could topple a nation.

Her shoulders were as though cut from polished jade, her figure like a frail willow in the wind, as if a breeze could blow her over.

"Aunt Yun, who is that woman distributing porridge?"

Fang Heng asked, curious about her identity.

It was because she was kind-hearted, definitely not because she was beautiful.

"The Martial Prime Minister's youngest daughter, Shen Qiushui."

"She has always been greatly pampered at home."

The Martial Prime Minister's youngest daughter?

The Martial Prime Minister's image surfaced in Fang Heng's mind. Then he looked at Shen Qiushui again.

For a long while, he said nothing, seemingly lost in thought.

Could the Martial Prime Minister, with his burly and rugged appearance, produce such a beautiful daughter?

"Kind-hearted, but sadly..."

"She's a little foolish!"

Fang Heng sighed.

Shen Qiushui's chest was hardly spectacular either, so how could she be foolish with such crystalline purity?

Hearing Fang Heng's assessment of Shen Qiushui, Yun Menglan lightly nodded.

"Your Highness, Miss Shen is merely too naive in the ways of the world."

"A group of scoundrels has pulled the wool over her eyes."

Yun Menglan's words carried another meaning, and Fang Heng saw it as well.

Those receiving porridge were not all refugees.

Quite a few were strong and sturdy. One look showed they were no refugees, and they were most likely street thugs from the city.

There was a noble distributing porridge, and meat porridge at that.

Why pass up a bargain when it was right before them?

"Aunt Yun, get down. We're going over."

Fang Heng stepped down from the carriage, leading the guards as he strode menacingly toward the porridge distribution point.

"Make way... Make way..."

Fang Heng wore magnificent robes and was accompanied by guards.

The surrounding crowd wisely made a path for him.

When Shen Qiushui saw Fang Heng arrive, she hurriedly curtsied.

"This commoner, Shen Qiushui, greets Your Highness."

"Miss Shen, this is not how disaster relief is done."

Shen Qiushui lightly furrowed her delicate brows, seemingly unconvinced. She cupped her hands and asked.

"May I ask what this commoner has done wrong? Please enlighten me, Your Highness."

"You have committed three errors."

"First, your heart is too kind!"

"Second, your heart is too kind!"

"Third, your heart is still too kind!"

Fang Heng's remarks immediately angered Shen Qiushui.

Could being too kind-hearted also be a mistake?

"Your Highness, could it be that in your eyes, being too kind-hearted is also a mistake?"

"Precisely!"

Fang Heng nodded calmly, looking as though it were only natural.

Shen Qiushui was left dumbfounded, her lovely face filled with disbelief.

"Disaster relief requires strategy. How can you act on nothing but your own goodwill?"

"You distribute meat porridge, seemingly for the sake of the victims."

"In truth, you have merely moved yourself."

"Look around. Has the meat porridge you distribute truly reached the refugees' mouths?"

"Hadn't you noticed? The real disaster victims had all been squeezed to the outside, and couldn't drink your meat porridge at all?"

Fang Heng's resounding words were like a blow to the head, smashing down onto Shen Qiushui's brow.

Shen Qiushui looked around. After sweeping her gaze over the scene, her eyes dimmed.

Though the people surrounding the porridge station were raggedly dressed, they were actually full of vigor—greedy people from Yujing City.

Meanwhile, the true refugees, with sallow faces and bodies reduced to skin and bone, had been shoved to the outskirts, staring longingly at the meat porridge.

"Then what brilliant idea does Your Highness have?"

"This matter is easy enough!"

"Shovel in a scoop of dirt and stir it evenly."

Fang Heng gave the guard an order.

The guard immediately shoveled a scoop of dirt into the meat porridge and stirred it evenly.

Everyone saw the scene.

An uproar immediately broke out.

Some people became anxious.

"What are you doing?"

"We refugees have it so hard. The lady bodhisattva came to give alms, yet you're here ruining it?"

"Have you no conscience?"

"Don't think you can put on airs just because you're dressed like a decent man. Believe it or not, I'll report you to the magistrate's office."

Fang Heng glanced at the furious middle-aged man and snorted coldly.

"Twenty strokes."

"One more word, and you'll be sent to the Yujing Prefecture prison."

The middle-aged man panicked and turned to run.

The prince's estate guards would not give him the chance.

Like hungry tigers pouncing on prey, they seized the middle-aged man.

Smack—

Smack—

Smack—

Twenty military strokes left him barely clinging to life.

Fear showed in the eyes of the onlookers.

After this lesson of killing the chicken to frighten the monkeys, no one else dared cause trouble. They scattered one after another, afraid Fang Heng would settle accounts after autumn.

Without those greedy people blocking the way, the real refugees could finally have a bite of something hot.

"Lord He's method really works well!"

Fang Heng sighed inwardly.

Abruptly—

A line of small words drifted past his eyes.

Fortune +5!