My Disloyal Disciple, Your Filial Piety Has Soured

Evergreen Temple, at the foot of the mountain.

An ebony carriage was parked at the base of the mountain.

Its grain resembled ink staining the sky, and its color was understated yet mysterious.

Carved onto the carriage body were chi-patterned dragons, all masterfully crafted, hinting at the noble status of its owner.

A tall white horse with the bloodline of a flood dragon snorted, plumes of hot air rising from its nostrils.

"Your Highness, the carriage is ready."

A soft, melodious voice spoke.

A beautiful woman in a moon-white palace dress approached with graceful, gentle steps, her demeanor elegant and refined, carrying the soft charm of a Jiangnan water town.

Her figure was perfectly sculpted, flawless, as if meticulously carved by the heavens themselves.

This was Yun Menglan, Fang Heng's personal maid.

Yun Menglan had previously served Fang Heng's birth mother, and their relationship was like sisters.

After Fang Heng moved out of the palace, his mother bestowed Yun Menglan upon him to look after his daily needs.

Most of the affairs, big and small, within the prince's manor were handled by Yun Menglan.

Though she held no official title, she was, in essence, the head housekeeper of the manor.

After completing his initial cultivation, Fang Heng decided to return to the prince's manor.

After all, the origin of the immortal root within him was something he couldn't explain to outsiders.

If he were to break through and enter the Dao at Evergreen Temple, it would surely be discovered by the temple's residents.

At that point, things would become complicated.

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

As for how he acquired the immortal root?

He would naturally attribute it all to the Life-Nourishing Art.

Wasn't that how it was for the founding patriarch of Evergreen Temple?

Because he hadn't witnessed the moment the Life-Nourishing Art reached perfection, even Daoist Xuanqing couldn't distinguish truth from falsehood.

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

"Senior Brother, this is far enough."

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

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

He cleared his throat and replied perfunctorily, "Master is feeling unwell and couldn't come to see you off, Junior Brother."

"Unwell?"

Fang Heng raised an eyebrow, a look of surprise on his face.

Daoist Xuanqing was a tenth-stage master of Daoism, long immune to all illnesses.

He had been perfectly fine last night, even detoxifying him.

Could he really be unwell after just one night?

A flame of curiosity ignited in his eyes.

"Junior Brother, you don't need to worry about Master."

"Master just had a small accident."

Senior Brother's evasive and secretive tone only piqued Fang Heng's curiosity further.

"Did he break a leg?"

"Cough, cough! It's not that serious, just a minor superficial injury."

"Mistress is mighty!"

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

"Aunt Yun, bring the best Trauma Medicine."

"Junior Brother, it's really just a minor injury, no need to make such a fuss."

Lin Yichen quickly tried to decline.

But Fang Heng had made up his mind and forcefully handed the Trauma Medicine to his Senior Brother.

"Senior Brother, this is my filial piety as your Junior Brother; you must give it to Master."

"This is imperial Trauma Medicine, unobtainable anywhere outside the palace."

Lin Yichen didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

Filial piety?

"Junior brother, are you sure this is filial piety?"

"Not a dagger to Master's heart?"

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

Before leaving, he didn't forget to lift the curtain and instruct his senior brother.

"Senior brother, please don't forget about your junior brother's filial piety."

A quarter of an hour later.

An exasperated voice came from Daoist Xuanqing's room.

"Disobedient disciple!"

"Your filial piety has gone bad!"

The wheels rolled, making a rumbling sound.

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

Before long, the city walls of Yujing City came into view.

"Noble, please, spare some food."

Ragged refugees gathered around, looking gaunt.

They were so thin that it looked like a gust of wind could blow them over.

Fang Heng lifted the carriage curtain and looked up.

Dense crowds of refugees surrounded Yujing City, like a swarm of ants.

In the freezing cold, refugees occasionally collapsed on the road, frozen into ice sculptures.

"Aunt Yun, please give them some food."

"Your Highness, your humble servant will see to it."

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

The hardtack, difficult to swallow, became supreme delicacies in the mouths of the refugees, who devoured them ravenously.

"Thank you, noble!"

"Noble has the heart of a Bodhisattva."

Withdrawing his gaze, Fang Heng frowned and asked with displeasure.

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

"This summer, there was a severe drought in the northwest, and crops failed completely."

"After winter set in, refugees started flocking towards Yujing in droves."

Yun Menglan brushed back a strand of her dark hair, her voice as gentle as ever.

"What about the Prefect of Yujing?"

"Is he just sitting around doing nothing?"

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

"Your Highness, with the Capital Inspection just around the corner, Prefect Chen is busy pulling strings. How could he have time to manage the refugees?"

Yun Menglan's reminder made Fang Heng recall that this year was a year for 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 in the past few days."

Fang Heng opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but in the end, he remained silent and didn't speak.

When successful, help the world; when poor, cultivate oneself.

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

But it involved the Eastern Palace.

His small frame couldn't bear the immense pressure from the Eastern Palace.

Just then.

The aroma of meat wafted through the air.

The refugee crowd immediately stirred.

Someone was heard shouting.

"The Lady Bodhisattva is here to distribute congee!"

"The noble has the heart of a Bodhisattva!"

The dense crowd of refugees surged forward like sardines.

Soon, the "bodhisattva" distributing gruel was surrounded by a crowd.

Fang Heng sat in his carriage, watching from afar.

He saw a young woman, about sixteen or seventeen, distributing gruel among the crowd.

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

Her shoulders were delicately sloped, and she swayed like a slender willow in the breeze, as if a gust of wind could blow her over.

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

Fang Heng asked, curious about her identity.

It was because of her kind heart, not because of her beauty.

"The youngest daughter of the Martial Prime Minister, Shen Qiushui."

"She's usually pampered at home."

The Martial Prime Minister's youngest daughter?

The image of the Martial Prime Minister flashed through Fang Heng's mind, then he looked at Shen Qiushui again.

He remained silent for a long time, seemingly deep in thought.

Could the burly Martial Prime Minister really have such a delicate daughter?

"Kind-hearted, but what a shame..."

"She's just a bit foolish!"

Fang Heng sighed with emotion.

Shen Qiushui doesn't have a magnificent bosom, so why is she so naively foolish?

Yun Menglan heard Fang Heng's assessment of Shen Qiushui and nodded slightly.

"Your Highness, Miss Shen is simply too naive in her ways."

"She's been deceived by a group of unruly commoners."

Yun Menglan's words had a deeper meaning, and Fang Heng understood.

Not everyone in the crowd receiving gruel was a refugee.

Many were strong and robust, clearly not refugees, likely city ruffians.

Seeing a noble distributing gruel, and meat gruel at that, they figured why not take advantage of a good thing?

"Aunt Yun, let's get out of the carriage and go over there."

Fang Heng dismounted, taking his guards with him, and walked assertively towards the gruel distribution point.

"Excuse me... excuse me..."

Fang Heng, dressed in luxurious clothes and accompanied by guards, commanded respect.

The surrounding crowd wisely made way for him.

Upon seeing Fang Heng approach, Shen Qiushui quickly curtsied.

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

"Miss Shen, this isn't how you should be helping with disaster relief."

Shen Qiushui frowned slightly, seeming a bit unconvinced, and asked with cupped hands, "May I ask, Your Highness, where I have erred and how I might improve?"

"You have erred in three ways."

"Firstly, your heart is too kind!"

"Secondly, your heart is too kind!"

"Thirdly, your heart is still too kind!"

Fang Heng's words immediately angered Shen Qiushui.

Could having too kind a heart also be a mistake?

"Your Highness, could it be that in your eyes, having too kind a heart is also a mistake?"

"Precisely!"

Fang Heng nodded calmly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Shen Qiushui was dumbfounded, her pretty face filled with disbelief.

"Disaster relief requires strategy; how can you simply act on good intentions alone?"

"You distribute meat gruel, seemingly out of concern for the refugees."

"In reality, you're only moving yourself."

"Look, has the meat gruel you distributed truly reached the mouths of the refugees?"

"Have you not noticed that the real disaster victims have been pushed to the outskirts and can't get any of your meat porridge at all?"

Fang Heng's words, spoken with conviction, were like a sudden blow, striking Shen Qiushui's mind.

Shen Qiushui looked around; after surveying the area, her eyes dimmed.

Although the people surrounding the porridge distribution point were dressed in rags, they were actually quite robust—greedy individuals from Yujing City.

In contrast, the truly emaciated and sickly-looking refugees were squeezed to the periphery, gazing longingly at the meat porridge.

"Then, Your Highness, what brilliant ideas do you have?"

"This is simple!"

"Scoop in a shovel of dirt and mix it well."

Fang Heng instructed a guard.

The guard immediately scooped a shovel of dirt into the meat porridge and stirred it thoroughly.

This scene was witnessed by everyone.

It immediately caused a commotion.

Some people grew agitated.

"What are you doing?"

"How pitiful are we refugees? The benevolent lady comes to give alms, and you actually come to sabotage it?"

"Do you have any conscience?"

"Don't think that just because you're well-dressed, I won't go to the yamen and report you."

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

"Twenty strokes of the cane."

"Say another word, and you'll be sent to the Yujing City Sky Prison."

The middle-aged man panicked and tried to run.

The prince's guards, however, wouldn't give him the chance.

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

Crack—

Crack—

Crack—

Twenty military cane strokes left the man on the verge of death.

The onlookers' eyes revealed fear.

With this display of killing the chicken to scare the monkeys, no one else dared to cause trouble, and they dispersed, fearing that Fang Heng would settle accounts with them later.

Without these greedy individuals in the way, the true refugees could finally get a warm meal.

"His Lordship's method truly works wonders!"

Fang Heng sighed with emotion in his heart.

Suddenly, a line of small characters floated across his vision.

Destiny/Luck +5!