After meeting the Demon Sect saintess, Ji Yanqing whistled softly. A silver-white steed, radiant as snow, galloped from the street’s end—the Night-Shining Jade Lion.
Mounting the horse, he gripped the reins tightly, urging it toward the Scholars’ Ward, where Yanxia’s cultural heart lay. Home to unranked scholars, the ward was serene and refined.
Founded on martial prowess, Yanxia’s Taizu took the reign name Wuding, meaning “to pacify by force,” relegating scholars to lower status.
Only under the new Emperor, who upheld tradition and promoted civility while curbing martial influence, did Yanxia’s martial dominance begin to balance with civil power. In court, scholars and generals now stood equal.
The Imperial Academy had two colleges: Martial and Civil. The Martial College was established when Taizu ordered Duke Qi to suppress lake-region sects, seizing their centuries-old techniques and manuals to fill the academy’s library.
Thus, noble clans vied to send their prodigies to the Martial College for strength and connections.
The Civil College, meanwhile, was for noble daughters to study literature and cultivate virtue. Men rarely entered unless utterly abandoned by their families.
With Wei King Ji Yang’s influence, Ji Yanqing shouldn’t have ended up in the Civil College, but the Emperor’s special decree ordered him there to “study and refine himself,” tasking Chu Yingao, the “Pride of Yanyun,” to tutor him.
She was Duke Yan’s second daughter—Ji Yanqing’s former fiancée.
Post-Cengagement, their relationship wasn’t exactly warm, but it could be called deeply hostile.
Was the Emperor, meddling, worried the academy’s feng shui was too strong, hoping a bloodbath would suppress its fortune?
Dong—
The deep bronze bell tolled, signaling late evening. From a mountain peak, Chang’an’s streets crisscrossed like a chessboard, its lights twinkling like stars in the lonely night.
The steed halted at the academy gate. Ji Yanqing climbed down, heading for the Civil College, while the Night-Shining Jade Lion flicked its tail, trotting to the stables to graze.
Crossing the vermilion threshold, Ji Yanqing entered the academy’s grand campus—pavilions, halls, and soaring eaves befitting the empire’s top institution.
Along the way, he met Martial College disciples, some in their teens with Gathering Spirit or even Radiant Sun Realm cultivation, aided by elixirs but undeniably talented.
No matter how bad their roots were, most elixirs could only force a breakthrough to third-layer Qi Condensation.
Don’t ask how Ji Yanqing knew.
Spotting the sword-bearing Heir, Martial College disciples hid their scorn behind smiles, mindful of the Wei King’s might, showing no disrespect.
Those whose fathers served in Wei’s army bowed deeply, greeting the Heir respectfully.
Ji Yanqing, playing the haughty, strutted past without a glance, striding toward the Civil College’s White Deer Hall.
He’d come to Chang’an alone, nominally to study, but truly as a hostage to check the Wei King in the western regions, his life in the new Emperor’s hands.
White Deer Hall, on the academy’s west, mirrored the Martial College’s Bright Martial Hall. Elegant and simple, with embroidered screens and neatly lined desks, it was nearly deserted.
In mid-winter, Chang’an buzzed with merchants crossing deserts, their bells ringing, offering exotic goods and acrobatics. Noble daughters, freed from confinement, skipped evening studies to roam with maids.
At the back right desk, a jade incense burner sat. A girl in a white silk skirt, graceful and poised, her brows like emerald feathers, skin snowy, eyes like autumn waters, exuded noble elegance. Her inky hair was pinned high, secured with a gold filigree crown.
Her refined, regal beauty bore a colder pride than Heroine Ji’s, lacking her spark.
Gazing at the icy yet alluring beauty, Ji Yanqing heard a lewd whisper.
[The colder the girl, the sweeter the conquest. Imagine this ice queen in bed, her soft moans under you—what bliss…]
Unfazed, Ji Yanqing sat beside her, asking casually, “Was roll call taken at dusk?”
Rustle… The book’s pages turned. Chu Yingao, engrossed in Chronicles of the Marquises, ignored him.
“Where have you been?” she asked coldly after a pause.
“None of your business,” Ji Yanqing said.
“Explain it to the Emperor. I won’t mind you anymore,” she shot back.
“Miss Chu, two days ago, I submitted a petition. Then Spy Agency Superintendent Wang Zhu invited me for tea at midnight with shadow guards,” Ji Yanqing sighed, helpless.
“Want to submit the seventh petition? Maybe it’ll work?”
“Taizu’s edict: women shun’t meddle in politics,” she replied, her phoenix eyes full of resentment.
She’d had enough of this wastrel’s arrogance and recklessness.
Thankfully, their engagement was off, or the thought of bearing his children…
Chu Yingao nearly fainted.
“Fine, once the war ends, I’ll return to Ye China. I know it’s tough for you, Miss Chu. It’s tough for me too. Let’s both endure,” Ji Yanqing sighed.
Being trapped in this invisible prison, under constant watch, was stifling—like a noose choking him.
Chu didn’t argue, rare for once. Cooperation seemed the only way through.
“As long as it’s not for life,” she murmured.
“So, where were you?” she asked softly, closing her book.
“Xiaoxiang Pavilion…” Ji Yanqing said.
Chu Yingao’s jade-like hand crumpled the book, her body tense, teeth gritted. “That’s the thirteenth time! You’re a vassal Heir, a noble. Can’t you show some restraint?”
“Only thirteen? Not that many,” he quipped.
“You’ve been at the academy twelve days! You hit Xiaoxiang for wine before even meeting the Emperor at Daming Palace,” she snapped.
“The sage says, ‘Gentlemen indulge in food and beauty,’” Ji Yanqing quoted calmly.
“Shut up!” Chu Yingao fumed.
“Fine, I won’t stuff Miss Chu’s mouth,” he teased.
Premium Chapter
Login to buy access to this Chapter.