FENG XIAO THOUGHT he'd meditated until his soul had fluttered out of his body and landed in a night soil cart. The noxious stench wafted in from both sides, so pungent it was like a solid wall as it closed in around him. Feng Xiao was about to ascend to nirvana; he itched to transform into smoke and vanish from the world.
His obsession with cleanliness had begun in childhood. During his martial arts training, his seniors had instructed him to do a handstand against the wall to build his strength and will. To prevent his palms from touching the gravel, he'd taken the finest silk garments from his chest and placed them under his hands, nearly driving his seniors to death in their rage.
Now that very same Feng-langjun was trapped in this horrific predicament. His thoughts could be expressed in several ways.
Two syllables: Vomit.
Three syllables: Disgusting.
Four syllables: I'll murder them.
Five syllables: I'd rather be dead.
Feng Xiao would rather have been attacked by Tu'an Qinghe, Xiao Lü, and Yuxiu all at the same time than stay where he was a second longer and suffer this assault on his nose.
The two guards next door lugged the last chamber pot into place. They too felt like they were about to vomit. Their faces were wrapped in thick layers of cloth, yet they were unable to escape the foul odor assailing their nostrils. Fortunately the weather was still cool. If they'd been in the sweltering heat of summer, it would have been a true hell on earth. They exchanged a silent glance. Then, in perfect synchrony, they turned and fled for their lives.
They pelted frantically down the hall until they reached the door. Only then did they finally let out the breath they'd been holding.
"Hey, considering who that guy is…aren't you afraid he'll come after us once he gets out?" The first guard gasped, removing the cloth from his face as he huffed and puffed.
"Don't worry! By then, we won't be in this hellhole anymore!" The second guard chuckled.
The words had scarcely left his mouth when a sinister voice came from behind. "I see. Do the two of you have somewhere better to be? Do share."
The guard jolted in fear. He slowly turned his head.
An extraordinarily handsome face came into view. Had he seen such a good-looking man on the streets, the guard would have given him a few more glances. But now his complexion turned ashen, and he forced a ghastly smile. "Deputy…Deputy Chief Feng!"
Each cell in the Ministry of Justice's prison was secured with three heavy locks crafted by the royal locksmiths. Even the most crafty and notorious of criminals were unable to escape. Yet Feng Xiao had broken free as if it was child's play.
The guard quickly gathered himself and fell to his knees with a thud. "Forgive us, Deputy Chief Feng! We had a surplus of chamber pots in the prison and nowhere to put them. The cells next to yours were both empty, so my humble self thought to store them there for a short time. I saw your lordship meditating, so I didn't dare disturb you. I'll—I'll remove them right away! Right now!"
"Quite clever of you not to implicate Cui Buqu." Feng Xiao sneered. "In that case, you can go crying to him after I beat you up!"
The guard was speechless.
Feng Xiao suddenly smiled. "I'm afraid I must be going. Since you were so eager to drive me away, I'll grant your wish."
He took a step toward the door. The terrified guards didn't dare stand in his way; all they could do was plead desperately. "I have elderly parents and young children to care for," the first guard cried. "Please, Deputy Chief Feng, show some mercy! I'll clean the chamber pots immediately, and I'll replace them with fresh flowers! Your cell will smell sweet and wonderful and your lordship will feel right at home. Please don't go, Deputy Chief Feng!"
The two guards were on the verge of clinging to Feng Xiao's legs in tears.
"You don't want to be blamed for my escape?" asked Feng Xiao.
The guards nodded fervently.
"Come, I'll show you how to avoid blame." Feng Xiao beckoned them closer.
The two guards crept forward, ears perked up attentively, only to feel their bodies suddenly go numb. They were rendered motionless, unable to utter a sound as Feng Xiao grabbed each of them by the neck and dragged them back into the depths of the prison.
He tossed them into the cells where they'd left the chamber pots. With their acupoints sealed, they'd be forced to lie amid the unwashed pots and enjoy the stench until someone came to relieve them in a few hours. By that time, their noses would probably have lost the ability to distinguish anything.
Feng Xiao snorted coldly, turning to leave. He strode through the prison as if out for a leisurely stroll. As he approached the door, he stripped off his filthy outer garments and took down one of the guard uniforms hung on the wall, pursing his lips in disdain as he shrugged it on.
That bastard Cui Buqu knew his weaknesses far too well. Feng Xiao felt as if his hair, his skin, his every pore was radiating a foul stench. He didn't know or care if it was day or night, or if the Thirteen Floors of Yunhai were concocting some new and devastating scheme.
At that moment, there was only one thing that mattered to him: finding somewhere to take a bath.
***
Kuhezhen knelt on the ground and stretched out his left wrist. His skin was paler than that of most Göktürks, and after arriving in the Central Plains, he had realized he was fair even compared to the average Han. While those in the Central Plains saw fair skin as a sign of beauty, the Göktürks did not; his pale skin had made him the subject of mockery throughout his childhood and adolescence. Even as a Göktürk prince, his status was precarious.
Kuhezhen gripped a dagger in his right hand and heated the blade over the fire. When it glowed red, he dragged the sharp edge across his wrist. Crimson beaded on his fair skin. The blood fought to reach the surface, where it swelled into heavy drops before trickling down in rivulets. He watched it drip, a slight smirk playing at the corners of his lips as if the act of self-harm was a thrill in itself.
The blood ran down into a black clay pot on the table, pooling silently inside. If one were to place this palm-sized pot in the sunlight, they would see that its interior teemed with wriggling worms. The worms were long and soft, their squirming bodies encased in a membrane that shimmered gold in the sun.
Pei Jingzhe and the victims of Yandang Mountain Estate would surely have recognized them as the gu that had invaded their bodies.
As more blood dripped down, the worms writhed faster within the pot, savoring their bloody feast. Kuhezhen's face grew paler and paler, but the smile on his lips widened.
A hand seized his, pressing on his acupoint to stop the bleeding. Kuhezhen's smile faded, but he was unable to free himself from the newcomer's grip as they dragged him away from the pot.
"Tu'an," Kuhezhen said, shaking him off in fury. "Stay out of my business. Don't ruin my plans!"
"I didn't want to interfere," said Tu'an Qinghe coldly. "But look at yourself. You're barely hanging on as it is. At this rate, you'll waste away before Yang Jian perishes!"
Kuhezhen was still kneeling on the ground. He instinctively tried to straighten up to retort, but a spate of dizziness overcame him. He braced himself against the table. "Tomorrow…" He licked his lips. "After tomorrow, my plans will come to fruition. Don't get in my way. Cui Buqu and his group are a troublesome lot, and Xiao Lü may change his mind at any moment. None of them are trustworthy; every move is a risk. I'll leave Feng Xiao to you—enjoy a battle with him if you wish."
"And then what?" asked Tu'an Qinghe. "You'll die? Didn't you say everyone has looked down on you since childhood, so you want to achieve a great victory? These worms might help you achieve your goal, but what's the point if you die halfway?"
Kuhezhen smiled. "I won't die. Tu'an, you were born a winner. You can't understand people like me. Even if I was stranded in the desert hanging on by a breath, as long as I had a single drop of water, I'd survive. Even if I destroy my body and my health, as long as my mind is clear, it's enough for me to control the Khaganate."
"But what's the point?" asked Tu'an Qinghe.
"Couldn't I ask you the same?" Kuhezhen countered. "What's the point of leaving your mountains to seek out experts and duel? So what if you win? So what if you lose?"
"The path of martial arts is never-ending, but the kind of power you seek will lead you down the road of self-destruction."
Kuhezhen sneered. "What about your shifu? Didn't Hulugu perish in his never-ending pursuit of martial arts? Human desire is always insatiable. The only difference is in what you desire."
Tu'an Qinghe fell silent, the muscles of his jaw subtly tightening in displeasure. If he had more to say on the matter, he kept it to himself.
"Tu'an." Kuhezhen softened his tone. "We've known each other since we were children. Although our time together may be brief, you are a dear friend to me. I know you're only worried for me. Once all this is behind us and I've fulfilled my ambitions, I promise to find expert fighters for you to pit your skills against. I'll help you ascend to the pinnacle of martial arts."
"Your Highness," said Tu'an Qinghe. "What exactly are you trying to do?"
"I want Yang Jian dead." Kuhezhen said slowly.
"He still has many sons."
Kuhezhen shook his head. "His sons are young, and they lack their father's charisma. They don't pose a significant threat. The Yuwen clan has long borne a grudge against him over the usurpation, while Princess Qianjin has been pushing Father to wage war in the south for years. Once Yang Jian dies, the Southern dynasty will be overjoyed. They'll be first to take advantage of the situation. The Northern dynasty will be thrown into chaos. If we, the Göktürks, make the most of our opportunities, we can march south and seize great swaths of land, allowing us to unite the Eastern and Western Khaganates."
"By then, you'll have one foot in the grave."
"My father promised that once I complete this task, he'll grant me the position of yabghu."
Tu'an Qinghe didn't answer, but his expression proclaimed his thoughts as clearly as any words. You're so mistrustful, yet you believe him?
Kuhezhen's face grew paler, and his lips flushed redder. The sunlight streaming over his features granted him an inexplicable allure.
Tu'an Qinghe knew Kuhezhen hadn't always been like this. But his body had been eroded by poison and depleted of vital energy. He was a man drained dry.
The more potent the poison, the stronger its backlash—this was a universal law.
"Of course I'd never place my hopes in anyone else. I've also planted a gu in my father." Kuhezhen smiled. "I have plenty of ways to ensure he keeps his word."
"And once you're yabghu, you won't covet the position of khagan?"
Kuhezhen shook his head. "I haven't thought that far ahead. My experience and reputation aren't enough to convince people, and I can't plant a gu in everyone. Compared to playing at being the intimidating Göktürk khagan, perhaps it's wiser for me to pull the strings from the shadows."
"This is the last time," said Tu'an Qinghe firmly. "I won't help you again."
Kuhezhen sighed. "Thank you."
***
Sunset of the sixteenth day of the first month found Cui Buqu leaning on a table, head in hand—having surrendered, at least briefly, to sleep. He'd been awake for almost a day and a half since the morning of the Lantern Festival. His endurance was beyond the limits of most ordinary people, but he'd held on through sheer willpower—until now. He'd only let his guard down a little, intending to sit and organize his thoughts, but had drifted off to sleep instead.
Outside, the sky blazed a golden red that slowly gave way to a dazzling purple as light began to bleed from the world.
It was difficult to rest comfortably in this position. Cui Buqu's brow furrowed slightly in his sleep. He dreamed that Feng Xiao had immobilized all his acupoints, leaving him unable to even blink. He demanded Cui Buqu admire his glory and splendor, ordering him to compose a poem before he'd let him go.
Cui Buqu was adept at setting people up. But composing poetry? He'd never learned anything of the sort. Fuming, he cursed at Feng Xiao, who burst into laughter and gave him a shove.
He tilted to the side and startled awake. Someone was sitting in front of him. In the dimness, he recognized Zhangsun Bodhi.
"I didn't light a lamp," Zhangsun Bodhi said. "I didn't want to disturb you."
"What's happened?" Cui Buqu rubbed at his nose.
Zhangsun shook his head. "Nothing important. You can keep resting. Just a small matter."
"Speak."
"Feng Xiao broke out of prison."
Cui Buqu looked back at him in silence.