Chapter Twenty-One: Unraveling the Heart’s Knot, A Cause for Celebration

Ever since learning that the Empress Dowager was an incomparable beauty, Xu Boqing seemed to become a whole new man. Gone was his lazy indifference; he was suddenly brimming with energy, even volunteering for night patrols.

Cining Palace was rarely visited, making night patrols there a cushy job. By day he swept the gardens; by night, with nothing to do, he exercised. Taking advantage of his position, he even carved a few crude stone weights in a secluded corner of the garden to strengthen his training.

With his boundless vigor—the so-called “pure yang constitution”—as long as he ate his fill, he could train for days and nights without feeling the slightest fatigue. Though his innate talent was formidable, it was not a thing to flaunt carelessly. For now, cultivating a strong physique might not guarantee a connection to the Empress Dowager, but at least it would give him more outward appeal.

Seeking a shortcut in life was only part of it; he also hoped that, if he could get close to the Empress Dowager, his relationship with Chief Steward Huang would improve, and perhaps Huang would teach him martial arts!

Though this world might truly harbor immortals, he was powerless now, sheltering beneath another’s roof. Forget seeking the path to immortality—if he didn’t perform well, his very life might be forfeit!

Just as when he was locked in the dungeon of the Inspection Bureau, unable to escape, he remembered Sun Sheng’s fat, piggish face—surely weighing two hundred pounds, yet able to leap ten yards as if flying. Clearly, martial prowess mattered.

That was when he realized the importance of learning martial arts.

...

Time flew by. Another half month passed.

In the bustling capital, inside the Fortune Inn, a middle-aged man with a gloomy countenance sat by the window, sipping from a wine cup and gazing out, eyes full of nostalgia.

His gaze fell upon the imperial palace.

His name was Cui Feng, famed in the martial world as the Saint of a Thousand Faces. In his youth, he stole from people; as he grew older, he robbed graves. Though he committed countless misdeeds, his mastery of disguise, lightfootedness, and stealth made him impossible to catch. Thus, he earned his notorious moniker.

Only he knew that he had once been caught—almost losing his life—in that very palace.

While grave robbing as a young man, he came upon the second half of a demonic martial manual. Unable to practice it without the first half, he sought information everywhere, finally learning that the missing portion was stored in the palace’s treasury.

He’d ruined many lives, eluded even masters of the innate stage, and was brimming with confidence—no one seemed worthy of his fear. Thus, recklessly, he slipped into the palace, but before reaching the treasury, he was captured by an old eunuch named Huang and thrown into the heavenly prison, barely escaping death.

Had Emperor Shengyuan not passed away, and had the new Emperor Yonghe not issued a grand amnesty to demonstrate his heavenly benevolence, Cui Feng would never have left that dungeon alive.

...

After his release, he became much more cautious, but that episode remained a festering wound, stalling his progress for more than ten years at the peak of the acquired stage.

Still, he possessed extraordinary talent. Knowing that his heart-demon blocked the way, he turned to study the sinister arts found in graves. Though risky, it allowed him to break through to the innate stage.

Uncertain if the old eunuch who’d caught him was still alive, he dared not approach the capital.

But recently, he learned that a master of the innate stage had attempted to assassinate the emperor, failing but escaping unharmed from the palace’s elite guards.

Only then did Cui Feng realize: he, too, was now at the innate stage. Why should he fear that old eunuch? Emperor Shengyuan had been dead for sixteen years—surely the eunuch had passed as well.

What’s more, if another innate master could escape after an assassination attempt, surely he—whose forte was stealth, disguise, and evasion—could sneak into the treasury. He wasn’t there to kill the emperor; even if discovered, so what?

If others could escape, why couldn’t he?

He sensed his opportunity to resolve his heart-demon had finally arrived.

After years away, he prepared himself and returned to the capital, determined to free himself from the torment that had haunted him for over a decade.

Night fell.

"Bang, bang, bang—dry weather, beware of fire—" The watchman’s gong echoed.

Cui Feng, hearing the sound, donned his night attire and slipped out the inn’s window like a phantom, blending into the darkness.

Arriving at the imperial city, he timed his move with the changing of the guards. With a leap, he scaled the towering palace wall, moving as if he were glued to its surface, crossing it in mere breaths.

He landed silently.

Though only his second time in the palace, the years of torment had driven him to rehearse the route from the city gates to the treasury countless times in his mind.

He could find his way there blindfolded.

Skilled at hiding, he evaded patrol after patrol. When he reached the treasury, his heart trembled.

Sure enough, the old eunuch was gone!

Drawing a deep breath, he calmed himself, then took out two silver needles laced with powerful sedative. With a flick of his fingers, he sent them into the necks of the two eunuch guards.

They fell without a sound.

Emerging from the shadows, Cui Feng retrieved the needles and posed the bodies as if they had dozed off sitting. When they woke, they would assume they had simply fallen asleep, leaving no trace.

Finished, he pushed open the treasury door, nerves taut with anticipation and excitement, and slipped inside.

...

Standing within, Cui Feng felt an unprecedented lightness, as if the stone pressing on his heart for more than a decade had vanished, and even his internal energy had improved.

His mind was clear, his spirit rejuvenated—he felt twenty years younger.

Examining the so-called treasures, he found mostly gold, jewels, and pearls: vulgar trinkets that left him unimpressed.

He flipped through several martial manuals but shook his head and put them back. For someone at the acquired stage, those techniques would be invaluable. But now, as an innate master, he couldn’t discard his cultivation for new methods—these so-called treasures were bland and dispensable to him.

Finding the first half of the demonic manual, he compared it carefully with his own second half. Confirming their authenticity, he stowed both away.

He left the treasury.

Just as he was about to depart, a thought occurred to him. After pondering, he gazed toward the imperial harem.

“I’ve resolved my heart-demon. I deserve a celebration!”

“The current emperor, like his father, is obsessed with immortals and the Dao, abstaining from desire, leaving all those beauties in the harem to waste. Tonight, I’m in a good mood—I’ll help you enjoy them myself!”

The thought of bedding the emperor’s women made him feel like a young thief again, and even the withered old tree in his pants showed signs of spring.

Evading the palace patrols, he reached the harem’s domain—but there he hesitated. He’d never been to this part; for a moment, he didn’t know where to go.

He waited in the shadows.

Spotting a lone young eunuch, he knocked him out and dragged him into a dark corner.

Stripping off the eunuch’s clothes, he removed the black mask from his own face and tucked it away.

His body emitted a series of crisp bone-cracking sounds, shrinking a size. His facial muscles writhed, wrinkles vanished from the corners of his eyes, and in a few breaths, he transformed into the exact likeness of the young eunuch.

He donned the eunuch’s attire, compared his appearance to the unconscious youth, and, satisfied, strolled out confidently.

After a quick circuit, he selected the imposing and dignified Cining Palace to enter...