Chapter 115: Water Knows the Answer

A shadow seeped into the guest room where Jayu lay resting.

Clad entirely in black, the figure quietly sat beside Jayu’s head, observing his pale, sickly complexion.

Sensing the presence, Jayu opened his eyes, frowning immediately.

“Old Dog [^(Gyeon No - 'Dog Elder', Jayu's attendant)], can’t you ever wake me up like a normal person?”

“How could this lowly one dare lay hands upon Your Highness while you are sleeping?” the figure replied, voice low and respectful, yet without a hint of true servility.

“What if I hadn’t woken up?”

“Is not a loyal dog’s proper place always beside its master’s bedside?” Gyeon No countered smoothly.

He referred to himself as a dog, yet carried no trace of groveling.

Besides, Jayu himself had given him the nickname ‘Old Dog’ in the first place.

“Honestly, you…” Jayu sighed, sitting up. “So, how did it go? How did I supposedly die?”

“Blood simply seeped from his entire body,” Old Dog reported factually. “He breathed his last before anything could be done. Even someone completely ignorant of poisons would recognize it as death by poisoning.”

“Tsk.” Jayu clicked his tongue. “He didn’t really deserve such a cruel end.”

“Wasn’t he just some lowlife who frequented gambling dens?” Old Dog replied dismissively. “Even though Your Highness permitted his impersonation, he lived a life of luxury far beyond his station. His life was paradise right up until the moment he died. And even in death, by taking Your Highness’s place in this tragedy, he has likely secured passage to paradise anyway.”

“See that his remaining family is well taken care of,” Jayu instructed quietly. “When I eventually meet him again in the afterlife, I should at least have something positive to say in my defense.”

He paused, falling into deep thought.

“It seems I will have to rely on the Tang Clan’s hospitality for a while.”

“Your Highness!” Old Dog sounded scandalized. “Are you truly saying Your Highness intends to reside within this den of shameless parasites who feast upon poison?!”

“I observed the Tang Clan Lord today,” Jayu explained calmly. “He was clearly surprised by our sudden intrusion, yes, but showed no signs of guilt or complicity. Therefore, the poisoning was not their doing. And if that is the case, can you think of a safer place for me within Sichuan right now?”

“However! They are nothing but vile, poisonous ants daring to nibble away at Your Highness’s assets!”

“Even poisonous ants,” Jayu replied with a faint, enigmatic smile, “seem to have their uses sometimes.”

Just then,

Old Dog leaned closer, lowering his voice.

“Your Highness… regarding that young lady earlier… Is she… is she finally to become the mistress of this Royal Prefecture? Will this old dog finally have the honor of serving a mistress in his twilight years? With her beauty capable of making birds fall from the sky, if you were to have a son, he would surely be the most handsome man in the world! And if a daughter, would she not be the very incarnation of the Greatest Beauty Under Heaven?”

Jayu found himself nodding unconsciously before catching himself.

Well, she is undeniably beautiful, so if we were to have children…

It was a generally acknowledged truth that the children of famous martial sects or powerful noble clans tended to be exceptionally good-looking—handsome men and beautiful women possessing an innate air of nobility.

This was partly because women in the martial world typically learned at least some basic level of refining ‘Fairy Arts’, subtle techniques that enhanced appearance and vitality, the benefits of which accumulated over generations, gradually raising the entire lineage’s baseline aesthetic standard.

(Of course, no matter how much emphasis was placed on appearance, no one learned those Fairy Arts as crudely or single-mindedly as Qing seemed to have done.

Proper cultivation involved systematic progression, climbing the ladder of internal energy techniques and replacing lower methods with higher ones.)

Jokes sometimes circulated about ambitious individuals trying to collect various obscure Fairy Arts specifically to achieve unparalleled beauty, aiming for the title of ‘Most Beautiful Under Heaven.’

However, if someone actually tried to pursue such a path seriously, everyone else would gently try to dissuade them, suggesting there were far easier and less ridiculous ways to commit suicide.

“Ah,” Old Dog continued, his voice filled with sincere, almost painful longing, “if this old dog could just witness such a beautiful child born to Your Highness before I die! Truly, I, Old Dog, could fall into a thousand-foot pit of fire with a smile upon my face!”

His fervent wish snapped Jayu sharply back to reality.

He had momentarily been lost in absurdly premature worry about a hypothetical, impossibly beautiful daughter, fretting about which tyrannical emperor might dare to covet her.

Jayu waved his hands dismissively, slightly flustered.

“No, no! Old Dog, it’s absolutely not like that! That friend… she is just that, a friend. Nothing more. Besides, I do not yet truly know her character.”

Having grown up within the intricate web of the Imperial Palace, Jayu wasn’t easily swayed by mere physical beauty.

Although, a small part of him admitted, she is perhaps… somewhat more engaging than the daughters of high officials who are always too busy performing proper etiquette to ever lift their heads, showing you only the tops of their hair buns?

Yes. Only to that extent. Nothing more, nothing less.

It was the kind of morning that made Qing keenly aware of her missing Crutch.

Truthfully, she missed Hee pretty much every morning now.

Having to dress myself? Ugh, the indignity!

It was so much more convenient when my Sister-wannabe was around…

Having finally woken up rather late, Qing fumbled her way into her clothes and eventually emerged from her assigned guest room.

As was typical for resident guests, Qing had absolutely nothing specific to do.

Traditionally, such guests were essentially idle wanderers, highly skilled individuals who stayed at an estate, enjoying hospitality, and only occasionally offering their services when needed.

In return, they received food, lodging, and often a stipend.

This arrangement was why the ultimate career goal for many wandering martial artists was to make a bit of a name for themselves and then settle down comfortably as a long-term guest at some moderately prestigious government office or noble clan estate.

It was mutually beneficial: the vagabond gained stability and comfort, while the host secured readily available emergency manpower or a temporary instructor for their own guards or children.

If a guest stayed long enough, they might eventually become like family, or even be offered an official position, fully integrating into the household or organization. That was the culture surrounding resident guests.

(Of course, the truly top-tier, overwhelmingly powerful sects or clans were exceptions.

They typically had no need to ‘import’ outside talent and were extremely selective about accepting guests, if they accepted any at all.)

Technically, Qing, with her ridiculously high martial seniority (thanks to her Master), could probably demand guest treatment anywhere she went. But even she wasn't quite thick-skinned enough to just barge into a completely unfamiliar Great Clan’s compound and start demanding food and lodging without a proper invitation.

Which was precisely why Qing had been diligently working her side-hustle as one of the Four Heavenly Kings of the Underground Life-and-Death Arena.

Ah, right, she remembered suddenly. I still need to explain that whole ‘Female Xiang Ji’ impersonation thing to Peng Choryeo.

She’d meant to bring it up yesterday when the mood was friendly,

but honestly, the duck had been so incredibly delicious that she’d gotten completely absorbed in eating and forgotten all about aliases and potential blood feuds.

Hmm. The duck was amazing… she mused.

But damn it, I’m still thinking about that Ultimate Malatang.

She recalled the words of the Greatest Chef Under Heaven, Bai Changzi:

Taste is power.

And Qing found herself agreeing.

Even if the service is absolute dogshit, if the food itself is genuinely transcendent… isn’t it ultimately worth it?

If a dish provides satisfaction far exceeding the cost—both monetary and emotional (dealing with annoying staff)—then maybe swallowing a little pride is an acceptable price to pay?

Yeah, she decided firmly. Definitely need to try making another reservation today.

(In truth, Qing conveniently forgot that when she used to travel with Namgung Shinjae—the 'Crown Prince' of Anhui province—they had been the ones frequently causing other people's reservations to be cancelled on a whim.

But Qing hadn't known the full details of those situations back then, naturally.)

Besides, if Tang Nanah had simply brought her entire extended family and filled the restaurant for a massive 'company dinner,' Qing probably would have just shrugged it off and moved on.

Her fury stemmed specifically from the fact that two people had kicked everyone else out just for privacy, causing her reservation to be lost in the process.

Lost in these thoughts, Qing was crossing the Tang Clan’s main courtyard—with Choi Leeong somehow already attached to her, trailing dutifully behind—when Jayu appeared.

“Ooh, Friend. You’re finally awake? So, where are you heading off to so diligently this early in the morning?”

(For the record, the sun was already high in the sky, well past morning.)

“Going to try and make a reservation at Changryong’s,” Qing replied. “I don’t know when I’ll get back to Sichuan again, so it’d be a real shame to miss out on that Malatang. By the way,” she added, nodding towards the elderly man standing silently beside Jayu, “who’s this person with you?”

There was indeed an old man accompanying Jayu.

Jayu spoke with a somewhat self-important air.

“Ah. Pay him no mind. He’s just an old servant who attends to my needs.”

“What?” Qing immediately frowned. “How rude! That’s no way to talk about an elder. Friend, I didn’t take you for that kind of person.”

Jayu looked genuinely baffled, glancing between Qing and Choi Leeong.

But Qing’s internal logic was clear: Choi Leeong, despite their growing fondness, had been introduced to her as a Great Demonic Leader first, and an old man second. His significant Evil Karma hadn't magically vanished.

This other old man, however, clearly leaned towards Righteous Karma (even if only slightly over ten points according to Choi's earlier assessment), therefore qualifying as a proper ‘elder’ deserving respect.

“Hello?” Qing offered a polite nod to the attendant.

“How can even your heart be as fine and smooth as silk!” the old man exclaimed, bowing deeply, his voice filled with excessive deference. “This old servant is called Old Dog (Gyeon No), and I have the honor of serving the Young Master Jayu. I am merely dedicating my worthless life in service to repay the immense kindness the Young Master has shown me.”

Even at a quick glance, Qing could tell this ‘Old Dog’ was a martial arts master whose realm far surpassed her own.

She tilted her head curiously.

Normally, Qing was quite confident in handling older people.

But this man, despite it being their very first meeting, was already looking at her with the doting fondness of someone seeing their long-lost favorite granddaughter.

What the hell? Qing thought, bewildered. Does this old man have dementia too? Is senility trending among high-level masters in the Central Plains these days? If so, is the future of the martial world really going to be okay?

“So,” Old Dog asked smoothly, interrupting her thoughts, “where might the Young Lady be going? Wandering carelessly around someone else’s home is rather impolite, you know. Besides, do you even know the way out?”

“Well,” Qing shrugged, “I figure I just need to head towards the biggest main gate, right?”

“Hmm? Is that so?” Old Dog blinked. “Well… I suppose you’re right.”

“I’m going to try rescheduling at Changryong’s,” Qing explained. “Since I’m already here in Sichuan, I really should eat there at least once. I was thinking of making a reservation for later, maybe taking a trip to Mount Emei in the meantime, and then coming back just in time for the reservation date.”

After all, since some Grand Prince or whoever had supposedly died, there was likely a mandatory forty-nine-day mourning period, which probably included abstaining from alcohol.

She figured she could book the malatang well after that, visit the Emei Sect, return for her Ultimate Malatang accompanied by a nice bottle of baijiu, and then finally head home. Perfect plan.

“Mount Emei?” Jayu’s interest seemed piqued again. “Ah. So you have business with the Emei Sect?”

As they spoke, the two old men—Choi Leeong and Old Dog—exchanged subtle glances.

Both being masters who had reached the Unrestrained Realm, they instantly recognized each other’s cultivation level.

Choi Leeong revised his internal assessment of Jayu: Using an Unrestrained Realm master as a mere servant?

This family’s power must be truly immense! +15 points!

But then, immediately: Wait, possessing that much power makes them potentially dangerous in-laws… -14 points.

Choi Leeong’s final calculation resulted in Jayu receiving a net score of one single point.

Truly, a scoring system as fickle and salty as the sea.

Old Dog immediately caught the subtle shift in Choi Leeong’s demeanor.

Yikes. What a picky, judgmental old man.

Better make sure not to offend him unnecessarily.

The silent clash between the two Unrestrained Realm masters concluded in Choi Leeong’s favor based purely on points.

After all, the one who needs something (in this case, Old Dog needing Jayu to make a good impression) invariably has to yield.

Upon stepping out onto the main street, Qing found, with only slight exaggeration, a literal sea of tears.

People were openly weeping everywhere. There were even groups wailing loudly in public squares. Qing found the whole scene utterly bizarre.

Is the death of some Grand Prince really that big of a deal?

Naturally, Qing couldn’t contain her curiosity and asked Jayu about it.

He, for some reason, just turned his head away, looking distinctly embarrassed. Old Dog, however, standing dutifully behind them, readily provided an answer.

“Oh my, dear Miss!” Old Dog exclaimed, voice thick with emotion. “Among all the people living in Sichuan, is there anyone, truly anyone, who has not personally received grace and kindness from His Highness, Prince Dexian?”

He explained that the Grand Prince was renowned for being as virtuous as his title ‘Dexian’ (Virtuous Worthy) suggested.

Not only did he levy minimal taxes, but he poured every cent collected back into extensive relief efforts for the poor and numerous public works projects. Old Dog then launched into a passionate enumeration of the hundreds, perhaps thousands, whose lives had been directly saved by the Prince’s generosity, detailing exactly how much the difficult lives of the common folk had improved under his benevolent (though mostly absent) governance.

“Moreover!” Old Dog continued fervently, “His Highness was exceptionally sensitive to the corruption of officials! Didn’t he completely root out all sorts of wicked practices commonly engaged in by government offices, at least within the borders of Sichuan? He was truly a Sage Ruler sent down by the heavens themselves!”

Listening to this, Qing thought back. Hmm. Now that he mentions it, the Evil Karma scores of the officials I encountered back at the Tang compound did seem unusually low… Maybe there’s something to it.

“Ah,” Qing conceded. “Sounds like he was a great person.”

“Of course!” Old Dog beamed. “And not only that! He is known to be overflowing with affection and possessed of unwavering loyalty! If he ever bestows his favor upon someone, he cherishes them for life and would absolutely never betray them!”

“Ahem, ahem,” Jayu cleared his throat loudly from the side. “Old Dog. I believe that’s quite enough.”

In any case, Old Dog’s words must have held some truth, judging by the city’s atmosphere. In just one night, the mood had shifted entirely, settling into a deep, pervasive gloom.

Everyone looked genuinely depressed, making no effort to hide their sorrow.

(Of course, there was also the small matter that displaying any hint of joy would likely be interpreted as treason.)

Only outsiders like Qing wandered around with puzzled, slightly disgruntled expressions, wondering if they should just cut their trip short and go home.

Undeterred by the city-wide mourning, however, Qing eventually arrived back at the entrance of ‘Azure Dragon,’ the Ultimate Cuisine Restaurant presided over by Bai Changzi, the Greatest Chef Under Heaven.

But, making her entire effort to cross Sichuan potentially futile, the restaurant’s door was firmly shut, clearly not open for business.

“What the…” Qing muttered, disappointed. “Are they not open…?”

“Oh my, dear Miss, please do not be too disheartened!” Old Dog immediately interjected. “This lowly one will make inquiries at once! How dare they remain closed, when they should be throwing their doors wide open and welcoming such an esteemed guest with deep bows!”

“No, no, it’s okay,” Qing stopped him. “They must have their reasons. No point causing unnecessary trouble.”

“Ah!” Old Dog clasped his hands together, looking deeply impressed. “Your heart is truly as fine and pure as silk! This Old Dog is utterly overcome with admiration!”

Seriously, Qing thought, confused again, whose attendant is this guy supposed to be? Mine or Jayu’s?

Just as Qing, shoulders slumped in defeat, was about to turn away…

“Oh my! Young Lady! Aren’t you the esteemed guest who arrived yesterday with the one playing the flute— No, wait, I mean, the one who came with the Poisonous Speaking Flower!”

Qing looked up, surprised. “Oh? Greatest Chef?”

“Ah! It is you! I recognized the veil; it’s the same one!”

Running towards them, looking somewhat disheveled but relieved, was none other than the Greatest Chef Under Heaven himself, Bai Changzi.

“What’s going on?” Qing asked. “You’re not open for business today?”

“Well, about that…” the chef sighed heavily. “I kept checking all the ingredients yesterday after you left, and I finally figured out the reason for the taste being off! Unfortunately, it’s not the kind of problem that can be easily resolved. So, we’ve had to close the restaurant entirely for the time being.”

“Hmm? Wait, was this actually your restaurant all along?” Qing asked, surprised.

“Not exactly, no,” Bai Changzi admitted. “But if the Greatest Chef Under Heaven declares he cannot cook, what can a mere restaurant owner possibly do about it? Taste is power, after all. If the owner doesn’t like it, he can try cooking himself!”

(Being the owner of the most prosperous and highly-rated restaurant in all of Chengdu, patronized by the likes of the Tang Clan and featuring the exclusive services of the Greatest Chef Under Heaven, was perhaps a bit more significant than ‘mere,’ Qing thought.

But clearly, the chef’s arrogance remained remarkably consistent.)

“Okay, that’s all well and good,” Qing said, getting back to the point. “But anyway? You didn’t just stop me because you were happy to see me, right? What’s up?”

“Ah. That.” Bai Changzi hesitated. “I was wondering… perhaps… if you might happen to have connections with the esteemed experts of the Tang Clan?”

“What if I do?” Qing asked cautiously.

“It’s just that… if it involves the experts of the Tang Clan… I thought perhaps they might be able to solve the problem.”

Bai Changzi leaned closer, his expression turning deadly serious.

“The water,” he whispered urgently. “The water… it has gone bad!”