Chapter 543 Setting up a Banquet

"Report! Urgent military intelligence has arrived from the border!"

At that moment, a hoarse shout came from outside the hall, urgent and tearing, as if even the throat had been worn raw by the wind and sand.

A messenger clad in iron armor stumbled in, his knees buckling as he knelt heavily on the cold, blue bricks. His helmet tilted askew, revealing a face etched with the lines of time. Clutching tightly in his hand was not an ordinary bamboo scroll, but a secret letter sealed with wax and adorned with three crimson feathers—a top-level urgent dispatch from the border, reserved only for when enemy forces were pressing in or a major upheaval occurred.

"Your Majesty... I report to you!" He gasped for breath, his voice trembling, "The northern barbarian army... withdrew completely last night at midnight!"

Upon hearing this, Zhao Yan straightened his back abruptly, his eyes flashing with a sharp light. He abruptly stood up, stepped down from the steps, and personally bent down to take the rolled-up military report. The moment his fingertips touched the envelope, he felt a dampness—the traces of the messenger's sweat as he rushed along.

He tore open the seal, his gaze sweeping across the writing with lightning speed. The ink was hasty, yet each word was like a knife: "...The enemy's troops stationed on the border have vanished overnight, and the hoofprints stretch northward for dozens of miles. I have already dispatched scouts to investigate, but the enemy's movements are elusive, and I fear it may be a trap..."

Zhao Yan's fingers trembled slightly. A hasty retreat? He sneered inwardly. The northern barbarians were known for their cunning; why would they retreat without reason? Unless… they had obtained information more important than conquering cities and seizing territory.

At that moment, the scene of the assassination attempt last night instantly replayed in Zhao Yan's mind. If Shen Mo hadn't appeared in time, he would have already died at the hands of the assassin.

Today, the border tribes have retreated like a tide.

Zhao Yan closed his eyes, a chill running from the soles of his feet to the top of his head. He finally understood—the assassin was the vanguard of the northern barbarians!

If he had died at the hands of an assassin last night, the court would have been thrown into chaos. With the new emperor dead and no crown prince yet established, the court would be leaderless, and the border armies without a commander. At that time, the northern barbarians could seize the opportunity, their iron cavalry sweeping south and conquering the heart of the Central Plains! This was no assassination; it was clearly a meticulously planned gamble on the fate of the nation!

"That was close..." Zhao Yan muttered to himself, a fine layer of cold sweat beading on his forehead.

He recalled Shen Mo's figure in black robes, carrying a sword, and the composed demeanor he exuded when he stood in front of him. If it weren't for this man, this beautiful land would have become a pasture for foreign tribes.

A chill ran down his spine, and his fingers unconsciously clenched the sleeves of his dragon robe until his knuckles turned white.

The emperor, a man of such high status, nearly perished in a seemingly ordinary night raid. This lingering fear was more unsettling than any defeat he had ever suffered.

However, in just a moment, the gloom on Zhao Yan's face melted away like ice and snow.

He slowly loosened his clenched fist, a meaningful smile playing on his lips.

"Hahaha..." He suddenly chuckled softly, his laughter clear and bright, as if a huge boulder that had been weighing on his heart for many years had been removed.

Zhao Yan turned and walked steadily back to his throne, his gaze falling on the messenger. "What's your name?"

"This humble general...this humble general is Li Xiao!" The messenger knelt on the ground, his voice still panting.

"Li Xiao," Zhao Yan nodded, his tone gentle yet authoritative, "Your journey of a thousand miles to report is commendable for your loyalty and bravery. By imperial decree, you are promoted to Northern Border Guerrilla General, and bestowed with one hundred taels of gold and one hundred acres of fertile land. Go and receive your reward."

"Thank you for your great kindness, Your Majesty!" Li Xiao trembled with excitement, kowtowed heavily, and was then helped away by a palace attendant.

Once his figure disappeared, Zhao Yan's smile vanished, and his voice suddenly turned cold: "Eunuch Liu, order the Ministry of War to immediately strengthen patrols at the northern passes, set up additional beacon towers and sentry posts, and report any unusual activity, day or night, immediately!"

"Yes, Your Majesty!" The old eunuch bowed and accepted the order, then immediately left the Golden Palace.

Having finished his military affairs, Zhao Yan was in high spirits. Then, as if remembering something, he suddenly called out loudly, "Someone come here!"

A young eunuch hurried forward, bowing his head in obedience.

"By imperial decree," Zhao Yan's voice carried an unusual joy, "not only have we become sworn brothers with the 'Sword God' Young Hero Shen today, but we have also heard the good news of the north's defeat of the enemy. Truly, a double celebration! Tonight, a banquet will be held in the Imperial Garden to entertain all officials and celebrate this peaceful era together!"

The young eunuch obeyed and left. Zhao Yan looked at Shen Mo, who was still in the hall, his eyes full of sincerity and eagerness: "Brother Shen, if it weren't for your righteous intervention last night, I would probably be a wandering ghost now. Although we have only known each other for a short time, we have already been through life and death together, which is better than a thousand false sentiments."

He paused, then his voice suddenly rose, carrying an undeniable authority: "At tonight's banquet, I will let the whole world know—you and I have sworn brotherhood! From this day forward, wherever you are, you will be as if you were me! Anyone who disrespects me will be punished for deceiving the emperor!"

Upon hearing this, Shen Mo's heart stirred slightly. He knew that Zhao Yan's actions were both a genuine expression of gratitude and a political maneuver. By binding himself to imperial power, he could both appease the martial arts world and deter external enemies. However, he did not point this out, but simply clasped his hands in a salute, his expression calm: "Your Majesty's kindness is beyond my ability to refuse. However, as a commoner of the martial arts world, I fear I may find it difficult to adapt to the rules of the court."

"It's alright!" Zhao Yan laughed, patting his shoulder. "Tonight, we'll only talk about brotherhood, not ruler and subject!"

At noon, the glazed tiles of the Golden Palace shone brilliantly in the sunlight. Zhao Yan stood on the high steps, watching Shen Mo's departing figure, a deep and unfathomable light flashing in his eyes.

He knew that from this night onward, this "Sword God" would no longer be a legend in the martial arts world, but the sharpest sword and the strongest shield in the hands of his royal family.

......

That day and night.

The Imperial Garden was brightly lit, just like daytime.

Thousands of palace lanterns hung between the vermilion pillars of the corridor, reflecting off the peony pond and making it shimmer with glittering gold.

Amidst the magnificent palaces and pavilions, the melodious sounds of silk and bamboo instruments filled the air, and eight rows of dancers moved gracefully under the moonlight, their robes fluttering like flowing clouds.

Civil and military officials were seated according to their rank. Amidst the clinking of cups and the clamor of laughter, everyone secretly held their breath—for the protagonist of the night was not the emperor on the dragon throne, but the young man in black robes carrying a sword, sitting quietly beside the throne.

When Zhao Yan raised his cup and declared loudly, "I and the Duke of Protectorate have sworn brotherhood today! From now on, seeing Lord Shen is like seeing me!" the whole garden erupted in uproar.

In an instant, the ministers, who had been sitting upright and reserved, seemed to have received a command and all left their seats.

The first to rush forward was Zhou Chongwen, the Vice Minister of Rites, a man renowned in the court for his eloquent tongue. Holding a jar of amber-colored imperial wine, he strode forward, his face beaming with a warm smile: "Lord Shen! I am Zhou Chongwen, in charge of the Ministry of Rites' ceremonial affairs. I have long heard of the 'Sword God' who single-handedly defeated the Emperor of Japan, shaking the martial world. Now, His Majesty has personally recognized him as a brother; truly a pillar of the nation! This wine is a toast to your merit in protecting the country and its people!"

Shen Mo nodded slightly, took the wine cup, and took a small sip. Zhou Chongwen was overjoyed at the sight and took the opportunity to whisper, "My son has long admired Master Shen. If I could receive a word of guidance from you, it would be my greatest honor..." Before he could finish speaking, he was pushed aside by someone behind him.

Wang Zheng, the Right Vice Minister of War, was still in his armor, clearly having just arrived from the military camp. He said in a gruff voice, "Lord Shen! This humble general is Wang Zheng! The northern border troops rely heavily on the assistance of heroes from the Jianghu for defense. If Lord Shen is willing to patrol the border, this humble general is willing to serve you with utmost loyalty!" After saying this, he knelt on one knee, presented a wine cup with both hands, and his posture was almost obsequious.

Immediately afterward, Zhou Fu, the Minister of Revenue, strolled over, waving his jade-ribbed folding fan, and said with a smile, "Lord Shen, I am in charge of the nation's finances. If you ever wish to establish your own sect and are short of funds, just ask. A mere million taels is nothing more than adding a zero to your account." His implication was clearly that he wanted to curry favor with money.

Even more remarkably, the Hanlin scholars, who usually prided themselves on their aloofness, came forward to compose poems and essays, praising Shen Mo as "sweeping away the evil aura with his sword, and his spirit soaring through the sky."

Shen Mo sat motionless, his expression as calm as a still well.

He knew perfectly well that behind those smiling faces lay naked sycophancy. Today, thanks to the Emperor's words, he had become the coveted "Duke Protector of the Nation." The officialdom was like a marketplace, human relationships as fragile as paper; only when profit was at stake would one show genuine deference.

His gaze swept over the smiling faces, but he felt no pride, only a faint detachment—this glittering feast was ultimately not his true world.