Chapter 544 Leaving the Palace

In a secluded corner far from the chairman, Huangfu Haotian's hand holding the wine glass trembled slightly.

Dressed in a purple-gold python robe, he was supposed to be the head of one of the eight great families of the martial arts world, the only one to participate in the imperial court's affairs, but at this moment he felt like he was sitting on pins and needles.

Not long ago, the emperor secretly summoned him to the palace and ordered him to secretly support forces that were dissatisfied with the martial arts alliance. But in the blink of an eye, Zhao Yan has elevated Shen Mo to a divine status, not only bestowing upon him the title of "Duke Protector of the Nation" but also addressing him as a brother!

"What... what should we do?" Huangfu Haotian muttered to himself, his eyes filled with astonishment and resentment. His carefully laid-out chess game had been overturned by the emperor before he could even make a move.

Just as his mind was in turmoil, a steady footstep sounded beside him. The Imperial Advisor, Ruan Xiaotian, walked slowly over and sat down next to Huangfu Haotian. His voice was extremely low, yet every word was like a hammer blow: "Patriarch Huangfu, do not be so obsessed."

Huangfu Haotian suddenly turned his head, a hint of wariness flashing in his eyes.

Ruan Xiaotian sighed softly, looking at Shen Mo, who was surrounded by his ministers in the distance. His tone carried an unusual reverence: "Patriarch Huangfu, Shen Mo is no longer the same as before. If you still harbor any hostility, you should withdraw it as soon as possible. Otherwise, you will not have a good end..." After speaking, he gave Huangfu Haotian a meaningful look.

Huangfu Haotian was struck dumb, his face turning deathly pale. He finally understood—Shen Mo's position was now beyond human control. Even Ruan Xiaotian, the Imperial Advisor who once boasted of being "the number one person in the Southern Region," was willing to be subordinate to him.

.....

The music and singing in the Imperial Garden had long since ceased; only the dripping of the water clock echoed like a heartbeat in the silent palace.

The night breeze swept through the carved beams and painted rafters, carrying with it the lingering fragrance and the smell of wine, brushing against Shen Mo's dark robes and Zhao Yan's slightly tipsy cheeks.

The emperor was heavily drunk, staggering, his dragon robe half-open, still muttering, "Brother Shen... I have never felt so good!" He leaned on Shen Mo's shoulder, looking nothing like a supreme ruler, but rather like an ordinary person relieved of a thousand-pound burden. His eyes, which had once looked down upon the world, were now veiled with tears, reflecting both the relief of surviving a calamity and an indescribable dependence on his "sworn brother."

Although Shen Mo also drank dozens of cups of imperial brew—the amber-colored "Drunken Immortal Brew," aged for a hundred years and worth a thousand gold pieces per drop—the "True Technique of the Demon God" flowed like a river within his body. As soon as the aroma of the wine entered his meridians, it transformed into warm and nourishing true energy, spreading throughout his limbs and bones. His mind was as clear as the moon shining on a cold pool, and every step he took was as steady as a rock, supporting the emperor's heavy body as if he were supporting the weight of the entire empire.

From the Imperial Garden to the Imperial Palace, a mere five hundred steps, it felt like walking a silent oath. Along the way, the palace lanterns cast a dim yellow glow, and the eunuchs bowed their heads, holding their breath. No one dared to look up and peek at this rare scene: the emperor leaning on a wandering swordsman, while the swordsman supported the emperor's body with his back.

Upon reaching the palace gate, he personally helped Zhao Yan remove his outer robe, tucked him in with a brocade quilt, and ordered someone to prepare a hangover soup. Only after everything was in place did he quietly leave.

......

The following morning, the bells and drums of the Golden Palace resounded.

Zhao Yan sat upright on the dragon throne, his face showing slight fatigue, but his eyes were as sharp as an eagle's.

At the start of the morning court session, the Minister of War stepped forward to report: "Your Majesty! Another urgent report has arrived from the northern border, eight hundred li away—the foreign troops have all retreated to the northern desert, and the various tribes have dispersed and returned to their camps. Scouts have penetrated five hundred li into their territory, but have not seen any signs of troops gathering."

Upon hearing this news, the entire hall erupted in uproar.

"Good...good!" Zhao Yan clapped his hands and laughed, his voice slightly choked with emotion. "The northern border is finally at peace."

......

Afternoon, Yangxin Hall.

Sunlight streamed through the gauze curtains, casting dappled shadows on the brick floor. Zhao Yan was reviewing memorials when he heard that Shen Mo was requesting an audience, so he immediately put down his pen and rose.

"Brother Shen, please have a seat!" He personally poured tea, his tone as intimate as that of a family member.

Shen Mo clasped his hands in thanks and got straight to the point: "Your Majesty, the border troubles have been quelled and the court is stable. It is time for Shen Mo to take his leave."

Zhao Yan's smile faltered slightly, then he sighed, "Why the rush? I have already ordered the Ministry of Works to select a site to build you a 'Duke of Protectorate's Mansion,' located on the east side of the Imperial City, adjacent to the State Guesthouse. If you stay, you can advise on military affairs and oversee matters of the martial world—wouldn't that be the best of both worlds?"

Shen Mo shook his head, a hint of tenderness appearing in his eyes: "Your Majesty's kindness is deeply appreciated. However... my two wives at home have been waiting for me day and night since we parted in Nanjing. A man can set aside fame and fortune, but he cannot betray his love and loyalty. They are waiting for me to come home."

Upon hearing this, Zhao Yan remained silent for a long time. He suddenly understood—this man's heart was not in the high halls of power, but in the far reaches of the martial world; not at the pinnacle of power, but beside the beauty of his beloved.

"So be it," he said with a wry smile, "I cannot hold back a heart that yearns to return home." He stood up and said solemnly, "But remember, no matter what, the gates of this palace will always be open for you."

......

At 3:45 PM, outside the Meridian Gate.

Zhao Yan had already ordered the Ministry of Rites and the Ministry of War to make joint preparations: a gilded carriage pulled by eight snow-white horses was parked below the steps, its canopy adorned with pearls and its curtains embroidered with golden dragons; three thousand imperial guards, gleaming in their armor, stood in formation on both sides, their swords and halberds like a forest; and thirty gold plaques were held aloft, bearing the five large characters "Duke Shen Mo, Protector of the Nation," shining brightly in the setting sun.

The scene was so grand that it rivaled a prince's procession.

Standing in the shadows of the palace gate, Shen Mo gazed at the magnificent procession, a warm feeling welling up inside him. He knew that this was the highest honor bestowed by Zhao Yan, the ultimate respect an emperor could show to his "sworn brother."

But he simply shook his head slightly.

He stepped forward slowly and bowed to the Minister of Rites who was leading the group: "Please convey to His Majesty that Shen Mo is extremely grateful. However, a man of the martial world should walk the path of the martial world. Such pomp and circumstance would be contrary to his true nature."

Having said that, he mounted his black horse, which the martial arts alliance had arranged for him to travel on—this horse had no saddle or harness, only a thick hemp rein, which contrasted sharply with the golden and jade-adorned imperial carriage behind him.

"drive!"

With a soft shout, the black horse shot out of the Meridian Gate like an arrow.

Three thousand imperial guards knelt on one knee in unison, watching the figure in black robes gradually disappear into the twilight of Chang'an Street.

On the palace wall, Zhao Yan stood leaning against the railing, watching the dark figure disappear into the horizon, and murmured, "...Brother Shen, your world is more vast than my empire."

......

Inside the council hall of the Martial Arts Alliance, the air was filled with the fragrance of sandalwood incense, and two figures had been waiting quietly for some time.

Situ Dengfeng sat upright in the main seat, his brows still revealing the majesty of the former "Number One Under Heaven". Beside him, Guiguzi had now shed his Confucian robes, wearing a simple gray robe as pure as clouds, his eyes as deep as an ancient well, as if he could see through the changes of a thousand years.

As Shen Mo stepped into the door, still dressed in black and unwashed from his journey, the two of them stood up at the same time.

"Shen Mo!" Situ Dengfeng's voice trembled slightly as he quickly stepped forward, gripping Shen Mo's arm tightly with both hands. His eyes welled with tears, and after a long pause, he whispered, "Regarding the affairs of the court, I... on behalf of the entire Central Plains martial arts world, thank you!"

Guiguzi stepped forward, bowed deeply, and said in a calm yet respectful tone, "If it weren't for your successful plan, the martial world would likely be a thorn in the side of the imperial court today. You not only saved the court, but also saved millions of martial artists in the martial world!"

Shen Mo was slightly taken aback.

Faced with the two seniors' high praise and deep bows, Shen Mo quickly stepped aside to avoid them, offering his hands in a gesture of respect: "Alliance Leader, Seniors, you are too kind. Shen Mo has been entrusted with an important task. Resolving the rift between the court and the people is the very foundation of the Martial Alliance, and it is also my duty as a member of the martial world. How dare I take credit for it? And why should I express my gratitude?"

His tone was sincere, without a trace of arrogance, as if the events of being bestowed the title of "Duke Protector of the Nation" in the palace last night and being escorted by three thousand imperial guards were nothing more than a gentle breeze brushing past his sleeves.

Situ Dengfeng gazed at him for a moment, then suddenly smiled, the worry in his eyes lessening slightly: "Good! With a mind as broad as yours, how could the martial world of the Central Plains not prosper?" He paused, his tone softening, "But... my dear son-in-law, do you intend to stay in the Central Plains for long this time? When will you set off back to the Heavenly Demon Sect?"

This question drew even Guiguzi's attention. They knew that Shen Mo held the position of "Heavenly Demon God," and the Heavenly Demon God Sect was far beyond the Western Regions, with immense power. If he stayed in the Central Plains for a long time, no one would manage the sect's affairs; but if he left, the newly stabilized relationship between the court and the people might change again.

Shen Mo remained calm, but a gentle smile appeared in his eyes.

"Rest assured, Alliance Leader," he said slowly, "the Central Plains are now truly at peace."

He paused, his voice softer yet more resolute: "In the days to come, I want to spend more time with Qing'er and Meng'er. They've worried about me for far too long."

He looked out the window and seemed to see those two familiar figures—one as aloof as a plum blossom, the other as gentle as water, both of whom gave their all for him.

"As for the Heavenly Demon Sect," he continued, "the four Demon Lords are all extremely capable and loyal to me. If there are any important matters, they will naturally send a message to me."

Upon hearing this, Guiguzi's eyes flashed with approval, and he stroked his long beard lightly: "Since you have made up your mind, we will not ask any further questions."