Chapter 33: A Startling Incident at the Birthday Banquet

Two days later, on the third day of the fifth month, it was the eightieth birthday celebration of Master Ethereal.

As Master Ethereal disliked ostentation, the Xie residence kept the celebration modest; there were exactly ten banquet tables—no more, no less—and aside from the Xie family, only a handful of prominent families from Suzhou, who were on good terms with the Xies, were invited.

There was no other way; Master Ethereal's students were scattered all over the world. If all of them were allowed to come and pay their respects, the Xie residence would be bursting at the seams.

Even with just ten tables, the already modest Xie residence was packed to capacity. From midday onward, the flow of guests bearing gifts and congratulations was endless, the air thick with the clamor of celebration.

Lu Ziqing and Feng Ze arrived early in the morning, blending quietly into the crowd without revealing their identities. Since the Xie family had always kept its distance from the imperial court, if word got out that the Vice Minister of Justice and the General of Martial Prowess were present, it would surely cause a great stir.

To Shen Qianmo, their so-called visit to celebrate was in fact to serve as security, which explained their grave expressions. Feng Ze merely greeted her briefly before quietly attending to his own business. Shen Qianmo, though puzzled by Feng Ze’s recent odd behavior toward her, had no time to dwell on it and busied herself helping Madam Yu to receive the ladies.

When everyone had taken their seats and Master Ethereal was settled in the place of honor, just as the banquet was about to begin, a loud announcement rang out at the entrance: “His Highness Prince Xuan has arrived!”

The announcement echoed sharply in the gradually quieting hall, startling Shen Qianmo. Only then did she realize she hadn't seen Meng Yuanheng in several days. She had wondered if he might appear today, but hadn’t expected he actually would—and in such a dramatic fashion, no less. What could he be planning?

The assembled guests were equally taken aback, turning to look at the entrance, hardly daring to believe their eyes. A young man in plain attire was pushing a wheelchair, followed by an unremarkable-looking middle-aged man. Seated in the wheelchair was a young man with striking features and a calm, noble demeanor. His robes were light-colored with elegant trims, and though his lips were set in a thin line, a natural air of command radiated from him.

Was this the legendary prodigy who had gone to war at age ten, only to be crippled at a young age? Few present had ever seen Prince Xuan in person; all stood up and stared attentively.

Meng Yuanheng’s gaze did not waver; he cast a brief glance toward Shen Qianmo’s direction, then proceeded straight to Master Ethereal. He addressed the elderly man with a calm yet respectful tone: “I apologize for my tardiness, Master Ethereal. Please pardon me.”

Though the words were spoken with restraint, for Prince Xuan, this was rare courtesy.

He knows he’s late, yet he still makes such a spectacle of himself—truly shameless, Shen Qianmo thought. Still, it was the first time she’d seen him in light-colored attire, and she had to admit—when a man is handsome, any color suits him.

Master Ethereal nodded with a gentle smile. “You are too kind, Your Highness. I am deeply honored by your presence.”

When the host himself acknowledged Prince Xuan, the guests—none of whom were of noble birth—immediately knelt and saluted. “We, your humble subjects, pay respects to His Highness Prince Xuan.”

“No need for formalities,” Meng Yuanheng replied, his tone still cool.

“Thank you, Your Highness.” The crowd stood, and only after Prince Xuan was seated at the principal table did anyone else dare sit down.

Owing to his rank, Prince Xuan’s seat was at the same table as Master Ethereal. Shen Qianmo, meanwhile, sat with Madam Yu and the other ladies, some distance from the main table. She did not relax her guard, keeping a close eye on Master Ethereal’s table at all times.

Since the Wujiao Sect was rumored to be plotting something that night, surely they would seize the opportunity of the birthday banquet, and their likely target would be Master Ethereal. If anything befell him, chaos would ensue—exactly what the sect desired.

But the Wujiao Sect was notorious for its cunning and unpredictability; no one could guess what their plan would be.

Halfway through the wine, the toasts began. Merchants and prominent families one after another came forward to honor Master Ethereal with a cup.

A plump, prosperous-looking middle-aged man, flanked by two younger men, approached the main table with wine in hand.

Nearby, a middle-aged man adorned head to toe in gold and silver—bearing the air of a nouveau riche—regarded the trio and remarked with feigned indifference, “Well, if it isn’t Young Master Du. Weren’t you said to be unwell? What brings you here to join the festivities?”

Du’s family? Then this must be the Du clan, and the ostentatious man could only be Li Jiuhua, Suzhou’s reputed richest man. The Li and Du families were locked in constant rivalry, whether in business or in the achievements of their heirs.

Li Jiuhua’s son, Li Wenzheng, was the famously ill-fated top scholar who was assassinated by a Wujiao Sect fanatic during his celebratory parade. Li Jiuhua had assumed, when Du Yu disappeared for several months, that he must be dead, and comforted himself that both families had suffered the loss of a son—it was a draw. Yet, to his chagrin, Du Yu returned home unharmed months later.

In fact, the Xie family had not invited either family, but since both showed up unannounced, Master Ethereal could only admit them; after all, hospitality must be extended to those who come to the door.

Du, the elder, shot a sidelong glance at Li Jiuhua and snorted, ignoring him. He stepped up to Master Ethereal and raised his cup respectfully. “Allow me to offer you a toast, Master Ethereal. May you enjoy a long life and enduring fortune.”

Unwilling to be outdone, Li Jiuhua also toasted Master Ethereal. “I too offer a toast—may your blessings be as vast as the Eastern Sea, your life as enduring as the Southern Mountains.”

Are these two trying to outdo each other even in birthday wishes? Shen Qianmo couldn’t help but smile. But just then, she caught Meng Yuanheng’s tender gaze upon her, which made her heart flutter and quickly turned her attention to Du Yu.

On the surface, Du Yu appeared perfectly normal. After his father’s toast, he and Du Yang stepped forward together, bowing deeply as they honored Master Ethereal with their own cups.

Shen Qianmo watched his movements closely, and suddenly caught a glint of cold steel in Du Yu’s hand.

A dagger! Alarmed, she shouted, “Grandfather, watch out!” and rushed toward Master Ethereal as fast as she could.

But the hall was too noisy; Master Ethereal did not hear her warning. Du Yu’s dagger was inches from the old man, and the surrounding guests seemed oblivious. Shen Qianmo cursed her inability to perform lightness skill.

Fortunately, Meng Yuanheng had noticed something amiss. In a flash, his attendant Changdong moved, and with a clang, Du Yu’s dagger fell to the floor as Changdong subdued him.

Relief flooded Shen Qianmo; never had she felt such gratitude toward Meng Yuanheng. Had anything happened to Master Ethereal, how could she have borne it?

Everything had happened so quickly. By the time the guests realized what had occurred, they saw the fallen dagger and Du Yu pinned to the ground, and stared in stunned silence.

Du, the elder, and Du Yang were ashen, staring at Du Yu in disbelief. Xie Chun and Xie Mingyu, who had shielded Master Ethereal, were equally shocked.

The next moment, Shen Qianmo, Lu Ziqing, and Feng Ze arrived at Master Ethereal’s side.

“Grandfather, are you all right?” Shen Qianmo asked.

Master Ethereal was as calm as ever, unflustered, and patted Shen Qianmo’s hand. “I’m fine, my dear.”

By now, Madam Yu, Xie Mingfeng, and Xie Yao had gathered around, all inquiring after the old man’s well-being, while the other guests surrounded Du Yu, murmuring among themselves.

“Silence!” Lu Ziqing barked, his face cold.

The force of his command instantly quieted the crowd.

Lu Ziqing strode forward and examined Du Yu’s face, checking for a human-skin mask. But there was none; this was truly Du Yu. In a stern voice, he demanded, “Why did you attempt to assassinate Master Ethereal?”

Held down by Changdong, Du Yu was forced to face upward, but he said nothing; his eyes were empty and lifeless.

Could he, too, have fallen under some mind control? Shen Qianmo was startled. Was the Wujiao Sect lurking nearby?

“If you’re here, there’s no need for such subterfuge.” Meng Yuanheng’s voice was cold as ice.

A moment later, a silvery laugh rang out. “Prince Xuan’s inner strength is truly formidable. My compliments.”

A waft of fragrance, the jingle of ornaments, and a young woman in lake-green robes, graceful as a willow, descended lightly before the crowd. Beside her stood a man in black, about thirty, his features hard and eyes ruthless.

Shen Qianmo recognized the green-robed woman at once—it was the one who had disguised herself as Tingyu in the Flower Moon Palace.