Embroidered Uniform Guard: I Can Plunder Talents Chapter 172 - 32: Heaven Envies Beauty! The Consort with Thr

If soone were to say they wanted to wipe out these mountain bandits,

Prince Jin, Yan Ze, would have every reason to object.

After all, this was his own territory. The matter of suppressing the bandits should naturally be decided by him, the Prince Jin. Later, he could simply send the others away and do so perfunctory work himself.

The mountains are high and the emperor is far away; who would know whether he truly put down the bandits or not?

Seeing Prince Jin Yan Ze so confident, Daoist Mu Cang, though feeling uneasy, said nothing to dampen his spirits.

Yet one thing was indeed true.

Prince Jin City was truly a world away from the Imperial City—a place where the sky felt higher and the emperor felt farther.

There were indeed Grandmasters in the Imperial City, but they hardly believed those figures would travel thousands of miles to co here. And if only Grandmasters were sent, they had the ans to deal with them.

"With the Princess Consort’s fate to bolster you, Your Highness is bound to achieve great things!"

Hearing this, Prince Jin Yan Ze’s smile grew even wider.

"After struggling for so many years, to think the throne ended up being snatched by a worthless imperial sister. So what if I’m a puppet? As long as I can ascend to that supre position, what does it matter if I’m a puppet for a few years?"

Yan Ze’s obsession with the throne bordered on madness and distortion.

Back when Yan Shuzhu ascended the throne,

Yan Ze went straight to his fiefdom at the first possible mont.

Why? Did he give up? How could that be. Yan Ze imdiately started plotting how to seize the throne, even if he couldn’t keep it for more than a few years; all he wanted was to sit in that exalted seat, if only for a short while.

"Back then, everyone told to wait. How to wait? Wait a few hundred years until I’m buried in the ground?"

If the late emperor had beco a Grandmaster, he’d have two hundred years to live.

Even if Yan Ze couldn’t reach the Grandmaster Realm, pill-taking might have extended his life a bit, and he’d still have a slim chance.

But if he ever broke through to beco a Land Immortal,

and gained another five hundred years—hell, Yan Ze would already be in his grave by then. No amount of pills would keep him alive for five hundred more years.

His obsession with the throne dictated his every move.

And so, Yan Ze decided to bet everything—first build up his forces, then march them on the Imperial City, bargaining for a few years on the throne.

Even if, in the end, his father erged from seclusion and settled the score with him, at least he would have sat on the throne for a few years. That, to him, made life worthwhile—even if he died for it.

Thinking to this point,

the warped and obsessive look in Prince Jin Yan Ze’s eyes gained an additional edge of madness.

"This old Taoist will assist Your Highness!"

Seeing Yan Ze in such a state, Daoist Mu Cang’s expression barely shifted,

as if he had long expected this.

"Do not worry, sir!"

Composing himself, Prince Jin Yan Ze collected his emotions and spoke earnestly to Daoist Mu Cang,

"When I ascend the throne, during those years, the fate of the Great Qian Dynasty will be yours to manipulate as much as you want."

This was the promise Prince Jin Yan Ze had made to Daoist Mu Cang.

It was also the reason why a Grandmaster like Daoist Mu Cang would help Prince Jin Yan Ze at all.

Prince Jin Yan Ze was always a man who believed—’after I’m dead, let the floods co, I care not.’

Whether the Great Qian Dynasty’s fate would be damaged as a result—he could not care less. So long as his own ti on the throne was comfortable, what beca of the dynasty after his death ant nothing to him.

Prince Jin Yan Ze simply did not care!

"Mr. Mu Cang, are you sure that woman Sisi’s fate can truly protect ?"

The concept of fate was always nebulous and illusory.

If not for Daoist Mu Cang’s undeniable Grandmaster strength, to bring up sothing so insubstantial as fate before him—

Yan Ze would’ve kicked him out of Prince Jin’s Mansion long ago.

Even so,

Prince Jin Yan Ze still could not fully suppress his doubts.

"Please be at ease, Your Highness!"

Hearing Yan Ze’s doubts, Daoist Mu Cang replied with an air of complete confidence.

"The Princess Consort’s fate is exceedingly mysterious. While it can’t help her personally, it does benefit those around her. This kind of special constitution can truly be called one in ten thousand!"

"However, this fate is not sothing the Princess Consort can control. Only by letting her feel Your Highness’s true affection can it work!"

After Mu Cang’s explanation,

Though Yan Ze believed, he still couldn’t help frowning:

"Am I not treating her well enough already?"

Who in all of Prince Jin City did not know how he treated her? When had any other woman ever received such devotion from him before?

"The Princess Consort just doesn’t understand for now. She will, in ti, co around."

"Hmph!"

A cold snort.

Clearly, Yan Ze was no longer willing to waste any more ti on this topic.

He waved his hand and said curtly,

"It’s late. I won’t keep you from returning and resting, sir."

"Jiang Jing, you may step down as well."

After Daoist Mu Cang departed, Yan Ze sent Jiang Jing away as well.

Although the arrival of the Embroidered Uniform Guard caught Yan Ze sowhat off guard, it was not enough to cause real panic. As long as the troops he kept were safe, everything else was manageable.

...

At the sa ti,

Ye Liuyun, following the lody of the zither, had quietly arrived at the rear courtyard of the prince’s mansion.

With Ye Liuyun’s skills and influence, his movents were utterly silent; not a single soul noticed him slipping through the night.

"Found it!"

The sound of the zither in his ears grew even clearer.

Yet, Ye Liuyun felt this was odd—even soone like him, with little musical training, could hear the sorrow in these notes. Wasn’t the one playing supposed to be Princess Consort Jin?

According to what people said,

With Prince Jin Yan Ze treating her with such dedication, what reason could she have for such sorrow?

Could it be—there is so other secret hidden within?