When Zhou Yitang strode directly toward the naless old matron, even knowing full well that she had only recently recovered from her injuries and her martial prowess was limited to the realm of the Third Rank—far inferior to the old matron—Chen Yi’s heart inexplicably settled.
For as long as he could rember, this master of his had been his greatest pillar of support.
It was precisely because of this that Chen Yi dared to storm the inner palace on this occasion.
As Zhou Yitang approached, the naless old matron’s aged eyebrows furrowed deeply, almost knitting together. Her arm lifted ever so slightly.
And in the vast square in front of the palace, Zhou Yitang’s icy voice echoed:
"You may proceed."
Chen Yi quickened his pace slightly.
The naless old matron shot him a sidelong glance, her voice booming like a deafening thunderclap:
"Do you dare?"
The overwhelming volu of her voice struck, scattering Chen Yi’s robes in disarray, while waves of fierce energy rippled outward with the old matron at their center.
Zhou Yitang turned her cold gaze to the old matron, her fingertips aligning together.
Her aligned fingers resembled a sword, parting the intangible energy waves cascading toward her, splitting them into gusts that swept sideways with gale force.
Though this released energy was deflected into crosswinds, its oppressive nature was unmistakable. Each step Chen Yi took forward was deliberate, forced, requiring him to circulate True Qi through his ridians with every motion. The naless old matron had guarded the imperial palace for fifteen years; her martial prowess and aura were far beyond what an ordinary person could fathom.
After casting just a single glance at Chen Yi, the old matron redirected her focus onto the one-ard woman before her. With the Sword Armor of Yin Sword Mountain, the title of Master Tongxuan, and her position as the ninth on the martial rankings, any one of her many accolades could dominate the Jianghu. It was for these reasons that she was able to shield that Chen family whelp and escort him this deep into the imperial palace.
The old matron’s brow remained deeply furrowed with unease. Back at Jingren Palace, she had once feared this one-ard woman’s lone venture into the palace to assassinate the Empress Dowager. Though she had been nourished by the blessings of the dragon vein for years and held the advantage of being the palace’s guardian, she estimated her chance of victory at seventy percent in a battle against Zhou Yitang. But a seventy-percent chance of victory did not guarantee she could actually protect the Empress Dowager from soone ranked ninth in the world.
In a duel between Grandmasters, the less constrained they were, the easier it beca to achieve their objectives. That famous battle at Dangyang Lake years ago—the clash between the celestial Xu Qi and the Old Sword Demon Wu Buxu, a eting of the old and new martial supres—not only revolved around the struggle for supremacy but also served as a contest of martial wills. In the end, Xu Qi had shattered Wu Buxu’s Chongxiao Sword montum by sheer force, ascending to the pinnacle of the martial world. Yet, was this not also influenced by a subtle faltering in Wu Buxu’s resolve?
If the one-ard Zhou Yitang before her sought a fight to the death, could the old matron truly uphold even that seventy-percent confidence in her odds?
As these thoughts churned in her mind, the one-ard woman advanced, her sword-like fingers continuing to divide the encroaching energy waves. The winds ravaged the square in front of the palace, whipping up dust and spreading a dense fog of debris.
The old matron’s aura surged higher and higher, but Zhou Yitang’s steps rely slowed slightly. Her sword fingers lifted, standing guard before her, and the wind pulled her Taoist robes into a fluttering dance.
When the distance between them closed to barely two zhang, though no blow had yet been struck, the gale winds already carved deep and jagged cracks across the white jade floor beneath them—grotesque fissures that caught the eye and chilled the heart.
After a long silence, the old matron finally spoke to the woman before her, "What is this young man to you?"
Zhou Yitang gave no reply.
The old matron did not push further but continued, "I’ve not co here to untangle the connections between you two. Everyone must bear their own responsibilities. I have guarded the imperial palace for over a decade, and I will not permit you to advance another step. Think this through."
With that, she paused, and the energy that had seed to reach its zenith climbed even higher. Her formidable aura reached its peak.
The cracks already carved by the winds on the ground beca even more horrific and terrifying.
The old matron roared, "How do you intend to defeat ?"
Zhou Yitang’s expression held no trace of joy or sorrow:
"I may not need to defeat you."
The old matron’s face remained impassive, her aura boundless. She had already raised one hand, for the ninth-ranked martial artist before her had taken a step forward—one more step.
Just as the old matron prepared to unleash an attack, she heard soone speak:
"What if I face you with only fifty percent of my strength? What then?"
.........
Chen Yi had already stepped into Jingren Palace.
Raising his head, he saw the heat from the dragon’s breath rising in thick waves as the Empress Dowager sat alone at her desk. No palace guards accompanied her, and she held a vermilion brush in her hand, her head bowed as she perused and signed docunt after docunt.
The Empress Dowager did not so much as glance up, as if unaware soone had entered.
Chen Yi stood rooted in place, silent. He had anticipated a confrontation upon stepping into this hall, yet he had not expected to find this high-born woman, adorned in her casual imperial attire, sitting utterly alone.
Ti seed to stretch endlessly. Outside Jingren Palace, cold winds gusted, mingling with the rising warmth of the dragon’s breath.
Her elegant yet commanding brows lifted ever so slightly as she spoke:
"Since you’ve barged in, will you not offer your greetings?"
Chen Yi paused in thought, then responded with an unrelated question:
"It’s been a while, hasn’t it?"
The Empress Dowager replied evenly, "rely fourteen days."
Her words struck Chen Yi with realization—she had counted the exact number of days between then and now.
Chen Yi’s eyes narrowed slightly as he gazed steadily at this matchlessly dignified woman.
The Empress Dowager continued to review the morials in her hand at an unhurried pace. After a long mont, she finally said:
"Bold of you to dare enter the court ard, sword and all."
"Loyalty and courage go hand in hand," Chen Yi retorted calmly.
The Empress Dowager cast him a sidelong glance, her crimson lips curving faintly as she said, "Go on."
Chen Yi asked in confusion, "Go on?"
"You’ve brought your sword and blade here. If not to kill , isn’t it a waste?"
As she spoke, the Empress Dowager slowly rose, placing her hands lightly before her abdon. Though life and death hung by a thread, she remained composed, stepping with unhurried grace around the desk to face Chen Yi directly.
Chen Yi fixed his gaze on her, then abruptly laughed:
"A blade or a sword are re tools of killing. Over these past few days, I’ve learned much."
The Empress Dowager t his eyes and smiled as well:
"For example, have you learned how to collude with vassal kings of foreign clans?"
"It was you who poisoned first," Chen Yi stated, his voice even.
"And what of it?" the Empress Dowager countered, her gaze sliding away as she remarked: "The ruler commands, the subject obeys—such is the way of things."
With her words, the hall’s atmosphere abruptly shifted; a killing intent rose, sharp and unrelenting.
Chen Yi’s hand moved to grip the hilt of his blade, as he asked, "But what if the subject refuses to die?"
"Do you dare defy?"
The Empress Dowager looked down upon him, her tone lofty:
"Thunder or rain, all are blessings from the heavens."
As her final words echoed, Chen Yi suddenly surged forward, his single hand clasping tightly around her slender neck.
Her throat trapped in his grip, the Empress Dowager’s complexion turned visibly pale.
Outside, murderous intent flooded the air. The naless old matron seed ready to storm in, but Zhou Yitang held her fast at the palace gates.
Chen Yi’s gaze bore into the noble woman before him. Her breaths ca quick and shallow, yet her eyes betrayed no fear. Instead... the corners of her lips tilted into a smile.
She was smiling. Smiling with a touch of madness.
Her full red lips moved closer to his ear as she whispered a single line:
"Mother doesn’t want you to die."
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