CHAPTER 89: CHAPTER 88 SILVER AND BLOOD

When the blazing sun slanted westward, a luxurious carriage rolled through the Summer Snow Gate of Xuanzhu County. The City Guards, busy checking permits, glanced at the thornblossom banner with its silver trim and red background on the carriage, and immediately called for commoners to make way, while those queueing crowded to the sides, letting the four-horse carriage enter the inner city with ease.

Crests were a common accessory symbolizing status in the Dongyang district. Across Xuanzhu County, there were hundreds of various trade associations, all in need of conspicuous signs to proclaim their identity. Some simply used their surnames, some tried to be cultured with famous paintings, and animal or plant motifs were always a hit.

But only members of the eighty-eight trade associations of the Silver Blood Association could use a silver border on their emblems, and if the background was red, well, that was even bigger—marking the owner as part of the Standing Council, made up of the ten top-ranking companies in the Silver Blood Association.

But to ordinary folks, it was all the same—people they couldn’t afford to mess with, and really, that was the whole point of such emblems, wasn’t it? "You know who I am, don’t you?"—shouting that and then beating someone up was too crass, too nouveau riche. The real old money should get their respect just from the crest alone—everyone recognizes you can’t be provoked, so they bow and scrape and obey, and thus, a world where nobody gets hurt is achieved.

After all, who liked getting angry?

Leyu lifted the curtain and took in the view of the wide moat, thinking, "Xuanzhu County really is flush." The county was split into three sections: factory villages outside the moat, the outer city between the moat and the inner sea, and the inner city—separated by the inner sea, sitting on the Xuanzhu Peninsula.

The moat was fed by sea water, the outer city wall high and stout, with the advantage of sea transport. Matched with the Heyang Army for mutual support, the city was clearly a fortress not easily stormed. Still, city defenses were ultimately manned by people. Leyu took a look at those soldiers strutting around in uniform and didn’t think they could hold a candle to the Star Engraving County City Guard Department.

This city might not withstand a real army, but for suppressing riots, it would be plenty. As long as the gates were closed and both sides were sea, nobody could go in or out.

"Sir."

Mi Die leaned near the carriage and asked, "Home or Jing Garden?"

Leyu didn’t react at first and had to dig through his brain to recall that Combat Technique—well, okay, Zhengwei—actually had two homes. One was Jing Garden, the main residence where the Jing family lived, sprawling and managed for years, with little towers and pavilions dotting the grounds—one of those places that could eventually be named a national historic monument after a few centuries.

The other was Zhengwei’s own house—his real home ever since his mother died. Since then, he rarely visited Jing Garden. Outside of holidays, he always stayed in his outer city residence, which, while not inferior in comfort, offered him total freedom.

But of course, that freedom came with a price because all Jing family power was held by the Patriarch—that being Zhengwei’s father. When Zhengwei was away from Jing Garden, his brothers naturally got more attention from the Patriarch, and so Zhengwei’s status as "the first heir" grew shaky.

Just like how princes who wanted the crown stuck around in the Capital, while the hopeless ones got sent off as leisure lords. But Zhengwei believed that since his mother died, his father had no use for him anyway, so instead of staying in Jing Garden being stuck under someone’s thumb, waiting around to die, he might as well go out and try to make something of himself.

Even if all he got from the Jing family was "little resources" like Red Moon Fortress, Zhengwei was still, on paper, the first heir, and the Jing family’s connections were his to use as he wished. That right there was his truest treasure.

After years of cunning moves—let’s be real, that’s how business was done here—Zhengwei had built up his own fortune. Maybe he couldn’t compete with his brothers who had their mother’s families backing them, but he still had to be reckoned with—he might yet snatch the seat of Patriarch.

Thinking this through, Leyu replied, "Home."

Leyu really didn’t care to ponder Zhengwei’s scheming. He chose not to go to Jing Garden for one reason only: He had no interest in meeting Zhengwei’s relatives, and he definitely wasn’t about to start calling anyone "Dad."

If every time you swapped bodies you got new parents, what did that make Leyu—someone else’s flunky? Calling strangers brother or sister or wife, fine, but new parents, not happening.

Maybe he’d visit Jing Garden after the Patriarch was dead.

Dusk settled, but the streets only got livelier. Xuanzhu County, like Star Engraving County, might skimp on some public services, but street lights? Absolutely everywhere, lighting up the night markets.

Passing through Main Gate Stone Street, Leyu nearly thought he had gone back to his old life in a small county town. Wide streets lined with shops, shadowed signboards hanging high for attention, all sorts of businesses, vendors everywhere shouting, some pushing carts, others lugging racks, and even a few just stashing goods in their jacket pockets, flashing them open at passersby, muttering, "Want one? Want one?" The whole vibe was a weird mash-up of exhibitionist and secretive, and Leyu felt tempted to see if they were peddling porn mags.

There were open-air storytelling venues and theater stages galore—old traditions in full swing, since folks always preferred to listen to books than to read them. Leyu spotted a storytelling stand hung with a sign reading, "God of Fire Legend, Volume II, Chapter 88: The Beauty’s Venom Hard to Break, Fire God’s Magic Hands Delight the Night." Leyu instantly decided he had to buy the set later and give it a look.

Really, the censors these days just weren’t doing their jobs. Trashy novels were getting away with bawdy stories—Leyu figured he’d give them a good critical takedown.

Just then, Leyu suddenly saw a Combat Technique tournament stage!

Two duelists were playing cards above, a commentator explaining things on the side. When one duelist lost, the commentator boomed, "What a shame! ’Wolf Eagle School’s 91 Hermit’ just barely loses to ’Sword School’s Eastward Stream!’ That ends the Hermit’s three-win run for promotion. This is already his third try aiming for ’First-Generation Legend’—let’s hope he bounces back and rises again..."

"Next up, ’Lingxu School’s Moon Half-son’ versus ’Heqi School’s Mr. Kouhe.’ Moon Half-son, I’m betting on you this match—secretly supporting you, but don’t tell anyone!"

So, they had Combat Technique tournaments here? With ranked divisions?

Leyu had only ever heard of such competitions in Yanjing, didn’t expect Xuanzhu County to have them, too.

Guess that proved Star Engraving County was a third-rate backwater with nothing going for it.

Before Leyu could see more, the carriage had made it home.

"Welcome home, sir."

A well-groomed, scholarly butler led a group of servants out to greet Leyu. Butler Shen Hong had been with Zhengwei for many years, practically a confidant. Seeing Leyu, Shen Hong doffed his hat and offered a polite, sincerely happy smile, "Dinner and the bath are ready, sir. Would you like to bathe and freshen up first, or eat first?"

"Bath first."

Even though Leyu hadn’t felt the least bit tired on the journey—the carriage was steady, the roads smooth, and he’d spent it all lying on Qing Lan’s lap—just the act of bathing before eating made the meal taste all the better, like kicking off the evening with a little ceremony.

No need to pull at memories, the maids escorted Leyu straight to the bath. Not just some rickety wooden tub, either, but a stone bathhouse like a mini indoor pool. As Leyu prepared to undress, he realized two pretty young maids were still there, eagerly helping him out of his clothes.

No way—was Zhengwei not going to let him even take a bath alone?

Leyu searched his brain and sighed with relief, letting them serve him. Thank goodness, it really was just normal service and massage, Zhengwei wasn’t creepy enough for a "Qinri" bath session.

Still, Leyu felt pretty awkward and said, "Forget it, I’d like to be alone today, you two should go out."

The two maids were horrified and dropped to their knees. "Sir, did we do something wrong?"

Leyu quickly explained, "No, I just randomly felt like taking a bath alone."

"But sir, you must be exhausted from your journey. If you don’t relax properly, it’ll affect your sleep," the ponytailed maid pleaded pitifully, "and if we walk out like this, Head Steward Shen will think we upset you and we’ll be punished."

"Um, uh huh, right," the round-faced one said shyly, nodding furiously. "Sir, please let us take care of you."

Leyu thought it over—their actual job was to assist Zhengwei’s bath, and if he just sent them off like this, it’d probably be bad news for them. Do it today, tomorrow, the next day, it’d be the same as firing them.

Sparing their jobs, Leyu had to reluctantly play along and accept the service.

Leyu lounged in the bath, enjoying massages from the two young women, unable not to sigh:

"Man, the capitalist life really was rotten to the core."

"Sir seems to be in a good mood today. Something great happen?"

"How do you know I’m in a good mood?"

"Because you seem so gentle and easygoing; you’re taking care of us more than usual. Normally, sir, you don’t talk to us at all."

Leyu recalled that Zhengwei, in all honesty, was just your average scion—he rarely lost his temper with the staff, but never gave them extra kindness, either. Even the pain wrought by the Qinri Combat Technique wasn’t taken out on anyone else. He knew well enough that if he ever did start mistreating others, one day he’d end up murdering his whole staff in a fit.

Maybe, to those in Jing Mansion, Zhengwei really wasn’t such a bad boss.

"Um, what’s your name?"

"Sir, you’re busy with so much, it’s normal to forget our names." The ponytailed maid gave a hint of attitude: "I’m Zilan, and she’s Shuangye—we both joined the house four years ago, all thanks to your grace."

"You two get along well?"

"We started together, we’re together almost every day, just like sisters." Zilan giggled.

Leyu nodded, making a mental note to ask Steward Shen to move them to a new position. As pleasant as it was, he really just wanted to take a bath alone—having company was just unsettling.

Plus, later before bed, Qing Lan always gave a massage, which was more than enough. Twice in one day and his body’d go limp.

After his bath, Leyu fought past the embarrassment, dressed with the maids’ help, and went to the dining room.

At first, Leyu thought the entire staff would be dining together—the round table was loaded with dishes. Only, there was just a single chair, reminding Leyu once again of the decadent life of the feudal bourgeoisie.

But as he began to eat, he realized the portions were actually pretty small—it only looked overwhelming because of all the little bowls and plates, making it seem impossible to finish.

Halfway through, Leyu noticed how eerily quiet it was. The servants just stood and watched him eat, and he felt like he’d stumbled into a horror flick.

Why the hell did Zhengwei like having people around when he ate? Was his dream dining spot a college cafeteria?

"Where’s Qing Lan? Has she eaten?"

Steward Shen answered, "After you finish, Miss Qing Lan will dine in the side room."

Leyu got it—class etiquette. "Tell her to come and eat with me. I have something to ask her."

Qing Lan showed up quickly, seemingly in a fresh change of clothes. She sat graciously and ate quietly from her own bowl.

Leyu asked, "Qing Lan, do you know how much fun stuff is there to do in Xuanzhu County?"

No way Leyu was going to dig through Zhengwei’s memories for "fun stuff"—he wanted to keep his appetite.

Qing Lan finished chewing and thought for a moment, finally replying, "Tons! The most famous is Nogolou, gambler’s paradise—you can try anything there, and with your status, you could even head to the fifth floor for the wildest games. The Swift Hunt Field, where you hunt while wearing Swift Blade Boots—a big hit. Xiangxue Sea and Golden Plate Dew—sir, you know those well enough..."

"Hold up, not those kinds of fun," Leyu interrupted. "I mean more like novels, battle cards—all the regular stuff."

Not sure what her master was up to, Qing Lan still listed out what she knew, opening Leyu’s eyes to another side of Xuanzhu County—an insanely developed entertainment scene. Besides the storytelling and Combat Technique cards Leyu had seen, there were theaters, snack streets, and cabaret halls, all open for everyone to enjoy.

The theaters put on "light dramas," using special lighting effects almost as impressive as movie blockbusters. With seaborne trade, Xuanzhu’s snack streets offered delicacies from everywhere, famous chefs opening shop from every direction. Unlike Star Engraving County’s monopoly, here, on top of the big cabaret halls, countless small venues were free of charge, making music and dance accessible to all. Streetlamps echoed popular tunes, Qing Lan herself knew a few.

After dinner, Leyu dismissed everyone, retreating alone to the study to review Zhengwei’s "inheritance." Maybe the Qinri Combat Technique really did amp up intelligence—every business Zhengwei clawed into grew ever more prosperous under his management. The assets kept ballooning, nearly matching the lowest of the eighty-eight companies of the Silver Blood Association—and that was just Zhengwei’s personal fortune!

Money, leisure, good health, good looks, sleep as late as he liked, so much money his hands ached counting it...

Leyu suddenly realized he might not have drawn the short straw dying this time—if nothing unexpected happened, he could just ride Zhengwei’s legacy, living it up.

No internet in this world, sure, but with enough cash, Leyu could find plenty to entertain himself. Better yet, with all his pop culture knowledge, he could recycle Earth’s classics, cashing in on plagiarism and maybe making a killing.

The only hitch was the battle for the Patriarch’s seat, but Zhengwei already had a full plan locked in. Whether for victory or self-preservation, as long as Leyu went with the flow, he’d be fine. If not, his own property would back him up—life as a rich guy wasn’t a problem.

The last month had been full of killings and betrayals, but really, who would want to live like that? Maybe that was fine for maniacs like Qian Yuliu or Yin Yin Yin, but Leyu was just an ordinary guy, nothing like them.

Settle here, be a rich normal, hold on tight to a little slice of happiness...

That kind of life—"maybe it could really work..."

The clock on the desk rang and Leyu realized he’d thought his way to eleven o’clock. "Damn, too much work. Qing Lan’s probably in bed warming it up already—time to sleep~"

Leyu left the study, and on the way to the bedroom, he suddenly heard angry shouting from the next courtyard.

"...Sir fed you, clothed you, and this is how you repay him? Where’s Rongyao? Out with it, where did he run off to!?"

"Head Steward, it was Rongyao who tricked Shuangye—please, I beg you, spare Shuangye—"

"Spare her? So you all learn from those two and elope, and when you win, you live your little happy life, when you lose the house forgives you? You think the world works that way?"

"Head Steward, wait—Shuangye, tell him where Rongyao’s waiting for you!"

When Leyu entered the courtyard, he saw Zilan get slapped aside by Steward Shen. A few Guards and maids were gathered around, while the round-faced Shuangye knelt with her hands bound behind her, body covered in bruises.

Even from the shouting, Leyu could basically fill in the blanks. He rushed forward, yelling, "Steward Shen, wait—"

But before he could finish, Steward Shen suddenly whipped out a Guard’s sword and swung—

"...Wait."

Leyu froze, staring at the girl who, just hours ago, had giggled and chatted with him. Now her head was spinning through the air, rolling to the side with a thud, blood pouring like rain and soaking into the dirt.

Suddenly, he remembered what Yin Minghong had once told him—

"Every inch of Dongyang’s land runs with silver and blood."