A very subtle footstep sounded in the courtyard outside the door. The sound was extremely faint, especially since the vegetable market at the end of the alley was still bustling, and would continue to be so until dusk. These faint footsteps were almost drowned out by the indistinct sounds of haggling.

However, these faint footsteps were exceptionally clear to Fan Xian's ears. He narrowed his eyes, listening intently to the movements outside. His middle and ring fingers twitched instinctively, only to realize that his black dagger had long been lost in the autumn rain before the palace. He didn't know where it was now, but he remained calm, confident that he could subdue whoever was outside with a single blow.

Hong Yiqing gripped his dagger tightly, carefully and silently squatting behind the door, holding his breath. He watched the approaching figure, who strangely walked directly to the door and gently knocked twice. Upon hearing the rhythmic knock, Hong Yiqing visibly relaxed. This was a recognition signal used internally by the Qi Nian Group.

Fan Xian, however, did not relax. He wasn't entirely sure whether the court had infiltrated the Qi Nian Group, or whether they had already made contact with its periphery. After all, based on the incident in Dazhou and Gao Da's existence, the Emperor's focus on intelligence far exceeded Fan Xian's and even Chen Pingping's estimations. Moreover, the inner court must have many loyalists hidden within the Supervisory Council. Otherwise, it would have been extremely difficult for Yan Bingyun to control that grim courtyard within those seven days.

"It's me," the figure outside the door said in a hoarse voice, as if knowing someone was inside.

Hong Yiqing didn't recognize the voice, but Fan Xian's expression changed immediately, filled with joy, sadness, and surprise.

The door was pushed open, and a middle-aged man with an unfamiliar face, dressed in the common farmer's attire of the Kyoto suburbs, walked in.

"Wang... Boss?" Hong Yiqing lowered his voice, looking at the newcomer in disbelief. From the familiar, warm smile in his eyes, he identified the person. After all, he had been personally selected into the group by Wang Qinian. He was quite familiar with Wang Qinian, but... in the minds of most officials of the Supervisory Council, Wang Qinian had died three years ago during the Dongshan rebellion. How could he be standing alive in front of him today?

The disguised Wang Qinian patted Hong Yiqing's shoulder, then composed himself, stood solemnly, and gave a deep bow to Fan Xian, who was standing behind the table, trying to suppress his emotions.

"We'll talk another day. There will always be a time to meet again. Business first." Fan Xian smiled and tossed the small knife in his hand to Hong Yiqing. Hong Yiqing's face still wore a dazed expression, but he knew the matter was urgent. Not daring to delay, he bowed to both of them and headed west towards the grasslands, to find the person known as Song Zhixianling.

……

……

Fan Xian walked out from behind the table, approached Wang Qinian, looked at him quietly for a moment, then hugged him, patting his back forcefully. Straightening up, he easily saw the fatigue that Wang Qinian couldn't hide even after his disguise.

Fan Xian looked at Wang Qinian, and Wang Qinian looked back at him. The two remained silent for a long time. After a long while, Fan Xian sighed and said, "It's been a long time indeed."

On the road returning from Dongyi City to Kyoto, Wang Qinian had desperately intercepted the Supervisory Council's cavalry to inform Fan Xian of the earth-shattering news. At that time, the two had no time to say or lament anything. Fan Xian had immediately set off straight for Kyoto to save Chen Pingping.

Carefully counting, Fan Xian had returned to Kyoto for exactly eight days, and Wang Qinian had already rushed back to Kyoto again. Before that, Wang Qinian had made a difficult, rapid journey from Dazhou straight to the Northeast. The two long journeys had truly exhausted Wang Qinian, who was no longer young. Even though he was one of the two wings of the Supervisory Council, he was now barely holding on.

Fan Xian helped him to a chair and sat down. After a moment of silence, he said, "Where have you been all these years?" The question was asked lightly, but it was actually heavy with meaning. Fan Xian knew that he had not died, and that under Chen Pingping's arrangement, Wang Qinian and his family had escaped Dongshan and gone into hiding, changing their names. For the sake of the Wang family's safety, Fan Xian had only investigated briefly before giving up the search. In these three years, Fan Xian had often thought of him, of this closest subordinate, the lovable Old Wangtou who knew his greatest secrets.

"Actually, I never left Kyoto. I was always by the Director's side, always watching you, my lord. Knowing that you were doing well was enough." After three years of separation, the two felt no sense of alienation. Wang Qinian said in a hoarse voice.

Fan Xian remained silent for a long time before saying, "I... came back too late."

This was referring to Chen Pingping's matter. Wang Qinian lowered his head and remained silent for a long time, saying in a low voice, "I reported the news too late."

In reality, both of them had done their best, but they still couldn't change what had already happened. A faint sense of sadness and self-blame filled the room.

"Is your family well?"

"Yes, the court shouldn't be able to find them."

"That's good. Come back to my side."

"Okay."

……

……

After this extremely natural exchange, the long-cold heart of Fan Xian was warmed a little. He asked softly, "I asked you to follow the main force to Dongyi City, why did you come back?"

"The Black Knights, a full complement of 4,500 men, have entered the Dongyi City area. One route should now be heading towards Shijia Village. The Director's instructions have been completed, so I rushed back. I was delayed for two days, so I was a little late." Wang Qinian said, "Jing Ge, that old man from the Seventh Bureau, and Zong Zhui are all in that route. The Director's most powerful forces have been gathered at Shijia Village."

Fan Xian was silent for a moment, then smiled with a complex expression. "I didn't think the Director knew about Shijia Village."

"The Director always knows what he needs to know," Wang Qinian said.

"Let's not talk about these things." Fan Xian sighed. "With you by my side, many things will be much easier to do. At least, I wouldn't have had to spend seven days to break out of that net, like I did today."

After a brief conversation, Wang Qinian clearly understood the recent events in Kyoto. He couldn't help but sigh softly. "If the Supervisory Council were still in our hands, things would be much easier."

Now, the only people Fan Xian could truly trust and command, besides the Qi Nian Group, were those trusted subordinates scattered throughout the world. However, the headquarters of the Supervisory Council had begun to gradually fall apart, especially since Yan Bingyun and his father had controlled the Fourth Bureau for generations. Over time, the influence of Fan Xian and the old ministers within the Council would only weaken.

"This world is still His Majesty's world. Even if the officials in the Council initially felt sorry for the Director's situation, as time passes, they will have to accept this reality. Loyalty to the Emperor and love for the country, after all..." The corners of Fan Xian's lips curled slightly. He only showed such contempt and disregard for imperial power in front of very few people. "How many people dare to openly oppose that chair?"

"Lord Yan is not that kind of person," Wang Qinian said in a hoarse voice. The Lord Yan he was referring to was naturally Yan Ruohai. "I don't understand what Yan Bingyun is thinking."

"The Director gave him instructions," Fan Xian said with his eyes slightly closed. "The Director didn't want the world to shed blood because of him, and he tried everything to ensure the survival of the forces in my hands, separating me from him. If I... behave as he imagined, in a few years, I will rise again. At that time... His Majesty might be old too."

Yes, this was Chen Pingping's wish, and the outward manifestation of this wish conformed to Yan Bingyun's highly regarded attitude of prioritizing the world. Therefore, Yan Bingyun steadily and persistently followed Chen Pingping's arrangements.

Next, it was necessary to see Fan Xian's attitude.

"Yan Bingyun won't watch the Supervisory Council become my revenge machine. Public instruments cannot be used in this way. This is probably a very advanced concept," Fan Xian said calmly. "However, he has forgotten that this world is His Majesty's family world, and all officials and military forces are His Majesty's private property."

He said with a slight sneer, "It's a pity that our Little Yan can't understand this. It's not so easy to be a loyal minister and a rebellious son. I hope he can sit stably in the Supervisory Council in the future."

Wang Qinian heard that Fan Xian did not have much resentment towards Yan Bingyun, and his eyes narrowed slightly. "What do we do next?"

"You rest first. Ten thousand years is too long, but we can't just seize the day." Fan Xian stood beside Wang Qinian, gently pressing his sagging shoulders, and said softly, "You've been tired these days. Find a place to stay in Kyoto. I guess not many people can find you. Then... I have something for you to do."

With Wang Qinian's ability to track and hide, even if the court's net outside Fan's residence was still spread, it probably couldn't stop him and Fan Xian from meeting. With him, although Fan Xian's body was trapped in Kyoto, his voice could finally be transmitted. He wouldn't have to go through such a difficult seven days again.

Wang Qinian already knew the information that Fan Xian had sent to all parts of the world through the Qi Nian Group today. He did not make any suggestions about this plan. He was just not clear whether Fan Xian wanted to reveal his hand now, or whether he was just passively defending, hiding those forces outside Kyoto, and waiting for a suitable opportunity to erupt.

"I hope Ziyue can come out of Xiliang alive." Fan Xian's brows were slightly worried. "I originally planned to let him return to Northern Qi to do this, but I was always a little uneasy. After all, even if they are willing to follow me, it is because I am a Qing person, and even... perhaps in their eyes, I am a member of the royal family. So even when facing His Majesty, they can be confident. But if it's Northern Qi..."

He raised his head and looked at Wang Qinian. "If I were to lead you to betray the country, would you follow me?"

Wang Qinian smiled wryly and stood up, saying, "Haven't we done this kind of thing a lot in the past few years? Even if my lord wants to take me to the ground, I have no choice but to go."

Fan Xian smiled and said, "That's why I am only at ease if you do this."

……

……

The two left the small courtyard one after the other. It was destined that this small courtyard, which cost one hundred and twenty taels of silver, would probably not be visited by anyone for a long time. Only lonely raindrops and lonely cobwebs would accompany those smooth papers and cold ink blocks.

A large hat covered Fan Xian's head. Following the muddy road in the vegetable market, he trailed far behind Wang Qinian's inconspicuous figure. He was only relieved after he finally lost him. On the one hand, it was to confirm that there were no ambushes outside the small courtyard. On the other hand, it was to reassure his own heart. Even he had lost Wang Qinian, who else in Kyoto could follow him?

After finishing all this, Fan Xian's mood relaxed a little, just like the sky that had finally stopped raining two days ago. Although it was not clear, and there were still faint dark clouds, it could finally drift with the wind, revealing some clear light to the world, instead of being simply heavy and cold.

The affairs of the world ultimately had to be resolved in the world. Before the Emperor took action, Fan Xian wanted to preserve the strength in his hands as much as possible, so that when he finally revealed his cards, he could have enough strength and weapons... But for some reason, he always felt that he had made a mistake somewhere. That vague vigilance, like a cloud, kept turning over and over in his mind, but he could never see its shape clearly.

Leaving the vegetable market behind, leaving those lively, ordinary, and unblamable sounds of the marketplace behind, Fan Xian walked along the radial avenues connecting the gates of Kyoto to the palace in the direction of the southern city. The matter had been completed. The personnel of the Qi Nian Group had also collectively withdrawn from Kyoto. He didn't need to worry about anything anymore. Even being confined in his residence was not a particularly unbearable pain.

However, he had to pass by the palace on the way, passing by the palace from afar. Fan Xian couldn't help but feel painful. He forced himself not to think about the scenes of a few days ago, but couldn't help but start thinking about how his sister was doing in the palace now. Although Eunuch Dai said that His Majesty treated Ruoruo like his own daughter, Ruoruo's current status was, after all, a hostage. She knew it herself, and her days in the palace must be difficult.

This was a very understated stroke by the Emperor, but it directly tore through the painting that Fan Xian had worked so hard to create. Fan Xian could not leave Kyoto, all because of this.

It was raining. Fan Xian lowered his head slightly, letting his hat and clothes cover the fine raindrops. He silently left under the palace's gaze. The area was heavily guarded, and there were not many pedestrians on the street, but he could still hear a few curses about the weather. Presumably, the continuous autumn rain had stopped for only two days before falling again, making the people of Kyoto very dissatisfied.

Even dissatisfaction could become numb with habit. The rain today was not heavy. Fan Xian walked silently towards his residence, like a prisoner forced to go to jail, with no other choice. He walked and thought, comparing the Emperor in the palace with himself in every way. Finally, he focused his thoughts on those mendicant monks in sackcloth.

From the time Chen Pingping returned to Kyoto, until he was imprisoned, until Fan Xian stormed the execution ground, those mendicant monks in sackcloth and bamboo hats had suddenly appeared in the palace, in the Supervisory Council, and at the execution ground. Although these mendicant monks were powerful, they were not enough to make Fan Xian too apprehensive. He just couldn't figure it out, and because of these mendicant monks, he was reminded of the ethereal but definitely existing... Temple.

The Qing Kingdom had always maintained a respectful but distant attitude towards the divine, unlike Northern Qi, where the Heavenly Path sect had permeated the officialdom and people's lives. Especially after the appearance of the powerful Emperor, the status of the Qing Temple in the Qing Kingdom's life plummeted, completely reduced to an appendage and a side note. Those few mendicant monks of the Qing Temple, scattered throughout the world, had become even more forgotten.

Why had these forgotten people appeared in Kyoto at this moment, and appeared by the Emperor's side? Could it be said that the Emperor had completely controlled the Qing Temple? However, the Qing Temple's High Priest had died strangely in the past, the Second Priest, Master Sanshi, had died miserably, and more than half of the Qing Temple's priests on Dongshan had died under His Majesty's anger. Why had these mendicant monks of the Qing Temple completely sided with His Majesty?

Could it be that, as Chen Pingping had said in the past, and as he had vaguely guessed... the Emperor back then had really come into contact with the will of the Temple? And it was because of this that these mendicant monks had forgotten their many years of hatred and stood by His Majesty's side, helping him to radiate light in this world?

The rain did not become heavier. There were natural opportunities in the world. When Fan Xian shook off his thoughts from the fine rain and subconsciously looked up, he saw the Qing Temple not far in front of him.

That Qing Temple, with its entirely black body, vaguely green eaves, standing quietly on the desolate and quiet street, receiving the rain from the sky, not attracting even a speck of dust, with its square outer wall and round pagoda standing quietly inside.

Fan Xian stared blankly at this elegant building, not knowing what he felt in his heart. In this temple, he had brushed shoulders with the Emperor, had seen the girl who loved to gnaw chicken legs under that curtain, and had also carefully studied the strange murals painted under those eaves. However, he had not figured out any of the things he really wanted to understand.

He should have returned to his residence, but at this time, he subconsciously raised his foot and stepped into the temple, passing through the rarely closed temple gate and walking directly into the temple. Accompanied by the fine autumn rain, he walked slowly in the temple. The fatigue and resentment of these days had also miraculously reduced a lot, not knowing whether it was the mystical atmosphere of the Qing Temple itself, or the quiet space here, quiet enough to make people lazy to think.

Naturally, he walked to the back temple, but Fan Xian's figure suddenly froze, because he saw a mendicant monk in sackcloth and bamboo hat, frowning and looking at him, standing at the door of the small building in the back temple.

Fan Xian wanted to retreat, but the mendicant monk spoke at this time. His words were full of admiration, and he sighed towards the raindrops in the sky with his hands clasped together. "The will of heaven has its own encounters. Young Master Fan, we have been wanting to find you. We didn't expect you to come."

Although his true identity had been seen through, Fan Xian remained unmoved. He looked calmly at the mendicant monk and said softly, "You? Why are you looking for me?"

The mendicant monk was holding a bell in his right hand. At this time, he gently rang it. The crisp sound of the bell quickly penetrated the fine rain and spread throughout the entire Qing Temple. Just like when Fan Xian first came to the Qing Temple, this temple did not have much incense. Apart from tourists from various states and counties, probably no one was willing to come here. So the Qing Temple was still quiet today. The crisp sound of the bell did not cause any disturbance, but it attracted... more than a dozen mendicant monks.

The mendicant monks, wearing the same style of sackcloth and wearing extremely similar old bamboo hats, walked out from all directions of the Qing Temple, vaguely surrounding Fan Xian in the center, right under that round pagoda.

Fan Xian slowly took a deep breath and began to slowly circulate the true energy that had not stopped flowing in his two cycles, looking indifferently at the mendicant monk who had spoken first and said calmly, "This temple has always been quiet. You don't spread the Dao in the world. Why bother to disturb this place's quiet?"

"Young Master Fan is kind-hearted and deeply embodies the virtue of heaven. He established the Hangzhou Society in Jiangnan, gathering the wealth of the world for river works. We humble people travel to various counties and have heard much of Young Master's benevolent name and seen much of Young Master's kindness. We have always hoped to meet you."

The mendicant monk lowered his head and saluted. He always called Fan Xian Young Master Fan, not Lord Fan, because everyone in Kyoto knew that all of Fan Xian's official positions had been stripped by the Emperor.

"I don't think you came here specifically to praise me." Fan Xian lowered his head slightly, his brows furrowing slightly. He really didn't expect that he would meet such a strange group of people when he had a thought to enter the temple for a look. Could it be that, as the mendicant monk said, there was a natural will in the dark?

However, these strange mendicant monks really seemed to have come specifically to praise Fan Xian. They took off their bamboo hats and knelt respectfully towards Fan Xian in the center, praising and praying sincerely. Fan Xian's expression was indifferent, but his heart was greatly shocked. The fine raindrops and the sounds of prayer were intertwined, and the atmosphere in the field was very strange.

The mendicant monks did not have the habit of wearing shoes. Their rough feet were somewhat pale from being soaked in the rain. They all knelt on the wet ground, looking as ridiculous as frogs, but the powerful aura they released and the words they spoke were not ridiculous.

This powerful aura was the aura of harmony and unity after the strength of these more than a dozen mendicant monks was combined, and its purity and righteousness made people dare not underestimate it. Sincere words, like chanting spells, sounded in the rain, accompanied by the shining bald heads in the rain, making people disgusted.

"For the sake of the people of the world, we earnestly request Young Master Fan to enter the palace and plead guilty to appease the Emperor's heart."

Fan Xian's face turned slightly pale. In just an instant, he knew what these mendicant monks wanted to do. The discord and dispute between the Emperor and Fan Xian, this pair of ruler and minister, father and son, had lasted for seven days, and neither side had expressed any intention of retreating.

For the sake of the people of the world? Then naturally someone must admit their mistake, and someone must give in. The Qing Kingdom could only allow one dazzling leader, and in the eyes of these mendicant monks, that person was naturally the great Emperor.

The mendicant monks keenly sensed the greatest crisis facing the Qing Kingdom at the moment. They decided to persuade Fan Xian on behalf of the Emperor, for reasons unknown. In their hearts, and even in the hearts of the people of the world, as long as Fan Xian returned to the Emperor's shining light, the Qing Kingdom and even the world would surely have a better future.

"What if I don't want to?" Fan Xian looked at these monks whom he had not had much contact with, and said softly.

There was a deathly silence in the field, with only the fine rain still falling, landing on the bald heads of the mendicant monks, and the rainwater from the eaves dripping, landing on the bluestone slabs of the Qing Temple. After a long time, more than a dozen voices, some thick, some thin, some loud, some soft, but all extremely firm and extremely sacred, sounded.

"For the sake of the people of the world, please rest in peace."

……

……

(What I wrote today is satisfying. I'll write again tomorrow. Friends on the left, friends on the right, friends above... please vote for monthly tickets to support.)