Chapter Eighty-Three: When Dogs Fight, Both End Up Covered in Fur

Mount Luojia. Bamboo sea.

The sun blazed overhead, and Shen Qingping’s forehead was drenched with sweat; his clothes were already soaked through. Yet he remained kneeling on the ground with rigid discipline, back straight, not daring to show the slightest laxity.

He knew well that this ordeal would not be easily overcome.

Life and death—so be it.

Yet the longer he waited, the more anxious he became; the more he waited, the colder his heart grew. The heat outside and the chill within formed a stark contrast.

“I only wanted to do a trivial thing… How did it come to this?” Shen Qingping could not understand.

Just then, a tall figure came into view at the edge of the bamboo grove.

Shen Qingping’s heart filled with hope—could it be that Second Uncle had agreed to let him enter the house?

But when he saw his father’s grim, sorrowful expression, he realized the matter was far from simple.

Shen Anyuan walked up to his son, forcing a smile. “Qingping, get up.”

“Second Uncle agreed to let me in?” Shen Qingping asked.

“Get up first,” Shen Anyuan reached out to help his son’s arm. “Let’s talk standing.”

“I won’t get up.” Shen Qingping remained kneeling, his voice resolute. “If Second Uncle doesn’t agree to let me inside, then I’ll kneel here. When he agrees, I’ll rise.”

“That door…” Shen Anyuan glanced back at the path, his tone harsh. “You can’t go through it yet.”

“Dad, what do you mean?” Shen Qingping asked in a low voice.

Shen Anyuan tossed the wooden token to the ground. “Your Second Uncle wants you to take this to the Undying Army, find Wang Hai, and volunteer to guard Ghost Mountain for three years. If you survive, the Shen family will welcome you back.”

“Ghost Mountain?” Shen Qingping stared at his father in shock.

He knew what Ghost Mountain was—everyone in the Phoenix Empire did.

It was the most perilous border region, where they defended against the cave-dwelling barbarians. Those sent there were either veteran soldiers with grave offenses or death-row criminals.

“Second Uncle wants to send me to a place like that? He might as well kill me outright.” Shen Qingping could not restrain his anger.

This was not banishment—it was exile. A death sentence.

“Qingping, you mustn’t think like that,” Shen Anyuan urged, anxious. “You’ve trained from childhood, your foundation is strong, and you’ve already entered the Profound Realm at a young age. If you hone your skills at Ghost Mountain, you might emerge with new gains.”

“Besides, your Second Uncle is furious now. When he calms down, I’ll speak up for you and bring you home. Though he says three years, it might only be a few months.”

“Dad, you know Second Uncle’s temper. If I go, I won’t return.”

“You will. I guarantee it. I’ll find a way, and ask Xinglan to help plead for you. You two have been close since childhood—he wouldn’t want anything to happen to you. I’ll do everything I can to bring you back.”

“No one can bring me back. No one’s words will help.” Shen Qingping’s heart was dead.

He’d imagined countless outcomes, but never one as dire as this. It was worse than the worst he could have feared.

“Qingping, don’t give up. Even if you don’t return, treat it as training—as if you’d gone to the Blood Glacier. That environment was harsh, but you came back safely, didn’t you?”

“It’s not the same. Not the same.”

“Qingping, remember, your mother and I are waiting for you at home. We’ll be waiting for you to return.”

Shen Qingping picked up the wooden token from the ground, gritting his teeth. “Ghost Mountain, I’ll go. But don’t wait for me.”

This journey spelled almost certain death.

“Qingping…” Shen Anyuan looked at his son, voice choked with tears, and knelt down, embracing him tightly.

For all his renown as a business tycoon, at this moment, he was just a father. Sending one’s son to die was a burden no parent could bear.

“Come back alive.”

“You must come back alive.”

—

Phoenix Palace.

After listening to Chen Fenglei recount the story, Zhong Daolong laughed. “Oh, Shang Xiulin is so bold this time? He dared to challenge the Shen family? See, never offend a scholar—they’re born proud. If you anger them, they’ll pluck a tiger’s whiskers.”

“Exactly. Shang Xiulin is the quintessential good man, always buried in his studies. He’s been headmaster at the Empire’s premier Military Academy for decades. The sovereign tried to promote him, but he refused. If he wanted, the Minister of Education’s post would have been his long ago,” Chen Fenglei echoed.

“You’re hinting at something, aren’t you?” Zhong Daolong eyed him.

“No, no, I’m just following the sovereign’s words, nothing more.”

“You mean to say Shang Xiulin prefers teaching on campus to holding the high office I offered him. Is that it?”

“Sovereign, I’d never dare imply that. You wrong me,” Chen Fenglei replied with a bitter smile, quickly denying it.

“But, hearing you, it does make sense,” Zhong Daolong mused. “Does he think I’m not a benevolent ruler, so he refuses to serve me?”

“Sovereign, I wouldn’t dare say.”

“If I tell you to speak, then speak. What’s there to fear? The old man’s getting sly—can’t even get a straight answer from you anymore.”

Chen Fenglei grew nervous and knelt. “I dare not hide a thing from the sovereign.”

“All right, get up. No need to kneel—I'm not looking to punish you,” Zhong Daolong said. “We’ve worked together for years—there’s trust and affection.”

“Thank you for your favor. I’m but a servant, here to serve you. Please don’t say we’re partners—if the others heard, I’d be doomed.”

“Rest easy. Only you go for others’ heads; who could take yours?”

“If the sovereign ever desires my head, it’s yours whenever you wish,” Chen Fenglei replied obsequiously.

“What would I do with your head? Use it as a wine jug or a chamber pot?” Zhong Daolong laughed. “That old face—I’ve seen it for decades. If I saw it at night, I’d have nightmares.”

“You’re right—I am old. But you remain vigorous, just as when you were first crowned,” Chen Fenglei remarked.

“No one stays vigorous forever,” Zhong Daolong sighed. “Governance and manipulating hearts are no easy tasks.”

“You’ve done exceedingly well—you're a ruler the likes of which is seen once in a century.”

“Heh, but those scholars don’t see it that way. Don’t they curse me enough?” Zhong Daolong chuckled.

“What do scholars know?”

“They know little, but they bear grudges. They bury hatred in their hearts, write it on paper. It spreads everywhere—ten, twenty, a hundred, two hundred years, never fading. Are such scholars not terrifying? Not hateful?”

“No need to mind, sovereign. Scholars are useless—let them talk. If there’s anyone you dislike, or who curses you fiercely, I’ll have them arrested and put on the interrogation chair. Let’s see how proud they remain.”

“Didn’t you just say scholars are proud? I’ll pull out their bones one by one and show you what pride looks like.”

“Enough. No need to stoop to their level,” Zhong Daolong said with a grin.

After a pause, he suddenly asked, “Is Shang Xiulin trying to avenge Tang Li?”

Chen Fenglei’s eyelids twitched. “After all these years, does he still dwell on that?”

“He was quite the troublemaker back then. Silent for so long—why erupt now? Nothing happened recently, right?”

“No,” Chen Fenglei assured him. “We’re watching all the dangerous figures.”

“Good.” Zhong Daolong nodded. “Don’t be careless. Even dead ashes can rekindle. Pride is fine—just don’t grow rebellious.”

“Yes, sovereign.”

“Also, Phoenix has returned—have her join me for dinner. Why must a young girl stir up so much trouble?”

“Yes, sovereign.”

“Heh…” Zhong Daolong recalled something amusing and asked, “Would you call this a dog-eat-dog, full of fur?”

“…”

Chen Fenglei dared not reply.

“Old but not dead is a thief. No wonder I always think you look shifty.”

“…”

—

“What? Tang Fei hasn’t woken up yet? Did the doctor say when he'll wake?”

“Oh, that’s all right. Xiuxue can convey my goodwill—tell him our Tian Class warmly welcomes Tang Fei.”

“Very well. Today we are proud of Tang Fei, and someday Tang Fei will be proud of our class.”

—

Ran Ran’s arrival was the catalyst. Then, teachers from other classes in the Ancient Martial Arts Department came one after another to ‘recruit’ him.

Some even wanted to imitate Shang Xiulin and take Tang Fei as their last disciple, but Phoenix turned them all away, saying Tang Fei had not yet awakened.

After sending off another teacher, Phoenix said, “We’d better hurry home—can’t stay here.”

“I agree,” Tang Fei nodded. He’d already lain here and received several teachers. “Let’s head back.”

“What about Little Fatty?” Phoenix asked.

“Let’s leave him here for now,” Tang Fei replied. “The martial arts hall has good rehabilitation equipment and doctors on call—no sense wasting those resources. We don’t have such conditions back at the courtyard.”

“I think so too. Once we’re home, we’ll send him a message.”

“It’s settled,” Tang Fei said.

So the two quickly packed up and secretly drove back to the courtyard.

“Hungry? I’ll cook for you,” Tang Fei offered.

He had thought it’d be a simple assessment, but so much had happened. After the battle with Shen Qingping and the long days in bed, Tang Fei felt ravenous.

—

“Hungry,” Phoenix nodded. “I’m so hungry my chest feels glued to my back.”

Tang Fei glanced at her chest. “Not quite, not quite.”

“Tang Fei, where are you looking?”

“You said your chest was glued to your back—I’m checking if it’s true. How can you lie?”

“…”

Tang Fei wanted to cook, but Phoenix stopped him.

“No, you’re exhausted today. I won't let you cook,” Phoenix said, opening the fridge. “I’ll cook.”

“You can cook?” Tang Fei asked in surprise.

The princess of the Phoenix Empire—shouldn’t she live a life of luxury, meals prepared, clothes ready?

“Of course, don’t underestimate me,” Phoenix replied. “What do you want to eat?”

“I can order?”

“Of course.”

“Steamed live fish.”

“I don’t know how.”

“Sour pepper beef?”

“Don’t know.”

“Cola chicken wings?”

“Don’t know.”

“Braised ribs? Soy-braised pig trotters? Sand chicken stewed with tyrant?”

“None of those.”

“What can you cook?” Tang Fei was shocked.

He’d nearly listed all the ingredients in the fridge.

Could she only cook palace cuisine?

Phoenix held up an egg in one hand and a tomato in the other. “Can’t you just ask for tomato stir-fried with eggs?”

“All right, tomato stir-fried with eggs?”

“No problem,” Phoenix said happily. “Please wait, dear guest.”

So Phoenix rushed to the kitchen.

“Ouch!”

“What’s wrong?” Tang Fei called from the sofa.

“No problem, no problem…”

“Ow.”

“What happened?” Tang Fei asked again.

“No problem, just watch TV. Food will be ready soon.”

“Ah!” Suddenly, Phoenix’s shriek came from the kitchen.

“What’s wrong?” Tang Fei rushed over.

He saw the pan ablaze, Phoenix waving a towel to put out the fire.

The towel caught fire.

Tang Fei quickly grabbed the burning towel, doused it under the tap, and poured the oil from the pan into the sink.

Sizzle—

A cloud of black smoke billowed, making Tang Fei and Phoenix cough.

Phoenix’s hair was wild, her face smudged with ash and pale streaks, looking rather bedraggled, nothing like the imperial princess.

“How did it catch fire?” Tang Fei asked.

Phoenix looked aggrieved. “I followed the video—heated the oil first, then poured in the eggs. The shell fell in, and the pan caught fire.”

“I tried to use the towel to put out the flames, but the towel caught fire too…”

On the kitchen’s virtual screen, “Teacher Xiaoai Teaches You to Cook” was playing.

Turns out this rookie couldn’t cook a single dish, and was learning from a cooking video.

The princess persona was suddenly established.

(ps: Thanks to ‘Blood Sakura Festival’ for becoming our Galactic Cutie. The long night over mountains and seas, who says a mottled fate leaves only sorrow? Didn't expect you, with those thick brows and big eyes, to also write poetry!)

(End of chapter)