Chapter 21: The Grand Feast and a Hidden Scheme

The Burning-Tail Banquet arrived as scheduled.

Su Zhuozhi had fully recovered from his cold and could attend as usual.

The Minister of Revenue’s mansion was bustling with guests, like a market. It was extraordinarily lively.

High officials and important ministers mingled—a rare and splendid sight.

But of course, the most distinguished guest of all was the reigning emperor. The new Minister of Revenue had sincerely invited Emperor Mingde, his gratitude for the court’s favor overflowing.

Emperor Mingde accepted the invitation, coming to share in the joy with his subject, writing a beautiful chapter of ruler-minister harmony.

Today, Emperor Mingde had also brought a special guest—a cultivator from the Ten Thousand Swords Sect.

Many court officials had heard tales of cultivation and felt their hearts stir, eager to befriend him. They stepped forward with smiles and greetings.

But the tall, upright sword cultivator, with a stern and solemn face, was taciturn. He was like a hard, unyielding rock—very difficult to deal with.

Seeing this, Emperor Mingde laughed. “Cultivators devote themselves to the Dao, far from worldly affairs. I had to work hard to invite him to help with the investigation. Don’t make things difficult for him.”

The ministers took the hint and changed the topic, asking about the strange case of multiple disappearances.

“It is indeed the work of a demon. The city is thick with demonic energy,” the sword cultivator nodded, but offered only a brief answer, unwilling to elaborate.

Unable to get more, the court officials temporarily gave up, their minds turning as they chatted and laughed with colleagues.

Emperor Mingde suddenly remembered. “Has the Su family come to the banquet today?”

Eunuch Li, knowing what His Majesty wanted to ask, replied respectfully, “Your Majesty, the young master of the Su family is here.”

“I recall he wished to meet a cultivator. Summon him.”

Normally, such a trivial task could be handled by a young eunuch, but Eunuch Li had been by the emperor’s side long enough to know Su Zhuozhi’s special status. So he went personally to deliver the imperial order.

Su Zhuozhi was chatting with friends when Eunuch Li arrived. With a friendly smile, he said, “Forgive the interruption, young gentlemen. His Majesty requests Young Master Su’s presence. May I borrow some of his time?”

With the emperor’s favored attendant speaking thus, refusal was impossible.

Others nearby watched Su Zhuozhi walk away with Eunuch Li. They couldn’t help murmuring, what was so special about this merchant’s son that he had earned such imperial favor? It was said that a few days ago, he had caught a cold playing polo, and the emperor had even sent an imperial physician to treat him, along with medicine.

Among the crowd, Kong Zhonglin’s eyes burned with the deepest jealousy.

Su Zhuozhi finally met the legendary cultivator. He studied him curiously, his gaze direct but without any scheming, not offensive in the least.

Emperor Mingde made a brief introduction.

A trace of emotion flickered across the sword cultivator Qin Zhao’s face. “Su Manor? Su Zhuozhi?”

Su Zhuozhi tilted his head in confusion. “You know me?”

Qin Zhao nodded. “You saved me a few days ago. I haven’t had the chance to thank you in person yet.”

Su Zhuozhi suddenly remembered and exclaimed in surprise, “So it was you! What a coincidence!”

Emperor Mingde was puzzled. Only after hearing their explanation did he learn about the rescue on the road back from Seven Bends Mountain.

“It seems you two are destined to meet. Heaven itself wanted you to know each other,” Emperor Mingde teased with a smile.

Speaking of this, Su Zhuozhi was still curious. How could a cultivator with such magical powers have collapsed in the outskirts? Had he been gravely wounded by a demon?

Qin Zhao’s expression stiffened. He murmured a vague “Mm.”

In truth, only he knew the reason: the poor sword cultivator had encountered a few starving beggars on the road and given away his last remaining Fasting Pill—splitting it into eight pieces. As a result, he had fainted from hunger himself. Later, when Su Zhuozhi rescued him and brought him back to the Su manor, the first thing he did upon waking was to devour three large buckets of rice, shocking the entire kitchen staff. Was this man a glutton reincarnated? Did he not eat people?

The banquet officially began.

The music and dance were exquisite, the food and wine even more lavish. There were a total of fifty-eight dishes—a complete array of delicacies from land and sea, soups and desserts, everything one could wish for.

But what Su Zhuozhi liked even more were the “viewing dishes” on the feast—artworks created solely for appreciation. A Penglai Fairyland made from vegetarian dishes and steamed dough, with countless fairies dancing gracefully, each only the size of a thumb, yet every fold of their dresses and the details of their eyebrows and eyes were clearly visible, lifelike and breathtaking.

With so many dishes, Su Zhuozhi only ate what interested him. He especially loved meat, so he tried the Red Lamb with Twig, Water-Simmered Calf, White Dragon Shine, Immortal’s Sliced Meat, and Cold Toad Soup. The meat was succulent and flavorful. Then he had some desserts: Giant Victory Crisp, Golden Bell Roast, Han Palace Chess, Imperial Concubine Red, and Jade Dew Pastry—all exquisite and delicious.

Having eaten his fill, he held a cup, enjoying the song and dance, chatting and laughing with his friends. Feeling the need to relieve himself after all the soup, Su Zhuozhi asked a young servant for directions.

When he returned to the banquet, he found Kong Zhonglin had come to their table. Jiang Yangyu and the others couldn’t be bothered with Kong Zhonglin. Seeing Su Zhuozhi back, Jiang Yangyu said bluntly, “You’re blocking my view of the dance. Go back to your seat.”

Kong Zhonglin stiffened, his smile barely holding.

“Zhuozhi, you were gone so long. We thought you’d passed out in the latrine,” Ye Huahui joked, his familiar tone completely different from how he treated Kong Zhonglin.

Su Zhuozhi laughed and retorted, not sparing Kong Zhonglin a single glance.

Sometimes, ignoring someone is more provoking than mocking.

Kong Zhonglin’s eyes darkened. He gave a signal to the young servant carrying the wine jug. After the servant refilled Su Zhuozhi’s glass with wine, Kong Zhonglin said with a smile, “Zhuozhi, we’ve had some misunderstandings in the past. I’d like to take this opportunity to sincerely apologize. Can we bury the hatchet?”

His fawning tone made Su Zhuozhi shudder. It was unbearable. With a subtle expression, Su Zhuozhi waved his hand. “No need. I’m not even familiar with you, let alone any misunderstandings.”

Kong Zhonglin’s expression twisted for a moment but quickly recovered. He forced a smile. “Is that so? Then let me toast you, and I’ll take my leave.”

Su Zhuozhi didn’t want him lingering, so he took a perfunctory sip. “I’ve drunk.”

The implication: now you can leave.

Kong Zhonglin glanced resentfully at the young duke and others at the table. They looked equally impatient, annoyed that he was ruining the atmosphere, and wished he would go. Having achieved his goal, he didn’t stay. With a smile, he turned and left.

As the banquet neared its end, Su Zhuozhi felt dizzy, his face flushed, and his body inexplicably hot. His heart pounded wildly, like thunder booming in his ears, and he grew increasingly uncomfortable.

Jiang Yangyu turned and saw his unfocused gaze. Startled, he said, “Didn’t you only have two sips? Are you already this drunk? Your tolerance is terrible.”

Su Zhuozhi tugged at his collar, too hot to even reply.

Seeing that he didn’t respond to their teasing, Gong Cheng said, “Let me have someone escort him to a side chamber to rest.”

It was fine for Su Zhuozhi to leave alone, but their fathers hadn’t yet departed, so they couldn’t leave early. Thus, Gong Cheng called for a servant. The young servant who had poured Su Zhuozhi’s wine was nearby and quickly came over.

“He’s my friend. Take good care of him and don’t be negligent,” Gong Cheng instructed.

The servant acknowledged and carefully helped Su Zhuozhi leave the banquet.

The sounds of music, song, and laughter gradually faded and grew indistinct.

Su Zhuozhi’s consciousness was hazy. He was led to a side chamber. Stumbling over the threshold, he vaguely heard fragments of conversation.

“He’s here… do what you need to…”

He was laid on the bed. His throat dry, he rasped, “Water.”

A maid stood by the bed, but instead of fetching water, she tried to climb onto the bed.

Su Zhuozhi was alarmed. He bit his tongue to force himself awake, shoved the maid hard, and demanded sternly, “Who are you? Where is the young servant?”

The maid, caught off guard, fell to the ground, trembling with fear. In a soft voice, she said, “I—I’m here to serve the young master.”

Having been pampered since childhood, Su Zhuozhi had never encountered such things. Only now did he dimly realize that his discomfort wasn’t drunkenness but the result of being drugged. Anger surged in his chest. How dare someone use such despicable means on him!

Struggling against the heat, he roared, “I don’t need you! Get out!”

The maid ignored him and advanced, even reaching out to untie his belt.

Su Zhuozhi grabbed her hand to stop her, but under the drug’s influence, his body was limp. Her strength proved greater than his. As his belt came loose, panic seized him. His eyes reddened with desperation.

The maid paused, momentarily entranced. Although she had been paid to do this, Young Master Su was extraordinarily handsome. Who wouldn’t be tempted? If she could marry him, she would be more than willing.

Overcome, she bent down to kiss him.

But at that moment, a terrifying force suddenly struck from behind. Before she could react, she was yanked away and thrown to the ground. Her forehead slammed heavily against the wall, and she went silent.

Xie Jue stood at the bedside, looking down at Su Zhuozhi, whose face was flushed and clothes disheveled.

His expression was calm, seemingly unmoved, but the temperature in the room plummeted, becoming icy and sinister. Behind him, a billowing black fog insidiously invaded every corner. Demonic energy surged and twisted wildly, enveloping the bed densely, staring intently like a starving hound tormented by the burning hunger in its belly, wanting only to devour its prey, regardless of everything—even if the prey had been poisoned.

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