Chapter 548 — An Escort for the Princess

CHAPTER 548

An Escort for the Princess

The gate of Yonghe Inn came off its hinges at the second watch.

It fell flat across the courtyard flagstones with a crash that woke every guest. Deng Fu, the innkeeper, a Qi Condensation cultivator who had survived a great many bad guests, dived under his own counter and stayed there.

Shi Feng sat on the porch step with a cup of tea. He had felt them coming for a quarter of an hour. His Spirit Sense had counted twenty-four royal guards in the lane, and three Golden Core cultivators at the front. None of them was strong enough to force him to move. Shi Feng kept drinking while he waited to hear what they wanted.

Three old men walked into the courtyard in grey-gold robes. The first was thin and sharp-nosed, and he had a fiery red palm-print stitched on his sleeve.

“By order of the consort's household,” Sima Jue announced, displaying the mark on his sleeve. “Princess Sima Lan is to return to the palace for the Ancestral Return Rite. This is a family matter. I am Elder Sima Jue. These are Elder Sima Tao and Elder Sima Ning.”

A steward in grey-green slipped in behind them, holding a scroll against his chest. Shi Feng recognised the grey face from the tea house.

“Steward Fu Yuan,” Fu Yuan said, bowing to nobody. “Bearing the household's instructions.”

“Show me the decree,” Shi Feng said.

“It is not a decree. It is a family matter,” Fu Yuan said.

“Then show me the family's seal,” Shi Feng said.

Fu Yuan's mouth worked. The scroll in his arms had no seal. Everyone in the courtyard could see it hadn't.

A door opened across the yard.

Sima Lan came out in her plain inner robe with her hair down her back, and she had not stopped to bring the ledger case. She crossed the flagstones without hurrying, stepped round the fallen gate, and halted at Shi Feng's side. She did not stop behind him. She stopped beside him.

“You could have stayed inside,” Shi Feng said quietly.

“The gate is on my bill too,” Sima Lan said. “I don't hide behind a bill I'm paying.”

“Princess,” Sima Jue said. “Your brother wishes you home.”

“My brother can write to me,” Sima Lan said.

“The ancestors call. The rites must be met. Without rules and compasses, no circle or square can be made,” Sima Jue said.

“The ancestors have waited this long. They can wait until morning,” Sima Lan said.

The Sima elders glanced at one another. Behind them, the royal guards were pushing into the lane, and dozens of lantern-lit faces had appeared at the inn's upper windows.

Shi Feng set down his cup.

“Princess Sima Lan is an outer-court disciple of Artificer Hall,” Shi Feng said. “Her name is on its register. A kingdom has no say in a Great Sect disciple's private affairs. That includes yours.”

“A mantis tries to block a chariot,” Sima Tao sneered. He was the stout one, with a short sword at his belt. “Boy, you've borrowed a Great Sect's name. Don't think it will stop us.”

Shi Feng said nothing.

“Princess,” Shi Feng said instead. “Do you want to go?”

“No,” Sima Lan said.

“Then that's the end of the matter,” Shi Feng said.

“Take him,” Sima Jue said.

He moved first, and he was fast. A red palm of fire came across the courtyard, hot enough to blister the paint on the pillars. Shi Feng stood. He took one step on the Cloud Ladder, the Golden Core-grade art, and the palm struck the porch post where he had been sitting. The post burst into flame.

“Cloud Ladder Step,” someone gasped from a window.

“That's a Great Sect movement art!”

Shi Feng reached Sima Jue in a heartbeat. He caught the old man's wrist with two fingers, turned it, and put the hilt of his sheathed sword into his chest. Sima Jue flew backward, struck the well cover, and lay there looking at the stars.

He hadn't revealed his real strength. Sima Jue was early Golden Core. Shi Feng had gone only as far as late Golden Core, exactly what the rumour allowed, and not a breath further. Lin Langtian had taught him to show no more power than he needed. Three kingdom elders weren't a reason to abandon that lesson.

A blade of silver light screamed down at his head.

Sima Tao's flying sword was a good one, a royal-clan refined artifact. Shi Feng didn't dodge. He laid two fingers against empty air beside it and cut at the qi that tied the sword to its master.

The silver light went dull. The sword dropped to the flagstones and clanged.

“My sword!” Sima Tao cried. “What did you—”

Old Soot crawled out of Sima Lan's sleeve, gold-rimmed eyes bright, and ate it. It took three bites.

“...That was a refined artifact,” Sima Tao said weakly.

“Forty thousand stones,” Sima Lan said. “At the sect's discount rate.”

“Old Soot, heel,” Sima Lan added, without looking down. The soot-grey creature burped a small flame and slid back into her sleeve.

A net of silver cord fell from above, dozens of knots glowing. Sima Ning, the third elder, had circled to the rooftop. It was a binding formation, a good one, and it came down over Shi Feng and Sima Lan together.

Shi Feng didn't lift his hands. He let out his qi, cold and steady, at the level of a late Golden Core, and the net hung in the air a hand's breadth above his head. The knots shook.

Sima Ning fell to one knee on the roof tiles. His sleeve was shaking. He finally understood the gap between them. His strongest binding formation couldn't make Shi Feng raise a hand.

“What are you?” Sima Ning whispered.

“The man she works for,” Shi Feng said. “Come down.”

Sima Ning came down. It was not a dignified descent.

“Three Golden Cores,” a voice whispered at an upper window. “Three! Just like that!”

“Did he even draw his sword?”

“It's the Ling clan's son-in-law!”

“It's the champion!”

“It's both!”

The courtyard was very quiet. Fu Yuan's scroll slid from his arms. He stared at the unsealed order, then at the elders on the ground. His face turned grey with fear. Then he ran. The lane swallowed him, and the twenty-four guards ran after.

Sima Jue pushed himself up on one elbow.

“Princess,” Sima Jue croaked, struggling to lift his head. “You shame the ancestors.”

“Elder Sima Jue,” Sima Lan said. “You broke the inn's gate. Thirty stones. The post is burned. Fifteen. Please tell the consort's household to expect a document.”

“Take your elders home,” Shi Feng said. “By morning, someone will say you were never here.”

“Before breakfast,” Sima Lan said.

She was right. At the first light, a court clerk named Lu Sen was already running across the capital with a notice under his arm.