Chapter 129

Chapter 129

After Luo Mingpu’s imprisonment, Shen Chen was seized by panic.

He sat slumped in his hall, hands splayed wide, realizing he had no allies left.

The entire court had tacitly accepted Shen Zheng as the next emperor.

He could no longer believe himself heaven’s chosen one. In desperation, he frantically pressured Concubine Yi to locate the Taoist from their hometown and perform the dark ritual once more—to tear Shen Zheng’s soul from his body and curse him to death.

Staking everything on a single throw of the dice, Concubine Yi emptied her life savings, dispatching men far south to scour the provinces until, at last, she found the old Taoist—and brought him to the capital with lavish bribes and a comfortable carriage.

Lured by the generous reward, the old Taoist reluctantly agreed to try again, instructing Concubine Yi to prepare fabric Shen Zheng had worn and strands of his hair, so the ritual could be performed simultaneously from inside and outside the palace.

Concubine Yi hardened her heart and decided to begin with Jun Mulan.

She reasoned that Jun Mulan remained unaware of the plot against Shen Zheng’s spirit—so she meticulously staged a reconciliation, personally visiting Jingren Palace to apologize.

Facing her enemy, Jun Mulan offered no courtesy—but Concubine Yi didn’t mind in the slightest. With a heavy thud, she dropped to her knees and burst into tears, reminiscing bitterly about the past.

“Sister, back at the Marquis of Yongning’s residence, you taught me to read and write, trained me to wield a sword for self-defense, treated me like your own sister… It was I who was foolish, I who was ungrateful—I betrayed the Jun family’s genuine kindness…”

Through her tears, she justified herself: “I come from humble origins—not like you, Sister, blessed with such solid backing. Out in the world, every step was a struggle; I was bullied and terrified, forced to claw my way upward—only at the top could I feel safe. By the time I realized it, I was already too deep—and the time for regret had long passed!”

With that, she pulled a pair of embroidered shoes from her sleeve, voice breaking: “Sister, I stitched these through the night. Please don’t hold my past against me any longer—give me a chance to atone.”

Jun Mulan shook off Concubine Yi’s hand—the shoes flew from her grasp and landed on the floor.

She had seen too much hypocrisy and deceit within the palace. For someone whose nature was so difficult to change to suddenly humble herself and weep bitterly—it wasn’t awakening. It was having no other choice.

She, Jun Mulan, had never been soft-hearted—and would certainly not forgive one who had repeatedly harmed both her and Shen Zheng.

Yet Concubine Yi refused to give up. Thrown out one day, she returned the next—visiting Jingren Palace without fail, day after day, crying and pleading.

The servants of Jingren Palace watched with relish, savoring her daily humiliation—watching her depart dejected and dust-streaked, they could even eat an extra bowl of rice.

But Jun Mulan gradually grew suspicious.

For Concubine Yi to endure such degradation—even discarding her dignity—was absolutely not that simple.

By her ninth visit, Jun Mulan feigned being moved and accepted the embroidered shoes: “Forgiveness is out of the question. If you truly repent, stay out of my way from now on.”

Concubine Yi was overjoyed—convinced her scheme had succeeded.

Jun Mulan played along, performing her part in the charade flawlessly.

Four more days passed. That afternoon, Shen Zheng happened to visit Jingren Palace to see his mother.

The moment Concubine Yi saw him, she put on a dazzling display of enthusiasm—rushing forward to weep and beg his pardon, even slapping her own face twice, hard.

She cursed her past madness.

Then, eyes brimming with tears, she said: “I wish to personally sew a court robe for Your Highness—to atone for my past crimes.”

Her *nasha* embroidery skills far surpassed those of the Imperial Embroidery Bureau; for years, she had sewn exclusively for the emperor—so this gift carried undeniable weight.

Shen Zheng and Jun Mulan exchanged a glance—curious to see what trick she was truly attempting.

Elated, Concubine Yi immediately produced a soft measuring tape and pretended to take Shen Zheng’s measurements for the robe.

As her fingertips brushed past his hair, she seized the opportunity—swiftly plucking several strands and concealing them in her sleeve.

While sewing the garment, she also deliberately left an extra piece of fabric at the hem.

When the finished robe was delivered to the Eastern Palace and Shen Zheng tried it on, Concubine Yi—upon hearing the news—hurried over, feigning flustered embarrassment as she apologized, then quickly produced scissors to cut off the excess fabric, carefully clutching the scrap in her palm.

That day, as Concubine Yi left the Eastern Palace, her steps were unusually hurried.

Shen Zheng immediately stripped off the court robe and tossed it aside: “Chen Ping—inspect it thoroughly.”

Chen Ping turned it over and examined it repeatedly; the python motifs were vividly embroidered—no trace of anything amiss was visible.

“Your Highness—could it be that Concubine Yi, seeing your position firmly established, is genuinely seeking favor—merely trying to secure her survival, with no ulterior motive?”

Shen Zheng scoffed: “No. A master embroiderer—how could she misremember measurements and sew an unnecessary extra piece for no reason? She did it deliberately.”

Jun Mulan coldly ordered: “Watch her closely! Report every detail—who she met these past few days, where she went, what she did!”

Finally, the day of the ritual arrived. That night, neither stars nor moon offered light.

In a villa outside the palace, Shen Chen stood beside the altar. The old Taoist—hair wild, sword in hand—burned incense, shook bells, and chanted incantations under his breath.

Meanwhile, Concubine Yi tightly sealed the doors and windows, trembling as she sprinkled talisman water onto the fabric and hair strands.

At the appointed moment, a fierce glint flashed in Concubine Yi’s eyes. Gritting her teeth, she brought a candle flame to the cloth—but this time, something bizarre occurred: the flame licked the fabric yet failed to ignite, leaving only faint black scorch marks that vanished instantly.

Panicked and flustered, she brought the flame closer again, stubbornly holding it against the cloth to burn it—but no matter how she tried, ignition proved impossible.

“Wrong… wrong!” Concubine Yi’s face turned deathly pale as she muttered in disbelief.

Back then, with just a light touch, the flame had leapt half a person’s height—reducing both hair and fabric to ash in an instant. Why was it powerless today?

Outside the palace, at the altar, the old Taoist waved his sword through the ritual—but cold sweat poured ever more thickly from his brow.

He swung the blade faster and faster—but the deep night remained utterly still, windless and waveless. Yet the incense sticks burning on the altar suddenly snapped in half, crashing to the ground and shattering.

The old Taoist’s face turned ashen. He staggered backward repeatedly—his long sword clattering to the floor—as he muttered: “Not good… his soul has stabilized. The one who restored his soul possesses power far beyond mine—I cannot shake him at all!”

Hearing this, Shen Chen’s face drained of color. He seized the old Taoist’s lapels and shook him violently: “Impossible! Aren’t you famed for your supernatural powers? He—Shen Zheng—is mere flesh and blood! What power could he possibly have?!”

The old Taoist closed his eyes and remained silent. After a long pause, he waved his hand and sighed: “The Purple Forbidden Star stands firm—the soul has returned to its rightful place—destiny is sealed. No force can reverse heaven’s will.”

“I spent my entire family fortune to bring you here—not to hear this nonsense!” Shen Chen roared, eyes nearly bursting from their sockets.

Shaken violently, the old Taoist—thinking of the immense profit—finally gritted his teeth and revealed a sliver of hope: “You have only one path left: wait for him to sow chaos himself—to destroy his own Purple Forbidden radiance with his own hands.”

Shen Chen froze abruptly—a pair of wolf-like eyes blazing with sinister, greedy light as he stared unblinkingly at the old Taoist: “What must I do?”

The old Taoist calculated with his fingers, speaking gravely: “Beside the Purple Forbidden Star lies a hidden trace of shadow—this is the star lord’s weakness. If external forces detect it and exploit the opening to disturb it, celestial signs will fluctuate—and the foundation itself will descend into chaos. As for the nature of this weakness—this humble Taoist has no means of knowing.”

Shen Chen’s eyes trembled violently. He knew better than anyone who Shen Zheng’s weakness was.

Just then, commotion erupted outside the street—the sound of galloping hooves and soldiers’ shouts drawing ever closer.

Shen Chen frowned deeply, a dreadful premonition rising in his chest. The old Taoist—without even bothering to pack up the altar or ritual tools—grabbed his bundle of gold and silver, scaled the wall, and fled, vanishing in an instant.

The moment the old Taoist disappeared, the villa’s main gate was kicked open. Soldiers of the Five City Military Command surged in. Their leader declared sternly: “Military Command on official business—conducting a strict investigation into illegal gambling!”

Ignoring Shen Chen’s furious protests, the soldiers efficiently searched the entire courtyard—circling repeatedly around the altar constructed from cloth banners, incense burners, and peachwood swords.

"How dare you! Do you know who I am?" Shen Chen trembled with rage, his face livid.

Only after the leader recognized the prince's ivory token at his waist did he hurriedly kneel in feigned apology, offered a few obsequious laughs, and swiftly withdrew with his men.

Shen Chen rushed outside to look and found all his trusted confidants had been knocked unconscious on the ground—no wonder the soldiers had been able to gain entry so effortlessly.

Meanwhile, a storm was also brewing within the palace.

Concubine Yi was pacing anxiously when the chamber doors were flung open with a crash. Jun Mulan strode in, dressed in practical, close-fitting attire, leading a contingent of palace servants and guards.

"What are you doing here?" Jun Mulan demanded sharply, her expression icy as she caught the pungent scent of ritual water in the room.

Concubine Yi forced composure, hastily covering up. "Just disposing of some discarded items, that's all. What brings Your Highness here so unexpectedly?"

Shen Zheng entered at a measured pace. His gaze fell upon the bronze basin containing cloth scraps and strands of hair, and he knew with certainty—this was dark sorcery aimed at him.

Just then, the trusted aide sent outside the palace rushed back and reported to Jun Mulan and Shen Zheng about Shen Chen secretly setting up an altar at a country estate.

Upon hearing that the plot outside the palace had failed, Concubine Yi's legs gave way, and she nearly collapsed to the floor.

Jun Mulan stared at the strands of hair, and a thunderous realization struck her mind.

Years ago, shortly after giving birth to Shen Zheng, while she was still weak, Concubine Yi had forced her way into Jingren Palace under the guise of a visit.

Though she loathed Concubine Yi at the time, Jun Mulan hadn't openly broken with her. She merely refused the visit, citing exhaustion. Concubine Yi made a show of concern with a few platitudes before taking her leave.

But not long after, her personal maid, while pouring water, informed her that Concubine Yi had gone to the side chamber without permission to see the young prince, who was fast asleep.

Jun Mulan had been terrified then. She struggled to her feet and rushed to the side chamber. Seeing Shen Zheng sleeping peacefully, breathing evenly, she had let out a slight sigh of relief.

She took the child into her arms and examined him carefully. There was nothing unusual about him, except for a small tuft of fine baby hair missing from the back of his head.

Back then, the prince was very young, and his baby hair was naturally sparse. She had dismissed it, thinking her suspicious mind was playing tricks, that she must have misremembered.

But from that day on, Shen Zheng became different from other children. He rarely cried, and when his name was called, he would only turn his head indifferently, showing no curiosity about the world around him.

Later, his speech and walking developed far later than other princes. The Directorate of Astronomy and imperial physicians took turns examining him, only giving a vague conclusion: 'Congenital deficiencies of the five elements, the spirit aperture remains unopened.'

Recalling this now, Jun Mulan felt a chill run through her entire body, a bone-deep fear.

Back then, Concubine Yi must have also taken Shen Zheng's hair and performed rituals both inside and outside the palace, causing him to be dull-witted from infancy, his spirit aperture sealed!

Now, seeing Shen Zheng's spirit restored and his intelligence returned, she actually sought to repeat the trick, to strike him back into that dull-witted state!

Overwhelming fury instantly shattered her reason. Jun Mulan stepped forward, seized Concubine Yi by the collar, and landed a stinging slap across her face. The blow snapped Concubine Yi's head to the side, blood streaming from her nostrils.

"Back when I had just given birth, did you sneak into Jingren Palace and steal the crown prince's baby hair! You set up altars inside and outside the palace, used dark arts to harm my child!"

"Still dare to deny it!" Jun Mulan, furious beyond measure, raised her hand to strike again.

Shen Zheng reached out and stopped his mother. He searched his own body with his spiritual sense but felt no discomfort. Yet he vaguely suspected that the series of coincidences between himself and the Fifth Prince of Da Qian might be inextricably linked to Concubine Yi.

His expression cold and stern, an oppressive aura surrounding him, he ordered those behind him, "His Majesty has always abhorred witchcraft and sorcery. First, lock Concubine Yi in the side hall under strict guard. Report to His Majesty immediately and await his judgment!"

The palace servants obeyed, stepping forward to firmly restrain the weeping, struggling Concubine Yi.

After Concubine Yi was taken away, only mother and son remained in the hall.

The lingering scent of ritual water still hung in the air. Jun Mulan's fingers, clutching Shen Zheng's shoulders, trembled slightly. Her eyes welled with tears, brimming with anguish, her voice almost breaking. "I'm sorry... If only I had been more vigilant back then, you wouldn't have suffered so... dull-witted for years, suffering the scorn and condescension of others..."

Shen Zheng raised his hand and gently embraced his mother, his palm resting on her trembling back, patting it softly. "That's all in the past. Am I not perfectly fine now? Besides, a loss may turn out to be a gain."

"As a mother, I failed in my duty to protect you." Jun Mulan shook her head bitterly, unable to forgive herself for harming her own flesh and blood through a moment's negligence.

"But even when I was dull-witted, you never gave up on me." Shen Zheng reached out and wiped away Jun Mulan's tears, his voice soothing. "All these years, Mother, you have suffered too."