Chapter 58: There Must Be a Hidden Weapon Here!

Rong Ye met his gaze frankly. “What do you think?”

“…” Gu Changhuai swallowed the words on the tip of his tongue. “I suppose so.”

It was just that his behavior had been so brazen after getting drunk last night, yet Rong Ye hadn’t slapped him dead on the spot. That was truly rare… He was grateful to have lived another day! What a tough life he led!

But why had he bitten Rong Ye?

No matter how hard Gu Changhuai racked his brain, he couldn’t recall a reason. Even his memories of the previous night were blurry—he could only vaguely piece together fragments.

He looked curiously at Rong Ye’s nearly unchanged expression. “Did I act like a complete hooligan yesterday? Aren’t you angry?”

Rong Ye’s expression remained indifferent as he rose to his feet. “Not really a hooligan.”

His sleeping robe hung disheveled, revealing a broad expanse of toned muscle lines beneath the collar. His powerful waist and abdomen flashed past Gu Changhuai’s line of sight.

Gu Changhuai hurriedly averted his eyes, only to sneak another glance despite himself. But all he caught was a tall, straight back—Rong Ye had already stepped behind the screen to change clothes.

He smacked his lips with some regret. What a shame; he’d wanted to look a little longer. With that thought, Gu Changhuai spoke up again. “I wasn’t too rude last night, was I?”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than his ears burned with guilt.

Just thinking about it—whether it was the red ribbons, forcibly hugging Rong Ye to sleep, or biting him—none of it seemed particularly polite.

Rong Ye’s cool, indifferent voice echoed from within the room. “No.” The response was concise and firm.

Hearing that, Gu Changhuai finally relaxed. Rong Ye’s answer meant he hadn’t taken his presumptuous antics to heart. He wasn’t angry.

“What a pity I can’t remember the splendor of last night’s Wandering God Ceremony. It must have been quite the spectacle.” Gu Changhuai sat cross-legged on the bed, propping his cheek with regret.

No matter how he tried to recall, all he could summon were red ribbons fluttering through the sky and brilliant lanterns glowing one after another. The details of the Wandering God procession parading down the long street eluded him entirely.

In a hazy flash, it seemed a green eye had passed by.

Gu Changhuai muttered, “Ghost-Eye… Ghost-Eye General? Was that the name?” He directed the question at Rong Ye.

A low voice drifted from behind the screen. “Mm.” Then: “No need to feel downhearted. The Wandering God Ceremony spans three days. Yesterday was only the first; tonight there will be more.”

In other words, he could still witness the Wandering God Ceremony that evening. Gu Changhuai’s lips curved upward in a delighted grin. “We arrived at just the right time.”

Once the ceremony concluded, it would be time to press on and search for the remaining trapped souls.

Though his drunken memories were incomplete, that green eye had left an indelible impression on Gu Changhuai. He kept chasing the recollection.

Even though the man had long vanished from the world, Gu Changhuai brimmed with curiosity. He couldn’t help asking, “Does the Immortal Lord know what status this Ghost-Eye General held?”

He realized his mistake the moment the words slipped out, and he shook his head with a wry chuckle.

What a fool.

Whenever something piqued his interest, he defaulted to asking Rong Ye.

Rong Ye replied, “Qing Tang City has a stele that records his identity, history, origins, and fate.”

Gu Changhuai hadn’t expected a real answer. He propped his cheek lazily, tilting his head. “The Immortal Lord went to check it out in secret—without even taking me along.”

“I took you,” Rong Ye said. “You were drunk.”

Gu Changhuai: “…” He couldn’t see straight when he was drunk, so he couldn’t blame anyone else.

He coughed lightly to cover his embarrassment, then wheedled shamelessly. “Well, I didn’t see it, so it doesn’t count.” He paused, then pleaded with a smile. “Rong Ye, come on—just tell me.”

His voice, fresh from waking, still carried a hint of hoarseness. It sounded lazy and casual, the tail end lilting upward in a way that came off almost clingy.

“…” Rong Ye paused at the sound, lowering his eyes in brief silence before speaking indifferently. “From Xuan Jin. The Seventh Prince was this Ghost-Eye General.”

Gu Changhuai had heard Gong Yingnan mention it once or twice in the underground palace. He raised a brow. “That missing Seventh Prince?”

Rong Ye: “Precisely.”

Gu Changhuai remarked, “No wonder he’s described as unloved by his father and neglected by his mother. What emperor behaves like the Dang Emperor—not installing the War God, whom all the ministers supported, as Crown Prince, but elevating a three-year-old child instead? Utterly absurd.”

Unless the Dang Emperor had despised the Seventh Prince to an extreme degree, defying the ministers’ wishes and acting on sheer whim. Gu Changhuai pondered aloud, “That said, I don’t think it was entirely because of his heterochromia.”

Rong Ye: “What do you mean?”

Gu Changhuai’s eyes sparkled with amusement as he replied earnestly. “The Dang Emperor grew tyrannical in middle age and muddled in his later years, chasing immortality. Yet in his youth, he was wise and heroic, ruling the realm with order. A tyrant, yes—but not a complete one.”

Rong Ye: “Quite right.”

Gu Changhuai ventured a guess. “In his middle and later years, the Dang Emperor must have faced constant criticism from remonstrators and attacks from civil officials. Desperate to preserve his early reputation—while craving fame, longevity, and ironclad control over power—that’s what led to deposing the Crown Prince twice and his pursuit of the immortal path.”

He paused there, then continued. “But then along comes the Seventh Prince: overlooked, deemed ominous for his mismatched eyes. Not only wiser than the emperor, but surpassing even his younger self—with brilliant military victories and the ministers’ adoration… A king’s bed allows no others to slumber upon it. Faced with such a son, the Dang Emperor’s fear must have outweighed his disgust. He favored a malleable three-year-old over a fully grown prince.” He glanced toward the screen. “Right?”

Rong Ye fastened his collar. “Correct.”

Piecing together the known facts, Gu Changhuai sighed. “The only question is how much truth lies in his ‘disappearance.’ Dead or alive?”

He probably hadn’t survived. No doubt the jealous emperor had long since orchestrated his encirclement and death—perhaps without even leaving bones behind—which was why the records called it a ‘disappearance.’

Silence settled over the room, broken only by the faint rustle of fabric.

Suddenly, Gu Changhuai remembered something. He grabbed at the bedding and began rummaging through it. Flipping back the covers revealed nothing but emptiness. He rolled over to paw at the mattress, and in moments, he’d turned the entire bed into a chaotic mess.

Rong Ye emerged from behind the screen to find Gu Changhuai perched amid the jumbled, overlapping bedding. One hand lifted half the mattress while the other clutched the quilt. Only his head poked out from the pile as he searched frantically everywhere. His sleeping robe had slipped off his left shoulder, baring a large swath of pale skin, but he paid it no mind.

“…” Rong Ye remained unfazed, his gaze steady. “What are you looking for?”

“A hidden weapon.” Gu Changhuai rolled over, prying at the other half of the mattress with a furrowed brow. “My memory’s fuzzy, but I definitely remember something jabbing into me—uncomfortably, like a dagger pressed against my waist. About this big—”

He gestured with both hands, mimicking a grip in the air, his tone utterly convinced. “Roughly this size—one hand couldn’t even hold it. Has to be a dagger! There must be a hidden weapon here!”

It was probably more than just a weapon—there might be an assassin too! Gu Changhuai scanned their surroundings warily. “…This place isn’t safe.”