Chapter Seventy-Five: A Wager of Staggering Proportions

"Qing, my young friend, it was you who took care of Murong Ying, wasn’t it?"

"No need to deny it—I’m already certain it was your doing, hah!"

"Don’t worry; the guard who brought you the message at the door, as well as anyone else who had any contact with you, I’ve already taken care of them all in secret."

"The capital will be a bit chaotic for the next couple of days. Best that you don’t step outside for now."

...

Thinking back to the secret conversation he’d had with Governor Song Wuji the night before, and considering the sudden outbreak of riots in the capital these past two days...

Gu Xiaopang, clever as ever, quickly pieced together the connection, leaving his heart a jumbled mess of emotions.

In his own words, he was truly burdened with this blackened reputation.

The emperor and the governor’s maneuvers had bled the Murong family dry. As the other noble houses, sects, and neighboring states rose up to condemn Murong Quan, the blame for it all naturally came to rest on the true culprit behind Murong Ying’s murder, the instigator of this entire affair—Gu Xiaopang himself.

Poor Murong Ying—if his spirit lingered below, knowing that his death and influence had set such events in motion, surely he could rest with a smile.

...

The storm had come swiftly and was quelled just as fast.

In the blink of an eye, the grand imperial celebration held once every three years had officially begun.

Outside the palace, crowds surged like waves, and the atmosphere was vibrant and festive.

Court officials from the Purple Gold Royal Court, the four great families, major merchant guilds, gambling houses, countless rival or allied royal courts, and disciples from innumerable sects and clans—all gathered together.

It’s worth mentioning that, on the final night before the ceremony, Ouyang Shuai Shuai, Gu Xiaoping, Nangong Lang, and other third-generation disciples from the Ethereal Sect had all arrived to participate in the trials.

...

Particularly Ouyang Shuai Shuai, who even in his travels could not resist bringing along his loyal followers, relishing the feeling of being surrounded and admired.

...

The governors of the twelve prefectures each led their teams and took their places in order around the central ring.

"Hey, isn’t this our own Prefect Song Wuji of Nanyan?" someone called out.

"Sir, you’ve actually graced this year’s grand celebration in person? Ha ha!"

"Indeed, Wuji, you’ve been absent for so many celebrations. We old fellows have found them dreadfully dull without you."

"What’s this? Even you couldn’t resist coming out this time? Ha!"

"Come, let’s see the disciples you’ve brought with you... Oh, not bad at all, at the very least, Nanyan Prefecture should be able to keep its standing for now, ha ha ha!"

"Ha ha ha..."

...

At that moment, the nearly forty disciples from the various cities of Nanyan Prefecture participating in the ceremony all cast awkward glances at the contestants from the other eleven prefectures, who now focused their attention on them.

They felt bitter—surely they had lost face for their whole prefecture.

Only Gu Xiaopang sat cross-legged with his eyes closed, undisturbed by the commotion.

"Gentlemen, you jest," Song Wuji replied.

"I, Song Wuji, am not a coward. It’s just a celebration—what’s to fear?"

"Ah, so you’ve come prepared this time, Brother Wuji? Ha ha!"

"Gentlemen, what ranking do you intend to let Nanyan take this time? Should we go easy on them for once? Ha ha!"

"Hmph! This year, I’m aiming for first place. You old fellows had better prepare yourselves to weep!"

"First place, is it? How about you, Prefect Yu Wenwu of Wucheng—what do you say?"

"Hmph! Wishful thinking."

"Wishful thinking, is it? Care to make a wager, old man?"

"How would you wager? With what remains of your garrison troops—barely thirty percent of their former strength?"

"Looks like you’re getting desperate, Brother Wuji. I’ll take that bet!" said Xuanyuan Feng.

"And I’ll join in—I’m in as well..."

"Very well! This time, I’m staking no fewer than a hundred treasures from my private vault, along with two million spirit stones. If you can win, it’s all yours!"

A collective gasp rose from the crowd.

"If you’re so eager to go bankrupt and bestow such a lavish gift upon us old fellows, it would be rude not to accept, ha ha ha!"

...