Chapter Eighteen: An Audience with the Empress Dowager

Ling Zetian moved with astonishing speed. Feng Qiuji dared not blink, and could only catch glimpses of his occasional motions—such as when he sidestepped to avoid the incoming gleam of a sword, or when his own blade pierced the bandit's vital point. Blood splattered everywhere, forcing her to shuffle aside to dodge the sudden spray. In moments, the air was thick with the scent of blood.

Feng Qiuji watched the crimson rain fall around her, and couldn't help but retch. Could he not avoid splattering blood so indiscriminately? As this thought crossed her mind, a severed head suddenly flew towards her. The face was smeared with blood, hair disheveled, eyes wide open with a contorted expression.

Arnold, seeing her stunned, pulled her behind the tree and scoffed, "If you can't help, at least don't make trouble." He continued to watch the bloody duel, muttering to himself, "Tsk, tsk, these are masters from beyond the borders, yet they resort to such lowly tricks as poisoning. Truly a disgrace to their reputation."

Feng Qiuji, curious at his words, leaned in and asked, "How do you know?"

He shot her a glare and pointed at a nondescript bandit clad in coarse grey fabric. "That one is a poison expert. Look closely at his hands."

Following his gesture, Feng Qiuji saw the bandit's hands crawling with tiny insects, so densely packed they appeared black. If she hadn't looked carefully, she would not have realized they were insects. The image made her retch again; if this continued, she feared she'd empty her stomach completely. It was, she thought, entirely Ling Zetian and Arnold's fault—father and son both had such a taste for the grotesque!

"Have the people outside the borders fallen so far? Even martial arts masters are forced to become bandits?" she wondered aloud, watching Ling Zetian locked in fierce combat. Perhaps his governance was a failure after all. Wait—was the border territory part of the Ling Empire?

"Do you even know what your brain is for?" Arnold rolled his eyes in exasperation. "These aren't bandits; they're killers hired to assassinate you."

"Assassinate me?" Feng Qiuji's eyes widened. She waved dismissively, "Come on, it's not like I did anything but cause Qin Ru's..." She quickly covered her mouth, realizing Ling Zetian had not explained the past to Arnold. If Arnold learned the truth, would he hate her?

"Who did you harm?" Arnold asked, curiosity shining in his eyes.

Feng Qiuji coughed theatrically and regained her composure. "Someone as kind-hearted as me would never harm anyone. You must have misheard... Anyway, why are you standing here? Look, your father is fighting so hard, why not go help him?" She quickly changed the subject, fearing the little devil would press her for answers.

"These men are skilled, but Father can handle them easily. There's no need for me to intervene." Arnold nodded with the air of a martial arts master, watching Ling Zetian move among the black-clad figures, enigmatic and composed.

Feng Qiuji couldn't help but laugh at his serious demeanor, patting his little head with a smile. "Hey, Ling Shunuo, are you really just four years old?" She remembered how difficult it was to communicate with children before, yet with him there was no barrier at all. His intelligence seemed unusually high—even precocious children weren't like this!

"Nonsense!" Arnold's expression shifted slightly, but Feng Qiuji didn't notice. "If I'm not four years old, then are you?"

"Have you two finished chatting yet?" As Feng Qiuji and Arnold conversed, Ling Zetian had finished the battle. He grabbed Feng Qiuji's sleeve and wiped the blood from his sword.

"Hey, what do you think you're doing?" Feng Qiuji protested, furious. He had stained her clothes—how could she wear them now? With such bright bloodstains, people might think she'd just committed murder.

Ling Zetian raised an eyebrow and glanced at her, then, without another word, cut off the bloodied section of her garment.

Feng Qiuji stared at her now-tattered clothes, speechless. Why didn't he become a fashion designer, creating such mismatched attire?

By the time Ling Zetian led Feng Qiuji and Arnold to assist Yu Fan and the others, their side had already subdued most of the assassins. Ling Zetian surveyed the groaning, struggling killers littering the ground and sneered, "I wonder what that ambitious witch was thinking. Has she no more capable lackeys?"

Feng Qiuji was momentarily stunned. In that instant, Ling Zetian struck her as incredibly handsome—irresistibly so.

He was dressed in pure white robes; though he'd fought fiercely, not a drop of blood marred his attire. The wild wind stirred his sleeves, his face set in a proud yet dazzlingly cold smile. Amidst the vast wilderness, he seemed to possess a unique, commanding presence.

"Here she goes again," Arnold muttered, seeing Feng Qiuji drooling, lost in admiration. He hurried over to cling to Ling Zetian's leg and whined, "Father, Father, Arnold wants to eat." He didn't actually relish grabbing Ling Zetian's leg every time, but at his height, it was the only option.

Ling Zetian found himself increasingly uncomfortable, for Feng Qiuji's attitude had changed dramatically.

"Your Majesty, you just killed so many—are your hands tired, your back sore? Should I massage you?" She gazed at him, eyes shining with eagerness.

Ling Zetian opened his eyes slightly and replied coolly, "What do you want?"

"I have no ulterior motives, Your Majesty. I simply worry you've worked too hard... If only you would teach me, next time I could fight for you, so you wouldn't suffer so much."

Ling Zetian, seeing Feng Qiuji rubbing her hands in excitement, gave a noncommittal "oh," closed his eyes again, and ignored her.

Arnold sipped fresh juice, watching Feng Qiuji's disappointed expression. He couldn't resist saying, "Little Qiuji, come massage my back."

"I told you not to call me 'little Qiuji.' Do you even know what it means?" Feng Qiuji flared up at the nickname.

"Father, last night I..." Before Arnold could finish, Feng Qiuji covered his mouth and dragged him aside, beginning to massage his back. Being bullied by a four-year-old was infuriating. It was unfair—a dignified empress of the Great Ling Dynasty, outdone by a child!

Feng Qiuji failed to notice that Arnold had no resistance to her now; he simply enjoyed teasing her.

The journey grew much easier from then on, with no more assassins interrupting. Ling Zetian and his party arrived safely at the palace.

Upon seeing Ling Zetian, Ling Zexin immediately wiped her tears and pulled him aside to complain. Feng Qiuji, seeing this, planned to return to the Cold Palace to find Xiao Hui and perhaps take a nap.

"Father, Father, Arnold wants Mother to stay in the Splendid Palace for a few days. Is that allowed?" She had barely walked a few steps when she heard Arnold's voice behind her. Turning, she saw him pleading again, while Ling Zexin glared at him venomously, though she dared not show it openly, making her expression exceptionally aggrieved.

"Arnold must behave—no tantrums," Ling Zetian said gently, stroking his head, and instructed the maids to take him back to the Splendid Palace. Watching Ling Zetian coax Arnold with such tenderness, Feng Qiuji was once again captivated. To see His Majesty so gentle—what a loving father he was.

Just then, a young eunuch hurried over and bowed to Feng Qiuji. "Your Majesty, the Empress Dowager requests your presence."

The Empress Dowager?! Feng Qiuji was stunned. She had nearly forgotten there was a restless Empress Dowager in the palace—one whose secrets she had once uncovered. If the Empress Dowager intended to make trouble, she would have done so already. Why summon her to the Changxin Palace now?

She had no time to ponder; sighing, she thought, No sooner have I returned than trouble finds me again. She followed the eunuch through the long corridors to Changxin Palace.

Inside, the palace was bright as day. On the table sat a beast-shaped incense burner, wisps of smoke curling upward, filling the room with a tranquil, soothing fragrance. The Empress Dowager lay elegantly on a soft couch, her makeup impeccable, eyes half closed, exuding leisure and ease.

"Your Majesty pays respects to the Empress Dowager." Seeing the imposing scene, Feng Qiuji was helpless, but she performed a proper salute and stood straight.

The woman before her was only in her twenties or thirties—beautiful and voluptuous, a vision of mature allure. Who would imagine she was the Empress Dowager of the Ling Empire?

The Empress Dowager smiled, sensing Feng Qiuji's gaze. She opened her eyes, lips curling in a seductive smile, "We meet again, Your Majesty."

Witnessing this, Feng Qiuji couldn't help but grumble inwardly. She wasn't a man—what was the Empress Dowager doing, twisting and posing before her? To be frank, whatever the Empress Dowager had, she herself also possessed. They were both women; what was there to flaunt?

"I heard the Empress Dowager has been unwell, so in the month since I entered the palace, I have not come to pay respects. Please forgive me." Though dissatisfied deep down, she was clear-headed enough to maintain her formalities, probing for truth and preparing herself mentally.

"I have dismissed everyone else; let's get straight to the point." The Empress Dowager lazily propped her fair, tender hand against her forehead, looking quite alluring.

Feng Qiuji sighed in awe. The Empress Dowager was indeed worthy of her title, born to a noble family and raised with the best education. Every gesture was elegant—truly a sensual woman. Yet the more beautiful a woman, the easier it was to lower one's guard. If the Empress Dowager didn't possess cunning, she would never have won the late emperor's favor and climbed to her lofty position.

--- A side note --- The Empress Dowager appears again! Sorry for the late update today, my dear readers.