Chapter 4: The Blood Pool and the Struggle with the Crown Prince

As the voice echoed, the smile on Empress Dowager Li's face faded noticeably within the Palace of Pure Heart. The cheerful atmosphere in the hall shifted abruptly; Cheng Guang, keenly aware, quietly stepped back a few paces, hiding himself behind Lady Wu.

It seemed the Empress Dowager distinguished between members of her own family, even at a simple family banquet; her attitude toward each person was different. Clearly, Cheng Guang himself and Lady Wu, Princess Yue Mei, held high positions in her heart.

“The emperor's family banquet—if only you two came, this old woman would feel much more at ease.” Empress Dowager Li spoke with a hint of helplessness.

“Mother, has something happened?” Princess Yue Mei, sensing something amiss, looked at the Empress Dowager in curiosity.

“What else could it be but the matter of naming the Crown Prince?” the Empress Dowager replied. “Recently, the court officials have begun urging the emperor to appoint a Crown Prince. It's because of me—the old woman—that the previous Crown Prince of Memory was deposed and Wu Shang was made emperor, causing the system of legitimate succession to become nominal.”

“Now everyone below is scrambling over who will be named Crown Prince…” She closed the Buddhist scripture in her hand, her brows slightly furrowed. “This banquet—most likely the emperor wants everyone gathered to see which prince I find worthy enough to be named Crown Prince.”

At these words, Princess Yue Mei understood immediately. The emperor, though over a hundred years old, was still in his prime by the longevity of cultivators. Even if the Great Zhou emperor could live for a thousand years, the time to name a Crown Prince must still come.

During the era of the Grand Ancestor, the deposed Crown Prince of Memory held the title for three hundred years; had the Grand Ancestor not died unexpectedly, the Crown Prince’s path would have continued even longer. But after three centuries as Crown Prince, he never ascended the throne—a vain wait.

Thus, being named Crown Prince did not guarantee becoming emperor. Why, then, did they fight so fiercely for the title?

Princess Yue Mei was puzzled.

The Empress Dowager noticed her confusion and explained gently, “The Blood Pool opens once every thirty years. Only the current Crown Prince may enter first; all other princes and princesses must wait their turn.”

Her words startled Princess Yue Mei, who recalled the significance and was amazed. “If it’s for the Blood Pool, then it’s certainly worth competing for.”

The Blood Pool, also known as the Ancestral Blood Pool of Great Zhou, was a secret treasure forged by generations of royal ancestors, nourished with countless precious spiritual medicines to enhance the royal bloodline’s concentration.

The royal bloodline was the most noble under heaven. The royal families of all dynasties across the world were once said to share the same origin in ancient times, though history had caused them to diverge, each developing subtle differences in their blood. Yet one thing remained the same: only those of royal blood could cultivate the spiritual path among the myriad roads of cultivation.

Cultivators of the spiritual path often overwhelmed those on the martial path at the same realm, ensuring the royal family's exalted status in the world.

Cultivating the spiritual path depended not only on individual insight but, more importantly, on bloodline concentration. The stronger the royal bloodline, the better one’s aptitude in the spiritual path, and the Blood Pool was the treasure that could enhance it, making it invaluable.

The Blood Pool required vast amounts of spiritual medicine to nurture and opened only once every thirty years, admitting only a handful at a time. Those who missed this opportunity would have to wait another thirty years.

Such a gap could not be closed by mere effort overnight.

At this time, both the naming of the Crown Prince and the opening of the Blood Pool upset the usual peace of the inner palace.

Princess Yue Mei now understood why her mother looked troubled upon hearing the empress and several noble consorts had arrived. No matter which prince, she loved them dearly, but she could never treat them all equally. Who would not wish their own child to be made Crown Prince, or to be the first to enter the Blood Pool?

Every family has its own hard-to-read scripture, and the royal family is no exception.

Cheng Guang, after hearing only a few words, grasped the situation. Yet he had no desire to get involved, nor could he; his aim was to remain invisible, unnoticed by all. His secondary goal was to find the future Empress Wu Ling, to observe what kind of person she was at this time, and, if possible, to complete his system task.

He turned his gaze toward the hall’s entrance.

Soon, a procession entered with great pomp.

“Consort greets the Empress Dowager, wishing you eternal blessings and longevity equal to heaven.”

The voice sounded, and Cheng Guang looked over.

A woman, noble and resplendent in attire, stood there. Time had left only the faintest trace on her face, which radiated beauty and dignity—a peerless beauty.

This was Empress Wang of the Great Zhou royal family.

Daughter of the current Prime Minister, Empress Wang possessed a gentle temperament. Beside her stood a man in a golden python robe, youthful in appearance but bearing a steady air between his brows.

He was Empress Wang’s eldest son, the emperor’s legitimate heir, Wu Ming.

Wu Ming was nearly thirty, but years of cultivation left him looking barely over twenty—just slightly older than Cheng Guang.

Even if Wu Ming were not made Crown Prince, his position atop the power structure of Great Zhou was assured.

Alongside Wu Ming was a small head poking out—Fourteenth Prince Wu Ji, only seven or eight years old, brought for the festivities since he had no claim to the Crown Prince title.

After Empress Wang greeted the Dowager, several noble consorts stepped forward with greetings as well.

Cheng Guang did not recognize these consorts, but each was a top-tier beauty, accompanied by princes and princesses.

He glanced over these royals until his gaze settled on a solitary figure. Unlike the others, she had no consort by her side, wore an old yellow silk dress, and kept her head bowed, trailing behind the group.

Cheng Guang immediately realized this must be the future Empress Wu Ling.

Who would imagine that the future ruler of Great Zhou was now such a bullied, lonely figure?

Though she followed quietly, it was clear the other princes and princesses kept their distance, subtly excluding her.

Cheng Guang understood their feelings; except for Wu Ling, all had grown up in the palace, whereas she had not. Only a year ago, the emperor found her in some remote mountain and made her a princess.

Whether from prejudice, disdain, or simple indifference, Wu Ling was left alone.

Cheng Guang watched this scene in silence.

He didn’t notice that as he observed Wu Ling, some princes and princesses were quietly watching him, their eyes curious. They sensed something different about Cheng Guang today, though they couldn’t say what.

“Greetings, Sister-in-law Empress,” Princess Yue Mei said, smiling at Empress Wang.

“Yue Mei, you’re already here? I was just thinking of sending someone to fetch you,” Empress Wang replied with a smile; her relationship with Yue Mei was good, since she was the emperor’s sister.

“Guang, come here—this is your aunt, the Empress. Come greet her.”

After exchanging a few words, Princess Yue Mei pulled Cheng Guang from his hiding spot.

He tensed inwardly but smiled calmly. “Greetings, Aunt Empress.”

He paused, recalling the Empress Dowager's earlier reaction, then thickened his skin and offered a compliment. “Aunt Empress, your complexion has improved so much lately.”

Perhaps the heir was usually seen as aloof, so his casual praise surprised the empress and the others, leaving them no time to scrutinize the changes in Cheng Guang.

That was precisely his intention.

Indeed, nothing pleases a woman more than sincere compliments about her appearance, especially from a straightforward younger relative.

Empress Wang’s face lit up with genuine delight.

She had indeed devoted much effort recently to beauty, hoping the emperor would spend more nights with her, but aside from her maids’ earnest praise, others were perfunctory.

She hadn’t expected Cheng Guang to be the first to compliment her, and so charmingly—her heart bloomed.

“My, Guang,” she laughed. “You haven’t visited in some time, and your tongue has grown so sweet. Chunji, bring out the Palace’s special flower beauty cakes for Mother Dowager and Guang to try.”

She walked straight to Cheng Guang, affectionately pinching his cheek, startling him—he worried she might notice something amiss and dared not move.

But he quickly realized she meant nothing more than to show her affection.

First, Cheng Guang was naturally handsome.

Second, Empress Dowager Li adored him.

Third, his family background was exceptional, and today he had especially pleased her.

With all these reasons combined, her reaction was only natural.

A maid brought out a box of cakes, placing it respectfully on the table.

Empress Dowager Li showed no interest, but, smiling at Cheng Guang, picked up a piece and handed it to him.

Even before the princes and princesses, she didn’t hesitate to show her affection for Cheng Guang.

He accepted the cake respectfully, tasted it, found it unexpectedly delicious, and ate it all at once.

Seeing him eat so quickly, Empress Dowager Li assumed he was hungry and handed him the whole box.

“Here, dear grandson, eat as much as you like. If you finish, your aunt Empress will send you more.”

This scene drew the attention of many consorts, princes, and princesses.

Cheng Guang was secretly miserable; he only wanted to keep a low profile, but the Empress Dowager’s favor made it impossible.

He laughed lightly, deciding not to participate further in the conversation, quietly retreating a few more steps, eating his cakes.

Only Princess Yue Mei secretly tugged his sleeve, “Guang, eat less—there’ll be much better food at the banquet, and too much of this will make you fat.”

Cheng Guang quickly agreed.

He’d complained of being thin before, now worried about gaining weight—parents’ concerns were truly odd.

The others paid little attention, assuming he was simply hungry, and after a few casual remarks, moved to the main topic.

“Everyone has come today, under the guise of a family banquet, but it’s really for the matter of naming the Crown Prince,” Empress Dowager Li stated, blunt and direct.

Empress Wang took no offense, smiled gently, and nodded.

“Mother, the Crown Prince matter is crucial—it determines who may enter the Blood Pool this year. My Ming is already grown; the other princes can afford to wait, but he cannot.”

“And as the legitimate heir, it’s only proper he be named Crown Prince according to tradition.”

She spoke straightforwardly, perhaps having raised the issue several times before.

At this, Empress Dowager Li frowned.

Princess Yue Mei knew the Empress Dowager’s frown was not directed at Empress Wang’s words, but at her reluctance to meddle in court affairs. When she had the Crown Prince of Memory deposed and made Wu Shang emperor, the officials’ resentment had been endless. Though she cared little for their opinions, she did not wish to interfere in naming the Crown Prince again.

Emperor Wu Shang respected her deeply, so it was only natural to ask her opinion, but it was clear she intended to pass the matter back to him.

Princess Yue Mei knew the Empress Dowager would likely analyze the court situation, weigh all sides, and leave the decision to the emperor.

With the children present, she couldn’t speak too openly about court matters.

So Princess Yue Mei looked at Cheng Guang. “Guang, why don’t you and your brothers and sisters go play for a while? Wander as you wish, and I’ll call you back when it’s time to eat.”

Empress Wang and the other consorts echoed this suggestion.

Cheng Guang set down his cake, replied with an “Oh,” bowed respectfully to the elders, and turned to leave.

The princes and princesses followed him out of the hall.

Several eunuchs hurried after them, carefully attending to the group.

Whether Cheng Guang or any of the royal children, they were all precious in the eyes of the servants—should anything happen, their entire families could be doomed.

Once outside, the princes and princesses greeted Cheng Guang.

He didn’t know any of them, so after a brief chat, he found a pavilion to rest in.

They didn’t linger around him, soon seeking their own amusements.

Clearly, to them, Cheng Guang was still the aloof heir he always had been.

That was what Cheng Guang wanted.

The more he spoke, the greater the risk of exposure; caution was essential.

The other princes and princesses soon wandered off, leaving only Wu Ling, lost and alone.

This family banquet felt to Wu Ling like a gathering of strangers, with little relevance to her. Everything was awkward and unfamiliar.

Cheng Guang understood her feelings—he, too, was an outsider, merely a stand-in for the heir, much like Wu Ling herself.

“Hey,” Cheng Guang called from the pavilion, beckoning to Wu Ling.

She paused, unsure if someone was calling her, thinking she’d misheard. She continued with her head bowed, reaching the lakeside, crouching to watch the golden carp, lost in thought.

Seeing her ignore him, Cheng Guang awkwardly rubbed his nose and called again.

“Wu Ling.”

This time, Wu Ling heard her name, looked toward the voice, and saw Cheng Guang in his brocade coat, handsome and beckoning from the pavilion.

She was even more at a loss, unsure how to respond, and stood frozen in place.

…