Chapter 75 Five-Petal Tattoo
If there were a bronze mirror at this moment, Shinju would have noticed that his back was not entirely white, but rather that the dark tattoos winding down from his collarbone had already appeared, and the five-petaled lotus pattern had one more petal than when it first appeared underground in the Taoist temple.
Unfortunately, the secondary Purple Palace could not detect it, and the True Monk was completely unaware that his body had quietly undergone a deteriorating change.
He devoted himself entirely to cultivation, trying to get through this long, restless night.
.
The Crown Prince's investiture ceremony proceeded so smoothly. At the auspicious time calculated well in advance by the Imperial Astronomical Bureau, the eldest prince entered the Eastern Palace in less than half a day. Rewards poured into the Eastern Palace like a flowing river, and guards and palace maids lined up inside and outside, creating an atmosphere of celebration everywhere.
Shinjuku watched silently, his back still burning hot, the crimson in his eyes appearing and disappearing intermittently.
Not long after, news of the Empress Dowager's second stroke spread throughout the palace. This time, the Prince of Zhen finally sent the imperial physician to examine her. Upon learning that there was absolutely no hope of recovery, he used the excuse of "relieving Granny Qin of her burdens" to force this old servant, who had served the Empress Dowager for half her life, to retire and leave the palace. Ironically, this action was so blatantly acceptable that it seemed like a benevolent act of showing compassion for her servants.
Having lost her support, Granny Qin had no way to disobey.
With her most loyal servant gone, even if the Empress Dowager were to recover in the future, the people around her would already be filled with the eyes and ears of the Prince of Zhen. This once powerful figure who secretly controlled the court would be confined to Weixi Palace for the rest of his life, becoming a "sick person" who was not allowed to leave the palace.
Shinju had no complaints about the ruthlessness of the King of Zhen. After all, the King of Zhen was not the real Emperor Yuhu. Although he had been with the Empress Dowager for several years, every move she made was a deadly one. The King of Zhen's treatment was already considered lenient.
If he were the King of Poison, leaving her with a complete corpse would be his final act of mercy.
A sudden, sharp pain shot through his temples, and Shinjuku was jolted awake to the brutality and bloodlust of his thoughts. He hastily pulled himself out of his reverie. Cold sweat beaded on the back of his neck and his entire back, raising goosebumps all over his body. For some reason, he had been prone to extremes lately, as if an invisible force was drawing out the savagery lurking within him.
Concentrate and calm your mind.
After suppressing his evil thoughts, Shinju stopped thinking about it. After digesting his food, he intended to return to his side room to rest, but due to the orders of the King of Zhen, he could only lie on his side on the chaise longue, deliberately turning his face inward.
The King of Zhen, who had entered a few steps behind, suddenly stopped and stared at the curve of Shinju's back. Although it was completely covered by the thick robe, only the waist was concave and curved due to the lying position, which made the King of Zhen's throat tighten.
His Purple Mansion was once again shaken...
Normally, Shinjuku's every move could tug at his heartstrings, but never before had it been like this... Not only did he feel that the scent of agarwood on Shinjuku was particularly strong, but the sweetness was also much stronger than before, as if it were soaked in sugar water.
The King of Poison tensed every muscle in his body, barely managing to suppress the dangerous urge to abduct the man and taste him. But the man's snow-white neck gleamed slightly, and his cat-like eyes secretly glanced at him. With each glance, the King of Poison felt a surge of heat rush from his dantian to his limbs, threatening to burn away his mind.
Yesterday it clearly wasn't like this; no matter how you look at it, it must have been due to his Purple Mansion being on the verge of collapse. He has been trapped here for far too long... Dynasties have come and gone, and he has been cultivating the path of emperors for over two hundred years, rising from the realm of "Jun" to "Wang," yet he still cannot find a way to escape this world created by history books.
Or perhaps it was because he had been abstinent for too long. In order not to dilute the hard-won dragon energy, he rarely even masturbated. At the same time, in order to preserve the purity of the current emperor's dragon lineage, he always transferred the dragon energy of the previous emperor to his concubines as a perfunctory gesture, never touching these mortals. After they gave birth to imperial offspring with the help of dragon energy, he disdained even the superficial formalities of summoning them to serve him in bed.
This one person was the only one who could arouse his desire. The problem, however, was that this desire had come too quickly and was now uncontrollable.
The dark undercurrents in the eyes of the King of Poison were so intense that it made Shinju feel like he was being pricked by thorns. He did not know what the King of Poison's gaze, which seemed to pierce through him, meant, so he stopped "facing the wall" and wanted to turn his back.
However, the King of Zhen had already taken a few steps to the dragon bed. Without even taking off his dragon robe, he only removed his crown, sat on the bed, lifted the quilt, and lay down with his long legs draped over his shoulders.
Its movements were so swift that Shinjuku, who hadn't even had a chance to turn over, gave up and obediently went to sleep.
The headboard of the dragon bed was only two palm widths away from the chaise longue. It was originally the Poison King who had ordered it to be moved closer, so that the true lover could be closer to him. But now he felt as if he had shot himself in the foot. His surging desires were like boiling water that was hard to suppress, yet he tried to restrain himself, and he was caught in a state of torment and pleasure.
Meanwhile, Zhen Su focused solely on cultivation. Taking advantage of his proximity to the Poison King and the protection of the dragon's energy, he concentrated intently on his cultivation. He refined the poison finger by finger, and of the many poisons he had previously seized from the Gold-Sucking Cave, he had already refined one-tenth to one-twelfth. At this rate, working day and night, he would achieve half of the goal in less than two days.
In the afternoon, the Crown Prince had an audience. Zhen Su was gently awakened by Zhi Xi, who came in from outside. He opened his golden eyes, pretended to be sleepy, and then turned to prepare to help the Prince of Zhen get up.
The King of Zhen smelled the sweet scent that had been lingering around him and suddenly approached. He immediately opened his bloodshot phoenix eyes and said in a hoarse voice, "I'm up. You don't need to come over."
Shinju thought to himself: It's just a short distance, I'm already here anyway.
However, as Shinjuku was walking towards the outer room, the King of Poison called out to him again, "Don't go out yet, wait here."
Although Shinjuku felt puzzled, he obediently waited by the screen connecting the inner and outer rooms.
The King of Zhen straightened his dragon robe, his gaze fixed on Zhen Su as if by a spider's web. Only after summoning Zhi Xi to prepare water for washing his face did he look away and begin to wash himself.
.
The Crown Prince proved remarkably capable. Within days of taking office in the Eastern Palace, he had already built his own power base. In court, he spoke with substance, yet knew how to conceal his true abilities, demonstrating remarkable tact and discretion. Even the Grand Tutor, during his evaluation, praised him as "a man of hidden talents." The officials couldn't help but sigh inwardly; while they knew that the nine sons of the dragon were all different, they had never imagined that the differences between princes could be so vast.
The eldest prince rose like the morning sun, while the third prince dissipated like the evening clouds. The power of the aristocratic families had dwindled, with only two minor clans, not involved in the core affairs, remaining intact and retaining their foundations.
The three branches of the Yan family were executed in the street. Those in collateral branches who were guilty were imprisoned and awaiting punishment, while the innocent were tattooed on the face and exiled to a remote island in the southeastern sea, where they were forbidden from returning home for two generations.
Because the Zhao family were accomplices rather than the masterminds, they received lighter sentences: Zhao Qianheng, who was a Privy Councilor but leaked the secret, and the head of the Zhao family were executed in public, while the rest of the clansmen were mostly exiled to the frontier to serve ten years of hard labor, and their young children were placed elsewhere.
When Shinju learned that Zhao Kelin was also on the list of exiles, he initially intended to discuss it with the King of Zhen, but then he remembered that he had already decided to uphold his duty as a subject to his sovereign. Therefore, after making up his mind, he secretly sneaked into the Ministry of Justice prison at night.
Most of the Zhao family members were imprisoned here, and in two days they would set off to migrate to the frontier.
Zhao Kelin leaned against the cold stone wall. His hair, which used to be braided into various beautiful braids, was now disheveled. His body was itchy from the rough hemp prison uniform, and his once delicate skin was covered with patches of red rashes.
But there was no medicine powder, no herbs, only a dark and sunless prison cell, the creaking of wooden shackles, intermittent mournful cries, and a future that stretched as far as the eye could see.
When the person he had been longing for appeared before him, Zhao Kelin felt as if he were hallucinating, thinking that his time was about to come.
Although the person in front of him had matured, grown taller, and become more handsome and dashing, with a hint of crimson in his eyes, quite different from the golden-eyed boy in his memory, Zhao Kelin knew that the person in front of him was the one in his heart.
The wooden cangue on his hands slammed against the iron gate with a clang. After a long pause, Zhao Kelin finally stammered, "Aqing! Aqing!!"
Seeing the once handsome and refined young man reduced to such a disheveled state, Shinju felt a pang of guilt. He shouldn't have only thought of himself and failed to do more for Arin...
However, although Zhao Kelin was a germaphobe, he couldn't care less about such things at this moment. His mind was filled with nothing but the thought of seeing Masakura one last time. As fate would have it, his wish came true.
Zhao Kelin's gaze greedily swept over Masaki's face, as if he were desperately trying to trace and remember every inch of Masaki's skin, even every eyelash, and to etch it into his very bones.
Shinjuku cut straight to the point: "Shh... I've already acupunctured the jailers, so I'll keep it brief."
"Ah Lin, I can save you, but I can only save you."
Shinju knew this was a difficult choice; on one side was freedom, on the other, his family. But he couldn't possibly betray the King of Poison by rescuing the entire Zhao family in return for their past help.
Zhao Kelin, however, was overjoyed. Without the slightest hesitation, he nodded excitedly and said repeatedly, "Take me away!!"
Shinjuku shifted his gaze to the cell next door and asked again, "Are you really sure?"
Masaku responded with an even more urgent nod.
Shinju sighed inwardly. The wooden yoke shattered in his palm, the iron shackles broke with a snap, and his arm slipped under the man's armpit. Shinju lifted the limp Zhao Kelin and hurried away from the prison.
Zhao Kelin leaned against Masaki's warm body, inhaling the sweet scent emanating from him. Like a scholar who had taken a dose of Five-Stone Powder, he felt as if he were walking on clouds.
Under the shadow of the palace walls, Shinju gently laid the person down.
As Zhao Kelin felt that warmth leave his body, his fingertips trembled violently.
"Where do we run to?" A smile appeared on Zhao Kelin's dirty face, revealing his former radiance.
Upon hearing this, Shinju paused for a moment, realizing that the other party seemed to have misunderstood something. He swallowed hard and replied, "No one will be coming here for the time being. Ah Lin, you need to head east of the city. Once the city gates are raised, you can leave."
A smile suddenly froze on Zhao Kelin's lips as he asked, "Aqing... not coming along?"
Shinjuku said, "I must remain in the palace."
In the pale moonlight, Zhao Kelin's lips curled into a smile that was more like a grimace. "Is that so... I misunderstood."
He seemed unable to hold on any longer, and suddenly turned his back, his shoulders shaking violently.
"I thought... I actually thought you felt the same way about me—"
Shinjuku was struck dumb, as if by lightning.
Meanwhile, the giant scorpion with its gleaming black shell slipped into the side room of the Scorpion Shadow Palace late at night, wandered around, but found no one. It then searched the rest of the palace, but found the same thing.
The next moment, on the dragon bed in the Zhengren Hall, the Zhen King, tossing and turning in his sleep due to desire, suddenly opened his eyes.
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