The background of the Ming King
Under the cover of night, compared to the elegant and romantic Zhaowang Mansion, the cold and solemn Hengwang Mansion exudes a more oppressive magnificence.
Inside the study, the candlelight flickered, illuminating Zongzheng Mingchen's ever-changing face.
He has now been stripped of his princely status by the emperor, demoted to a commoner, and confined to his residence for the rest of his life. Such a miserable state is unbearable for him.
Now, with the changes in the court, King Zhao's reputation for virtue is growing, and King Heng's power is illustrious, while he, despite his great ambitions, is as if invisible.
Just as he was feeling uneasy, there was a very slight "tap" sound at the window, like a pebble falling to the ground.
Zongzheng Mingchen instantly became alert and shouted sharply, "Who's there?" There was no sound outside the window.
He suddenly stood up and pushed open the window. The night wind rushed in, and the courtyard outside the window was empty, except for the distant footsteps of the night guards sent by the emperor to monitor him.
He frowned and looked around, his gaze suddenly fixing on the window frame. There, at some point, someone had used a lifelike eagle feather-shaped concealed weapon, forged from black iron, to pin a plain note to it.
His heart suddenly raced. This method of delivering messages was not unfamiliar to him.
He quickly removed the hidden weapon and the letter, closed the window, and returned to the lamplight. The plain white letter bore no salutation or signature, only a single line of bold, powerful handwriting that subtly exuded a sinister aura:
"At midnight, at the usual place, I have important matters to discuss."
In the lower right corner of the writing, there is a very faint, dark eagle mark, as if it were about to take flight.
He is the Lord of the Night Hawk Pavilion!
Zongzheng Mingchen gripped the letter tightly, his fingertips tightening slightly. It was that same elusive method again, that same unquestionable tone.
He, a prince, always seemed to be led by the nose by this elusive江湖人 (jianghu person).
A sense of humiliation mixed with dependence welled up inside him. He walked to the window, gazing at the deep night outside, his figure appearing somewhat stiff in the candlelight.
His thoughts drifted back to that rainy night several years ago, the night that changed the course of his life.
…………
At that time, he had just turned fifteen, a time when he was both spirited and sensitive with low self-esteem.
Because his mother was a princess of the previous dynasty whose country was destroyed by his father, the difference in their status was huge. Although she was favored by her father for a time and gave birth to him, she did not have a powerful maternal relative in the palace to support her. As a result, she gradually lost favor and was also neglected and secretly ostracized.
That day, because of his outstanding performance in the archery class, he was tricked by several jealous members of the powerful royal family. He "accidentally" fell off his horse, sprained his ankle, and got soaked to the bone.
The surrounding laughter, the eunuchs' perfunctory help, and the desolation of returning to the cold palace where no one genuinely cared for him—all the grievances and anger accumulated to their peak in his heart.
Dragging his injured leg, he dismissed the palace servants and went to a secluded corner of the Imperial Garden to vent his anger by hitting a tree trunk. His hands were covered in blood, but it was nothing compared to the pain in his heart.
"Why... just because my mother is out of favor? Just because I don't have a powerful maternal uncle or grandfather? I'm not reconciled! I'm not reconciled!" He roared at the cold rain, like a trapped young beast.
Just when he was at his most disheveled and vulnerable, a clear and peculiar voice seemed to whisper in his ear, carrying a subtle, alluring quality:
"If you're so unwilling to accept this, why are you just raging here in a state of impotent rage?"
Zongzheng Mingchen was startled and turned around abruptly: "Who?!"
Not far away, in the shadow of the artificial hill, a figure stood. The person was also wearing a rain cloak, and did not appear tall, even somewhat slender. The person seemed to blend into the darkness, and their aura was extremely concealed.
"Who are you? How dare you trespass into the forbidden area of the palace!" Zongzheng Mingchen was both shocked and furious. He subconsciously took a step back, and a sharp pain shot through his ankle.
The man didn't approach, but chuckled softly, the sound muffled by the rain: "Who I am is unimportant. What matters is, Your Highness... do you want to change your current situation? Do you want to reclaim everything that rightfully belongs to you? Do you want those who once looked down on you and humiliated you to grovel at your feet in the future?"
Each question was like a heavy hammer, striking hard against the heart of young Mingchen.
"You... what nonsense are you spouting!" His heart was pounding like a drum. He denied it, but his eyes betrayed the shock in his heart.
"Whether it is nonsense or not, Your Highness will have the judgment in your heart." The man's voice was calm, yet it carried a power that seemed to see through everything. "You bear the noble blood of the previous dynasty's royal family and are the one destined by Heaven. How can you remain subservient to others and suffer such humiliation for long?"
"Bloodline of the previous dynasty?" Zongzheng Mingchen was stunned; this was the first time he had heard such a statement. His mother's background had always been a taboo subject in the palace, and no one dared to discuss it in detail.
"Your mother was the only legitimate princess of the previous dynasty, the Mu Jin Dynasty."
The person in the shadows spoke slowly, "The Mu Jin Dynasty was once so glorious, but it was destroyed by your father's own hand, resulting in the downfall of the country and the destruction of the family. We are all people who have received great kindness from Her Highness the Princess and have sworn to serve the former dynasty to the death. For many years, we have been hiding in the shadows, hoping that one day we can assist the Princess's bloodline in restoring the lost land!"
These words struck Zongzheng Mingchen like a thunderbolt! A princess of the former dynasty? To restore the lost territories? This... this was an astonishing act he had never dared to imagine!
But when he thought of his mother's occasional expressions of sorrow and resentment, and the vague rumors circulating in the palace, the seed of "ambition" instantly sprouted wildly in the heart of this neglected young prince.
"You...can you really help me?" His voice trembled slightly with excitement. He was still wary, but his desire had overwhelmed everything else.
"Nighthawk Pavilion is willing to be the sharpest blade in Your Highness's hand, clearing away all obstacles." The man bowed slightly, his posture humble, but his tone carried an undeniable power, "As long as Your Highness has enough determination and courage."
In the years that followed, this mysterious man, who called himself "Master of the Night Hawk Pavilion," appeared like his shadow whenever he encountered difficulties or harbored resentment.
Sometimes it's to pass on crucial information to help him avoid trouble; sometimes it's to provide gold and silver to help him secretly cultivate his power; sometimes it's even to "clean up" some obstacles for him, with clean and efficient methods that reveal the ruthlessness of a江湖人 (jianghu person, a person of the martial arts world).
He had never seen the Pavilion Master's true face. Each time they met, it was in a different, extremely secluded place, and the other party always spoke to him in that altered, hoarse voice.
However, he could sense that the other party was powerful, meticulous, and indeed did their best to help him because he had the blood of a princess from the previous dynasty.
Over time, dependence deepens and wariness fades.
He regarded Night Hawk Pavilion as the most secret legacy left to him by his mother, and his most powerful trump card in his struggle for the throne.
He even began to dream of reclaiming the empire that rightfully belonged to him with the help of the Night Hawk Pavilion, and trampling all those who looked down on him underfoot!
…………
Zongzheng Mingchen pulled himself out of his memories, took a deep breath, and felt the cold eagle feather hidden weapon between his fingers digging painfully into his palm.
His relationship with the Night Hawk Pavilion began with his resentment and ambition on that rainy night, was bound by his earth-shattering identity as a "bloodline of the previous dynasty," and has been solidified by their mutual exploitation and support over the years.
He knew the Pavilion Master was cunning and treacherous, not a benevolent person. But so what? History is written by the victors, the victors are kings.
He needed the knife, and he also needed that seemingly ethereal but legitimate title that supported his ambition.
He brought the letter close to the candlelight, watching the dark eagle mark curl up, charred, and finally turn to ashes in the flames.
“The usual place…” he muttered to himself, the last trace of hesitation in his eyes replaced by ruthlessness, “I want to see what 'good news' you’ve brought me this time.”
He turned and walked into the shadows to change into his night clothes.
Outside the window, a real nightjar silently swooped over the towering eaves of the palace, its sharp eyes gleaming coldly in the darkness.
It circled as if watching everything, then flapped its wings and disappeared into the boundless night.
The nights in Beijing are not always filled with dazzling lights and bustling activity. In an area in the southern part of the city adjacent to the old docks, all sorts of people mingle, the alleys are narrow and damp, and the air is perpetually filled with the fishy smell of the river and the aroma of cheap liquor.
This is a dark corner beneath the glitz and glamour of the capital city, a place where the sun never shines.
A nimble black shadow, like a night owl, silently swept across the continuous rooftops and finally landed in the backyard of an inconspicuous, even somewhat dilapidated, warehouse.
Someone was already waiting in the courtyard. The person was wearing a wide cloak with the brim of the hat pulled down very low, completely obscuring his face. One could only judge from the crisp fabric of the clothes and the faint air of nobility that he was no ordinary person.
Suddenly, a dark figure landed, knelt on one knee, and said in a low, respectful voice, "Sect Master, His Highness the Ming King has arrived."
The person addressed as the Pavilion Master nodded slightly, without turning around, but simply waved his hand. The shadowy figure immediately and discreetly retreated, disappearing into the deeper darkness as if it had never been there.
A moment later, the inconspicuous little door in the backyard was pushed open, and another figure slipped in.
This person was also wearing a cloak to conceal his identity, but his steps were slightly hurried, revealing an uncontrollable restlessness and ambition.
He entered the courtyard, glanced around, and then looked at the figure with his back to him, his tone carrying a hint of dissatisfaction and urgency:
"What brings you to this urgent meeting, Master? What if we are discovered here...?"
The person who had been facing away from him slowly turned around. The shadow of the cloak still shrouded his face, revealing only a seemingly handsome and youthful jawline, creating an eerie contrast with the somber and experienced aura emanating from him.
His voice came through the fabric, carrying a deliberately altered, slightly hoarse, and low tone:
"Your Highness, please calm down. Although this place is humble, it is the safest place. The spies of the Prefect of the Capital and the Patrol Battalion cannot reach under the wings of the Night Hawk Pavilion."
Zongzheng Mingchen snorted coldly, barely suppressing his anxiety: "That's for the best. Speak, what is it?"
The Night Hawk Pavilion Master chuckled softly, the sound particularly chilling in the quiet night: "Naturally, it concerns Your Highness's grand ambitions. I've heard that recently, both Prince Zhao and Prince Heng seem quite interested in the daughter of Prime Minister Jiang?"
Zongzheng Mingchen frowned, his tone tinged with disdain: "Jiang Wanzhi? She's nothing but a pretty face with no substance. Prince Zhao is good at putting on a show of being courteous and refined, but he's just using her to win over Prime Minister Jiang. As for Prince Heng..."
When he mentioned this name, his tone became noticeably somber, filled with deep-seated fear and resentment. "With his cold and heartless nature, how could he truly care about a woman? He probably has ulterior motives."
"Your Highness is wise." The Night Hawk Pavilion Master seemed to agree, but then changed the subject.
"However, Prime Minister Jiang has many protégés and old friends in the court, and his influence should not be underestimated. Whether it is Prince Zhao or Prince Heng, whoever truly gains Prime Minister Jiang's support will be a huge obstacle to Your Highness's great cause."
"Moreover, according to my subordinates, Prince Heng seems to have visited Ci'an Hall in the western suburbs with Miss Jiang recently, and not just once."
"Your Highness believes that someone like Prince Heng would not waste his time on a mere charity or a woman if he had no ulterior motives?"
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
