Chapter 669: Newlywed in Troubled Times
As Dragon Bird had mused, in just a few months, Zhao Changhe’s bedchamber scenes had outnumbered those of the past two years combined—or to be precise, in the ten days since the group of heroes slew the dragon, more had happened than in several previous months.
Tang Wanzhuang and Cui Yuanyang, the two pillars of the courtly side of his alliances, had both been won within that short span.
It was a convergence of past fates blooming into fruition, fueled by an overwhelming sense of urgency.
The current state of the world left little room for patience. Gone were the days of thinking “you’re still young; I can wait a few more years,” or indulging in “let’s give ourselves more time to figure out if this is truly love.”
Now, there was a constant sense that the world could crumble away at any moment. No matter how confident or brash Zhao Changhe appeared outwardly, he was acutely aware of his own limitations. He was, after all, merely a martial artist who had just entered the third layer of the Profound Mysteries. His adversaries, on the other hand, were all in the Profound Control Realm, some like the Sea Emperor even reaching the second stage of that lofty realm.
In the past, Xia Longyuan had served as a lightning rod, drawing the attention of gods, demons, and powerful figures like Timur. No one had spared much thought for Zhao Changhe. But now, he was not just filling Xia Longyuan’s shoes in terms of significance to the world—he had become an even greater target. Bearing multiple pages of the Heavenly Tome carved a target on his back far more prominent than anything Xia Longyuan had ever had.
The only reason things seemed calm for now was the shortness of time. Whatever moves his enemies were planning were still in motion—perhaps quite literally, as they journeyed toward their next steps. But their silence was no guarantee of safety.
Zhao Changhe knew that if he delayed any longer—if he hesitated again—he might lose his chance altogether.
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Fine. I admit it. I’m lustful. I just want to have you, whether it’s love or not.
Cui Wenjing seemed to share the same urgency. Surely, Yangyang did as well. What young girl would be so eager to rush into marriage? But no one wanted to wake up one morning to find the world in chaos—gods and demons descending, invaders crossing the border, and perhaps even the collapse of Cui Clan itself. Better to have a grand wedding now, in glory, than to face the future in despair and ruin.
It was not about trying to one-up Xia Chichi. After all, Xia Chichi was the empress. It was not as if Yangyang could claim the position of empress outright. Even getting married first would not make her the actual main wife in the traditional sense.
Then again... if one thought about it in human terms, was Zhao Changhe not technically the “emperor,” while everyone else was a consort?
Of course, in this world of gods and demons, those concepts had long lost their weight. Imperial authority was not what it used to be. The Azure Dragon was no more than a subordinate under the Night Emperor’s banner, and Zhao Changhe was now regarded by many as the living embodiment of the Night Emperor. From a pragmatic standpoint, Xia Chichi was simply another leader with a larger dowry. Zhao Changhe, on the other hand, had personally subdued the Cui Clan—walking into Qinghe alone to secure their loyalty. The imperial court of the Han dynasty had not lifted a finger in that effort. Both the Cui and Tang clans, in essence, had pledged themselves to Zhao Changhe, not Xia Chichi.
Even within the Four Idols Cult, two of its venerables had already knelt before him, one way or another.
In this light, the court was increasingly coming to resemble a mere appendage of the Night Emperor, a fragment of the ancient past reborn.
And in this evolving reality, none of the women in Zhao Changhe’s life could claim the title of main wife with absolute certainty. The dynamic had grown strangely egalitarian. No one felt they had a clear advantage over the others. If Xia Chichi were to press the issue too forcefully, it could even destabilize the fragile unity of the fledgling Han dynasty. This was precisely why she had hesitated to use her imperial authority to arrange her own marriage. To do so could have derailed the effort to secure the Cui Clan’s allegiance entirely, turning an already delicate task into a political quagmire.
Some of the more perceptive ones even faintly felt that this hierarchy may not even be determined by who came first. One day, someone new might emerge, someone so strong and commanding that everyone would naturally submit.
Cui Yuanyang, deep down, wondered if she could one day achieve the abilities of Piaomiao and if that would give her the confidence she sought.
The first light of dawn filtered through the room as Zhao Changhe, draped in a robe, sat by the window. Outside, heavy snowflakes swirled in the wind. In his hands was a secret letter from Xia Chichi.
Cui Yuanyang stirred awake, clutching the quilt to her chest to shield her smooth, jade-like skin. Her gaze, soft and warm, rested on the man by the window. “Why not rest a little longer? You... you barely slept last night.”
Zhao Changhe set the letter aside, returning to the bed and leaning down to kiss her. “I don’t actually need sleep right now.”
Cui Yuanyang’s eyes widened. “Does reaching the third layer of the Profound Mysteries mean you don’t need sleep at all? My father still sleeps.”
“It’s not that,” Zhao Changhe explained with a teasing grin. “At the third layer, we can replace sleep with cultivation. And last night, your vital yin replenished me. That’s as good as cultivation.”
Cui Yuanyang, realizing that she actually also felt quite energized, giggled. She’d only recently broken through into the first layer of the Profound Mysteries had taken yet another significant step forward. “So if Big Brother Zhao had a few more like me, would that allow you to reach the Profound Control Realm?”
Zhao Changhe could not help but burst into laughter. “Then what exactly would I have learned to control and gained dominion over? Women?”
“Why not?” Cui Yuanyang bit her lip, her voice soft but bold. “I’d willingly let Big Brother Zhao dominate me.”
Zhao Changhe facepalmed.
What a little enchantress.
That being said, she was particularly obedient in bed—doing whatever was asked of her without hesitation. Combined with her comparatively small frame and youthful, delicate face, she radiated both a sense of conquest and the allure of complete submission. It was no wonder Zhao Changhe had indulged far longer than he had intended during their first night.
Running a hand over his chin, Zhao Changhe chuckled ruefully. “Maybe there really is a path to the Profound Control Realm like that, but I imagine the resulting combat prowess would be pretty terrible. That’s not a path I wish to take.”
Having failed in her playful attempt to flirt, Cui Yuanyang shifted to another question. “Then what path are you taking?”
Zhao Changhe’s expression grew thoughtful. “I used to think that it was the path of mastering vicious blood qi. It’s an extremely powerful force pervasive in life itself. A figure in the previous era called Lie relied on it to great effect. But as my cultivation advanced and my exposure broadened, I realized that focusing solely on vicious blood qi is too limiting. Even Lie met his end, extinguished like a dying flame. What’s the point in replicating that path? Right now, my path to the Profound Control Realm feels unclear. I don’t have a concrete direction yet. It’s something I still need to discover.”
Cui Yuanyang tilted her head thoughtfully. “Is reaching the Profound Control Realm... like attaining immortality? It sounds so mystical.”
“Immortality?” Zhao Changhe thought for a moment before shaking his head. “In this world, immortality has no place. Different lives, wielding different powers, vie for what they desire. At best, you could call it high martial arts and mysticism. Eh, forget it. Just come here and let me kiss you.”
Cui Yuanyang did not quite grasp why Zhao Changhe felt the need to define such a term, but it did not matter. His gentle kiss brought a smile to the newlywed’s face, and she asked softly, “So... with the weather so cold and the blankets so warm, want to come back in?”
“Hah... you little enchantress,” Zhao Changhe teased, giving her nose a playful tweak. “Wasn’t it just last night you were crying, saying you felt sore and needed a break?”
“Hey!”
“No one can hear us.”
“Hmph.” Cui Yuanyang turned her head away, pretending to pout. “What did Xia Chichi’s letter say?”
“So that’s what’s been on your mind? You saw me reading a letter first thing this morning and felt betrayed? Hehe... Don’t worry—it’s not like yesterday’s imperial edict.” Even Zhao Changhe couldn’t help but chuckle as he mentioned it. “Who’s ever seen an edict so ridiculous? And yet her private letter was the complete opposite—proper and serious.”
The letter was entirely focused on the strategy for attacking the Wang Clan, with no mention of Cui Yuanyang at all. The bitter jealousy and resentment that had flavored the edict seemed to vanish when it came to formal matters.
“Anyway, be good. This isn’t the time for indulgence.” Zhao Changhe ruffled her hair affectionately. “I’ll write back to Chichi, and then we need to prepare for the campaign.”
Cui Yuanyang’s eyes widened. “So soon? You don’t even need to wait for her reply to arrive?”
“Mm-hmm. Because this battle against the Wang Clan will rely on Cui Clan’s forces here and the army at Jianghuai striking from the other side. Wan Tianxiong was left in a vegetative state by Wang Daoning, and Wan Dongliu’s been fuming ever since, training his troops night and day for this moment.”
Cui Yuanyang cautioned, “Don’t underestimate the Wang Clan. Even without Wang Daoning, they still have a formidable foundation.”
“That’s true, but losing Wang Daoning threw them into disarray and robbed them of the initiative. If the Wang Clan had a strategist, they’d have launched an immediate counteroffensive, exploiting the window when your family was reconciling with them. They could’ve borrowed passage through your territory and sent a surprise force straight to the capital. That would’ve forced us onto the defensive.” Zhao Changhe smiled faintly. “But once they missed that fleeting opportunity and resorted to passive defense—or worse, pinning their hopes on someone like Desolate Calamity... well, let’s just say Old Daoning didn’t let me down. His family really is... lacking.”
Cui Yuanyang: “...”
Zhao Changhe said no more, turning back to the desk by the window and picking up his brush to write a reply.
Cui Yuanyang slipped out of bed and moved to his side, silently helping him grind the ink.
Outside, snowflakes drifted lazily to the ground. Inside, the scene was idyllic: a newlywed wife at her husband’s side, her red sleeves brushing lightly as she prepared the ink. It was a moment of peace, the first on the morning after their wedding.
But this was no ordinary time. For Cui Yuanyang, who had never wished so strongly for peace, this fleeting tranquility was a cruel reminder of the troubled times they lived in. In the echo of the war drums beating across the land, she realized that for most people, a time like this could only end in sorrowful farewells.
Yet she counted herself among the fortunate—for they would not be separated. When the battles came, they would fight together.