Chapter Ninety-One: Your Ambition!

No one could fathom the storm surging in Ji Chang’s heart at that moment.

To have his most beloved eldest son killed before his very eyes—such pain would be unbearable for anyone, yet Ji Chang was forced to endure it. He even had to utter words that went against his conscience.

Even Jiang Yuan found himself surprised by Ji Chang’s restraint, though he felt not the slightest shred of sympathy. The more a man could endure like this, the greater threat he would pose to the Great Shang in the future.

“Thank you, Your Majesty, for your understanding. Bo Yikao was, after all, my own flesh and blood. I implore Your Majesty to allow me to collect his body,” Ji Chang requested, his face devoid of expression.

“Naturally. Lord Ji, take heart and let sorrow give way to duty. Since you foresaw this outcome, I imagine you have steeled yourself for it already. I shan’t offer empty comfort,” Jiang Yuan replied with a smile.

To Ji Chang, that smile was like a demon haunting his soul. He understood now: the king must have uncovered his rebellious intentions, hence this journey to the West Qi to suppress him. A chill ran through him—did this mean that all the debauchery and recklessness previously displayed by King Zhou were but a ruse? Was it all a deception to lull the lords into complacency and expose those who harbored rebellion?

Ji Chang considered, for a fleeting moment, whether he should seize the chance to strike down Di Xin here and now. The slaying of a son was an irreconcilable blood feud. Yet he was not prepared to meet the armies of Great Shang head-on, and his ability to read the threads of fate told him as much. The Shang’s destiny was drawing to a close—was it not his chance to claim a share of the spoils?

But he dared not lay hands on the king. One who bore the mandate of the Human Sovereign was protected; even sages could not act openly against such a person, much less himself.

“Then I thank Your Majesty for your mercy,” Ji Chang said, bowing in gratitude.

“What brings Your Majesty to West Qi on this occasion?” Ji Chang asked curiously.

“Must I have a reason to come?” Jiang Yuan countered.

Ji Chang was taken aback. This was his own fiefdom; surely the king wouldn’t come here for nothing?

“Of course, Your Majesty. I have been impertinent,” Ji Chang apologized.

“Let us go to your family estate. Tell me, have you taken on any new retainers or strategists lately?” Jiang Yuan asked, as if in passing.

“Retainers? Not in recent days,” Ji Chang answered, a hint of puzzlement in his tone.

Jiang Yuan understood at once. No wonder Ji Chang was so cautious and forbearing—Jiang Ziya had yet to arrive at West Qi.

“Perhaps I should divine your fortune as well, Lord Ji?” Jiang Yuan suggested, his tone playful.

“Your Majesty is versed in the arts of divination?” Ji Chang asked, intrigued.

“I know a little, perhaps just the surface,” Jiang Yuan replied, smiling. He could not truly divine fate, but he had read the Investiture of the Gods—was it so wrong to claim a touch of foresight?

“Is there something Your Majesty would have me say?” Ji Chang asked, uncertain.

Jiang Yuan shook his head. “Do you believe, Lord Ji, that before long, an old man named Jiang Ziya will come to West Qi to aid you?”

“Then I shall await and see,” Ji Chang replied with a dismissive smile. The king’s divination was even more outlandish than his own—he could even name the person! Truly absurd.

Jiang Yuan saw the skepticism in Ji Chang’s tone, but did not press the matter further. When Jiang Ziya really appeared, Ji Chang would surely be astonished.

Within the city of West Qi, at the Ji family residence.

Ji Chang claimed he had matters to attend to, leaving Ji Fa to entertain Jiang Yuan. Although Jiang Yuan did not know Ji Chang’s true errand, he could hazard a guess—no doubt Ji Chang had rushed off to conceal the private troops he had been training at West Qi, lest Jiang Yuan find evidence against him.

After all, the king’s demeanor that day was enough to give him pause. Perhaps the Great Shang was not as weak as it seemed.

Jiang Yuan, however, cared little—what did it matter if he found evidence or not? The tide of history was inevitable; West Qi would rebel in the end.

Yet there was one person in West Qi who piqued his curiosity: Ji Fa. This young man seemed to harbor no resentment toward him at all.

In the Ji family’s hall, Jiang Yuan sat at the head seat. Ji Fa sat quietly at his side, saying nothing.

At last, Jiang Yuan broke the silence. “I killed your elder brother. Do you resent me for it?”

Ji Fa shook his head silently.

He kept a low profile within the Ji family; no one paid much attention to the second son of the house. Had Bo Yikao not been killed by Jiang Yuan, it would surely have been Bo Yikao accompanying the king now.

“Why is that?” Jiang Yuan asked with interest.

Ji Fa hesitated, then replied, “My brother… in truth, he brought it upon himself. He was always arrogant and dismissive of others; disaster was only a matter of time. I just didn’t expect it would happen here, in Father’s own West Qi.”

“Oh? So relations between you brothers were not harmonious?” Jiang Yuan asked, surprised.

Ji Fa shook his head honestly. “I have no dealings with my brothers, so there is no question of harmony or discord.”

“It seems you have little presence in the Ji family,” Jiang Yuan joked.

Ji Fa laughed self-deprecatingly. “Not just in the family; very few in all of West Qi even know the Marquis of the West has a second son.”

“So, what ambition does someone as unobtrusive as you harbor?” Jiang Yuan’s eyes grew cold as he fixed his gaze on Ji Fa.

At his words, Zhang Kui immediately focused his killing intent on Ji Fa. So, there was another wolf in sheep’s clothing here! He had no reason to doubt the king—if His Majesty said Ji Fa was ambitious, then Zhang Kui would remain ever ready to strike him down.

Ji Fa looked up at Jiang Yuan in surprise, then replied woodenly, “Your Majesty jests. I am all but invisible in West Qi—what ambition could I possibly have? Even if Father were to pass the title of Marquis to me, how many would truly accept it?”

Jiang Yuan sneered. “Sometimes, it is not those most familiar who inspire confidence, but those who remain mysterious. Such people are often capable of miracles.”

“Does Your Majesty think I am such a person?” Ji Fa asked.

“It is not what I think—it is fact. Your Nine-Colored Divine Deer is proof enough.”

These words left Ji Fa utterly shaken. He had never told a soul, not even his father, that the Nine-Colored Divine Deer had chosen him. How could the king know this with such certainty?

“How did Your Majesty learn of this?” Ji Fa asked, his expression complex.

He did not bother to deny it. The king would not have spoken of it had he not been sure. There was no point in lying.

“Have you forgotten, young lord, that I too know the art of divination?” Jiang Yuan teased.

“But even my father could not divine this,” Ji Fa protested.

“If your father could not see it, does that mean I could not? If that were so, I would not be the Human Sovereign,” Jiang Yuan retorted. “Now, tell me of your ambitions.”

Jiang Yuan bore no malice toward Ji Fa; at least, his loyalty and goodwill were both satisfactory. Anyone could deceive him—but never the dogged system, though that same system would just as soon betray him.

Ji Fa lowered his head in silence for a long while. At last, as if making a momentous decision, he lifted his eyes to Jiang Yuan, then glanced at the three men standing behind him.

With utmost gravity, he declared, “I wish to speak with Your Majesty alone.”