Joy of Life: Me, the Second Prince? Summon Yuan Tiangang!

He was wearing a slightly loose casual robe, not the elaborate and heavy crown and imperial robe. His face did indeed look pale, as if he had just recovered from a serious illness, and his eye sockets were slightly sunken. His eyes, which were usually as unfathomable as an abyss, now seemed to be shrouded in a layer of weariness.

However, when he actually stepped out of the imperial carriage and stood on the platform made of precious golden nanmu wood, his originally slightly hunched back inadvertently straightened up.

Emperor Qing ignored the trembling officials kneeling on the ground, and also looked at the imperial guards who were on high alert around him. He simply raised his chin slightly and glanced around with an almost indifferent, superior gaze.

His gaze was slow, as if he wanted to etch every inch of land, every leaf, and every gust of wind around the Taiping Villa into his mind.

He looked at the shimmering lake on the east side of the villa.

The lake was deep, reflecting the rolling dark clouds in the sky. Emperor Qing's gaze lingered on the center of the lake for a moment.

Ku He cultivates the unity of man and nature, and this lake, this pervasive dampness, undoubtedly provides the bald monk with the best cover. Will he come from beneath the water? Or will he ride the waves?

Then, his gaze turned to the dense, even somewhat eerie, forest to the west.

There were no calls of birds or animals in the mountains and forests; the silence was eerily quiet.

A faint, cold smile curled at the corner of Emperor Qing's lips. Si Gu Jian, that old madman, always preferred to be straightforward. That grove of trees was probably already filled with a sharp sword intent capable of shredding steel.

The moment he crosses a certain boundary, that earth-shattering sword strike will sever all life in this valley.

Finally, Emperor Qing's gaze seemingly casually swept over the towering buildings, hidden sentries, and several inconspicuous blind spots in the Imperial Guard camp.

"Chengze, Chengze..." Emperor Qing murmured the name in his heart.

"Where will you place your men? Will they be mixed in with the Imperial Guard, ready to deliver a fatal blow when I am at my weakest? Or will they lie in wait in the shadows, watching for me and those two old monsters to fight to the death, before you reap the benefits?"

Emperor Qing's gaze wandered through the void, as if he were engaged in a silent battle with three unseen peerless masters.

However, a moment later, all the scheming, searching, and even the slightest expectation in Emperor Qing's deep eyes receded like the tide, replaced by an absolute and heart-stopping calm.

He slowly withdrew his gaze and gently straightened his cuffs.

Not important anymore.

It doesn't matter where Ku He came from; it doesn't matter where Si Gu Jian's sword intent was hidden; it doesn't matter where Li Cheng Ze's rats from the gutter were hiding.

"Since I dare to treat this world as a chessboard and you as chess pieces, I naturally have the confidence to overturn the chessboard," Emperor Qing thought coldly. "Today, everything will be settled. The fate of the Great Qing will no longer be subject to any variables beyond my control."

Emperor Qing coughed softly twice; the sound was not loud, but it clearly reached everyone's ears.

"Rise, all of you." Emperor Qing's voice carried a hint of languor and weariness, as if he were truly just a frail old man who had come here to recuperate.

"Thank you, Your Majesty!" The officials, as if granted a pardon, scrambled to their feet, many of their official robes soaked with cold sweat.

With Emperor Qing's casual remark, the suffocating atmosphere of murderous intent that had been hanging over Taiping Villa miraculously dissipated by more than half.

The invisible, ever-present threat of a sword piercing the air seemed to vanish. In its place lay an eerie calm.

The ministers who had accompanied the group finally felt a little relieved.

As they watched His Majesty, though pale, walk steadily with the support of Eunuch Hou into the Taiping Villa, they couldn't help but wonder: Had they really been overthinking things? Was His Majesty truly just here to recuperate?

Even some of the outer guard commanders loosened their grip on their sword hilts slightly.

However, Fan Xian, who was standing at the very front of the group, felt the hairs on his body stand on end.

He knew His Majesty the Emperor all too well.

The calmer and more nonchalant Emperor Qing appeared, the more terrifying the murderous intent lurking in the shadows became.

This calm is not a sign that danger has passed, but rather a brief and deathly stillness before the storm arrives.

……

The next few days at Taiping Villa were surprisingly easy and peaceful.

There were no assassins, no earth-shattering blows from grandmasters, and no signs of rebellion.

The entire villa seemed to have been forgotten by time, completely isolated from the hustle and bustle of the outside world.

Emperor Qing's life was extremely regular, even monotonous.

In the early morning, he would practice a set of extremely slow, harmless Tai Chi under the old locust tree in the yard. His movements were soft and weak, and sometimes he would even stop to rest for a moment because he was out of breath.

In the morning, he would sit in his study, browsing through some rare ancient books he had brought from Kyoto. Occasionally, he would call Fan Xian in, not to talk about state affairs or martial arts, but to chat about poetry and songs, or to tell some interesting stories about the streets of Kyoto decades ago.

At times like these, Fan Xian always felt extremely uneasy. Looking at the emperor before him, who seemed to have truly transformed into a kind elder, the chill in his heart grew stronger. He realized that while Emperor Qing's gaze was fixed on the pages of his book, the depths of his eyes seemed to reflect the entire map of the world, cold and ruthless.

In the afternoon, when the weather was nice, Emperor Qing would have Eunuch Hou move a reclining chair to the lake in front of the villa.

He took an ordinary bamboo fishing rod, baited it, and casually cast it into the lake. Then he lay down on the chair, half-closing his eyes, and fished for an entire afternoon.

A gentle breeze rippled across the lake, and the weeping willows swayed gracefully.

Emperor Qing didn't talk much, only coughing occasionally. His fish basket was usually empty, but he didn't seem to care; he seemed to enjoy only the waiting process.

"Fan Xian." One afternoon, Emperor Qing suddenly looked at the calm lake and spoke softly.

Fan Xian, who had been standing not far away, immediately stepped forward, bowed, and said, "Your subject is here."

"Tell me, why do the fish in this water, knowing there's a hook, still bite the bait?" Emperor Qing didn't turn around; his voice sounded somewhat ethereal in the breeze.

Fan Xian's heart skipped a beat. He carefully chose his words and cautiously replied, "Your Majesty, perhaps it was because of greed, or perhaps... it was because the bait was too..." This made them forget the danger.