Tome of Troubled Times

Chapter 657: Three Bargaining Chips

For the first time, Cui Wenjing’s expression shifted slightly. He looked at Zhao Changhe with an odd curiosity. He seemed amazed at how Zhao Changhe could see through him so thoroughly.

Since he already saw through the considerations I made when loaning out the sword, why has he bothered with everything up until now? What have all these debates and struggles been for?

In the entire world, perhaps Zhao Changhe was the only one who dared make such an assertion about Cui Wenjing.

Even Cui Yuanyang, resting her chin on her hands, found herself wondering, Just who is big brother Zhao really courting here? He seems to understand Father even better than I do. Ever since he’s arrived, he’s barely spoken to me. How come he’s said more to Father in this short time than all of our conversations combined?

And the strangest part was that he was entirely correct.

Long ago, Cui Wenjing said, “If I, Cui Wenjing, admit that I’m not worthy of wielding the Qinghe Sword, how many in the clan can really proclaim themselves to be worthy? None of them have ever thought about why the spirit of the divine sword has faded away. Instead, they wish to use the sword for the very evil purposes it so despised: a bargaining chip to vie for political power. If the sword’s spirit was still here, it’d be weeping!”

While others were disqualified by their petty scheming, Cui Wenjing had always stood apart. His conduct was far nobler, and his demeanor was that of a crane among chickens. Yet he, too, considered himself unworthy of the Qinghe Sword.

Why was that?

Because deep down, he understood that the Qinghe Sword was not a legacy for any one family. The ideals represented by the sword inherently conflicted with the goals of an aristocratic family’s inheritance. Zhao Changhe’s quip about a tiny patch of land was not entirely inaccurate. Even if Cui Wenjing’s actions were more honorable than the actions of most other nobles, they could never truly align with the spirit of the Qinghe Sword. As long as the family’s focus remained on itself, it would inevitably be at odds with the divine sword.

His children, Cui Yuanyong and Cui Yuanyang, had earned the sword’s recognition because they had acted in defense of the land. But this was not the Cui Clan’s usual behavior. Their temporary worthiness would eventually fade—whether in the next generation or the one after that. Losing the Qinghe Sword was only a matter of time.

Cui Wenjing had been pondering how to navigate a future without the Qinghe Sword for a long time.

He often sat by the pavilion watching the flowing water, sometimes for an entire day. But he was not really watching the water. He was contemplating a world that seemed unchanged yet had already become fundamentally different.

This was an era of resurgent gods and demons, a period of unprecedented upheaval. Every moment brought the possibility of earth-shaking transformation, and in such a world, the Qinghe Sword no longer resonated.

His graying hair, perhaps, was not merely a symptom of age or illness.

“A single sword can protect a single family at best. To restore the old balance of power, you’d need all four swords together. Do you think the four families could still carry out a mission such as that? They can’t. And if you’re left with just one sword, it’s reduced to a mere heirloom, one no different from the relics of a sect like the Divine Brilliance Sect—perhaps even less. Even if someone offered to restore your old privileges, could you really hold onto them? And as for whatever god or demon promising to help... What good are they?”

Cui Wenjing did not say anything.

“Since you also view me as the representative of a god, then let’s weigh the scales equally and lay everything out piece by piece. First, regarding the restoration of the Qinghe Sword, I can offer a promise equivalent to theirs. Does that count as equal?”

“It does.”

“Second, the new dynasty promises to maintain your title as Marquis of Ji as it was before, with the right of hereditary succession in perpetuity, tied to the nation’s fate. In exchange, the role will bear none of its previous responsibilities. It will be a hollow title, merely symbolic, with an income attached to the title’s name. In short, as long as this court stands, the Cui Clan’s descendants will always have a livelihood.”

Cui Wenjing was momentarily stunned, but Zhao Changhe continued, “That’s where the guarantee ends. As for influence or power, that’s up to you to fight for. With your family’s substantial foundation and your head start on the new order, this puts you ahead of anyone else. I’m no expert in family management, but you are. If you can’t capitalize on this opportunity, then what right does the Cui Clan have to boast? Relying entirely on a single sword? If that’s the case, then whether it’s today or tomorrow, your fall is inevitable. I trust you’re well aware of this.”

The words Cui Wenjing had been about to say got caught in his throat.

He had originally intended to ask about future power. But upon giving it a little bit of thought, he realized he did not have the standing to ask that. If future generations failed to live up to expectations, how much longer could their ancestors intervene? The influence of a virtuous family wanes after five generations, or so said the ancient. Guaranteeing a livelihood alone was already more than sufficient.

No matter how grandiose the promises of others might seem, Cui Wenjing knew deep down that such assurances could not be upheld.

But his personal agreement was not enough for such matters.

For his vast family, a group that thrived under the old system and could prosper without lifting a finger, such a future was unthinkable. They would cling to promises, however unrealistic, that maintained illusions of past glory.

His children were promising, but what about everyone else?

He had a title, but what about the rest of them?

At times, Cui Wenjing found himself... utterly exhausted.

If a family was likened to an empire, then even Xia Longyuan, with all his strength, could not make an entrenched system conform entirely to his vision. Likewise, Cui Wenjing faced a similar challenge. Some things had to be torn down completely before they could be rebuilt. Imposing change from the top down was a monumental task.

Feeling drained, he said, “It’s not enough.”

Zhao Changhe tilted his head, studying him for a moment, before suddenly asking, “Uncle, do you know what happened to me on my way here?”

“What?”

“I was ambushed.”

Cui Wenjing froze, his brow furrowing tightly.

The assassination attempt itself was trivial. It was not even enough to even delay Zhao Changhe for a full minute. But the implications it carried were far more significant.

The assassination attempt had been aimed at whatever envoy came from the capital, and Zhao Changhe could not be sure whether Cui Wenjing had ordered it. It was not the kind of accusation one could bring up directly. However, observing Cui Wenjing’s demeanor, it became clear that he was weighing his options, carefully evaluating both sides’ offers. If that was the case, it was unlikely he would sanction an assassination of a court envoy at this juncture. Therefore, the order clearly did not come from him.

But if it wasn’t Cui Wenjing, then who’s trying to make a mess of things? Is it the Wang, Yang, or Li clans? Or was it someone else from within the Cui Clan?

Given the short distance from the capital to Qinghe, it was unlikely that outsiders could have acted so decisively without the Cui Clan being made aware. The Cui Clan’s influence in the region was too strong for external factions to easily interfere. This meant the most probable culprits were members of the Cui Clan itself.

Yet if it was indeed someone within the Cui Clan, it raised even more troubling questions. Could it be that, beyond Cui Wenjue’s earlier faction, a new splinter group had emerged? Perhaps certain individuals, impatient with Cui Wenjing’s indecision, had already aligned themselves with other forces. In that case, was the assassination attempt their way of forcing their clan leader’s hand?

Cui Wenjing was known for his resolute nature and would not be swayed by a few words, but others within the clan might not share his resolve. Once they came to accept another faction’s promises, they would naturally fear that the patriarch’s personal feelings for Zhao Changhe might tilt the balance. With such knowledge, it was highly likely for them to take extreme measures to eliminate the possibility altogether.

Zhao Changhe smiled. “This proves two things. First, the other party knows their promises are shaky at best. They don’t have the confidence to directly compete with me for your favor, which is why they have resorted to such underhanded tactics. On this point alone, uncle, you could already dismiss them outright.”

Cui Wenjing smiled faintly. “Indeed.”

“Second, I’m currently in danger. Now that they know I’ve reached Qinghe, they’ll definitely come for me. Once I’m dead, all their problems disappear.”

“And?” Cui Wenjing asked. “Are you asking for my help?”

“Not at all. All you need to do is pretend you don’t know anything.” Zhao Changhe’s voice grew cold. “There are some within the Cui Clan who are no longer loyal to you. Of course, this might not yet qualify as betrayal in your eyes, making it difficult for you to act. So leave it to me. If they’ve plotted to assassinate me, they will pay the price.”

Cui Wenjing narrowed his eyes but gave no reply.

Zhao Changhe continued calmly, “Since we’re treating this as a game between gods and demons, then we should act accordingly. This is the first battle of this kind, and words alone won’t suffice; it all comes down to whose fists are stronger. There are decisions you might find hard to make, and you should know they’re eager to make them for you. Unfortunately for them, so am I. Uncle, you’re free to wait until the outcome is clear before making any declarations. After all, power is the third bargaining chip on the scales.”

Cui Wenjing’s gaze locked onto Zhao Changhe’s, his eyes sharp. Zhao Changhe met his gaze steadily, unflinching. The atmosphere, which had been one of sharp verbal sparring and mutual respect, suddenly turned tense and fraught with latent hostility.

Cui Yuanyang, still trying to process the exchange, only caught fragments of the conversation. She understood that Zhao Changhe was in danger, that gods and demons might target him, but the sudden shift in mood left her bewildered.

Her heart skipped a beat, and she instinctively said, “Father...”

Cui Wenjing interrupted her abruptly. “Yangyang, go inform the elders that I’m unwell and instruct Wenwei to host King Zhao for lunch. You will not accompany them. As a bride-to-be, it’s improper to meet your fiancé before the wedding. Do you think this is some backwater clan? Running to the city gates to meet your betrothed like a common girl? Have you no sense of decorum? Since when has a daughter of my Cui Clan had to be so desperate? Ridiculous!”

Cui Yuanyang’s little jaw dropped.

Why am I suddenly being scolded for no reason?

She turned to Zhao Changhe for support, her eyes pleading. But Zhao Changhe simply smiled gently and said, “Yangyang, go and prepare for the wedding. I told you before that I won’t elope with you. I’ll marry you with honor and dignity.”