Capture the Jade (Attacking the Jade) - Chapter 31-Part 2
Chapter 31-Part 2
Teng Yuyi froze for a moment, recalling her father’s eyes from the previous life—eyes that refused to close in peace even after death.
Her nose suddenly stung with a sour ache, and the sharp, rigid armor of scales that had silently risen on her body slowly softened once more.
Teng Shao noticed something and changed the topic: “Cheng An said you spent the entire night at that brothel called the Caifeng Tower. What was that all about?”
Teng Yuyi placed the Xiaoya sword on the table: For this.
Then she spent more than half an hour writing down the entire sequence of events for her father to read.
Teng Shao had led troops for many years and had seen countless strange things, yet his daughter’s experience still left him startled.
He picked up the Xiaoya sword, gently brushing his fingertip along the blade.
The sword was made of green jade, translucent and shimmering.
Held against the light, it bore not a single thread of imperfection.
“A fine sword, no doubt. But its origins are unclear.”
Teng Yuyi: The Daoist of Dongming Temple said that this sword was made when the Venerable Qinglian couldn’t find a suitable magic artifact and fashioned it from a jade tablet he carried. Last time in the bamboo forest, we encountered a demon. If not for this sword, I wouldn’t have been able to save Cousin. Even last night at the Prince of Cheng’s manor, the corpse demon seemed wary of this weapon. What’s more, the sword has chosen its master—if used by someone else, it loses its power.
Teng Shao fell silent.
He had once seen such ancient divine weapons that bound themselves to one master.
The Prince of Cheng, Lin Xiao, had the legendary Chixiao sword.
It was said that of all the Emperor Taizu’s grandsons, he favored Lin Xiao the most.
Before his death, the emperor had personally bestowed the sword upon him.
Since acquiring Chixiao, the prince never parted with it, and no one else could even draw it from its sheath.
Teng Shao tried pulling his daughter’s sword.
The blade came out easily, but perhaps it was his imagination—the gentle glow that had encircled it moments ago dimmed almost instantly.
He returned the sword to his daughter.
When she stroked it, the glow returned.
Had he not seen it with his own eyes, he’d have dismissed it as some countryside myth.
Why such an ancient divine weapon would come to his daughter uninvited—he had no idea if this was a blessing or a curse.
“So it was that night at the Caifeng Tower that you encountered the corpse demon? And that’s how you came to know the Daoists from Qingyun Temple?”
Teng Yuyi nodded.
“That includes Lin Chengyou?”
Teng Yuyi: Naturally. He was the one who initiated the fight against the corpse demon.
Teng Shao studied his daughter for a while, then paced slowly in front of the desk: “You probably only know that Lin Chengyou is the Emperor’s nephew. But what you don’t know is that his mother, the Princess of Cheng, is the Emperor’s junior fellow disciple. Back when the Emperor hadn’t acknowledged his royal lineage, he was raised at Qingyun Temple. Daoist Qingxuzi raised him with great effort. The Princess of Cheng, wise and kind, never looked down on her somewhat slow-witted senior brother. During the years the Emperor traveled the world, she protected and defended him countless times. When the Emperor nearly met his end on multiple occasions, it was she and Prince Lan who risked their lives for him. So understand this—for the Emperor, Taoist Qingxuzi and the Prince and Princess of Cheng are as close as flesh and blood.
“When the Emperor ascended the throne, he remained kind-hearted. He treated Qingxuzi like a parent, and the Prince and Princess of Cheng like beloved family. The couple now travel the world, and in their absence, the Emperor personally tutors both Lin Chengyou and the Crown Prince. The children of both families call each other sibling.”
Teng Yuyi rested her chin in her palm, silent.
Her father was always a man of few words.
Why was he suddenly telling her all this?
Teng Shao continued: “Lin Chengyou is of royal blood and born into privilege. Add to that the close relationship with the Emperor, it’s not surprising his personality is a little unruly. Perhaps he’s had it too smooth, and Heaven grew envious. At age eight, the boy was cursed with a gu.”
Cursed with a gu? Teng Yuyi suddenly remembered that time outside the Caifeng Tower—Lin Chengyou had disguised himself as a white-bearded wandering Taoist.
She’d accidentally glimpsed a faint golden mark at the back of his neck and had wondered what it was.
So that was the mark of the gu curse?
She curiously wrote: What kind of gu was it?
Teng Shao frowned deeply: “None of the court officials know the details. If not for the fact that Lin Chengyou has an annual relapse, the secret would’ve remained airtight. It’s said that when the curse flares, he suffers unbearable headaches and must carry special pills to suppress the symptoms. Moreover, his mind is affected by the parasite—he finds it nearly impossible to feel romantic affection for young ladies. Perhaps that’s why, despite many noble families wanting to marry into the Prince of Cheng’s house, Lin Chengyou has never been engaged. Taoist Qingxuzi has tried countless ways to help. This current journey of his is said to be a search for a cure.”
Teng Yuyi nodded, then frowned.
If the gu was that serious, why would the Princess of Cheng show her portrait to her son in the previous life? She had long heard of the couple’s honesty and kindness.
If their son was still ill, they wouldn’t lightly arrange a match.
The more she thought, the more puzzled she became.
Perhaps being born again had changed her fate—many things no longer aligned with her past life’s memories.
After finishing his tale, Teng Shao turned and found his daughter studying him closely.
He paused, hands clasped behind his back: “Why I’m telling you all this is because—”
He faltered.
He didn’t know how to begin.
This should’ve been the mother’s job, but Hui Niang had passed early.
Having spent his life on the battlefield, he now found himself powerless trying to act like a mother even once.
Last night at the palace banquet, a drunken censor named Su Xingwang blurted in front of the emperor that ever since his daughter laid eyes on Lin Chengyou in the imperial gardens, she had fallen sick with lovesickness.
No amount of scolding or persuasion from her parents could dissuade her—she insisted on marrying Lin Chengyou or no one.
They tried everything, but she was wasting away, begging the Emperor to tie the red string of fate.
The Emperor patiently comforted Su Xingwang, even assigned his own physician to the girl, but tactfully declined the marriage proposal.
Teng Shao had been watching from the side and recalled having seen Lin Chengyou himself several times.
The boy had been striking and cheerful since childhood, and now grew into a refined, handsome man.
Girls of Chang’an had long been smitten—nothing surprising there.
So when he returned to the manor and heard of his own daughter’s involvement with Lin Chengyou, he was alarmed—not because he feared scandal, but that his daughter might end up like that girl…
He carefully said, “You’re new to Chang’an. Making friends is a good thing. Those two young Taoists are pure-hearted and loyal—keep their company. But there’s something I must warn you: once the corpse demon is dealt with, steer clear of Lin Chengyou.”
Teng Yuyi was stunned.
So after all that circling around, this was what her father worried about? As if she wanted anything to do with Lin Chengyou! Just hearing his name made her blood boil.
She snorted and wrote: Father overthinks. I avoid Lin Chengyou like the plague, and he clearly looks down on me. Once this is over, we’ll never cross paths again.
Seeing his daughter react not only with aversion but even disgust at the mention of Lin Chengyou, Teng Shao no longer needed to guess.
Clearly, the two clashed in temperament.
His daughter had always been strong-willed—unlikely to wallow in soft feelings like the Su family’s girl.
He simply replied, “As long as you understand where I’m coming from.”
Teng Yuyi then unrolled a scroll in front of him: Have you ever seen this man?
Teng Shao didn’t answer right away.
After studying the drawing for a while, he said uncertainly, “I’ve never seen him. Who is he?”
Teng Yuyi wrote: It sounds crazy, but I dreamed this man killed me. The dream was eerily vivid and recurring. I got so scared I drew his face from memory.
Teng Shao’s expression darkened as he took the scroll.
But a mere portrait—there was no way to tell anything for sure.
Teng Yuyi then sketched again: Have you seen this kind of hidden weapon?
Teng Shao slowly scanned the drawing before finally nodding: “Something similar, yes—in a distant army. But those were about as thick as zither strings. None as fine as what you’ve drawn.”
Teng Yuyi was deeply disappointed.
Her father had seen nearly every weapon in the world.
If even he had no lead, then wasn’t the trail going cold?
She quickly wrote: This man is deadly. Sooner or later, he’ll come after me. Please find him quickly—I can’t sleep or eat with peace otherwise.
Teng Shao looked closely at her face.
“Just a dream. This person might not even exist. Why are you so afraid?”
Teng Yuyi’s heart pounded, but she kept her face calm: Since receiving this sword, I’ve had several dreams that came true. I dreamt Cousin would be in danger, and she was. I dreamt someone named Lu would pass the imperial exam—and he did. Then I dreamt of my own death by this man’s hand. Wouldn’t you be scared too?
Teng Shao’s gaze was deep and piercing, as though he could see straight into the heart.
After a long moment, he nodded and stopped asking: “Very well. I’ll uncover this man’s identity as soon as possible.”
Only then did Teng Yuyi feel at ease.
She wrote again: This man is no ordinary villain. He knows strange arts and can kill martial masters with one move. If you ever encounter him, please be extremely careful.
Teng Shao was surprised.
His daughter was unusually serious for just a dream.
And she didn’t seem worried for herself, but more for him.
But before he could say anything, she calmly picked up the tray and walked out.
He recalled the year his wife passed.
The Dangxiang and Tubo launched attacks, and the army at Fengxiang was in dire straits.
The court sent him to assist with his Zhenhai troops.
The road was long, the border harsh, and his daughter too young to follow.
He had no choice but to send her to the Du family.
Months later, upon his triumphant return, he rushed to see her despite still being covered in dust and grit.
But she refused to meet him, as if she didn’t recognize him at all.
Powerless, he returned to the main hall, sat silently for a long time.
Then he happened to glance up—and caught a small figure darting past the doorway.
Chasing after her, he found her hiding outside the door, her black-and-white eyes blinking, tear stains still fresh on her cheeks.
When she saw him, she turned and fled—proud and stubborn as ever.
He caught her in his arms.
Father and daughter crouched together under the setting sun, not speaking a word.
That scene burned into his memory, became a scar he never forgot.
Years had passed, and yet her expression never changed.
Watching her retreating figure now, he said gently, “All right. Father understands.”
Teng Yuyi paused for a split second, then briskly stepped out the door.
That afternoon, Teng Shao declined every invitation delivered to the residence.
He personally selected several dozen strong guards to station around the manor and chose a long white spear, sharp and commanding, propping it beside him as he sat squarely in the central courtyard.
Juesheng and Qizhi, having finished setting up the Nine Heavens Demon-Subduing Array, were utterly drained.
They also pasted talismans in every corner before returning to the Songtao Courtyard, panting for breath.
As soon as one stepped through the door, they would see Teng Yuyi and Du Tinglan seated in front of a thick grove of green bamboo, playing a game of chess.
The bamboo shadows loomed thick and heavy, nearly blocking out more than half the sun.
“Miss Teng, Miss Du.”
Du Tinglan rose with a smile.
“Two honored Taoists, have the Shizi and the Taoist from Dongming Temple arrived?”
Juesheng and Qizhi both shook their heads.
“They didn’t send word either?”
Juesheng said, “No.”
Qizhi glanced up at the sky.
“It’s getting late — they ought to be arriving soon.”
“Yes, yes, they’re probably already on the road.”
Though Du Tinglan tried to smile, she couldn’t hide the worry on her face.
Teng Yuyi, however, pulled Juesheng and Qizhi closer, instructed the maids to serve them tea and snacks, and personally began teaching them how to play chess.
One round after another, the sun crept slowly westward.
Several times the maids came with messages, but there was no sign nor shadow of Lin Chengyou or the others.
When even Steward Cheng came to check for news, Teng Yuyi couldn’t help but lift her gaze and look toward the horizon — the orange-red glow along the edge of the sky was gradually being replaced by a vast, silent shade of deep blue.
Wait much longer, and night would fall completely.
Juesheng and Qizhi were growing more and more anxious — how could they still have the heart to play games or nibble at snacks? They sat cross-legged beneath the veranda, one holding aloft the altar-stabilizing wood, the other murmuring incantations under his breath.
Teng Yuyi slowly set down her chess piece as well, holding her breath and steadying her spirit, as though facing a great enemy.
This wait dragged on for more than half an hour.
From the dimming twilight to the time the bright moon hung high in the sky — not to mention corpse demon— not even a single fly had managed to make it in.
Teng Shao remained on guard in the main hall.
Steward Cheng led people around to light the lanterns.
The entire estate stood ready in tight formation, with guards patrolling every corner.
After a while, in order to let Teng Yuyi dine with the two Taoists, Teng Shao had a meal sent into the inner courtyard.
Juesheng and Qizhi hurriedly wolfed down a few mouthfuls, then rushed back to the veranda.
They had already drained much of their spiritual strength earlier when laying down the formation.
Now, with the added pressure of having to guard against a sudden attack from the corpse demon, they dared not relax for even a second.
If it were only for a short while, it would be fine, but with time dragging on, it became a true torment to the mind.
By the start of the xu hour (7–9pm), Juesheng could hold on no longer and was the first to start nodding off.
Qizhi cracked open an eye and whispered, “Juesheng, Juesheng.”
Juesheng jerked awake with a start, trying to force his spirit back into focus, but once drowsiness set in, there was no stopping it — before long, he was swaying again, teetering left and right.
Teng Yuyi and Du Tinglan, afraid to disturb their formation guarding, had deliberately stayed inside earlier.
Hearing the noise, they came out to take a look — only to see one about to doze off, and the other rubbing his eyes from sheer fatigue.
Teng Yuyi hurriedly told the maids to bring water.
They wrung out warm cloths and helped Juesheng and Qizhi wash their faces.
After some effort freshening up, the two finally managed to shake off a bit of their sleepiness.
Du Tinglan chuckled, “The Taoists must be exhausted — you didn’t sleep a wink last night. Even a grown man couldn’t hold out like that.”
