The Grand Banquet of the Prime Minister's Manor

Night. As the winter deepened, a dragon-like streak of fiery red gradually added itself to the bustling prosperity of Di'an City. Though the turn of the year was still some time away, the Directorate of Ceremonial's minor officials had already fitted red lanterns over the inscription lamps flanking the streets, and temple fairs and night markets throughout the city were decked in lanterns and colored banners, remaining sleepless from dusk till dawn. Beyond the bustling marketplace, some of Di'an City's prominent households and great Confucian scholars hosted refined poetry gatherings to celebrate the coming year. These gatherings drew many scions of noble clans and traveling scholars; occasionally, an elegant, memorable verse would emerge, sending ripples through Di'an City at year's end and leaving behind a pleasing story told far and wide. For the past half-month, however, these poetry gatherings and feasts hosted by the scholars had steadily quieted down. The reason was simple: half a month ago, the Chancellor's Manor had begun widely distributing invitations, preparing for the Grand Banquet of the Prime Minister's Manor. Scholars were lofty and high-minded, unyielding in character—yet they also needed to eat. Moreover, If their poetry gatherings coincided with the Prime Minister's Manor's banquet and no one showed up, the desolate emptiness would be utterly humiliating. On the day of the grand banquet, the vast Chancellor's Manor was uncharacteristically crowded; even before its majestic, towering gates, the atmosphere took on a rare touch of worldly bustle. To prepare for this banquet—the Prime Minister's Manor's triennial grand occasion—stewards and managers of every rank practically worked around the clock, non-stop through all twelve two-hour watches. After all, anyone permitted entry over these few days was an honored guest. There were officials from the Six Ministries, the Three Excellencies and Nine Ministers, as well as military officers from the borders. Beyond the court faction, there were also retained elders of unfathomable cultivation strolling about—some gathered in small groups exchanging stories, while others leaned against walls cradling swords, drinking cold wine in solitary contemplation. Naturally, such a grand assembly was not without the presence of the sects. Though tensions remained high and drawn like taut bows, neither side had completely dropped all pretenses yet; the Sect Alliance had also sent elders and talented disciples to pay their respects. Every guest at the banquet was an eminent figure capable of holding the life and death of thousands in their hands in the outside world. Because of this, the Prime Minister's Manor's Grand Banquet was also known as the Lesser Year Banquet. According to Great Yan's ancestral statutes, on New Year's Eve—the thirtieth day of the twelfth month—no ranked officials from the Six Ministries, Nine Ministers, or local administrative bureaus were permitted to return home, no matter who they were; they were obliged to remain dutifully inside their yamens to keep vigil through the night for the dynasty. And following New Year's Eve was the Year Banquet. At that time, the Son of Heaven of Great Yan would host a feast for his ministers at the Taiqing Palace to ring out the old year and welcome the new. Yet over the past two years, as Great Yan's political situation steadily grew tense and undercurrents surged across the lands, some worries had spread among the invited guests before they officially received invitations from the Prime Minister's Manor. For instance: What if the Prime Minister, in his advanced years and whims, decided to set the date of his Grand Banquet on New Year's Day itself? Fortunately, that had not come to pass. Although the date of the Prime Minister's Manor's banquet was a little closer to New Year's Day than before, there was still some time between them. What the coming year would bring could wait until next year; at least they could enjoy a peaceful New Year this time. Meanwhile, to speak of another thread: Beyond these dignitaries and nobles, the banquet also invited rising young talents. Topics on statecraft and poetry were set to test them, and whoever took top honors would even be granted a private audience with the Chancellor. Consequently, compared to those anxious, weighty figures, these youths appeared far more carefree and spirited. Clad in fine garments atop spirited steeds, their heroic ambition reaching the clouds, they displayed their brilliance without restraint at the evening banquet. In short, Regardless of everything, the grand banquet proceeded smoothly amidst a festive atmosphere. *** Waking once again from unconsciousness, a splitting headache and parched dryness in her throat instantly assaulted her senses. Her golden lashes hung half-lowered, trembling as Orenli struggled to open her eyes and take in her surroundings, but around her was nothing but darkness and dead silence. The scent of decay and a faint foul stench hung heavy in the air. Licking her dry, cracked lips with the tip of her tongue, Orenli instinctively tried to move. With a rattle of iron chains, a tearing pain shot through her shoulders. The pain was piercing, yet it also caused her bodily sensation to flood back like water rushing into a channel. She was currently standing—or rather, half-kneeling, though her knees could not touch the ground. Two iron chains hung down from the darkness, the barbed hooks at their ends piercing through her hands to hoist her suspended, while another two dangling iron hooks pierced through her shoulders. These four chains held her firmly locked in this agonizing posture. She did not know where she was, but she had evidently not been killed, for the pain throbbing through her body remained intensely vivid. The expression on that Great Yan man's face before she lost consciousness flashed across her mind, and a sigh stirred in Orenli's lovely eyes. *I was captured after all...* Having grasped her predicament and grown accustomed to the physical pain, Orenli began attempting to link to her magic rings. Though she had no idea what peril she was in, her temperament would never permit her to sit and await death. From the intelligence she had gathered, the cultivation system of the Great Yan Dynasty was completely different from that of Sien. While they possessed methods to suppress magic, those might not be particularly effective against her. Yet the instant her consciousness sank into her magic rings, a mouthful of crimson blood welled up and gushed from her lips. "Cough, cough, cough... agh!" Opening her eyes again, faint dark glimmers lit up Orenli's gaze as she instinctively looked down at her chest. Under the effect of the Ring of the Magic Eye, she could barely discern her surroundings. It was a room resembling a dungeon cell. In the cramped space, there was nothing aside from the iron chains extending down from the ceiling, sealed off by a single solid iron door. She was still wearing the same ornate purple Gothic dress, but her chest over her heart was drenched in blood. While she had been unconscious, four black iron rods had been driven into her flesh, piercing through her clothing and tissue to anchor around her heart. The once-intricate gown was now stained with blood. These four black rods emanated an eerie fluctuation that impeded her connection to her magic rings. The only fortunate thing was that the blood oozing from the wounds had already scabbed over; otherwise, she would likely have died from blood loss by now. Lightly biting her dry, pale lips, Orenli's mouth moved slightly, forcing out a single word through her teeth: "Bastard..." In the Great Yan Dynasty, the only person who understood the principles of magic rings was Xu Changtian. Yet she never anticipated he would employ such a method to restrain her. Just as she suspected, Great Yan possessed no means specifically designed to suppress a boundary magus. The four black rods could interfere with her perception of magic rings, but they could not sever it. The problem, however, was that the four black rods were planted too close to her heart. If she established contact with her magic rings, the slightest increase in her heartbeat would cause it to touch those four rods. And the moment it did, the unique anti-magic material of the rods would physically and forcefully sever the magic ring circuits surrounding her heart. Past the initial fury, Orenli's habitual analytical calm brought a slight curve to her pale lips. This crude, unrefined, yet exceedingly ingenious anti-magic design gradually brought her a hint of satisfaction. She could cast small-scale magic rings, yet remained incapable of casting spells powerful enough to break her shackles. A momentary touch would not kill her, but it would leave her weakened. This was his mockery of her—and his provocation. Orenli's thoughts turned swiftly. In her azure eyes, gleaming with dark light, stirred a hint of excitement. Her pale lips, stained with crimson blood, curled into an alluring smile. She detested events spiraling out of her control, yet the thrill of defying the odds against a formidable, cunning adversary excited her just as much. That Xu Changtian was clever, but unfortunately, he still understood too little about magic rings—or rather, he knew too little about her. *Squelch.* As Orenli gently clenched her palms, pierced through by the iron hooks, a sickening sound of torn flesh quietly rang out. "..." In an instant, The light in Orenli's eyes froze, and her consciousness rapidly faded as fresh blood trickled from the corner of her lips. Under the constriction of a magic ring, her heart shrank by a full circle, its beating grinding to a halt. A boundary magus had a fragile physique barely different from that of an ordinary mortal; a spell that forcefully contracted the heart was more than enough to be fatal... *Bang!* As though sensing something, a dull crash suddenly came from the iron door, and a middle-aged man in tight-fitting martial attire burst in, slightly panicked. The door swung open, and the firelight from the dungeon corridor spilled into the room, dancing across Orenli's beautiful brow, which was now shrouded in the pall of death. Inside the cramped dungeon, there was not a sound. Seeing the foreign woman whose heart had stopped beating and whose life force was rapidly ebbing away, the middle-aged man appeared before Orenli as though teleporting, bending down over her. Pulling a jade bottle containing secret medicine from his robes, he cursed under his breath: "Damn it! If you want to die, don't do it while I'm on duty—" *Thump-thump.* Before he could finish, The middle-aged man froze mid-motion. He seemed... to have heard someone else's heartbeat in the room.