Chapter 300: Tiger-Head Cloth Doll

“Mr. Gu, do you believe that for these refugees, dying in the wilderness is fair?”

As he spoke, a faint smile flickered across the blue-robed man’s face.

Gu Ning’an shook his head. “Not at all. What they have suffered is beyond their control—there is no question of fairness or unfairness. If blame must be assigned, it falls on those in power within the Great Wu court, for they are the ones who have cast these people into endless suffering.”

Before the blue-robed man could respond, the purple-robed youth, who had maintained a calm and indifferent expression throughout, interjected:

“The Great Wu court is in chaos. Outsiders only see the luxury enjoyed by those in power, but they fail to see the constant struggles they endure amidst the turmoil.”

“Such hardships—only those in power can truly understand.”

Gu Ning’an immediately countered, “If one enjoys power, wealth, and luxury, and wields great authority, then they must also bear the hardships that come with it.”

“All things have two sides—where there is gain, there is loss. The elite stand above all because they reap the benefits of the entire world, yet the hardships they endure are not even a fraction of what the common people suffer.”

“For those in the imperial court, the price of losing a power struggle is merely their life.”

“But for the common people, the court’s infighting means displacement, starvation, and death in the wilderness. Third Young Master Ye, do you truly believe that these privileged aristocrats, blessed by fate, endure greater suffering than the toiling masses?”

Faced with this storm of sharp questioning, the purple-robed youth—normally skilled in debate—found himself unable to formulate a rebuttal.

After a long silence, he could only force out a weak retort, “Mr. Gu, you are not one of them—you wouldn’t understand…”

Hearing this, Gu Ning’an merely chuckled, losing interest in continuing the conversation.

To the side, the blue-robed man felt a surge of satisfaction upon seeing his elder brother rendered speechless and forced to rely on such a flimsy excuse. He took up the conversation himself, “At the end of the day, the root of Great Wu’s chaos lies in the vacant throne.”

“A nation cannot go a single day without a ruler. Once a new emperor is decided, Great Wu will recover.”

“Mr. Gu, are you aware that Great Wu has only two princes left?”

Gu Ning’an nodded. “I am aware.”

The blue-robed man smirked. “In your opinion, which of the two is more suited to be the next emperor?”

Gu Ning’an replied flatly, “With the current state of Great Wu—where the people suffer and despair—neither prince is worthy of the throne.”

The blue-robed man was momentarily stunned, caught off guard by the blunt response. After a brief pause, he said:

“Your thoughts seem to align with those of many among the common folk. But regardless of public sentiment, the new emperor will inevitably be chosen from those two.”

Gu Ning’an smiled. “Nothing in this world is set in stone. Dynasties rise and fall—who can say for certain who will sit on Great Wu’s throne?”

“And who ever decreed that the new emperor must carry the bloodline of the previous ruler?”

The blue-robed man opened his mouth slightly, a mix of surprise and amusement flashing across his face.

“It’s one thing for a commoner to rise like a phoenix, but to produce a true dragon—it’s as impossible as an ant ascending to the heavens…”

Gu Ning’an countered smoothly, “Since ancient times, how many emperors, when traced back several generations, did not come from ordinary families?”

At these words, a chill ran through the blue-robed man’s heart, a fleeting yet inexplicable sense of danger creeping into his mind. He forced a light laugh and lifted his tone slightly:

“So, Mr. Gu, do you truly believe that Great Wu’s vast empire could change hands entirely?”

“Nothing in this world is absolute. If power shifts, why should that be impossible?”

Such words—tantamount to treason—flowed from Gu Ning’an’s lips as casually as if he were discussing daily gossip with a neighbor.

Even the blue-robed man, the most audacious of the three, found himself at a loss for words.

For a brief moment, all three “distinguished figures” were awed by the sheer boldness of this man they had encountered in the wilderness.

After all, though they had concealed their true identities, their speech and conduct made it evident that they were men of official status.

Had this Mr. Gu truly not realized who they were?

Or had he seen through them from the start—but simply did not care and spoke his mind freely regardless?

After a long silence, the blue-robed man finally spoke again, pursing his lips into a smile.

“Mr. Gu, such words could cost you your head. Best not to say them so casually next time…”

Gu Ning’an grinned. “Didn’t Fifth Young Master Ye say earlier that the late emperor of Great Wu deserved to die?”

“Isn’t that just as treasonous?”

“Uh…” The blue-robed man was momentarily caught off guard. After a pause, he laughed awkwardly.

“I suppose so… I suppose so…”

Three days later, at dawn, Gu Ning’an and his companions finally arrived at their destination—the Hunling Immortal Sect.

A veil of white mist drifted lazily in the morning breeze, sometimes gathering in wisps, sometimes spreading like gauze.

Standing by the lakeside, they could see the water clearly for only about ten feet ahead.

Beyond that, no matter how hard they tried to peer into the lake’s depths, they could not see a thing.

The middle-aged scholar, who had remained silent throughout the journey, finally spoke up to introduce the lake before them.

According to him, this lake was called “Half-Moon Lake,” and it was shrouded in white mist all year round. No matter how experienced a boatman might be, if they attempted to row across, they would always find themselves returning to the same shore.

However, if one could reach the heart of the lake, they would see a lush, verdant immortal island. This island was called “Half-Sun Island,¹” and it was the residence of immortals.

Many people knew that this place was home to immortals. In the past, numerous seekers of the Dao had come, attempting to cross the lake and set foot on the island.

Yet, regardless of their status or abilities, none could pass through the seemingly thin mist.

It was only after countless failures that people realized this mist was likely not a natural phenomenon but a barrier created by the immortals to separate themselves from the mortal world.

The man in blue robes rolled up his sleeves, crouched by the lakeside, and dipped his hand into the water.

To his surprise, the lake was not ice-cold but warm, carrying an indescribable heat.

The man in purple robes turned to the middle-aged scholar and asked flatly, “Uncle, how are we supposed to enter?”

The middle-aged scholar did not respond but instead shifted his gaze toward Gu Ning’an, who was crouching a short distance away, digging a small hole in the ground with his hands.

“Mr. Gu, what are you doing?”

Gu Ning’an did not reply immediately. Instead, he retrieved a pitch-black tiger-head cloth doll from his sleeve, placed it into the hole, and carefully covered it with soil.

The three distinguished men recognized the doll. They remembered that three days ago, when they first encountered the refugees, Gu Ning’an had taken it from one of them.

But why was he burying it here?

As Gu Ning’an filled the hole with soil, he suddenly spoke up.

“Third Prince Ye, Fifth Prince Ye, Royal Prince Ye—²”

“There is something I do not understand, and I would like to ask the three of you for guidance.”