Chapter 78: The Power That Strikes Fear into Li Shimin

Ganlu Hall. Li Shimin sat in silence, his brows furrowed as he stared at the memorial from Huxian regarding Du Chengfeng that now lay atop his desk.

Li Shimin was a man of striking features—sword-like eyebrows, eyes bright as stars, his temples sharp as if carved by a blade. The tight knit of his brow now lent his countenance an air of even greater severity.

This Du Chengfeng was truly an enigma, one who taxed all of Li Shimin’s wits yet remained unfathomable.

He had only just conferred upon the man the title of Founding County Lord, yet in the blink of an eye, Du Chengfeng had gone and leased all the land in his newly awarded fief to the villagers—free of charge.

Clearly, the man had not regarded the imperial reward as anything of true consequence.

What’s more, he had set about establishing a free school for the people of his domain, ensuring that every villager had the chance to read and learn.

Not since the unification of the Central Plains by Qin Shi Huang, in all the centuries that followed, had anyone acted as Du Chengfeng had. His was a precedent without equal.

Were it not for his many great contributions to the Tang, Li Shimin might well have suspected that Du Chengfeng’s overtures toward the people hid some ulterior, dangerous ambition.

Emperors, by nature, are creatures of suspicion. Li Shimin was no exception.

Any hint of instability—any trace of a threat to the throne—would be ruthlessly extinguished.

He could not help but recall the chilling look in Du Chengfeng’s eyes the first time the latter entered the palace. Even now, the memory sent an involuntary shiver down his spine.

Li Shimin set the memorial aside, his heart troubled. He paced back and forth in the imperial study, thoughts in disarray. He detested this feeling—this sense that something was beyond his grasp.

With a sigh, he cast his gaze to a shadowed corner of the study and called out coldly, “An Yi, come forth.”

A tall figure slipped soundlessly from the darkness, clad in black robes, standing proud and imposing.

“Your Majesty,” An Yi intoned.

“An Yi, some time ago I tasked you with investigating Du Chengfeng. Have you observed anything unusual?” Li Shimin’s expression grew stern.

Ever since Du Chengfeng’s first visit to the palace, Li Shimin had secretly ordered the Bureau of Hundred Riders and the shadow guards to investigate his background.

Yet, they had uncovered nothing out of the ordinary. Du Chengfeng had spent his entire youth in Du Village, hardly ever setting foot beyond its borders, not even attending a private school.

This was precisely what baffled Li Shimin—nothing about Du Chengfeng’s past could account for the man he was. So, he had quietly ordered An Yi to continue the investigation.

“Your Majesty, there has been nothing out of the ordinary. Yesterday, Du Chengfeng hosted the four great scholars of Chang’an at his residence for a banquet, but we could not ascertain what was discussed—our people simply could not infiltrate the premises,” An Yi reported, a note of resignation in his voice.

An Yi felt somewhat disgruntled. He was, after all, a top master of the imperial household—perhaps not the greatest in all the land, but certainly among the very best.

And yet, even he could not approach within half a foot of Du Chengfeng’s residence. Masters such as himself possessed a heightened sense for danger.

He was acutely aware that every time he attempted to sneak closer, he immediately sensed several powerful presences locking onto him.

It was as though, should he truly attempt to infiltrate Du Chengfeng’s residence, he would never return.

If Du Chengfeng had heard An Yi’s thoughts, he would likely have scoffed.

His mansion was guarded by two hundred elite clone soldiers, each on par with An Yi in skill, all armed with semi-automatic rifles. The place was as impenetrable as an iron fortress.

Unless one entered openly through the main gate with a servant’s introduction, any attempt at stealth would be nothing but a fool’s dream.

“Oh? Is that so?” Li Shimin was taken aback, finding the matter utterly incredible. A look of deep concern settled over his face. “An Yi, are you certain? With your skills, you could not even get close?”

Li Shimin knew An Yi’s abilities well—not inferior to Qin Shubao’s. In the arts of stealth and concealment, An Yi far surpassed even the likes of Qin Shubao.

Yet for such a master to be unable to approach within half a foot of Du Chengfeng’s residence—how could the emperor possibly believe it?

“Your Majesty, this is the honest truth. Moreover…” An Yi hesitated, his face grave.

“Moreover what?” Seeing An Yi’s reluctance to speak, Li Shimin’s heart skipped a beat, a sudden anxiety stirring within him.

An Yi paused, then answered solemnly, “Moreover, through my covert observation, I have determined that there is a guard force of at least one hundred and fifty at Du Chengfeng’s residence. Every one of them is hiding their aura, and I suspect their skills are on par with mine.”

Li Shimin drew in a sharp breath. This news was simply too shocking, too difficult to accept.

More than a hundred and fifty guards, each as skilled as An Yi—such a force was nothing short of terrifying.

An Yi had served him loyally for many years; Li Shimin did not doubt his judgment.

If An Yi was not mistaken, then Du Chengfeng truly did command a formidable private guard.

Li Shimin did a quick calculation in his mind: within the palace, there were, at most, twenty masters of An Yi’s caliber. Among the first-tier generals of Tang—those like Cheng Yaojin and Qin Shubao—there were perhaps thirty in total.

Yet Du Chengfeng’s household alone boasted over one hundred and fifty such experts—more than three times Li Shimin’s own might. The more he pondered it, the more alarming and dreadful it seemed.

Could Du Chengfeng be the disciple of some legendary grandmaster? Reflecting on Du Chengfeng’s astonishing knowledge, mysterious abilities—such as predicting the coming year’s locust plague—and his unparalleled calligraphy, it seemed the only plausible explanation.

Li Shimin silently arrived at this conclusion.

This terrible realization left him speechless. Hands clasped behind his back, he tilted his head and narrowed his eyes, uncertain whether he was deep in thought or simply worried.

Whether by coincidence or ill fortune, the weather that day was overcast and gloomy, a perfect mirror of Li Shimin’s heavy mood.

Pale, dusky light cast his solitary figure into sharper relief, lending him an air of desolation.

An Yi remained by his side, maintaining a deferential, silent posture, yet his anxious expression betrayed a deep unease.

As the leader of Li Shimin’s shadow guards, he well understood how deeply the emperor had been shaken.

“At ease, An Yi. You may withdraw. I wish to be alone for a while,” Li Shimin finally sighed, waving him away.

“Yes, Your Majesty.” With a flash, An Yi vanished once more into the darkness.

Indeed, the latest intelligence on Du Chengfeng had left Li Shimin with a sense of helplessness, as if events had slipped from his control.

Yet, at least Du Chengfeng was a man of the Tang, and showed no sign of treason.

For now, at least, the evidence pointed to loyalty—otherwise, Du Chengfeng would never have resolved so many of his problems.

Li Shimin knew well that a genius such as Du Chengfeng was surely possessed of great ambition. It was evident from the heroic verses of “Man Jiang Hong” he had composed at the Chang’an Poetry Gathering.

Perhaps, for reasons of his own, Du Chengfeng simply disdained the official posts offered him.