The Prime Minister personally came to welcome them.

On the day of the Prime Minister’s grand birthday celebration, the Prime Minister’s estate was bustling, with carriages lining up one after another. The servants were overwhelmed; beyond attending to the guests' carriages, they had to announce each arrival loudly upon receiving their invitations, ensuring everyone heard, as this was deemed a sign of proper respect for the Prime Minister. Consequently, they had to remain at peak alertness every single moment.

At this juncture, three men with a strikingly discordant air arrived on horseback. Unlike other high-ranking officials, these two were laughing and chatting, completely devoid of the decorum expected of those in such high positions. The eldest among them, who had been pushed to the side, merely echoed their sentiments. They were a group, yet because the other two felt that he spent his days in the military camp putting on airs, and that coming to the Prime Minister’s estate to drink today required him to follow the stuffy rules of the scholars, this combination was well-known to anyone who had spent a few years in officialdom. When others greeted them, while the eldest would clasp his hands in return, the other two merely waved dismissively. Though the three were highly respected in the military, they were unpopular among their colleagues in the capital—save for the eldest and most steady one. Civil officials often submitted memorials impeaching them, but the Emperor always stepped in as a mediator. Though their reputations were less than stellar, their prowess in leading troops and fighting wars was undeniable. The frontier lands required their protection, and the people of the Chen Kingdom needed them. The bickering of the officials was one thing, but Chen Liuren, as the monarch, had to maintain a balance; he could not afford to be partial. Privately, he often joked to himself: "I may not be a man of great talent or virtue, but I am certainly not a foolish tyrant."

The servant at the gate took the trio's invitations and shouted, "Grand Commander Zou Wu, Grand Admiral Wei Liyang, and General Hou An have arrived!"

Whether it was the Prime Minister's servants or those of other officials, they had long since suffered the temper of the first two men. Because the title "Grand" was prefixed to General Hou An’s name, the other two were perpetually dissatisfied. Once, a servant who failed to notice this detail and was of a timid nature had been scolded until he fainted on the spot; although they hadn't laid a hand on him, it left an indelible shadow on his mind.

As the three generals were about to cross the threshold, they looked back to see an official of the third rank stepping down from a carriage. It was Lu Hongyan, the Minister of Personnel. Hou An asked in surprise, "Didn’t I hear that he had a falling out with Xiao Qinhe? Does he still dare to show his face at this banquet?"

Zou Wu stroked his bristling beard and laughed. "Honestly, among the civil officials, he and Xiao Qinhe are the only ones I respect. While I don't care for his scholarly way of speaking, they are the only ones with any backbone. The others don't even dare to look me in the eye when they talk."

Wei Liyang teased, "With that getup of yours, looking like a lion with a mane of straw, who wouldn't be startled? It’s useful on the battlefield, though—scaring the enemy senseless before the fight even begins."

Zou Wu raised his fist then lowered it, grumbling, "Hmph, I’ll give the Prime Minister some face today and refrain from fighting you."

While the three lingered, Minister Lu finished his business and cupped his hands to the generals at the gate. Compared to their casual demeanor toward others, their return gesture to Minister Lu was notably solemn.

Minister Lu stepped onto the stairs, paused, and said, "After you, gentlemen."

Shortly after they entered, a group from the Academy arrived at a leisurely pace. There were only three: the ill-intentioned Zhang Ling, the high-spirited Ren Pingsheng—fresh from the Youfang Poetry Gathering—and Song Linjie, who was only interested in free wine. Along the way, they encountered many familiar faces. Officials and scions of noble families greeted Ren Pingsheng, hoping to cultivate a connection with such a brilliant talent. Ren Pingsheng was not arrogant; despite his intellect, he remained humble and responded to everyone with grace. Meanwhile, Song Linjie’s reputation had also spread through the capital, particularly among military families. Before entering the Academy, he had continuously challenged the high-level guests of various houses. Later, when the Sword Saint Du Haifan visited, people witnessed him spar with the master; though he lost, it was an honorable defeat. Even his neck-and-neck fight with the commander of the Imperial Guard in the palace was known to all. The military families were deeply impressed, and the younger generation envied his martial prowess, wishing they had such skills to build merit on the battlefield. Zhang Ling, the leader, remained inconspicuous, which was exactly what he wanted. Being too eye-catching would only lead to being entangled in conversation, making it difficult to get his own business done.

Song Linjie swaggered along, swinging his "Heaven-Forging Blade" from time to time, causing passersby to scatter. Some even cursed, "Swinging that piece of junk in the street—is he crazy?"

Zhang Ling, unable to watch any longer, slapped him on the back of the head. "Can you stop for a moment? Twenty-four hours a day, besides eating and sleeping, you’re training. I truly admire you, but shouldn't there be a limit to being a martial fanatic?"

Song Linjie seemed to take the advice to heart, restraining his nature, though he had become much quieter. He claimed that closing his mouth when he needed to exercise restraint helped him suppress his restlessness—a necessity for anyone cultivating Zhang Ling’s domineering blade technique.

Upon reaching the gate, Zhang Ling and Ren Pingsheng handed over their invitations. The gatekeeper shouted, "Students of Chengdao Academy, Zhang Ling and Song Linjie, and Right Vice-Censor of the Inspectorate, Ren Pingsheng, have arrived!"

This announcement drew much attention. Other students arrived with their elders, but these three were a faction unto themselves. As various officials praised their youth and promise and prepared to invite them in for pleasantries, a towering figure appeared from within the estate. Everyone bowed in unison: "Greetings, Prime Minister."

After acknowledging the bows, the Prime Minister walked straight toward the three youths with a smile. "Ren Pingsheng, you rascal, you’ve got a lot of nerve. That line of yours—'Wearing yellow and purple to secure the ten ranks'—yellow and purple are not for everyone to wear. You’re coveting my position, aren't you?"

Ren Pingsheng replied calmly, "There are only two types of scholars: those who live in seclusion in the mountains, and those who aspire to be Prime Minister. As they say in the military, a scholar who does not want to be Prime Minister is no scholar at all."

The Prime Minister chuckled. "Good. I shall wait and see."

He turned his gaze to Song Linjie. "Dean Song’s grandson, same temperament indeed. If you could curb your nature and join the military, you might achieve something great. Think about it some more; whenever you’ve made up your mind, come find me. Even if you reject those three old fogeys, they still have to give me some face."

Song Linjie shook his head. "If I joined the army, I would be betraying my heart, and my martial path would stagnate, let alone achieving anything. I appreciate your kindness, Prime Minister."

The Prime Minister did not lament the refusal, merely nodding before his eyes finally fell upon Zhang Ling. He frowned slightly. "Have we met somewhere before?"