Just then, footsteps approached from the distance.
"Your Highness! Your Highness, why are you out here?"
An elderly man in butler's attire hurried toward them, several servants trailing behind. Upon seeing the mud stains on Xie Qingyan's robes, his face paled. He immediately ordered the servants to fetch water for washing and fresh robes for changing.
"Your Highness was reviewing memorials in the study this afternoon, was he not? Why has he come to the rear garden?"
Xie Qingyan's expression didn't waver. His voice emerged cool and detached: "Nothing of concern. This prince wished for some fresh air."
The words carried the natural authority of someone born to power. The butler fell silent at once, bowing as he retreated.
Yin Wuwang watched from behind the decorative rocks, brow furrowed.
From the looks of it, Xie Qingyan had already slipped into character.
He needed to return to the Duke's manor quickly, before the NPCs noticed anything amiss.
Ding!
"Friendly reminder: The Duke of the Realm's manor is located in the eastern district. Approximately two quarters of an hour by horse. Savior #9527 is advised to return promptly to avoid NPC detection of anomalies."
Yin Wuwang scaled the decorative rocks and, seizing a moment when the servants had dispersed, strode quickly to Xie Qingyan's side. He lowered his voice:
"This sovereign will return to the manor first. Tomorrow at court—how do we play this?"
"Openly hostile. Secretly coordinating." Xie Qingyan's response was immediate. "In the original story, the Regent and the Duke are mortal enemies. We must maintain that facade—but we cannot actually undermine each other."
"Understood." Yin Wuwang nodded. "One more thing—"
His voice dropped further, and something serious flickered in his eyes.
"No matter what garbage that broken artifact spirit recommends... this sovereign will never actually move against you."
Xie Qingyan looked at him.
A moment of silence.
Then a slight nod. "...Mm."
Just one syllable.
Yin Wuwang's heart skipped a beat.
Fuguang agreed! He said "mm"!
He fought to suppress the smile threatening to spread across his face. Turning, he strode toward the manor's exit, his steps so light he might as well have been walking on clouds.
Xie Qingyan watched his retreating figure, brow furrowing slightly.
That demon's expression just now... why did it look almost... pleased?
Yin Wuwang truly is a strange one.
He shook his head, dismissing the thought.
Irrelevant. Whatever Yin Wuwang's motivations, they were stuck in this world together now. Allies of circumstance, if nothing else.
He withdrew his gaze and turned toward the study. Court convened at the hour of the rabbit tomorrow. He needed to familiarize himself with the Regent's administrative duties first—couldn't afford to slip up.
The Regent, according to the character profile, was "ruthless and cunning." A master of court intrigue. A man who had clawed his way to power through schemes and manipulation.
Xie Qingyan allowed himself a small, cold smile.
Ruthless and cunning? He had survived three thousand years in the cultivation world. He had navigated the treacherous politics of the immortal sects, balanced the interests of a dozen competing factions, and maintained his position as Sword Sovereign against challengers who would have gladly stabbed him in the back.
A mortal court? Child's play.
As for the artifact spirit's contradictions... he would investigate those in time.
[That Night · Across the Capital]
Night deepened over the capital. In the Regent's manor, Xie Qingyan sat in his study reviewing memorials by candlelight, familiarizing himself with the political landscape he now commanded.
Meanwhile, in the Duke of the Realm's manor on the eastern side of the city, Yin Wuwang sat before a desk piled high with military documents, utterly overwhelmed.
"What the hell is all this?"
He stared at the dispatch orders and troop movements, head spinning. Maps covered in red arrows. Supply requisitions filled with numbers. Patrol schedules dense with unfamiliar names.
"This sovereign is a Demon Sovereign! Not some damned general!"
In the demon realm, he had commanded armies of thousands. But demonic warfare was simple—point at the enemy, unleash hell, let the strong devour the weak. This... this was paperwork. Logistics. Supply chains. Rotation schedules.
Mortals and their obsession with bureaucracy.
He picked up one document at random. "Requesting approval for three hundred catties of grain for the northern barracks..." He threw it down in disgust. "What is this nonsense? Just hunt some spirit beasts!"
...Right. No spirit beasts in this world. No cultivation. No demonic energy.
Just thirty thousand mortal soldiers who apparently needed to be fed, clothed, and paid. With actual money. On a regular schedule.
He slumped back in his chair, staring at the ceiling.
How did mortal generals not die of boredom?
In the demon realm, if he wanted something done, he simply ordered it. Subordinates who questioned him got incinerated. Subordinates who failed him got fed to the demon beasts. It was efficient. It was direct. It made sense.
This... this was madness. Layers upon layers of bureaucracy, each document requiring three stamps and five signatures, each decision filtered through committees and advisors and ministers who all had opinions about things they knew nothing about.
No wonder mortal empires collapse so often. They drown themselves in paperwork before their enemies even arrive.
Little Deer Assistant #9527 offered helpfully: "Reminder: The Duke of the Realm commands thirty thousand elite troops. If anyone inquires about military affairs tomorrow, Savior #9527 is advised to prepare answers in advance to avoid exposure."
"Another recommendation?" Yin Wuwang sneered. "This sovereign doesn't trust a single word from you."
Little Deer Assistant fell silent, buzzing forlornly as if deeply aggrieved.
Yin Wuwang rubbed his brow. His gaze drifted to the window, where moonlight spilled across the courtyard like silver silk.
Somewhere across the city, in the Regent's manor, Fuguang was probably handling similar documents. The thought brought an unexpected smile to his lips.
At least they were in this together.
And tomorrow... tomorrow he would see Fuguang again. At court.
The smile lingered on his face as he pulled the stack of documents toward him with renewed determination.
Fine. He would learn these mortal military affairs. He would play his role. He would be the best damn "simple-minded, hot-tempered Duke" this world had ever seen.
He picked up the first document again, squinting at the cramped calligraphy.
"Requesting approval for three hundred catties of grain..."
This was going to be a long night.
Outside the window, the moon climbed higher. Somewhere in the distance, a night watchman called the hour.
Tomorrow's court session was destined to be anything but peaceful.
[End of V1_Chapter 08]
Next Chapter: In Which We Discover That "Mortal Enemies" Requires Actual Acting