The thieves had taken a lot of money, jewels, fabrics and spices. They had carelessly thrown the spices and teas into a box and filled up some boxes and chests with money and jewelry.
Typical of these hillbillies who had no taste for the truly exquisite loot. Zhi Cheng lifted a bag with a classy label and a golden seal to his nose.
This was definitely an expensive tea from the nobility. He sighed, no matter how much he enjoyed the comforts of life, he wouldn't be able to carry it all.
So he left it at pocketing the money and spent the rest of the night gazing dreamily into the flames and leisurely fanning himself.
His thoughts wandered back to the enormous throne roughly hewn from obsidian in Duifang, the realm of the spirits. He had been king for over eight hundred years. Longer than any being before him, and yet he had grown bored.
He was tired of being king and having to be on guard every day. Not being able to close an eye at night and having to expect an ambush around every corner. So he had planned his own little betrayal.
It had taken a while to manipulate the spirits around him into thinking it was their own idea. For months, he had had to read books about the poisonous nightweed until it came to his ears, until one of the servants finally got the idea to use it against him.
He had constantly pushed aside audiences and problems and scolded Weijie. So that the angry spirits came to him when they didn't get what they wanted from Zhi Cheng.
He had let his duties slip, indiscriminately killing the maids and servants of his palace and issuing nonsensical decrees.
For example, pigs' noses were no longer allowed to leave the house after dusk. All creatures with a tail were strictly forbidden to visit a tavern.
Spirits with more than four limbs were no longer allowed to enter the large square in front of the palace during the day, lest his eyes be offended.
Zhi Cheng sighed. He had behaved impossibly and yet it had taken over a year for Weijie to finally take the step of pushing him off the throne.
At least the brat had some decency at the age of five hundred. Normally, it wouldn't be possible for someone like him to defeat an eight-hundred-year-old spirit.
As he stared into the fire, his thoughts drifted off again. His body and mind were not yet fully back in harmony, so a short rest immediately dragged him back.
Into the realm of dreams and memories. This time the dream was kinder, reminding him of a time before wars and battles. Before he killed. When his name was still Zhao Qiao Guan, seventh prince of the kingdom of Xuyu. He closed his eyes.
The kingdom of Xuyu was a prosperous land. Lush vegetation, wide rivers and a bright blue sky greeted the inhabitants every day.
Qiao Guan was a young, unreasonable prince of sixteen. He loved to run through the wide open corridors with flowing clothes and expensive jewelry, driving his bodyguards crazy.
He ran along the white marble corridor, streaked with veins of gold, over velvety carpets, past the silk curtains that blew gently in the wind.
When he heard the bugle announcing the arrival of a member of the royal family, he leaned so far over the parapet that Jiahu, one of his personal bodyguards, cried out in shock.
Above the enormous royal palace made of white stone and colorful silk stretched a huge banishing monument. It consisted of several layers, symbols and circles and rotated incessantly, sparkling under the sun. Under this protective circle, the hallmark of the House of Zhao, no harm could come.
"Your Highness!" screeched Jiahu, pulling him away from the parapet. Qiao Guan pouted. Jiahu was seventeen and therefore a year older than him; under the watchful eyes of Qiao's parents, he had solemnly sworn to protect the seventh prince's life with his own.
He showed more openly than anyone else how much he was attached to this and how much he detested Qiao Guan's recklessness.
"Would you think about your safety once in a while, Your Highness?" Jiahu scolded, wiping the cold sweat from his forehead.
"My brother is back from Quancheng!" Qiao Guan cheered and broke away again. Jiahu had barely blinked once before the seventh prince was on his way again.
Gritting his teeth, he ran after him. The guards made way and gave each other amused looks when Qiao Guan ran past them. He was only stopped when he almost ran into his second personal bodyguard. Pei Shan, Jiahu's twin sister.
As always, she stood in the courtyard with her shoulders straight, her back arched and a stern look on her face, keeping a close eye on everything.
Despite her young age, Pei Shan was one of the best fighters in the royal court. Her gaze slid downwards and, with a raised eyebrow, she gave Qiao Guan a punishing look.
"At some point, little highness, you should start behaving according to your station. Otherwise you won't be taken seriously," she reprimanded.
She had tied her dark hair up in a tight braid, her dark eyes were cool and her full lips were slightly parted. Qiao Guan grumbled something incomprehensible. She was only a year older, but she treated him like a small child.
Jiahu came running around the corner, panting, and when he saw Qiao Guan standing next to his sister, he put his hands on his knees and took a deep breath.
"You're impossible, Your Highness!" he gasped, fanning himself with the flat of his hand.
The summer in Xuyu was hot and dry. Qiao Guan wore nothing more than a light robe made of light white fabric and a lot of jewelry. His hair was loose and the tiny bells woven into it tinkled with every movement.
"Xiongzhan!" he called out, greeting his eldest brother. He bowed before his brother stroked his hair and laughed.
"Are you just messing around again, Xiao di?" he asked, handing over his white, magnificent horse to one of the guards.
Pei Shan and Jiahu exchanged a glance. Their little highness was the youngest of seven princes of the royal house, Zhao, ruler of the land of Xuyu and a spoiled child.
He regularly missed his lessons in battle and history, did what he liked and did nothing but run around all day, eat sweets and get on the nerves of those around him.
He was bright as a button, but he didn't bother to study for his future. Three of his seven brothers were already married, his rule and peace were established. There were no responsibilities on his shoulders. He was free and unconstrained.
"How did the talks with Quancheng go?" he asked excitedly. A shadow briefly flitted across Zhao Yun zhe's face. But then he smiled.
"These are matters I only discuss with father, you curious little fox," he said with a laugh.
Pei Shan had not missed the shadow. Even though there was peace at the moment and the days were gliding along happily, there were tensions.
Quancheng had always been after Xuyu's lush land and so far they had vehemently refused to marry in order to reconcile the two houses. Yun zhe did not look like he had succeeded.
Pei Shan couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief. Even if someone like her had no chance with the eldest son of the royal family. She didn't like the idea of a forced marriage at all. Zhao Yun zhe was far too gentle, he deserved a woman who loved him and a marriage for love.
She quickly regained her composure as he walked past her and nodded. She nodded back in silent agreement to let Qiao Guan stay in his bright, friendly world. Without the web of political power, intrigue and simmering conflict.
"Damn it, where has he gone now?" Jiahu cursed and spun around a few times. He had only just bowed to his eldest son when Qiao Guan had already disappeared again. Pei Shan rolled his eyes.
"He won't have gone far," she called out with a laugh.
Growling, Jiahu followed the sound of tinkling bells. Free as a bird and carefree, Qiao Guan ran across the sun-warmed white stone and jumped over the low roofs of the pavilions. For him, resentment, hatred and wars were far away.
When morning began to dawn and the campfire was just a smoking pile of ashes, Zhi Cheng stood up.
His heart grew heavy for a moment as he thought of his earliest, most loyal allies.
Time did not keep all wounds, but it buries them so deep under scar tissue that they can no longer be touched.
After taking a deep breath, he strolled cheerfully along the well-trodden path that would lead him to the trade route.