Tome of Troubled Times-Chapter 667: Repayment in Knees

When Cui Yuanyang emerged from the secret realm, holding the resplendent Qinghe Sword, the elders waiting outside were overcome with a mix of joy and reverence. Without hesitation, they all dropped to their knees.

The aura emanating from the sword was unmistakable—it was Qinghe, the same divine sword etched into their collective memory, but now it felt far stronger than anyone recalled.

The change was not because Qinghe had grown stronger; rather, it had never truly demonstrated its full power to the Cui Clan before. Even in the early days, the sword had been reluctant to engage with the family. When Cui Wenjing wielded it across the land, it never truly revealed its full might. Later, when Xia Longyuan stole half of its soul, it fell into a deep slumber. By then, its aura was weaker than even the developing Dragon Bird’s. When placed beside Dragon Bird, any sense of killing intent came solely from Dragon Bird.

But now, Qinghe radiated an overwhelming and majestic presence, capable of illuminating specters and exposing demons. Anyone harboring hidden malice felt a visceral chill, their hearts gripped by terror. This was the true majesty of an ancient divine sword. Even without a master, Qinghe was unquestionably at the pinnacle of Earth-grade swords. In the hands of someone as strong as Piaomiao, it would undoubtedly rank among Heaven-grade weapons.

It was painfully clear why, when four swords of such level formed a unified array, they had been able to jointly challenge Xia Longyuan and the other clan heads. During that chaotic battle, the sword array had posed a greater threat than any of their human opponents. Xia Longyuan, even at his peak, had only managed to sever the four swords during his brief resurgence as the strongest. That feat cost him his life due to backlash. In his weakened state, he would not have even been able to attempt it.

Now, only Qinghe was intact. The other three swords remained fragments.

Zhao Changhe’s River of Stars was still in its infancy. It had not yet undergone the honing of battles or drunk the blood of worthy opponents. Its potential was undeniable, but for now, it was nothing more than potential. Outside of it, Qinghe was likely the strongest sword in the world.

And Qinghe recognized only Cui Yuanyang as its master. Even if Yangyang were just a decorative “attachment” to the sword, the sheer power of Qinghe meant she could likely hold her own against those on the level of the Ranking of Earth—someone like Wang Daozhong, for instance. And if Yangyang ever reached the heights of Piaomiao...

Well, that was a thought for the distant future.

For now, this moment solidified Zhao Changhe’s position in the eyes of the Cui Clan. Not only had he fulfilled his promise to reforge the divine sword, but he had seemingly elevated its power to new heights. To them, this was irrefutable proof of his divine or demonic origins—this was not the work of a mere mortal ranked second on the Ranking of Earth.

As the couple walked out of the secret realm together, their path was lined with kneeling figures, bowing as if they were wheat being harvested. Zhao Changhe could not help but feel that even when he’d stridden into a palace or another, it had never been this surreal.

The only one who remained seated was Cui Wenjing, waiting in the ancestral hall. When the two emerged, he greeted them with a sardonic remark, “Should I kneel as well, respected King Zhao?”

Zhao Changhe leaned in and whispered, “You might want to maintain appearances—your current persona is beginning to crumble a bit.”

Cui Wenjing’s face remained impassive. “According to family tradition, I should step down as the head of the family right now. Yangyang is now to take over as the clan head.”

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Cui Yuanyang: “Huh?”

Cui Wenjing nodded. “But since you suggested otherwise, I’ll pass it onto her eventually.”

Cui Yuanyang: “Huh?”

Growing serious, Cui Wenjing asked, “Do you... feel anything unusual?”

Cui Yuanyang hesitated for a moment but shook her head.

Cui Wenjing turned his gaze to Zhao Changhe, who also shook his head and said, “As of now, there’s nothing out of the ordinary. I’ll keep a closer eye on things moving forward.”

Cui Wenjing sighed. “I don’t trust this girl. Your word is good enough for me.”

Zhao Changhe said, “The earth fire in your secret realm is no ordinary flame. If I’m not mistaken, it should be linked to the flame of oblivion, capable of giving rise to a demon. While it’s been subdued by Qinghe and suppressed, preventing it from spreading, this fire is still a latent threat. The flames that ravaged the outside world might have originated from a similar source. This place remains a critical point. Should another apocalyptic calamity arise in the future, this could become a key source. Your ancestors were wise to keep it under control—it’s not something that can be left unchecked. If someone like Desolate Calamity were to exploit it, the consequences would be catastrophic.”

Cui Wenjing furrowed his brow, pondering. “If Desolate Calamity could harness that flame, does that mean we could use it as well?”

“You might want to write to Venerable Vermillion Bird to ask for her input...”

“There’s no need to hide anything in front of me. You mean the empress dowager, don’t you?”

Cui Yuanyang: “?”

Zhao Changhe: “...”

“I’ll write to the empress dowager for guidance,” Cui Wenjing said calmly. “In addition, by convention, I should also consult her about Yangyang’s official status. Oh, right, is she considered Her Majesty’s elder or has she entered the fray herself?”

Zhao Changhe looked to the sky, and Cui Yuanyang stared at the ground.

“A mother and daughter serving the same man, a master and disciple sharing a husband—heh, such absurd palace intrigue is unparalleled in history. If there were historians recording this reign, the dynasty might go down in infamy before it even properly begins.” Cui Wenjing’s tone was emotionless. “At first, we found this quite entertaining and were enjoying the show. But now that my own daughter is wading into this mess, it’s suddenly not so amusing anymore.”

Zhao Changhe cleared his throat awkwardly. “How about we change the subject?”

“Change it to what?” Cui Wenjing shot back. “The Wang and Li clans are probably already writing booklets about this. For all we know, those little booklets have already circulated nationwide. What can you do about that?”

Zhao Changhe’s face was expressionless. “It’s fine. Their reach is limited. I have a solution.”

For the first time, Cui Wenjing looked intrigued. “Oh? And what is your solution? Burning books and burying scholars?”

“No, I know someone who writes really well. Everyone is captivated by whatever she writes, and the whole world loves to read her writing. If I have her write a good novel and it spreads widely enough, the narrative of that novel should overwrite everything else. I can spin it however I like.”

The blind woman snapped. “Get lost. If I write, I’ll record the unvarnished truth.”

Zhao Changhe: “...”

Cui Wenjing abruptly changed the subject. “I didn’t expect you to forge the sword so quickly... The memorial to the court has only just been sent, and your letter to Her Majesty should have just reached the capital. Are you going to wait for Her Majesty’s reply, or do something else in the meantime?”

Zhao Changhe glanced outside. It was early evening. It had not actually been that quick. It seemed that it had taken him a bit over a day to reforge the sword.

“I still need to wait for Chichi’s response,” Zhao Changhe said. “I’m planning to deal with the Wang Clan and need some cooperation from the capital.”

“Then tonight...”

At this point, the conversation stalled.

Cui Yuanyang’s cheeks visibly flushed, and she bit her lip, saying nothing.

It was clear that Cui Wenjing had not really changed the subject after all.

Where would Zhao Changhe stay tonight? If he stayed here, even if they formally arranged a guest room, custom would dictate assigning someone to serve him. But who would that be?

In truth, there was no need to make any arrangements at all. He had already spent so much time in Cui Yuanyang’s room earlier, and everyone assumed what should have happened had happened. In fact, most of the family likely thought that whatever needed doing had been done two years ago.

He could simply stride back to her room and stay there openly. Who would dare object?

Cui Wenjing’s expression remained impassive. “Time is tight. Let’s keep things simple and hold a small, informal wedding. When I kneeled to you before, I was putting my dignity aside to help lift your status. Don’t make it seem like a conqueror barging in to openly claim my daughter. Even if that’s what this little troublemaker wants, it’s still inappropriate.”

It was plain that all the earlier talk about palace drama was not just idle chatter. Cui Wenjing was setting the stage for his daughter to assert her place. His meaning was clear—whatever else happened with others, at least make this official and legitimate for Yangyang. Even if it felt futile, a father could only do so much.

Zhao Changhe turned to Cui Yuanyang. Her face was as red as an apple, and she turned her head away, mumbling, “If you don’t agree now, and someday I end up becoming someone else, don’t regret it.”

Zhao Changhe took a deep breath. “I agree.”

* * *

The so-called simple wedding was indeed simple.

Compared to the usual elaborate ceremonies of aristocratic families, it cut out nearly everything. It was even simpler than a modern-day courthouse wedding. Cui Yuanyong, the older brother and nominal head of the next generation, was still en route to the capital and could not attend. Only a handful of the Cui Clan’s elders were present. Cui Wenwei, the second uncle, remained locked in a cell and reportedly received daily lashings.

But even under these circumstances, the presence of these elders was enough to formalize everything. And in this moment, Zhao Changhe had taken one more step toward solidifying his alliances and Yangyang’s place by his side.

In the center of the modest ceremony, Cui Wenjing and his wife sat at the main table, presiding over the proceedings. A local master of ceremonies announced the steps with ceremonial flair, but the entire affair was simple—just a couple of bows and a handful of guests at no more than eight or nine tables. It felt more like a rustic village wedding than a grand event befitting an aristocratic family.

Yet beneath its simplicity lay meticulous preparation, revealing just how much effort Cui Wenjing had poured into this single day. Despite claiming to be “on guard“ over the past day, he had clearly been busy behind the scenes. The bride and groom both wore exquisitely tailored wedding garments—clearly custom-made, though no one knew when they had been tailored. But the most surprising touch? Seated in the elder’s seat for the groom’s side was none other than a serene and smiling Instructor Sun, stroking his beard like the esteemed elder he thought himself as.

Even if Xia Chichi arrived with twelve imperial edicts shouting, “Stop the wedding!” she would be too late.

“First bow to heaven and earth~“

The master of ceremonies’ call echoed through the hall as the red candles flickered. Zhao Changhe, holding Cui Yuanyang’s hand under her red veil, knelt with a strange mix of emotions swirling within him.

Standing in front of him, the blind woman folded her arms, watching with a grin.

Zhao Changhe: “?”

The Blind Woman smiled mischievously. “Well, there’s no need to pretend anymore. Tell me, do I count as heaven and earth?”

“You...”

“Well? If you have the guts, refuse to bow and cause a scene. It’s your wedding, after all,” she teased him. “I’ve been waiting for this moment for a long time.”

Zhao Changhe took a deep breath, reluctantly bowing. But as he did, he muttered darkly, “Just you wait. One day, I’ll make you kneel in return, exactly as I say.”

“Second bow to the parents~“

Facing Cui Wenjing, Zhao Changhe saw the elder’s expression. It was a facade of dignified benevolence barely concealing the glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

It dawned on Zhao Changhe that this moment had been in the works for days. Cui Wenjing’s public kneeling two days ago? That had probably been part of this calculated exchange all along.

“Third bow to each other as husband and wife~“

Now, Zhao Changhe faced Cui Yuanyang, her face hidden beneath the red veil. But he could already imagine the deep blush on her cheeks, redder than any apple, and the soft, tender gaze of her eyes beneath the veil.

For a moment, all thoughts of the blind woman’s antics or Cui Wenjing’s schemes disappeared.

The weight of familial politics, the chaotic state of the world, and his many mixed motives for this marriage—all of it melted away. In front of him was a girl whose feelings for him had always been pure, untouched by outside influence or calculation.

In the clear, untainted gaze beneath that veil, there was only the memory of a young man who once held her hand and led her safely through a treacherous and dangerous world.