Investing in the Reborn Empress, She Actually Calls Me ‘Husband’

The seating areas of the major sects were now within arm’s reach of the Golden Dragon Palace. The few who could pass through here—whether nobles, hypocrites in fine robes, or even towering figures of the martial world—all paid their respects with reverence.

The recipient of their deference was a silver-haired old woman. Her attire, woven in patterns foreign to this world, and her faintly golden eyes exuded an aura that seemed otherworldly.

“Achoo!”

Beside her, Tian Miao sneezed and scratched her chin in puzzlement.

“Someone’s talking about you.”

It took the old woman a long moment to react.

“Who would be thinking of this old one? Li Mo? We’ve already done him a favor—he wouldn’t dare, would he?”

Tian Miao gazed into the distance and spotted Empress Chuge just beyond the Meridian Gate.

With a hint of confusion, she asked,

“Master, why did you rank Her Majesty second this time?”

“Who do you think is superior between the two?” Old Granny Yantian countered.

“Of course, it’s Miss Bing’er… but Her Majesty is of noble status,” Tian Miao replied, still perplexed.

“No.”

Old Granny Yantian stroked her cane, narrowed her eyes, and murmured softly,

“Across the Nine Heavens and Ten Earths, none surpass her in nobility.”

“Huh?”

Tian Miao was stunned.

“None surpass her in nobility”—but who exactly was this “her”?

Her master hadn’t clarified, but Tian Miao had another way to verify it.

Recently, her divination arts had advanced, allowing her to glimpse more of the future. So…

She could peer into the fates of both Miss Bing’er and Empress Chuge. Whoever made her cough up more blood would be the one her master meant.

But after some thought, she resisted the urge to act on curiosity. Divining recklessly in the imperial capital might invite unforeseeable consequences.

Just as the crowd buzzed with chatter like a downpour, the bronze carriage inched forward, and Li Mo stepped out first, hopping down.

As everyone knew, Li Mo was no peerless beauty.

But his carriage couldn’t possibly hold only him.

Countless eyes converged on the bronze carriage, eager to catch a glimpse of the woman who could overshadow the Empress of Great Yu—what appearance she would present today.

A delicate hand brushed aside the carriage curtain, and the figure within rose into the sunlight. The fluttering of her phoenix-feathered robes, unique under heaven, still paled beside her face—a cold yet noble beauty, her grace innate, unrelated to status or rank.

When the Tyndall effect manifests, light takes form.

When she stood there, beauty became tangible.

Especially when she let Li Mo take her hand, her ethereal aura gained a vivid spark.

Ding-ling—

The wind chimes at the carriage eaves rang crisply.

Rustle…

From nowhere, a shower of blossoms scattered like snowflakes in a westerly gale.

That’s right!

“Since we’re here…”

Li Mo muttered, gripping the Mirage Pearl.

So what if Empress Chuge had her grand entrance?

They could add special effects!

Ying Bing shot him a glance, torn between amusement and resignation.

Let him have his fun…

The crowd fell silent, feeling that witnessing this scene made their lives complete.

“Darling, let’s be honest—she’s prettier than you. Even if you rip my ears off, I won’t take it back!”

“Why does it feel like her face has changed somehow? I can’t pinpoint it, but it’s different from before.”

“Will she perform today? I still remember her sword dance at the Armament Forging Assembly.”

“Obviously not.”

“Why?”

“Li Mo is the sponsor of the Hundred Blossoms Festival! Look at him grinning like a fool—you think he’d let Fairy Han perform for others?”

“Damn, so that’s why he poured so much money into this. It all makes sense now.”

Meanwhile…

Empress Chuge, surrounded by palace attendants, had just passed the Meridian Gate when she suddenly halted and turned back, her gaze lingering with deep complexity—longing, envy, and more.

“So beautiful…”

Even the maid supporting her was entranced, unable to tear her eyes away.

The maid shuddered, sensing the empress’s icy stare, and hastily lowered her head.

“This servant deserves death.”

“All admire beauty—how could this one be so petty?”

Empress Chuge gently patted the maid’s hand.

“Go to the ancestral hall and summon Granduncle.”

“Yes.”

At these words, an inconspicuous palace maid’s eyes flickered as she observed the scene beyond the gate—her, and him, hand in hand—before slipping into the shadows.

At the festival entrance…

All of the imperial capital could witness the Hundred Blossoms Festival, but most could only watch via the “broadcast” of the Realm Panorama Scroll. Those queuing here for live attendance were all figures of extraordinary status.

Among them were privileged scholars from the Imperial Academy.

One, overcome with excitement, was moved to compose poetry on the spot.

“Fairy Han… such celestial grace…”

Song Qian stood dazed for a long while before suddenly declaring, “I must pen a verse!”

“Don’t do this, Song Qian. Don’t.”

“Poetry? Your clichés would shame the academy!”

“Snatch his brush! Don’t let him embarrass us!”

His classmates, well aware of his literary “prowess,” rushed to stop him.

One noticed Song Qian’s entourage and frowned.

“Song Qian, when did you replace all your attendants?”

At this, Hall Master Lu of the Verdant Wood Society and the disguised servants around Song Qian tensed slightly.

Indeed, the group following Song Qian—including the disguised Hall Master Lu—were all members of the Demon Summoning Cult.

Confucian martial arts were peculiar, neither purely martial nor scholarly. Who knew if they had methods to expose their identities?

“None of your business.”

Song Qian snorted, displeased at the attempt to seize his brush.

Another scholar whispered something into the doubter’s ear, and the latter’s face paled. Clutching his backside, he scrambled away as if fleeing a plague.

Song Qian: “?”

He felt something deeply offensive had been implied.

“Young Master, let’s head in first,” Hall Master Lu suggested calmly.

“You go ahead. I’ll wait here a bit longer.”

Song Qian stubbornly remained, craning his neck for a better view.

“Very well. We’ll proceed first.”

With no other choice, Hall Master Lu handed the golden invitation to the violet-robed eunuch at the gate.

“Last time, Father acted all chummy with Li Mo—must’ve been for official business. Now that the festival’s a done deal, heh…”

Song Qian smirked inwardly.

In officialdom, groveling when needed and kicking aside when useless was the norm.

He wasn’t afraid now…

“Ah, Minister Song!”

Just then, Song Baiyue peeked out from a carriage behind them, assisted forward to the entrance.

Dizzy and disoriented by the clamor, the elder Song failed to spot his unlucky son.

“Sword Hero Li, Fairy Han.”

The violet-robed eunuch first greeted Li Mo and his companion, then turned to Minister Song with a shrill voice.

“Oh, Lord Song, His Majesty was waiting for your report yesterday and sent this humble servant to look for you three times. Could it be that you’ve cast His Majesty aside?”

“His Majesty is broad-minded and may not mind, but this servant cannot bear to see the imperial health suffer. We must have a serious talk about this.”

Lord Song immediately recognized that the other party was picking a fight—angling for bribes and favors.

But the truth was, he had genuinely forgotten about the report last night…

Song Baiyue: “How about I invite you to the Moonlit Pavilion later? We can discuss this properly…”

Li Mo: “……”

Old Song really wasn’t sober yet. Though the Moonlit Pavilion now ran legitimate business, many still saw it otherwise.

Wasn’t this like inviting a eunuch to a brothel?

Sure enough, the purple-robed eunuch was not amused, his expression darkening:

“Lord Song, what exactly were you doing last night?”

“I…”

Song Baiyue realized his blunder but found himself tongue-tied—after all, he truly hadn’t been doing anything proper.

He could only turn to Li Mo for help.

“Uncle Li, Auntie… could you two put in a word for me?”

“……”

Li Mo was genuinely stunned.

Old Song really had the nerve to call them that—no wonder he rose through the ranks so swiftly. His audacity was practically as thick as Xuan steel.

“???”

Young Master Song felt as if struck by lightning.

What the hell? Had his seniority just dropped another notch?