Chapter 24: Why Not Ask the Old Monk for Advice?

The Yongle Emperor was, at this moment, internally shattered. He had been blindsided and backstabbed by his own son—and the target of the theft was his most prized steed, "Racing Dragon"! To make matters worse, after stealing it, his son had actually given it to his grandson! The Emperor realized with a sinking heart that he was likely never getting that horse back.

"Scoundrel! That family thief! My Racing Dragon!!" The Yongle Emperor could not help but curse aloud, his heart aching most for the horse. He recalled its majestic, mountain-like stature, its coat as sleek and lustrous as satin, its hooves iron-hard, its gaze dragon-like, its back broad, and its bearing spirited!

"My Racing Dragon!" the Emperor lamented inwardly. He had only ridden the magnificent creature once, under the watchful eyes of numerous guards, back when the horse was still being broken in. He never expected that the next time he heard its name, it would be under such circumstances—and that he, the Yongle Emperor, would be outmaneuvered by his own grandson.

His state of mind was deeply complex. To put it simply: imagine you are an elderly tycoon with a collection of supercars. You recently acquired a one-of-a-kind model and grew deeply attached to it, visiting it every few days. However, due to your age and health, your family strictly forbids you from driving. Despite your age, your love for the car remains, and you cherish the memory of the one time you snuck it out under guard. Then, while you are away on business, your favorite son steals the car and gifts it to his own son—your grandson. Everyone in your household knows, but they keep it a secret from you. Suddenly, one day, you decide to visit the car, only to discover the theft. That was exactly how the Yongle Emperor felt.

"Was Racing Dragon tamed when it was taken?" The Emperor suddenly grasped the crux of the matter. Little Biti had said the horse wasn't fully broken when the Prince of Han took it, so how was his grandson riding it into battle? Or had the trainers in the Prince of Han’s manor managed to tame it?

"Answering Your Majesty, the Prince of Han did not have it tamed when he took it!" Little Biti replied with firm conviction; he had verified this multiple times.

"Untamed? Then how is the Heir of Han riding it?" the Emperor asked, perplexed.

"Your Majesty... the truth is, Racing Dragon is still not tamed," Little Biti replied, kneeling on the ground with a hesitant and strange expression.

"Still not tamed? What is going on?" The Yongle Emperor frowned, utterly bewildered.

"Replying to Your Majesty, according to our reports, Racing Dragon remains untamed to this day. It refuses to let anyone but the Heir of Han ride it. It allows feeding, walking, and grooming, just as before, but it simply will not be ridden. The Heir of Han never even bothered to tame it; he simply climbed on, and the horse did not refuse. Furthermore, the Heir has renamed it 'Snow-Treader'." Little Biti hesitated before delivering this heart-wrenching update.

He watched the Emperor’s face change colors, knowing he had just made the situation infinitely worse.

"He didn't tame it? He just got on? Are you certain?" The Emperor found it impossible to believe. No taming required? Could it really be ridden just like that? If it could be ridden that way, why couldn't he? Did that make him inferior? He didn't want to believe it, yet he knew Little Biti wouldn't lie to him. He was in a state of internal turmoil.

"You may withdraw," the Emperor said, his expression shifting. He needed to be alone.

Once Little Biti left, the Emperor sighed deeply, placed the documents on the table, and sank into contemplation. It seemed he would have to find time to test the Heir of Han. Both the Prince of Han and his son would have to be vetted as potential successors. The Emperor found himself once again trapped in the difficult dilemma of choosing an heir.

After much deliberation, he decided to give the Prince of Han another chance. He truly loved his second son, who was so much like him—it was a pity he wasn't the eldest. But with the eldest son’s poor health and the young Zhu Zhanji still a child—who would surely be no match for his uncles—the Emperor felt he needed to temper the second son, just in case. He had to be prepared for every eventuality.

He set his tea down and his eyes drifted back to the dossier on the Heir of Han. "How is this possible? 'Mastery of literature and strategy, a benevolent heart, imposing dignity, impeccable character'?" As he reviewed the notes in his mind, he reached a shocking conclusion.

How would Zhu Zhanji compare to him? Which of them was more outstanding? The Emperor couldn't help but compare his two grandsons, wondering who was more worthy of cultivation. But his knowledge of the Heir of Han was limited to these papers; he hadn't raised him from childhood like he had with his eldest grandson, leaving him hesitant.

Perhaps he should find time to have the old monk take a look? The thought sprouted in his mind and grew uncontrollably.

Meanwhile, at the Chaotian Palace, the Daoist master Zhang Zhengheng, tutor to Zhu Zhanhe, was also awake, staring fixedly at the starry sky.

"The main star is bright, the auxiliary star is bright, and yet this guest star is so dazzling—it has outshone the auxiliary star and rivals the main star, yet it remains in the position of a guest star. These are truly turbulent times. My good student, I hope you are not deceiving me; this is the only hope left for these old bones," the old Daoist muttered to the empty night air.

Elsewhere, the Prince of Han, Zhu Gaoxu, was currently fawning over his wife, Lady Wei.

"My dear, it's late, let's get some sleep," the Prince said, shedding his usual arrogance and standing by the bed, rubbing his hands together with a pitiful expression.

"Go find your mistress. Just remember to bring the child back. As the first wife, I can at least provide a proper dowry for her; I won't have her mistreated," Lady Wei replied, sitting on the edge of the bed in her nightclothes. She was clearly displeased, assuming he had been out with a mistress, yet she spoke with a grace that made the Prince sweat.

"My dear, let me explain! That mistress was a gift from my third brother!" Seeing his wife's anger, the Prince wilted and quickly sought to explain himself, though he couldn't admit he had actually been out arranging the assassination of his nephew. He chose instead to honestly betray his third brother.

"Then shall I bring her home tomorrow? To serve you tea?" the Prince asked, his heart lifting as he looked at his wife with anticipation.

"Hmm!" Lady Wei responded with a start. She was in no mood to talk further and lay down, turning her back to him—clearly leaving no room for the Prince to sleep.

"Uh..." Realizing he had said the wrong thing again, the Prince awkwardly turned and walked toward the study, looking back at every step.