Chapter 159 – To Know You, To Vow with You, To Part from You

Yue Shiru’s mind stalled slightly, and he even instinctively glanced behind the young Daoist, before he came to his senses—this Earth Deity before him was not terrified of someone else, but of the very same gentle and courteous young Daoist standing before them. A bizarre yet strangely fitting feeling welled up within Yue Shiru at the same time—

He said it was already taken care of.

So this is what he meant by “taken care of”?!

Such ruthless intent! Such overwhelming murderous will!

No wonder that [Refining Yang Sword] was both alarmed and afraid of him!

No wonder the sword responded to his presence.

Qi Wuhuo opened his mouth and explained, “The Northern Pole Exorcism Court only intervenes in specific matters. If no formal commission is issued, we cannot enact with the Court’s authority. There’s no need to fear me like this…” The Court’s function was akin to the final executor—those talismanic seals were only assigned after the targets had been verified and designated.

Many matters were under the jurisdiction of the Grand Celestial Judge.

There was no need to submit a warrant to the Immortal Execution Platform.

The Northern Pole Exorcism Court does not take unsolicited orders!

And yet, the Earth Deity remained stricken with terror, mumbling incoherently, even blurting out how he had once stolen divine wine from Lord Lingmiao. Just days ago, he had feasted and drunk merrily with those mountain gods—yet in the blink of an eye, they had all been stripped of rank and divinity, cast into the netherworld to atone and await reincarnation.

The longer one lives, the more one cherishes life.

Most of the carefree lives led by Earth Deities were owed to their titles as deities of the mountains and rivers.

How could one not be afraid?

Yue Shiru, now filled with profound reverence, returned the courtesy and said, “True Person, I did not mean to pry into your identity.”

Qi Wuhuo fell silent, then said, “I am but here temporarily.”

The young Daoist instinctively glanced toward the interior of the Lianyang Temple. The old Daoist was refining cinnabar pills, while the little novice squatted nearby, gently petting a three-yellow chicken. Seeing this, he nodded in quiet understanding. “I understand. I understand.”

The True Person clearly had no wish to reveal his true form.

Nor did he wish for the little Daoist to learn of his nature as an executioner.

The True Person had saved his life—such minor matters as covering for him were, of course, nothing at all.

He confidently cupped his hands and said: “Rest assured, this disciple will speak of nothing.”

“Rather, may I ask, where is True Person heading?”

Yue Shiru, thinking he had understood everything, clumsily changed the subject.

Qi Wuhuo did not dwell on the matter either. Gazing into the distance, he said:

“To find a place of refuge and livelihood for the people of that village.”

Yue Shiru was puzzled.

Qi Wuhuo altered his appearance using a method of concealing his form through the shimmer of waterlight, and once again made his way toward the Mingzhen Dao Alliance. The young Qin Wang had arrived as agreed. As for the village’s matter, it would require the effort of many to properly resettle the people. The Celestial Immortals and Earthly Officials cared not for mortal affairs. Qi Wuhuo came only to seek out Qin Wang.

No matter how far he had fallen, he was still of imperial blood.

A single word from him often held more weight than another’s relentless efforts.

The young Qin Wang responded: “So that’s how it is. Then, Teacher, rest assured and leave it to me.”

Qi Wuhuo gave a slight nod. In recent days, whenever time permitted, he would come here. Today was no different. Drawing from his fifty years of official experience within the dreamscape and his grasp of the trends to come, Qi Wuhuo offered guidance to the young prince. The latter was sharp-minded, nurtured from youth by renowned mentors. After the death of his father, his temperament had transformed. With Qi Wuhuo’s instruction, he had begun to truly take shape.

During a brief pause, as he held a cup of tea, the young Qin Wang suddenly said: “Teacher, something has happened in the capital recently.”

“I heard the youngest prince has fallen ill with a grievous affliction. After returning to the capital, he suddenly lapsed into a deep sleep and has not awakened.”

“There’s also talk that Seventh Brother suddenly rode his horse into the imperial palace and never emerged again. The military houses have begun drawing unusually close to Fourth Brother. And the current Sage has shown no reaction at all. Even someone like me, unable to access the inner details, can tell—these are troubled times indeed…”

The Seventh Prince, riding into the palace?

Qi Wuhuo was slightly surprised.

This incident had never occurred within the Yellow Millet Dream.

Qi Wuhuo had long since prepared himself for events arising in reality that the dream had not revealed—but he had not expected it to be this. He quickly discerned the cause, deducing that it was most likely due to his having slain the Hidden Dragon Guard, which in turn caused the Crown Prince to flee from Zhongzhou in panic, thereby drawing the interest of the Seventh Prince toward the matters in Jinzhou.

In the Yellow Millet Dream, the Seventh Prince had always been a man of upright character.

Now, having suddenly discovered the truth—

After his initial inability to accept it, matters would likely evolve into a confrontation between father and son, blade drawn and pointed.

Qi Wuhuo sorted out the thread of events.

Seeing the young Qin Wang biting the end of his brush, seemingly deep in thought, he asked deliberately, “What do you think should be done?”

Without hesitation, the young prince answered: “This disciple believes that with such turbulent storms brewing, the capital is bound for upheaval. It’s like a great vortex—if one is not careful and steps into it, one might very well lose one’s life. Even if that Sage refrains from acting out of concern for his dignity, I would still have him locked away!”

“It took all I had to escape with my sister—I have no desire to return!”

His face was full of lingering fear.

Qi Wuhuo gave a slight nod and said nothing more. When the day came to an end, the young Qin Wang followed his usual routine: first distributing porridge to the poor, then wandering through the bustling streets of Zhongzhou Prefecture’s city, browsing for any novel curiosities. Whatever caught his fancy, he would purchase. Upon returning home and seeing his elder sister, he spoke to Li Qiongyu about the events of the day.

Li Qiongyu asked: “Do you truly think that way?”

The young prince, resting his chin in one hand and toying with a pendant in the other, replied idly: “…Of course I do. Why, do you mean to say we should go and join the chaos? Sister, that’s far too dangerous. Even Seventh Brother has gone silent—and he’s a general stationed at the border! Yet just like that, no word at all!”

“If we go, isn’t that the same as courting death? No, no—I won’t go.”

“It took us so much effort to escape from the capital. Now that the dog emperor has neither the time nor the mind to concern himself with us, we should take this chance to flee farther still. Once we’ve shaken off his spies, with the silver and treasures we’ve brought along, we could even live quite well in the demon realm and enjoy freedom in this mortal world.”

Li Qiongyu said no more, merely replying blandly: “Very well.”

“The composition you completed today—bring it here.”

The young prince obediently took out the essay and handed it to Li Qiongyu.

Then, as if presenting a treasure, he took out a hairpin and said: “Sister, today in Zhongzhou Prefecture’s city, I came across a merchant from the demon race. This hairpin is set with red jade—extremely pure. You know how red jade is—should its hue be even slightly off, it will carry a trace of unclean qi. But this piece bears none. It is of the finest quality—radiant and untainted.”

“It suits you perfectly!”

“I liked it the moment I saw it, so I bought it.”

Li Qiongyu continued flipping through the scroll without lifting her gaze, only replying faintly, “I understand.”

The young prince, having sought praise in vain, gave an awkward cough, set down the jade hairpin, and slipped away obediently. Gazing at the sky outside, he sighed deeply after a long pause, then called a maid over, telling her to buy more nourishing food, saying that winter was drawing near, and his elder sister was of frail health—she must eat well to keep her strength.

Then, taking up a jug of wine, he went to his own secluded courtyard. Beneath flowering trees, he drank alone.

As he stared into the wine, recalling the faces of his teacher and sister from earlier, he gave a bitter smile. Speaking softly to himself: “Most likely I’ve disappointed them both. In the end, I’ve become some idle Prince of Comfort, without longing for home, without thirst for vengeance. The realm is in turmoil—what better time for heroes to rise? As if I do not understand?”

No struggle, no success.

To seek vengeance in such a turbulent time—there was no way to do so without courting danger.

“But if that’s the case…”

His thoughts paused for a moment. He realized that if he chose to reenter the capital while the board was being reshuffled, even if he managed to gain a foothold, what awaited him would be a storm of fierce winds and pelting rain. He might endure it—but what of his elder sister? In order to ease the emperor’s suspicions, she had already severed the foundation of her fate and cultivation. Her remaining lifespan was less than fifty years.

Otherwise, the emperor would never have allowed them to leave.

Nor would his sister have needed to seek out some esoteric method of Dao attainment through the Yin Spirit.

His life had already been saved by her—how could he possibly drag her back into an even greater maelstrom?

To sacrifice blood kin for the sake of power—such a thing, he could not bring himself to do. And so, it seemed, he truly was no hero. A faint despondence overcame the young Qin Wang. Though reason told him this was the right path—this chance to enter the game was a rare opening, torn open at the cost of the Seventh Prince’s very life—it was, at least on the surface, a golden age, and this was likely the only moment for one like him to seize the initiative.

But his heart would not permit him to decide. That night, he drank alone. Drank heavily. Until he was utterly inebriated.

And the next morning, he was punished—ordered to kneel.

He did so obediently.

His knees ached. His head ached even more.

When he next saw his teacher, the lingering scent of incense upon his robes masked the reek of wine. Qi Wuhuo looked up at the youth before him. The young Qin Wang appeared no different from before. The young Daoist shook his head and said: “You’ve taken me as your teacher, yet I’ve not given you even a single gift.”

The young Qin Wang’s eyes lit up slightly. “Ah? Is the teacher finally going to give me a meeting gift?”

“This disciple has been waiting a long time!”

“What kind of treasure is it?”

“A famed sword? A secret manual? Whatever it is, I will treasure it dearly.”

“A famed sword? A secret manual? Neither.”

The young Daoist replied. Then, without displaying any mystical technique, he simply reached into his sleeve and withdrew a scroll, handing it over to the prince. But the smile on the youth’s face changed abruptly as soon as he unfurled the scroll—like one facing a drawn blade, like a youth first hearing the thundering charge of a thousand troops. 

Slowly, he raised his head and looked at the Daoist before him. “The Ode of the Great Roc?”

“This scroll is the true Ode of the Great Roc—the one the Crown Prince meant to present to the Sage…”

The young prince’s voice faltered.

Naturally, that one was a forgery.

The Crown Prince’s fortune was already broken, yet he still intended to present a counterfeit Ode of the Great Roc before the court. The Seventh Prince rode into the Forbidden Palace. The military houses began aligning themselves with the Fourth Prince.

The young Qin Wang sat back on his knees. Before him was the calm-eyed Daoist youth. To one side, the bamboo curtain was stirred by the wind. Beyond it lay the mortal city. Upon the table before him, it was as if the scrolls and ink transformed into a map of the imperial chessboard. The capital, once held in delicate balance by the Sage’s hand, had already shifted dramatically.

The deck was being reshuffled.

The prince’s heart surged like rising tides, yet he kept his expression composed. With effort, he forced a smile and said: “The gift Teacher has given me… is truly far too great.”

“This Ode of the Great Roc—I shall guard it well myself.”

“This Ode to the Great Roc is not the gift.”

“Ah?”

The young Qin Wang was stunned.

Qi Wuhuo said: “Do you know of the Drunken Scholar?”

The Qin Wang replied: “He once penned the Ode to the Great Roc, and exchanged it for a thousand measures of fine wine. Later, that ode was taken by a certain Assistant Minister of Revenue surnamed Zhou. That Minister Zhou has since retired and now dwells here in quiet leisure. As for the Drunken Scholar—he remains in Zhongzhou, ranked first among the Three Great Scholars of the realm. Across the land, from scholars to generals, even among the common folk, all revere them greatly.”

The young Daoist gently took the Ode to the Great Roc from the Qin Wang’s hands and continued:

“The true gift I offer you is the support of those three great men.”

The young Qin Wang’s expression changed sharply. “What?!”

“Teacher, are you serious? I mean—those three have long resigned from court. They’ve sworn never to serve again!”

Qi Wuhuo replied: “Only because none have understood them—none have known how to persuade them.”

“Then you, Teacher…”

The young Daoist lowered his gaze, recalling the long Yellow Millet Dream—their shared past, the final moments of those three men and the lofty ambitions they spoke of before death. He said calmly: “As it happens, I may know the way to bring them out from seclusion.”

“Listen. In the web of human fate, the emperor stands above as the Sage. Beneath him, the civil and military clans, the noble families and the scholar lineages form a great net, threads woven tightly together. But outside that net, still dwell the wandering scholars—the men beyond the court.”

He extended a finger, gently pressing it against the Qin Wang’s chest, his tone composed:

“You are the son of the former Crown Prince. When civil and military officials see you, they avoid you.”

“To the emperor, you are a thorn in his eye, a spike in his flesh—he yearns to see you dead.”

“If you would take vengeance by your own hand, then those you may depend upon are none but the scholars outside the court.”

“Only the voice of the people across the land.”

“The present emperor is cautious to the point of coldness, merciless and exacting. In his eyes, all living beings are but game pieces—yet in placing each piece, he is deliberate to the extreme. I know his temperament well: the lives of others, even a million souls, cannot move his brow. But should something threaten his interests…”

“Then he becomes paralyzed with caution, unable to decide, hesitant and slow.”

“What the emperor covets is reputation—name and esteem.”

“If you rally the foremost scholars of the age, then you shall bear the bearing of a noble renowned scholar. So long as you do not seek office, he will not dare act. And if he does, he will earn the name of a ruler who cannot abide the virtuous.”

“In stillness, you may meet the ever-changing tides.”

“The Three Great Scholars once served as Grand Tutors. In old age, their minds remain sharp as blades. With them by your side, your return to the capital shall be secure.”

“Not only you—but your elder sister as well—shall be shielded.”

“With no more fears to weigh you down, will you now dare give voice to the ambition in your heart?”

The young Qin Wang’s pupils constricted.

Then he gave a bitter smile, saying nothing. He only cupped his hands and bowed deeply.

“So, yesterday, Teacher had already seen through me.”

“Truly, a rare genius beneath Heaven.”

The young Daoist accepted his bow, then said: “In all matters of the world, true resolve is born of being without desire. The current emperor—he is seasoned and ruthless at heart. But even he has a weakness. He clings to life and to reputation. He seeks to possess all things under Heaven, and believes himself clever enough to obtain them. In his eyes, every man and woman in the world is but a pawn, a puppet.”

“He desires, for when he is gone, to be enshrined as [Emperor Wen].”

“That is the one thing he cannot bear to part with.”

“That is his greatest weakness.”

The young Qin Wang murmured the words to himself.

And when Qi Wuhuo took his leave, he added one final remark: “And besides—you gravely underestimate your elder sister.”

“Ah?”

The Qin Wang was startled and instinctively looked up, but by the time he thought to ask more, the young Daoist was already gone. Only his retreating back remained in sight. Even calling out would have been too late, so he simply gave up on the notion. Though little had happened that day in appearance, the young Qin Wang’s heart was left in complete disarray. His inner state had been thrown into disorder and refused to settle.

Yet when he returned home, he saw several carriages drawn up at the gates.

Servants were loading them with belongings, and his heart skipped a beat. He rushed forward, grabbing the steward by the sleeve and scolded, “What are you doing?!” The steward gave a proper bow and replied: “The Princess Qiongyu received invitations from several princes to join them for the New Year festivities. Out of courtesy, though her health remains frail, she could not decline. So she has decided to return to the capital for the New Year.”

The Qin Wang stood dazed. He hurried into the courtyard, and sure enough, there was his elder sister beneath a blooming winter plum tree, watching as the servants packed scrolls and books. He strode forward and asked urgently, “Elder Sister—what are you doing?!”

“Returning to the capital.”

“But—but—”

Li Qiongyu said calmly: “Did you truly think you hid anything from me yesterday?”

The young Qin Wang opened his mouth, but suddenly felt somewhat disheartened. Li Qiongyu said: “Besides, that is a great enmity of mine as well…”

“Your teacher has given you another gift and ‘protective charm’, hasn’t he?”

The young Qin Wang stared in stunned silence.

Under the plum blossom tree, his elder sister in green robes lowered her gaze. Her eyes were large and gentle, and she said softly: “When you sense chaos and danger, you assume he has no way to deal with it. You truly underestimate him far too much.”

The young Qin Wang suddenly felt as if he had heard these words somewhere before. For a moment, he did not know how to respond, so he simply changed the subject. Looking around left and right, he did not see the green-robed maidservant, and couldn’t help but ask curiously: “But where did Sister Qingying go? Are we really not going to say anything to Teacher before leaving?”

“She went to deliver a letter.”

The young Qin Wang hesitated slightly and said, “…Sister, do you not wish to see Teacher again?”

The girl stood admiring the plum blossoms and replied mildly, “It matters not.”

When the young Daoist was walking the road back toward the Lianyang Temple, he suddenly heard the sound of footsteps. Raising his eyes, he saw a green-robed maiden of delicate countenance approaching, smiling as she spoke: “Are you Mister Qi? This humble girl is Qingying, sent to deliver a letter to you. It is a gift from an old acquaintance.”

Qi Wuhuo lifted his gaze slightly and recognized the girl’s face. He accepted the letter, and the green-robed girl smiled faintly as she handed over a command token.

On one side was engraved the character Xuan; on the reverse, a roaring tiger in fierce relief. The token radiated majesty and gravity, its touch heavy. A vast and boundless martial aura and the fortune of the human realm converged upon it, so much so that even Qi Wuhuo’s hand felt slightly burdened by its weight.

The young Daoist unfolded the letter and saw familiar yet distant handwriting.

[The world is about to change—regret that I part from you.]

[The other day, you spoke of the demonic miasma’s leakage. Knowing your state of heart, I trust you must carry the will to eradicate this calamity. This token gathers the fate of the world—it is the hidden command once held by the six hundred thousand Xuan Armor troops. Seeing this token is as seeing their commander. Though the Human Fortune is not what it was in days past, it still retains seventy percent of its strength. Within the Zhongzhou prefecture capital, over three thousand retired officers of the Xuan Armor troops now live as common folk. With this token in hand, they may be called to arms.]

The tone was elegant, composed, and carried absolute certainty.

[With your talent, surely you can wield them as you wish.]

[I go on ahead.]

[In years to come, beneath the mountains at the foot of the capital, we shall meet again.]

At the end was a line of graceful calligraphy—a delicate verse. Just then, the sound of carriage wheels stirred. Beneath the plum blossom tree, the young maiden extended her palm and caught a falling blossom. Her eyes were large and gentle, and a single plum petal landed squarely at the center of her brow. The young Daoist stood amidst the mortal realm, his blue Daoist robes plain and unadorned. Crowds streamed on both sides like weaving silk, yet he merely smiled faintly with a sigh.

The winds grow warm, the sun begins to linger, willows trail in the breeze.

The rains cease, a subtle chill remains—fifty years a dream.