Wei Yuan stepped out of his room bathed in the morning light, met head-on by the desolate, biting chill of autumn.
Outside the posthouse, his personal guards were already prepared to accompany him to the Western Park for the Autumn Hunt. Wei Yuan looked up at the sky. A blanket of overcast clouds hung overhead, neither thick nor thin, casting a gloomy weight upon the heart.
The weather had turned cold; he only wondered if it would snow today...
Wei Yuan felt a nameless stir of emotion. Withdrawing his gaze, he suddenly halted in his tracks.
In the posthouse courtyard, an elderly servant was sweeping fallen leaves. His movements were slow, yet he seemed at one with heaven and earth, sweeping the fallen leaves toward the edge stroke by stroke.
In that instant, the courtyard seemed to transform into the vast expanse of heaven and earth, and the fallen leaves became past luminaries and children of karmic destiny. When their allotted hour arrived, they had no choice but to wither helplessly, swept away into the dusty archives of history.
Wei Yuan's heart stirred with shock. Yet when he looked at the old servant again, all oddity had vanished. The servant's movements were frail and tottering with age; the vital life within his body flickered like a candle in the wind, liable to gutter out at any moment.
Wei Yuan did not approach, but waved over a posthouse official and asked, "Who is he?"
The official's face blanched at once, cold sweat beading on his forehead.
The posthouse's regular handyman had fallen suddenly ill two days prior and was bedridden at home. Thinking it was no big deal, the official had casually recruited a destitute old man to fill the role, giving him just two flatbreads a day while pocketing the wages himself. He never expected that on the old man's very first day on the job, the lord Military Commissioner would single him out!
Seeing the official's expression, Wei Yuan had a general idea of what had happened and asked no further. His mind worked quickly; rather than disturb the old servant, he left the courtyard, mounted his horse, and rode toward the city gate.
Still, Wei Yuan could not help feeling a quiet stir of lament.
The posthouse was the public facade of Western Jin; aside from foreign diplomatic missions, those permitted to stay here had to be at least third-rank provincial governors or provincial commanders. Yet even in such a place, someone could squeeze out illicit coin—it was truly squeezing oil from a stone.
Wei Yuan could not be bothered to intervene, nor did he want to. Petty officials or high-ranking ministers—arrest one and a crowd would take their place; there was no end to it. He suddenly wondered: in the future, would his own territory turn out like this as well?
The hundred iron cavalry rode out of the city gate, reuniting with the four hundred cavalry already waiting outside, and galloped toward the Western Park guided by a small squad of the Imperial Guard.
The Autumn Hunt took place in the Western Park, a private hunting ground reserved for the Western Jin royal family, spanning five hundred li across mountains, forests, and rivers.
The Autumn Hunt was scheduled to officially begin at noon. Arriving two hours early, Wei Yuan was ushered into the martial arena by eunuchs, while the cavalry under his command rode to the designated barracks to encamp.
By tradition, the Autumn Hunt was divided into two parts. The first was martial contests, where various factions put forward warriors to spar before the throne to determine the champion. Participants were restricted to those below the dharma idol realm; after all, dharma idol cultivators were highly valued within any faction, and having them engage in such bouts would easily provoke public outrage and prove difficult to control.
The arena prepared for the Autumn Hunt spanned a full thousand zhang. Shaded viewing stands had long been erected along both flanks, with dedicated areas for high officials of every stripe. Wei Yuan had a small section on a lateral stand, where he was permitted to bring ten personal guards.
Once Wei Yuan took his seat on the stand, several eunuchs came forward carrying a bronze mirror. One eunuch said, "May it please Lord Wei to inspect his appearance before the mirror, lest any impropriety occur."
This bronze mirror was truly a peerless treasure. It could strip away disguises and reveal one's true self; none below the level of an Immortal Monarch could evade it. Although the mirror was not fully activated, all manner of ghostly entities and insidious evil could not escape it—a single reflection would reduce them to vanishing smoke.
Inspecting one's appearance in the mirror was standard procedure to prevent impostors from infiltrating or smuggling in insidious demons and ghosts. Naturally, Wei Yuan had nothing to fear, so he stepped calmly before the bronze mirror.
The bronze mirror reflected a spirited, handsome countenance. His eyebrows were like swords, yet not purely sharp, showing restraint at their utmost point. His nose was tall and slender, shaped also like a blade. His lips were crimson without being flamboyant. As for his eyes, they were undeniably striking; back then, Grandmaster Fenhai had taken a liking to young Wei Yuan's eyes, declaring they were handsomer even than Zhang Sheng's, which had annoyed Zhang Sheng to no end.
The reflection wore a purple-gold hair crown, his long hair bound somewhat casually, fluttering freely in the breeze.
'It seems I don't look half bad...'
Wei Yuan wanted to look a bit longer, but seeing the two junior eunuchs sweating profusely from the strain of holding the mirror, he had to let it go, asking the eunuch beside him, "Is that sufficient?"
Seeing nothing amiss about Wei Yuan, the eunuch hurriedly said, "Lord Wei is a man of striking bearing; naturally, that is qui... te... fine..."
His trailing voice suddenly drew out. In Wei Yuan's eyes, the entire world turned to black and white, and everyone's movements slowed by tenfold.
Only one last point of color remained in the entire world: his reflection in the bronze mirror, where the pupil of his left eye had turned azure!
In Wei Yuan's ears echoed an ethereal, barely perceptible voice: "Benefactor has a karmic bond with our Buddha..."
Wei Yuan emptied his mind, suppressing the three immortal plants to prevent even a shred of aura from leaking out. He quietly watched as the world returned to normal, and the eunuch's voice regained its natural tempo.
The eunuchs carried the bronze mirror down and proceeded toward the adjacent stand.
Wei Yuan sat in place without moving, his expression betraying nothing out of the ordinary. Just now, the White Lotus of the Defiled Earth had stirred as if intending to activate, but Wei Yuan had suppressed it. Yet watching the departing eunuchs, Wei Yuan was lost in thought: even this bronze mirror, a state-guarding artifact, harbored an anomaly?
Had something gone awry with the magical treasure, or had something gone awry with this state?
It seemed Prince Ying's warning had not been without merit; the waters of the Autumn Hunt ran deep indeed. Wei Yuan became all the more determined not to act recklessly this time. When trouble arose, he would lie low like a turtle in its shell, taking only what was his due—and if even that proved unfeasible, he could do without it altogether.
Although Prince Ying believed Wei Yuan deserved a share in the Autumn Hunt, Wei Yuan was now well-versed in human nature. He knew certain people did not think that way at all; they believed everything rightfully belonged to them by birth. Others might have originally felt that the share belonged to Wei Yuan, but thinking their own portion was not enough to go around, they had changed their minds.
Recalling the strangely discolored pupil in the mirror, Wei Yuan casually touched his left eye. Fortunately, there was nothing unusual.
His thoughts suddenly drifted, struck by an odd notion: If he ever fell on hard times in the future and became destitute, would this face of his at least earn him a bite to eat?
Wei Yuan then thought of that baffling young monk. Though the little monk was a bit touched in the head, his looks were truly beyond reproach; if doomsday ever arrived, he would certainly never have to worry about finding food.
Perhaps precisely because the young monk was so handsome, Wei Yuan had hit so mercilessly that day, landing plenty of blows squarely on his face.
In the blink of an eye, noon had arrived. All manner of luminaries and eccentrics gathered, and upon the central high platform sat the King of Jin, perched lofty and aloof, his face still concealed in shadow and impossible to discern clearly.
"Noon has arrived! Let the Autumn Hunt begin!" The voice of Chief Eunuch of the Directorate of Ceremonial Liu Quangong echoed across the entire arena, reverberating long after.
Wei Yuan immediately felt several gazes fall upon him, brazen and completely undisguised. Looking back, he saw that one belonged to a burly, irascible man, while the other belonged to a man with eagle-like eyes and a lingering shadow hovering between his brows.
Like Wei Yuan, these two were Military Commissioners: one was Xu Tongshou, Military Commissioner of Anbei in the northern frontier; the other was Lü Wenbai, Military Commissioner of Yunxiang, whose fief bordered Eastern Jin and the Tang court.
At that moment, eunuchs called out names in succession. Warriors stepped into the arena one after another, divided into six pairs, and began dueling. Before long, victories and defeats were decided; the victors were guided aside to rest, while the losers were mostly carried away on stretchers. Moments later, six new pairs faced off in the arena.
This martial contest was entirely different from Prince Wei's banquet. This was an imperial martial exhibition. Those taking the field were warriors gathered with great effort by princes and high ministers, each possessing profound cultivation and deep daoist arts. Moreover, they fought to the death from the very start. In the blink of an eye, three lives were lost. The corpses and severed limbs of the slain were promptly cleared away by eunuchs, while the vast pools of blood left behind were slowly absorbed into the martial arena.
Compared to the martial bouts of the Autumn Hunt, Prince Wei's banquet had been nothing more than children playing house.
Standing behind Wei Yuan, Cui Yu and Xu Yi turned slightly pale after watching just two rounds. Those taking the field were all formidable experts; neither of them would hold an advantage if they stepped in, and neither possessed the ruthless ferocity of the combatants.
Those combatants went straight for the kill upon meeting, employing whatever was most insidious and lethal. Not only did they use assassin methods, but they even stooped to street brawler thuggery, seeking nothing but victory.
A sudden shriek tore through the arena. A male saberman was matched against a female swordswoman. He had already severed one of her arms and one of her legs, and was currently grinding his foot into her chest, listening to the ribs snapping beneath him.
Unbeknownst to him, the female swordswoman's remaining arm suddenly lengthened by a foot. She grabbed the saberman between the legs, crushing everything in her grip, then dug her five fingers deep into his flesh and gouged the entire mess out raw!
The saberman screamed in agony, bringing his saber down to decapitate his opponent. He did not last much longer himself before collapsing dead.
With this match setting the tone, the subsequent rounds grew increasingly cruel and bloody, and the combatants entering the ring grew increasingly formidable. The watching princes and nobles only grew more excited, placing wagers left and right and spending money like water.
The eunuch attending the stand said attentively, "Lord Wei, won't you try your hand at a bet or two?"
Wei Yuan gave a slight smile and said, "I have no luck with gambling. I'll pass."
"What a pity. This year's martial bouts are far more thrilling than past years..." The eunuch shook his head repeatedly, as though lamenting the hundreds of millions of immortal silver Wei Yuan had missed out on.
Just then, in the arena, a female swordswoman cleaved through both her opponent's earth shield and the heavy shield in his hands with a single slash, slicing him diagonally into two halves in the process. Standing in her foe's blood, she called out in a clear voice, "Jiang Yao, rogue cultivator of the northern frontier, requests guidance from Lord Wei Yuan!"
'Here it comes after all...'
Wei Yuan had already anticipated this. He looked toward the main platform; the King of Jin sat high in the shadows, motionless.
Wei Yuan stood up, picked up Spotless Pure Land, and walked into the arena. Silence fell over the surrounding stands as luminaries scrutinized Wei Yuan, though from their faces, one could not read what was in their hearts at all.
Since he had come to the Autumn Hunt, there was no avoiding this hurdle. Looked at from another angle, only by showing something would he be entitled to claim a share.
The other pairs in the arena had already concluded their bouts and withdrew, leaving only Wei Yuan and the female swordswoman. The swordswoman had short hair and stood at an average height. The magical sword in her hand was four feet long and a palm wide—a broadsword, though not quite a greatsword. She wore a white martial robe, evidently an exceptional magical garment. Her forearms were wrapped in cloth strips inscribed with effects of great strength, swiftness, and magic-breaking.
Her originally delicate face bore several fresh scars. Her sword technique was unadorned and practical, blending seamlessly with her daoist magic, filled with ruthlessness but lacking in finesse—clearly a style forged and honed through life-and-death slaughter.
Wei Yuan came to a stop before her and asked, "I am the court's Military Commissioner of Dingxi, a second-rank official. What qualification do you have to challenge me?"
The swordswoman froze, not knowing how to reply.
Though she lacked experience in courtly affairs, she knew this question was treacherous. If she gave the wrong answer and the King of Jin permitted it, whatever reason she gave to challenge Wei Yuan could be used by Wei Yuan to send someone to challenge her master behind the scenes. When it came to one-on-one daoist duels, the Palace of Grand Beginning had never feared anyone.
The swordswoman's ears twitched. Her expression shifted, and her left fist clenched abruptly before slowly releasing. She said, "After this battle, win or lose, I will sever one of my own arms to atone for the offense!"
Wei Yuan asked impassively, "Which arm?"
Her face pale, she suddenly raised her left arm and said, "The arm that holds my sword!"
Wei Yuan finally nodded. "Very well."
On the high platform, several figures seemed to breathe a sigh of relief.
Wei Yuan and the swordswoman drew apart. Eunuchs swiftly cleared the blood and gore from the ground, reset the formations, and retreated from the arena.
Wei Yuan felt a faint gaze from the central high platform resting upon him. His heart stirred. The King of Jin would not humiliate him for no good reason; what was the meaning of this, then? Or rather, what did he want to see?
Wei Yuan's thoughts raced. At his fingertip, a pale pink petal suddenly materialized. The purely righteous celestial aura immediately stirred a quiet commotion on the high platform.
At this moment, Wei Yuan understood. His greatest fame lay in the celestial laurel tree. Although he had shown Zhao Tong the Crimson Night Immortal-Slaying Sword, the King of Jin was clearly unsatisfied. He wanted to see the celestial laurel tree's true form again, to see whether the tree possessed the power of life extension and revival.
When Zhao Tong had come to his territory to deliver the imperial edict, he had repeatedly emphasized items of longevity. With so much immortal silver offered by Wei Yuan, Zhao Tong had naturally dropped very thorough hints. Thus, Wei Yuan understood: the King of Jin did not care about ordinary celestial trees, nor was he lacking in them; he only lacked a celestial tree capable of extending life.
Since the King of Jin insisted on seeing for himself, Wei Yuan would let him see with utter clarity. That was why what he brought out was not the Crimson Night Immortal-Slaying Sword, but a petal from the celestial laurel tree.
The pale pink petal transformed into a wisp of sword qi, darting out and returning in an instant.
The swordswoman dodged with all her might, yet managed only to steer clear of her vital heart; a clean hole was blasted straight through her left shoulder.
Chapter 315