Departure

Crunch. Crunch. Treading across the snow beside the precipice, as the vast mist of snow churned up by the heavenly punishment gradually settled, the pavilion that had sheltered the two of the older generation was no more. Only that enormous black chasm remained. The maimed youth came dripping blood with every step, arriving at the place where the grudges of the past generation met their end. The body damaged in the aftershocks was constantly being restored by the rules of death. Xu Yuan quietly gazed down into the dark silence below, his mind inexplicably recalling that very first mountain. Tianmen Mountain. The towering primary peak of Great Yan that pierced the clouds. The mortal world believed that horrifying hollow upon it had been carved out by the desperate, all-out strike of the Heavenly Gate Sword Immortal. Now it seemed the Heavenly Gate Sword Immortal had indeed unleashed that strike, yet it still could not rival heaven above, leaving him and his sword technique to be obliterated beneath heavenly punishment. An identical, terrible might. It had turned what once was Heaven Mountain into Tianmen Mountain. It had turned what was the Imperial Mausoleum into the Imperial Abyss. A mighty force that obliterated all three people capable of threatening heaven... "Whew..." His warm breath dissolved into white mist. Xu Yuan slowly lowered himself to sit on the snow beside the abyss, gazing up at the vault of heaven where the colossal eye had vanished, a hint of bewilderment in his eyes. After the heavenly punishment descended, the heavenly eye at the zenith of the dome had dispersed, and along with it, the presence of the two men beneath it. In the final moments of their lives, the fathers had remained true to the ideal they shared; the Great Yan Emperor had, in the end, refused to wield his blade against his comrade. Yet the conclusion of this story was still written as a tragedy. Because of outside interference. Because of the seeds they had sown in the past. Xu Yuan felt his mind was a chaotic mess, so tangled he could not think. Someone he cherished had once more died before his eyes, and once more, he had been powerless. Even more than the last time, this time he could not even offer help. Xu Yuan felt he should do something for that father of his. Like killing a person or two to vent his fury. The problem was, whom should he look for? The last time Li Junwu died before him, he had plainly and simply placed all the blame, all the hatred, onto Wen Xinyun. But whom should he blame this time—or rather, whom should he seek vengeance against? Heaven? Yet rather than heaven, it seemed he ought to seek the owner of that arrow. Because of Li Yaoxuan's hesitation, his father had not completely broken through beyond the Saint Realm. That heavenly punishment should not have descended; that mighty power had fallen entirely because of that arrow shot from Di'an. The trouble was, Li Zhaoyuan lacked the cultivation to understand "heaven," nor would he possess the intelligence and methods to trigger heavenly punishment. In other words, Li Zhaoyuan had most likely cooperated with someone, and considering his past, his partner was almost certainly Wen Xinyun—the woman who had plotted for a millennium to wage war against heaven. That woman again. Just after the Black Scale Iron Cavalry trampled Jiangnan, she had handed over the blade to eliminate the Imperial Chancellor. A flicker of apprehension flashed through him, and his thoughts pressed on. Thinking deeper, the late Great Yan Emperor likely had a share in this too. Though the man had chosen his original self at the end of his life, the Li Zhaoyuan of today could not be separated from how Li Yaoxuan, the Great Yan Emperor, had raised him... With that thought, Xu Yuan slowly lowered his eyelids, pressing hard between his brows to suppress the complex, surging emotions in his heart. At this moment, he wished he could just become a hotheaded fool—one who could reduce myriad complexities into simple hatred, pick someone out to kill, and call it vengeance. Yet Xu Yuan could not bring himself to do it. He knew all too well that the deaths of those around him were never decided by a single person. They were the inevitable accidents in the great torrent of opposing sides and overarching tides. Unless this clash of greater tides was resolved, even if he took crude and direct revenge, a third and a fourth person dear to him would still die before his eyes. "...Is this what it feels like when the greater tide cannot be defied?" Xu Yuan bit his dry lip, exhaling a breath of warm air that dispersed into white mist. Gazing at the Imperial Abyss before him, he reached out a hand to catch a speck of light drifting up from it. Whenever a Saint died, the saint origin gathered within their body would become nourishment to replenish heaven and earth. The corpses beneath the abyss were no different; they turned into countless starlike motes, drifting out with the snowy mist, quietly dispersing into the land they had loved all their lives... Heaven and earth were silent. He stared at this starlight that bore witness to the Imperial Chancellor's ideals for a long time—so long that snow covered his body and dyed his long hair white. Only then did Xu Yuan chuckle softly, clenching his fist to scatter the starlight. "I'm sorry..." With that murmured apology, Xu Yuan rose, brushed the snow from his clothes, took one last look beneath his feet, and turned toward Di'an. "...I probably won't ever be able to do what you two did in this lifetime." Perhaps because he knew where the path beneath his feet would lead, compared to the gut-wrenching hatred of before, Xu Yuan was unexpectedly calm this time. Toward the future new emperor who had directly caused his father's demise, he did not even feel a trace of killing intent. Yet just as Xu Yuan was about to leave this Imperial Abyss, a calm, gentle voice quietly drifted over: "Found the path you want to walk?" "......" Xu Yuan. Instinctively, he whipped his head around. And then, Xu Yuan saw that familiar black-patterned dragon robe... *** Ever since shooting that arrow, Li Zhaoyuan had walked down the mountain without looking back, without checking the arrow's result. Even when that qi wave that disturbed heaven and earth swept over Di'an, he did not cast another glance toward the Great Yan Imperial Mausoleum. Whatever the outcome of that arrow, whatever his imperial father's final choice was, the story of the past was destined to end at his hands. The Crown Prince's grand carriage set out from the foot of Huanglong Mountain, heading for Marquis Wucheng's Manor, where a calling card had already been delivered. As wheels ground over the accumulated snow, Li Zhaoyuan glanced at the passing scenery through the window lattice, carved beams and painted halls reflected in his dark pupils. Di'an's Palace City was built against the mountain, its jade halls rising tier by tier along the central axis. Looking up upon entering the palace, every structure was so imposing it weighed on the heart; looking back upon leaving, these magnificent towers and pavilions were like colossal beasts prostrating themselves at his feet. Golden armor cleared the path, the ceremonial guard emptied the streets, and people knelt for ten li. The recent succession turmoil within the palace was no secret to Marquis Wucheng's Manor. Now that the dust had settled, regardless of the past, the manor showed the utmost respect to Li Zhaoyuan, the future new emperor of Great Yan. When the Crown Prince's carriage arrived at Marquis Wucheng's Manor, Marquis Wucheng himself was still at the Northern Border, so the Young Marquis, Mu Hongli, led a group of senior aides to wait quietly before the manor gates for Li Zhaoyuan, the future monarch. When boots embroidered with python patterns and flowing clouds stepped out of the carriage, the moment Mu Hongli bowed in greeting, whispers of power quietly echoed in Li Zhaoyuan's ears. "Your Highness." "Your Highness." "Your Highness." Li Zhaoyuan looked down upon everything before him. At this moment, he ought to feel exultant. He had vindicated his past persistence, proving that an individual could climb to the absolute pinnacle on ability alone. Yet all that remained in his heart was barren silence. Without a ripple of emotion on his face, he walked calmly before Mu Hongli and raised him up with a smile. After exchanging the courtesies of harmonious ruler and subject, he entered the marquis's manor alongside him. Everyone present believed this was a political show: the future new emperor of Great Yan deigning to visit a veteran official commanding formidable military forces before his coronation, offering ample political promises in exchange for unwavering loyalty. Yet when the future monarch on the main seat dismissed the attendants and spoke words of an imperial marriage, the grand main hall of the marquis's manor fell into a brief silence. "We wish to bestow an imperial marriage upon Marquis Wucheng's Manor." A new monarch securing key ministers through an imperial marriage was nothing novel, but Li Zhaoyuan had no sisters of the same mother, and Mu Hongli already had a primary wife, so the intended recipient of this marriage was obvious. The new ruler, Li Zhaoyuan, was betrothing Marquis Wucheng's di daughter, Mu Zhiyun. With the power of Marquis Wucheng's Manor, its di daughter would inevitably become empress upon entering the palace, just like the deal struck between Li Yaoxuan and the previous Marquis Wucheng back then. The trouble was that Mu Zhiyun's reputation was not untarnished—or rather, not untarnished within the top echelon of Great Yan's nobility—because of the youthful folly of Xu Changtian, the future head of the Xu family. Even though those in the know understood that the indecency had been interrupted, it inevitably cast a shadow over the innocence of the marquis's di daughter. Could someone like Mu Zhiyun truly enter the palace as empress? Carrying this hesitation, Mu Hongli asked softly, "...May Your Highness speak plainly." Li Zhaoyuan saw through his misgivings and smiled quite straightforwardly. "Two empresses from a single clan—would that not make a fine tale?" Hearing this, Mu Hongli inexplicably felt relieved. Though he doted on his sister, she would have to marry eventually, and this imperial marriage would make her the most exalted woman in Great Yan. With this thought, Mu Hongli rose and bowed. "We are deeply grateful for Your Highness's favor. On Zhiyun's behalf, I offer our thanks." Li Zhaoyuan smiled, looking down at the dashing man bowing before him. His pitch-black eyes were entirely lifeless as he slowly uttered: "Since you agree, summon her here. She shall enter the palace with Us this very day." "......" Mu Hongli's posture stiffened slightly. Maintaining his outward composure, he withdrew his bow and said, "Your Highness, this would hardly conform to propriety." "How does it not?" "......" The marriage of an ordinary noble family's di daughter required elaborate protocol, let alone the conferment of the Crown Princess. This was a momentous affair of state; even for an initial betrothal, it had to pass through the Emperor, Empress, Director of the Imperial Clan, and a series of high ministers. Almost in an instant, Mu Hongli realized there was more to this imperial marriage bestowed by Li Zhaoyuan than met the eye; otherwise, he could not be in such a rush to have his sister enter the palace. Snow coated the courtyard; faint curls of incense drifted from the burner. Taking a deep breath, Mu Hongli probed cautiously: "Your Highness, may I ask why?" Li Zhaoyuan merely shook his head gently. "You wouldn't want to know." Hearing this, Mu Hongli sat back down in the secondary seat and said in a heavy voice, "Then I fear I cannot agree. We can only wait until my father returns to the capital from the Northern Border to discuss this further." The matter of the betrothal reached an impasse, yet Li Zhaoyuan showed no emotional fluctuation. He merely looked at the dashing youth, whose eyes were filled with mounting wariness, and said languidly: "Hongli, the older generation is growing old, and the new generation will eventually seize the future... but not right now." "......" Silence filled the hall as a gentle breeze knocked snow from the eaves. Mu Hongli's pupils constricted slightly. Catching the implication, he instinctively glanced back toward the residence's inner chambers. Soon, the sharp hearing granted by his cultivation picked up a steady, rustling rustle of footsteps. His mother was coming, bringing Mu Zhiyun. From the very beginning, this new emperor of Great Yan had not come to negotiate; he had come to collect someone! He had already swayed the true master of Marquis Wucheng's Manor in Di'an—his mother, Lady Fuguo. An inexplicable sense of crisis engulfed him. Mu Hongli instinctively felt that if his sister left with this man, she would meet certain death. First Xu Changtian, now Li Zhaoyuan. Mu Hongli had no idea why so many supreme nobles harbored such hostility toward his sister, but as an elder brother, he could not sit idly by. He rose abruptly, looking directly at Li Zhaoyuan. "Your Highness, what is your intention behind this?" "......" Li Zhaoyuan said nothing, quietly regarding him. Mu Hongli instinctively clenched his fists, standing tall. "Your Highness, unless you disclose the reason, even if my mother agrees, I cannot consent..." "Hongli, stand down." Flanked by several old maidservants, an elegant matron emerged from the inner hall, reprimanding her son's impudence. Mu Hongli turned his head and saw his mother, as well as the unconscious girl behind her, cradled in a maidservant's arms. In a moment of silence, veins throbbed at Mu Hongli's temples. He snapped in a rapid, hushed voice, "Mother! Even if you loathe Zhiyun's origins—" "Presumptuous!" The elegant matron spoke those two words with unhurried grace. Yet along with her voice, a sudden wave of dizziness surged into Mu Hongli's mind. As Lady Fuguo, who managed the entire Beifeng Army's logistics with flawless order, the elegant matron had naturally anticipated her son's reaction and made full preparations. By the time Mu Hongli realized he had fallen victim to his mother's methods, it was already too late. He looked at the woman with eyes full of sorrowful, indignant bewilderment—unable to understand why even his mother would target Zhiyun, unable to understand why she would drug her own son just to aid Li Zhaoyuan. Looking at her staggering child, the elegant matron's eyes were filled with exhaustion and sorrow. "Hongli... the consequences of this matter are not something Marquis Wucheng's Manor can bear." "......" Mu Hongli wanted to say something, but under the erosion of the toxin, he collapsed to the side. Once Mu Hongli had fully lost consciousness and the maidservants had supported the Young Marquis away, the elegant matron finally bowed to the young man on the main seat: "Your Highness." Li Zhaoyuan sat upright in the seat of honor without looking at her. Glancing at the comatose, fair-faced girl, he asked softly, "Did Madam verify it without error earlier?" The elegant matron fell silent for a few breaths, then said: "Just before that qi dynamic swept over Di'an earlier, a peculiar soul intent indeed leaked from Zhiyun... Your Highness, this was a sin committed by the Marquis back then." "Merely an unwitting sin plotted by another." Li Zhaoyuan rose to his feet, a hint of a smile appearing in his dark eyes. "Since Madam allows Us to take her away, the merits and faults of Marquis Wucheng's Manor shall balance out."