Young Master

After Tianyan and Tianye departed, Xu Yuan made his way alone to the fractured summit of Tianmen Mountain. Perched on the edge of the precipice, he stared blankly as the sun slowly climbed above the distant horizon. He did not know whether the Overseeing Heaven Pavilion's philosophy was right, but turning it over and over in his mind, it did not seem entirely mistaken either. For the gap between one person and another truly was vaster than the gap between a human and a dog. The chill at the summit instantly condensed the breath from his mouth into white mist before scattering it into the air. Xu Yuan found himself rather ridiculous. He had steeled his resolve before setting out, yet here he was, wavering once more because of the truth Tianye had revealed. The destruction of the old order did not signify the end; how to establish a new order was the true beginning. The path Tianye spoke of had already been walked by the Overseeing Heaven Pavilion for countless years, whereas the road ahead for what he wished to do remained shrouded in darkness. Could the future he desired truly replace the old order created by Heaven's Will? The present imperial realm was indeed rife with ills, yet order still held absolute sway. But that order was maintained jointly by human-crafted formations and Heaven's Will. Formations restrained the Saints; the Saints kept one another in check; and Heaven's Will barred the Saints from taking that further step, completing the closed loop. Heaven's Will's extreme measure—preferring to slaughter hundreds of millions by mistake rather than let a single one slip through—was revolting, yet it had its logic. Human nature could not be trusted. In this era, those endowed with supreme, god-given talent were his father, Li Yaoxuan, and individuals willing to sacrifice everything for their ideals. But what about the next era? If those gifted with such genius turned out to be a pack of selfish, unscrupulous scum, what would become of this world then? Xu Yuan could not answer this. Or rather, he knew the answer, but did not want to speak it. A world where individual might reigned supreme over all else was doomed to fall into chaos, and doomed to slide toward ruin because of that chaos. Though Tianmen Mountain had lost more than half its height from before the battle, it still towered into the clouds, cloaked in misty snow like a realm of immortals. When a light breeze swept past, the youth sitting at the summit had vanished without a trace. The journey back to the capital was far more arduous than the departure had been. From Di'an to Tianmen Mountain had taken Xu Yuan a month, whereas returning to Di'an took him only three days. Yet these three days felt vastly longer than that entire month. Because of war. The full-scale outbreak of civil war was no mere slogan. While Xu Yuan was still in those barren ridges, the flames of war had already engulfed the entirety of the Central Plains, and the regions along his route back to the capital were littered with corpses of the starved and slain. In this feudal empire of transcendent cultivators, perhaps few would directly associate war with ordinary mortals. But the reality was that in this civil war, the overwhelming majority of soldiers thrown into the lines were mortals. Because the front lines were simply too long. The territories under the actual control of the imperial court and the Sect Alliance interlocked like hound's teeth, with both sides holding vast enclaves deep within each other's hinterlands. Along such a sprawling front, the elite military bastions of both factions were concentrated almost entirely around strategic passes and major cities. Yet this was a total war within the world's most powerful empire. The flames of war could not be contained to passes and key cities alone. Both court and alliance—these two colossal leviathans—commanded immense industrial systems. Their manufacturing capacity for cultivators' siege and war engines might be stretched thin, but crossbows, blades, and spears to arm common mortals were in surplus—at least in the early stages of the war. The grassroots mobilization of a unified empire was beyond question. Anchored by local standing garrisons and military colonies, millions of commoners were conscripted and marched to the front. Equipped with arms and armor transported from the rear, they filled the voids that elite formations could not cover. A smaller town with healthier finances might hire a band of martial cultivators to aid in defense, but across the vast majority of regions, mortal armies slaughtered one another. The entire realm had turned into an enormous meat grinder of flesh and blood. With every passing second, thousands upon thousands died. In every corner of the land, buildings collapsed in flames. Crimson blood soaked into the soil, and soul-piercing wails tore through the firmament... And all of this was witnessed by Xu Yuan, the very architect who had set it into motion. Before he had submitted that Fair Taxation Immortal Method, Lou Ji had warned him that this crushing future was a burden meant for his father to bear. He had refused her, insisting on taking it upon himself. Yet now, gazing upon the pyramids of severed heads erected along the way by both sides to terrorize their foes—at those unblinking eyes staring in unavenged death—Xu Yuan's pitch-black pupils reflected a land swallowed by war, and his heart trembled uncontrollably nonetheless. Was this the war he had unleashed with his own hands? Before these harrowing, inhumane sights, Fourth Brother's betrayal in Cangyuan suddenly seemed to carry its own justification. Back in his previous life playing games, people would joke that so long as you won, you were no war criminal. But when it all became reality, anyone with a shred of conscience could not bear to look. Xu Yuan tried to convince himself that this was the sacrifice necessary for the era to move forward; he knew this was the inevitable price of tearing down the old to build the new. But uniting knowledge and action was truly hard. Beneath the walls of besieged cities piled countless severed limbs. Mortals struggling in the mire, desperate to survive, were beheaded with a single stroke. Grand narratives could never erase these dried bones—especially when these countless deaths were subconsciously sensed through Dao charm, suffocating Xu Yuan to the brink of madness. An age of emerging heroes was the romance of an era, but equally the tragedy of a world. Leaders firmly believed they were the ones destined to guide the world, locked in mortal combat for their convictions, yet the cost was ultimately paid by the world itself. A crimson streak of light tore through the heavens from south to north. The validity of the Overseeing Heaven Pavilion's old order and this war ignited by his own hands intertwined and lingered ceaselessly in Xu Yuan's mind. He had never imagined there would come a day when he too would be talked down by someone's words, and he now somewhat understood those villains in the media of his past life who had been swayed by speeches. It was not that the protagonists were so eloquent, nor that the villains were so foolish; it was simply that those words struck the raw uncertainty about the future harbored deep within their hearts. As a human being, Xu Yuan began uncontrollably questioning the future he desired, questioning whether he was truly capable of bringing it into reality, questioning whether a man like him could genuinely take up his father's banner. Time stopped for no one, and the day of Xu Yuan's return to Di'an City arrived at last. It was said that homesickness brought trepidation upon nearing home, yet having been away for only a month, Xu Yuan ought not to have felt such emotion. Still, gazing at the familiar, snow-covered metropolis on the horizon, he instinctively slowed his flight. Though war had begun, the network of official highways connecting Di'an City bustled with horses and carriages as before, and countless aerial transport beasts still converged on the heart of Great Yan like birds paying homage to a phoenix. Perhaps because of Di'an's enduring peace and prosperity, or perhaps knowing that his dependable, reassuring father was still there, the sight of Di'an brought a sudden wave of relief to Xu Yuan's battered, wavering heart. Due to the war, security around Di'an was far tighter, but once Xu Yuan revealed his identity, no fool dared stand in his way. Entering Di'an, Xu Yuan strolled down the long avenue toward the Prime Minister's Manor, savoring the peace of the streets with a touch of greed, hoping to wash away the harrowing images from the front lines. Yet Xu Yuan ultimately abandoned such childish sentiment, quickening his pace in eagerness to return to the Prime Minister's Manor. Just like his previous return to the capital, even though he entered through the main gate as the heir to the Prime Minister's Manor, there was no welcoming ceremony within. Not one of the manor's high-ranking officials, nor his eldest brother or Fourth Brother, came out to meet him. Only the manor's head steward, having caught wind of his arrival, hurried over flustered to bow and offer greetings. Within the grounds of the Prime Minister's Manor, everything seemed as it had always been. Of course, if one looked closely, changes were plentiful. The atmosphere, for instance, had grown considerably heavier. With the civil war now underway, the Prime Minister's Manor—the faction that had instigated the conflict—could hardly remain as relaxed as before. The retained elders and court dignitaries he encountered along the way to the inner courtyard all wore grave, burdened expressions. In this solemn atmosphere, Xu Yuan made his way to the inner courtyard. Unexpectedly, the gates to the inner courtyard, which had always remained shut, were wide open. He assumed his father must have sensed his return. With conflicted emotions, Xu Yuan stepped slowly into the inner courtyard. Yet the moment his foot crossed the threshold, a chill of pure dread shot from the soles of his feet straight to the back of his neck. He sensed outsiders in the inner courtyard. What was going on? Frowning, Xu Yuan stepped forward, instinctively extending his spiritual vision. The moment he sensed those formidable auras, his pupils contracted sharply. In an inner courtyard where outsiders had always been strictly forbidden, a crowd had gathered outside the study gates. They were the core leadership of the Prime Minister's Manor. Hua Hong, Jiang He, Zhou Xianlin... Even... among them, Xu Yuan spotted Zong Qingsheng and Lou Ji, who should have been at the front lines of the war. They seemed to be waiting outside the doors for an audience with the old emperor within, yet also seemed to be standing vigil to welcome the return of a new sovereign. His footsteps echoed down the quiet passage of the inner courtyard. Xu Yuan held his breath, his heart racing uncontrollably. Disaster and upheaval always arrived without warning. In that instant, countless thoughts flooded Xu Yuan's mind, flashes of imagery darting past, until they quietly froze on the enigmatic smile at the corners of Tianye's lips when they had parted. Ask his father... but was his father truly safe and sound? When Xu Yuan turned the corner with this hesitation and formally appeared before the assembly of high officials, the moment their gazes met, the moment they recognized him, these figures of realm-shaking authority bowed their heads to him one after another. Absolute silence. Xu Yuan's heart sank to rock bottom, but his steps did not falter; he kept moving forward. This distance of merely a dozen or so zhang felt excruciatingly long to a cultivator in the Transcendent Realm. At last, he arrived before these elders. As Xu Yuan passed Zong Qingsheng in the deathly quiet, the bear-like commander of the Black Scale Army dropped to his knees before him without the slightest warning: "Young Master." The deep, resonant voice was low and steeped in reverence. His inward suspicion had been confirmed. The weight of what this bow represented bore down upon Xu Yuan's shoulders like a mountain! Instinctively, he wanted to halt his steps, wanted to help Zong Qingsheng up, yet seeing the tightly shut gates to the study courtyard ahead, Xu Yuan chose in the end to walk forward with stoic calm. Next to kneel was Zhou Xianlin, followed by Tian Yuxue, Jiang He... "Young Master." "Young Master." "Young Master." Those dozen or so zhang were like steps ascending to apotheosis. As he walked forward, the manor's high officials waiting before the courtyard gates bent their proud knees one by one. Hua Hong, his hair and beard snowy white, watched the youth approaching at an unhurried pace, as though seeing both the naive young mistress of the past and the Chancellor in his youth. He had watched this boy grow step by step from a mere playboy into who he was today. And so, when Xu Yuan came before him, Hua Hong smiled warmly without the slightest hesitation, sinking to his knees as he whispered softly: "Young Master." At last, Xu Yuan stood before Lou Ji. They had not seen each other for merely half a month, and he wanted to say something to his older sister figure. Yet when his eyes met hers—she who ought to have been supervising various regions across the land—Lou Ji lowered her head, averting his gaze. Then, she too sank to her knees at his feet, just like the other manor dignitaries. This time, Lou Ji no longer called him Changtian. This time, her voice carried a respect so foreign it was suffocating: "Young Master." "..." Like a grand coronation, the whispers of supreme power rendered the entire world mute. Xu Yuan halted his steps at last. He raised his eyes toward the dark, snow-laden sky, a self-mocking smile touching the corners of his lips. Laughing at how ridiculous he had been over the past three days. Countless people were waiting for him. Hesitation? Wavering? He, Xu Changtian, had long lost the luxury of such emotions; he had no right to indulge in them. All he could do was forge ahead without looking back! The hem of his robe swept over the stone steps before the courtyard. With his back turned to the manor's assembly of high officials, the hesitation and wavering in Xu Yuan's eyes finally settled into a pitch-black, tranquil stillness. Without another moment's doubt, he pushed open the gates that embodied supreme power. If the remnants of the old era struggled in hope of enduring, then he would personally sweep them under the wheels of history! If the old order was destined to crumble, then he would build the new one! If the road ahead was pitch-black and unknown, then he would bear it all, bearing the torch forward into the dark!