He blinked, met by a pitch-black wall. As he turned onto his side, a dull ache flared through him.
Liu Hong's head was spinning. Slowly pushing himself up from the pile of dry straw, he rubbed his temples and looked around.
"Wh-what is this place? How did We end up here?"
Liu Hong looked utterly bewildered.
"Your Majesty, this should be the Northern Monastery Prison."
A voice drifted over. Liu Hong turned toward it, spotting a short, dark figure in the adjacent cell.
"Minister Cao?" Liu Hong asked hesitantly.
"It is this subject," Cao Cao answered weakly.
Liu Hong gasped in shock and confusion. "Why would We be imprisoned in the Northern Monastery Prison? And why are you here as well, Minister Cao?"
Luoyang had two major prisons: the Commandant of Justice Prison and the Northern Monastery Prison.
The former held high-ranking officials who had broken the law and vicious, outlaw knights-errant. The latter was no formal imperial prison, but a private penitentiary run by palace eunuchs. In the past, whenever Liu Hong arrested the gentry-officials of the Partisan Prohibitions, he locked them up here.
Unlike the Commandant of Justice Prison, this place was free from the scrutiny and influence of scholars, allowing interrogators to torture and extract confessions without restraint.
Never had Liu Hong imagined that a day would come when he would be locked up here himself!
Cao Cao let out a heavy sigh. "Your Majesty has only just awakened from unconsciousness and forgotten what occurred. Calm your mind and recall, and you will understand."
Hearing this, Liu Hong forced himself to steady his mind. Slowly, images surfaced in his thoughts—the Moth Rebels storming the walls, the false god taking the terrace, the summoning of thunder and lightning...
"We... We have been captured?!"
Liu Hong stared blankly in disbelief, feeling as though he had lived through a nightmare.
Cao Cao remarked with deep emotion, "Being captured was a stroke of fortune. The General-in-Chief, Grand Commandant Deng, Minister of Works Zhang, Gongsun Bogui, and Dong Zhongying were struck down by lightning on the spot, their bodies obliterated without a trace. Major Sun Jian and his personal guards were hacked to death in the chaotic fighting. Only a sparse few—Liu Xuande, Yuan Benchu, myself, Your Majesty, and a handful of others—were lucky enough to survive, though all of us suffered injuries of varying severity."
At the mere memory of that mythic spear of thunder, Cao Cao involuntarily shuddered. Liu Hong likewise trembled, his teeth chattering.
"Is Xuande... is Xuande all right? Is he badly injured?" Liu Hong asked, forcing himself to remain calm.
Cao Cao nodded. "Colonel Liu suffered no grave harm. He was just taken from his cell by the Moth Rebels for questioning."
Hearing that Liu Bei was safe, Liu Hong felt a tangle of emotions. At first, he had pinned his hopes on Liu Bei spiriting him out after the city fell, never expecting that Liu Bei would be captured as well.
Still, it was fortunate that Liu Bei was not severely wounded. In that case, perhaps there would still be a chance for Liu Bei to help him break out...
While Liu Hong was lost in his wild fantasies, the cell door clattered open. A burly military officer stepped in; it was Huang Shao, a qushuai of the Yellow Turban Army.
Huang Shao chuckled at Liu Hong and said, "Awake? Now that you're up, come with me."
Liu Hong plucked up his courage. "Moth Rebel! Where are you taking Us? Release Us at once!"
Huang Shao clicked his tongue twice. "Still 'We' this and 'We' that, are you? Looks like you won't recognize reality until you taste a bit of suffering."
With a sinister grin, he stepped forward and blew warm breath over his knuckles.
Terror washed over Liu Hong's face. He tried to scramble backward, but his back was already pressed flat against the wall—there was nowhere left to retreat.
Thud! Wham! Crack!
Huang Shao brought down his iron fists, landing a barrage of punches squarely on Liu Hong's pale, frail face.
"Still calling yourself 'We'?!"
"Go on, say 'We' again!"
"You're a prisoner in a cage, and you're still putting on airs like the Lord of Heaven?!"
Dazed and dizzy from the beating, Liu Hong screamed, "Stop hitting! Stop hitting me!"
Cao Cao could not bear to watch. They were cellmates now, after all, and Liu Hong was the monarch he had once served. He called out, "Sir, do not strike His Majesty! If you need to vent your wrath, take it out on me!"
Huang Shao ignored Cao Cao, focusing entirely on thrashing the emperor. However, he measured his blows with care, ensuring Liu Hong felt excruciating pain without suffering internal trauma.
Wailing under the assault, Liu Hong finally abandoned all imperial airs, clutching his head as he pleaded, "Spare me! Spare me!"
"Learned to say 'me' now, have you?"
Rubbing his right fist in satisfaction, Huang Shao said, "Since you know how to talk properly, follow me obediently."
Nursing his throbbing face, Liu Hong stammered, "Wh-where are we going?"
"To be interrogated, of course. Where else would you go? Or would you prefer to be beheaded on the spot, torn apart by five horses, or sliced to death by a thousand cuts?"
"No, no, no! We—I do not wish to die! I will go to the interrogation!" Liu Hong blurted in haste.
"Enough, move..."
Huang Shao had his men bind Liu Hong's hands, then led him out of the prison.
***
Inside an exquisite chamber within Luoyang's imperial palace.
Huang Tian sat in meditative trance, his consciousness looking inward at a sphere of violet light within his sea of consciousness.
This orb of light had manifested after he entered Luoyang and designated the city as the capital of the Daoist Court.
This should be the opportunity I dimly sensed that would come with pacifying the realm, he thought. Yet what exactly is it? Faith, incense offering, or karmic destiny?
Huang Tian could not decipher it for the moment. But judging by the faint impulses radiating from the violet sphere, he knew it was not yet fully complete. Only when the realm was unified under heaven would it become harmonious and whole, at which point it could be "used."
No matter. Whatever it is, I will pacify the realm first, and its true nature will reveal itself in time.
Withdrawing from his sea of consciousness, Huang Tian concluded his meditation. Rising, he walked out of the chamber and arrived at Deyang Hall.
With painted eaves and vermilion beams, jade steps, gilded pillars, and carved railings, Deyang Hall was magnificent in every detail—the traditional venue where emperors held regular court assemblies.
Yet today, the figures gathered inside were no longer civil scholars, famous officials, dukes, marquises, generals, or chancellors. Instead, they were Zhang Jiao, Zhang Liang, He Yi, and the other "Moth Rebels" branded as traitors by the Han court.
"Greetings, Holy Sovereign!" Zhang Jiao and nine others prostrated themselves.
"Rise, all of you."
Huang Tian looked down upon them. His very first words filled all ten with shock and delight: "Now that Luoyang has been easily taken, more than half of the realm's fate is settled. It is my intention to bestow Daoist arts upon you as a reward."
Seeing the men move excitedly to prostrate themselves again, Huang Tian raised a hand to halt them. "Focus your minds and listen closely!"
The assembly straightened in solemn silence.
"The art I shall impart is called the Mountain-Suppressing Spirit Scripture. Although it is merely the foundational scripture of a sect from a certain world, its concepts are ingeniously devised, well-suited for laying an immortal foundation.
"Yet cultivation is never an easy path. Whether one enters the threshold in several days, several months, or an entire year, only those who maintain hearts as steadfast as an unyielding boulder can achieve results. Those who master this method will build a heavenly ladder from mortal clay, shedding mortality to attain immortality; longevity and eternal life will no longer be an idle dream. Today, I shall impart its Chapter on Gathering Qi..."
From the knowledge acquired from Mo Qiu in the world of the Thick Earth Sect, as well as his own insights into cultivation, Huang Tian had realized that the vast majority of people in the world were capable of cultivating.
However, differences in meridians, bone structure, comprehension, and the soul's affinity for spiritual qi meant that while some enjoyed spiritual qi flowing like a gushing spring, others might not absorb even a few wisps over three to five years.
Thus arose the distinction between geniuses and the untalented.
To improve aptitude, mighty experts in the Thick Earth Sect's world had devised the art of "planting spiritual roots," grafting demonic beast core elixirs or spirit herb rootlets into the human body to forge artificial "spiritual roots." With these spiritual roots aiding in the absorption of spiritual qi, they produced many cultivation prodigies.
However, Mo Qiu had only mentioned this in passing back then and had not explained how to plant spiritual roots, so Huang Tian did not know the method either.
Zhang Liang, He Yi, Huang Shao, and the others were hardly geniuses; they were merely a cut above the talentless.
The one with the best aptitude was Zhang Jiao, who barely reached mediocrity.
Yet Zhang Jiao is nearing seventy years of age. Even if his natural talent surpasses the average person, the likelihood of him achieving the Dao Foundation realm is exceedingly slim...
With that thought brushing through his mind, Huang Tian continued to impart the Dao:
"...The genesis of cultivation begins with the Yellow Sky and Thick Earth. Embrace the primal origin and maintain oneness; awaken the apertures through the mountain spirit; channel qi through the Purple Court; revolve the heavenly circuit; let the waterwheel turn on its own; plant jade in the Yellow Court; attain true breath and everlasting life..."
Chapter 37