Chapter 40: The Young Son's Blade

Severing an arm at this critical moment of life and death seemed far from wise, but Ling Ke knew exactly what he was doing.

He was doing something only he could do.

Perhaps because of that warning from the Eight Characters, after repeated deliberation, a faint premonition had taken root deep within Ling Ke's heart.

Thanks to that premonition, he was able to maintain a measure of calm amidst today's sudden chaos, seeing through these layers of appearance to the true root of the calamity at Xian Tai Gong—

The Crown Prince had suddenly been suspected of using witchcraft to harm his Sovereign Father, which certainly touched the Emperor's reverse scale, yet after more than ten years of filial father and dutiful son, His Majesty should not, under any circumstances, deny the Crown Prince any chance to defend himself, and instead directly ordered the brutal Commander of the Brocade Guard, Zhu Zhi, to go and accuse the Crown Prince.

The Emperor's anger came too violently and too decisively.

The only explanation could be that this matter was merely a spark, but the place where the spark landed had long been soaked in fire oil.

This fire oil was the unease His Majesty had suppressed and hidden for a long time, and these many uneases should be related to him, this Crown Prince's maternal uncle.

The root lay with him.

The slaughtering blade of that extermination calamity was originally meant for him; the Crown Prince suddenly falling under the blade was merely an accident... someone noticed that the slaughtering blade had already been raised, and thus seized the opportunity to push the Crown Prince under the blade as well!

Ling Ke naturally knew that by killing his way to Xian Tai Gong and forcing his way to the Palace Gate, such an action could no longer be tolerated by the sovereign king under any circumstances. However, his dead end had already been laid out, so there was no such thing as cutting off his own path to survival; all the hesitation and struggle over cause and effect were utterly meaningless.

This was a dead end created by human hearts; only by borrowing the cracks in human hearts could there be hope to pry open a sliver of life for Si Bian.

Even if from now on, His Majesty and Si Bian were destined to be estranged and even become strangers, as long as he could buy an inch of breathing room tonight, Si Bian would at least still have hope of living; as long as he could live, he would have a chance to uncover the truth.

Ling Ke's subordinates bandaged his severed arm in a panic; Ling Ke's complexion was pale, and with his remaining hand he tightly pressed the simply bandaged wound, fresh blood gushing unceasingly from between his fingers.

In his hand he seemed to clutch a long bowstring, the string stretched to the extreme, cutting his palm until it was drenched in blood.

The other end of the string was held distantly in the Emperor's hand, and attached to the string were the lives and deaths of countless people.

—Should he move the troops for one gamble?

Even though he had returned the Tiger Talisman, relying on Ling Ke's prestige in the army, even without the talisman in hand, he might not be unable to forcibly mobilize one of the three forces outside the city, enough to spark a vast and prolonged slaughter that, once started, would draw in the hearts of all parties and could not be easily stopped.

But who would he slaughter with? —The remaining two of the three, who were also officers and soldiers who had followed him through life and death.

Where would the battlefield for him to slaughter be? —Upon this land beneath his feet, the initial image of peace he had barely managed to pave with over ten years of fighting and the white bones of countless officers and soldiers.

Who would be the victor after this slaughter? —Not him, nor even the sovereign king, much less the innocent common people; only the instigator watching the fire from the other shore.

Accurately judging the cost and outcome of a war was the only thing he was skilled at.

And none of these were results Ling Ke wanted to see.

Everyone had their own convictions; he was originally just an inflexible common man.

What he severed was not just an arm; by intruding here, his crime was already determined. He was telling the sovereign king that he could die, he was willing to die, that he, Ling Ke, would rather sever himself to death than become a sword that brought calamity to the state.

He only begged the sovereign king to see his heart and not implicate more innocent people.

Ling Ke tightly grasped that invisible string, tears in his eyes, looking toward the towering Palace Gate, waiting for an echo from the other end of the string.

The true great unity of the world had not yet reached a hundred years; the histories of the six states and the writings of the hundred schools had once been burned to nothing. Although Great Qian was established, there were very few precedents for the Liu family's imperial domain to follow, and experience regarding the state and community of a great nation had not yet had time to accumulate—

Standing upon such an unprecedentedly vast land, whether it was the former Ren Emperor or Ling Ke, they both believed they were walking a brand new road. They were of the same mind, admired each other, full of high spirits and ambitious plans for the territory of Great Qian's imperial domain, and thus they almost naturally believed they had no reason to follow in the footsteps of their predecessors. They should open up a new heaven and earth; what of ruler and minister growing distant, the bow being put away once the birds are gone, suspicion breeding dark ghosts? These were merely old poems of yesterday's pedantic narrow-mindedness written by the incompetent.

However, at this moment, the biting wind howled in, and they had still turned to this curse-like page.

Perhaps this was the true witch's curse.

If it could not be salvaged, then at least try to lessen the cost.

Acquainted for many years, even if they no longer understood each other at some point, between subject and sovereign there should still remain this sliver of "consensus" and "tacit understanding."

However, this "consensus" and "tacit understanding" that Ling Ke firmly believed in never had a chance to be verified.

Before the Ren Emperor fainted, the last urgent report he heard was that the Marquis of Changping had defied the imperial order, killed his way to Xian Tai Gong to save the Crown Prince, and was now advancing toward the Zheng Gong Men.

The Ren Emperor looked at the secret memorial pressed beside his hand with eyes almost bloodshot; it was evidence of the Marquis of Changping colluding with the enemy Xiongnu, secretly delivered to his hands two months ago. He had hidden it and not spoken of it, even still hesitating... He did not want the Crown Prince to be involved, which was why he ordered the Crown Prince to go to Xian Tai Gong to pray for blessings.

But who knew his Crown Prince, in the name of praying for blessings, committed a curse, his Empress had rebelled, and Ling Ke had indeed rebelled as well!

The Ren Emperor's chest surged with qi and blood, the last trace of reason in his mind vanished: "Draft my oral decree: tonight, whoever dares to approach the Palace Gate... at any cost, kill without exception!"

Thus, when the news of Ling Ke severing his arm reached the Main Hall of Weiyang Palace, the response to the Imperial Guard who delivered the message was this imperial decree to kill without exception.

Director of the Imperial Clan Court Xue Yang, despite a hundred kinds of reluctance, dared not disobey. The situation inside and outside Chang'an changed in an instant; perhaps news had already been sent to the army camp outside the city. No one could bear this cost.

And before Xue Yang gave the order to act, the injured Commander of the Brocade Guard Zhu Xing, who had been following from behind, rode his horse to this place. Seeing the standoff before the Palace Gate, he angrily demanded: "Bold Xue Yang, you ignore those who violate the ban; are you perhaps accomplices of the rebel traitors?!"

As Xue Yang's expression changed, the Imperial Guard under Zhu Xing's command had already raised their blades and advanced, while Zhu Xing, on horseback, drew his long bow, and the arrow pierced toward where Ling Ke was.

Ling Ke could use his one arm to wield his blade and block this arrow, but soon more arrows closed in.

A blood-covered boy lunged at him, shielding him beneath his body.

But under such circumstances, no one could protect anyone anymore.

Liu Gu's body was full of arrows, and Ling Ke's body was soon covered in blood holes.

In Jiaofang Dian, the Ling Empress stood on the high platform; a female martial attendant knelt on one knee beside her, bringing news from outside the Palace Gate.

The Ling Empress closed her eyes, but there was no regret and no tears in her gaze.

Having come to this point, it was not her fault, not Si Bian's fault, and not her younger brother's fault. Since there was no fault, why regret? And since she had already done her utmost in this desperate situation with a clear conscience, there was no need for tears.

"Ji He—"

"The servant is here!"

"Take Yu'er and Cong Nan and leave together to seek retirement. Tell him to be obedient; everything ends here. The farther he retreats, the better."

The female martial attendant Ji He raised her head upon hearing this: "Young Mistress, then what about you..."

Before Ji He could finish speaking, she fearfully reached out her hand, but only managed to grab a corner of the splendid robe.

On a spring night of the first month, the Ling Empress leapt down from the high platform.

Wind and snow passed her ears; in the instant before death arrived, her life's experiences flashed rapidly through her mind, finally freezing on the scene of her childhood, running barefoot on the grass while herding sheep with her younger brother.

One day while herding sheep, she heard the sound of horse hooves. She pulled her younger brother to hide behind a large tree and saw a troop of riders galloping past.

The attire of that troop was not imposing; at first glance, they were merely an inconspicuous band of rebel soldiers and grassroots bandits in this chaotic world. Their swords and blades were somewhat worn, only their flag bore an embroidered character that was somewhat eye-catching. She could not read at the time, but many years later, she learned that it was originally a "Liu" character.

From then on, she and her younger brother were entangled with this surname until death.

The returning horse hooves seemed to gallop out of the Ling Empress's old dream; on the horse's back was her disobedient young son.

On the eve of New Year's Day, Liu Qi, at his mother's command, traveled two hundred li outside Chang'an to seek an immortal physician for Imperial Uncle.

Liu Qi was not very willing to go; he had only returned a few days ago, and yesterday he had still told Huanghou of his doubts in his heart. Huanghou did not give him a chance to speak, smiling at him and saying that showing filial piety to his father was the right thing.

Liu Qi thought about it and seemed to agree. Imperial Uncle was the Ruler of All Under Heaven; as long as he could make Imperial Uncle happy and at ease, surely no calamity could not be overcome?

Moreover, would any calamity really happen out of thin air?

Two days before leaving the capital, he went to see Imperial Uncle, who threw him a Taomu Sword, saying he wanted to test whether his swordsmanship had improved. He was full of pride, while Imperial Uncle was panting with exhaustion, sitting on the stone steps before the hall door, saying that perhaps in two more years he would lose to this naughty child.

He had no time to feel smug before Imperial Uncle turned to quiz him on the classics and histories. Feeling insecure in his heart, he went to seek help from his approaching elder brother.

That day Imperial Uncle had clearly been laughing very happily.

But at this moment...

Liu Qi, returning early to the capital, rode his horse all the way to the Palace Gate, only to see the mangled corpses of his uncle and elder brother.

The four attendants beside him were Imperial Guards from the palace, bearing the Son of Heaven's command token, so no one dared stop them along the way.

At the same time, an Imperial Guard came out from Gongnei, bringing news that Ling Empress had been executed.

Executed? Executed?

In an instant Liu Qi could no longer distinguish reality from illusion, nor hear any sound. He only saw Zhu Zhi holding a sword in his hand, poking at his uncle's shattered corpse—

So he drew his sword and rushed forward.

But in a moment, a short arrow flew from somewhere and suddenly pierced his left leg, stopping his steps.

Liu Qi knelt suddenly, still wanting to rise again, but Zhu Zhi coldly smiled and signaled his subordinates to draw their bows toward his direction.

"Bold!"

With a furious shout, a dark-colored cloak swept open, and a majestic figure stood before Liu Qi.

Zhu Zhi narrowed his eyes slightly, looking at the Duke of Lu, Feng Xi, who knew not to avoid suspicion and had actually come to this place.

The old man's voice was strong: "Not to mention that this young child has just returned and does not understand the situation! He is His Majesty's son; how to deal with him can only be decided by His Majesty. Anyone who dares to overstep shall be treated as guilty of plotting against the imperial son!"

The Duke of Lu crouched down and tightly embraced the child, whose face was full of hatred and tears.

As an Opening Founding Merit who won the empire on horseback, though the Duke of Lu was old, he was still enough to tightly encircle a child with a leg injury in his arms.

Liu Qi did not know how long the Duke of Lu had imprisoned him like this. In this blood-red snowfield, he wailed and struggled, as if in Purgatory.

Unknown how long passed, countless footsteps hurried past, until one person stopped before Liu Qi and slowly crouched down.

In the snowfield dyed red with blood, a brocade box lay quietly, inside which several brown Antidote Pills were scattered.

That was the "immortal medicine" Liu Qi had sought for his father. The "immortal physician" was old and moved slowly. To return to the capital quickly, Liu Qi had someone escort the Doctor from behind while he raced back day and night.

At this moment, the Antidote Pills were picked up one by one by the newcomer into the brocade box and handed to Liu Qi.

Liu Qi followed the hand returning the brocade box and looked at the person before him: Yan Xiangguo, with a short beard, a stern face, looking forever devoid of human warmth.

The other bestowed upon him one sentence.

"This is a child's weapon; the Sixth Prince should make good use of it."

Even if the child had endless hatred, he was destined to be unable to break out of this encirclement of bronze walls and iron gates of the Imperial Guards.

The child should grasp the "weapon" a child should grasp, use this "weapon" to fight for the qualification to live and grow up, and even more other chips.

(Rebirth is not omnipotent, and sometimes it backfires. The source of tragedy for those in the game has not truly been reversed. No one knows from which direction or at what time the arrow will come, and the arrow's direction can change at any time due to the butterfly effect. Regarding character settings, in this story, even under the multiple workings of fate, every character will make different choices due to differences in human nature. Even if a character gains the "first opportunity," has space to think, and sees another angle in an instant, in that instant he may even choose to face death in a way more in line with his own values, to fight for and protect what he values. In short, he only needs to complete his own logical perfection in his character world, without needing to refer to anyone else's style and logic.)

If everyone were a fixed template, that would negate human animal instinct and emotional instinct.

Just as if the sum is 4, 2+2 is right, 1+3 is not wrong either. The whole book will be based on this logic. If you can't accept it, no need to force yourself. No more tedious explanations later; explaining throughout the writing process would be redundant (because I am trying to break the habit of crazily writing character psychology to explain character motivation, which is indeed my shortcoming, please forgive me.)

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(Chapter End)