Chapter 707: Chapter Ten

Yellow Spring Realm

When Ningde said, "I give this position to you, you promise me, leave your brothers' lives," Zhangzong almost jumped up!

It's over, the last hope is gone.

"Crown Prince, you're clueless!"

"He doesn't seem to want to leave any of them..."

Taizu turned the thumb ring on his finger; he wasn't surprised at all—no matter what, this good-for-nothing would never choose the third.

The Great King returned fully loaded to Youzhou and received this good news—Youzhou had its fief abolished.

"My You Prince's mansion, my city walls, my military dock, my silver mine are all in Youzhou—abolish the fief? Dream on!... My warship pushing around on land?"

Ancestors: …

"He still has a silver mine?"

"Just saying he's rich is over the top..."

"What's a warship?"

"... Youzhou was given to the Xianbei; ask the Eastern Xianbei if they dare to take it?"

The ancestors instantly felt a bit uplifted—yes, although the court decided to give it away, but Baili Jing isn't easy to deal with; taking his fief isn't that easy either!

In the next moment I heard the Great King say the Baili family doesn't even care about face anymore: "My father emperor... sigh! How will he face the imperial ancestor after a hundred years?"

Taizu immediately snorted coldly upon hearing this: "I also want to know."

Hezong and Zhangzong, these close relatives, didn't even dare to breathe—couldn't we just beat Ningde and ignore them?

As soon as the peace terms were announced, Ningde and the court's reputation among the populace fell to rock bottom; these days' students are all from the scholar-official class, dissatisfied with the court they dare to write poems and articles mocking it, and the frequency of literary gatherings in Jiangnan has surged.

Just when everyone thought Ningde's serious illness was just saving face, that he was faking it, the Ningde Emperor collapsed.

The emperor died, his soul returned to the Yellow Spring.

Ningde closed his eyes to his son's cries; in the next instant he felt something collapse before his eyes, he instinctively closed his eyes, and when he opened them again he stood on a vast, gray plain, looking back to see—the myriad rivers and mountains of the human world.

He instinctively turned back to retreat, but then realized that when trying to go back, he couldn't move at all.

He looked down at his dragon robe; a gust blew away its color, turning it into plain common clothes. He instinctively tried to call out, but couldn't make a sound. At that moment he knew his life was over.

But his human memories hadn't faded; his heart filled with endless fear, he could only turn and walk forward by instinct. Who knew that after taking a single step, he instantly appeared in the great plaza of the Eleventh Hall?

On the plaza, dozens of people stood in clear-cut groups staring at the sky curtain, and Ningde appeared there, dazed.

From the former Zhou dynasty came a burst of laughter: "How familiar—isn't that the great meritorious official from the human world?!"

The Baili clan, those with complicated thoughts looking at the chaotic Jianzhang Palace, saw the protagonist appear before them in an instant.

Everyone looked at the sky curtain, then at Ningde, and simultaneously thought: You've finally come!

Zhangzong bellowed: "Unfilial son! You've ruined Great Jin!"

Anzong received his grandson with a shoe or a straight kick; Zhangzong didn't, and these days he had even prepared weapons.

In the Eleventh Hall there is a tree called the leafless withered willow, the most common tree in the Yellow Spring Realm. It doesn't sprout, doesn't shed leaves; when the wind blows, its branches knock together, making a sound like a sigh. Zhangzong felt this tree was a perfect match for Ningde—who could see Ningde without sighing? He had already picked out a sturdy branch.

At that moment he gripped the withered willow, and with a speed mismatched to his age he lunged forward; Ningde hadn't reacted yet, and the willow branch lashed his body.

That wretch first let out a miserable cry, then realized who was whipping him.

"Father emperor?!"

Zhangzong kept striking with his rod without raising his head: "Don't call me father emperor—I don't have a son like you! You've ruined Great Jin! It's all because I blindly chose you! You unfilial son, even at death you picked a successor just like you! Unfilial son! Unfilial son!"

The willow branch striking his body was real pain, and Ningde was dazed.

He's dead, how could it still hurt? Could this actually be a dream, dreaming of his deceased father whipping him? Or… is this the Yellow Spring Road? Look at the blood-colored sky above… or is it the underground mausoleum of the Baili clan?

In a moment Hezong came running too, loudly asking Ningde: "On what basis do you not leave the throne to the third… Baili Jing! On what basis do you not give it to Baili Jing! Your eldest son will never let his brothers off!" Hezong never forgot to speak up for his beloved third.

Ningde felt his back must be swollen all over, being whipped by his father left him dazed. Hearing the three words "Baili Jing" finally gave him a sense of familiar comfort he could understand.

"Who are you again?" Giving the throne to the third son? Not the legitimate heir, not the eldest, not liked—who are you to meddle so much!

Zhangzong heard his insolence and struck him hard again: "You grandfather! You unfilial son!"

Ningde: …

This grandfather looks about the same age as Baili Jin, but he couldn't recognize him, and he doesn't resemble the portrait left in the palace either!

Now he believed he was truly dead—even his grandfather appeared. His grandfather and father left no impression, let alone him. In the human world Ningde was an arrogant good-for-nothing; coming here, his father whips him, and he doesn't dare to dodge.

Zhangzong grew tired of whipping, dragged him forward, and when they reached the spot where the Baili clan sat watching the sky curtain, he kicked him: "Kneel! Apologize to the ancestors!"

Ningde knelt down, dazed, and carefully examined the dozen or so people seated here in various postures… who are they all… after scanning, his eyes suddenly met the middle one's; from that person's indifferent gaze, looking at him with lowered eyelids, he somehow felt a hint of familiarity…

No… isn't that the portrait of Taizu in the imperial temple?!