Chapter 8: Sunset at Xiling

Successive earth-shattering loud noises, the last massive stone of the Nine-Layer Tower of Langxuan Palace fell to the ground, stirring up layers of floating dust.

The aftershocks of the stone shaking the earth spread far away along the overlapping palace halls and undulating mountains to the royal mausoleum at the peak of Qishan, merging with the continuous heavy funeral bells, announcing a thorough end.

The sky was dark and the clouds low, the sun dim and lightless.

The sacrificial altar at the easternmost part of the royal mausoleum soared into the clouds, almost reaching the firmament. Zi Hao stepped to the end of the cloud altar, the cold wind blowing his clothes, the world and human realm all in his eyes.

Boundless sea of clouds, the Nine Domains vast, only one isolated peak pushed out by ten thousand mountains stood proudly, piercing the clouds, like a jade pillar supporting the sky, supporting the six directions and eight wildernesses. Located at the intersection of the Mu, Chu, and Xuan states and the royal domain, this Jingyun Mountain was the first peak in the world of the Yong Dynasty. Legend has it that the gods of ancient times used this mountain to open heaven and earth, leading ten thousand rivers to form the Nine Domains. After the vicissitudes of history and thousands of changes, those who climb Jingyun are all kings!

Zi Hao dismissed his attendants, standing alone with his hands behind his back, looking at the distant mountains, clearly having no interest in the various rituals of the funeral, and no one dared to come and ask him to perform the filial piety of mourning and funeral. The civil and military officials were silent in the darkening sky, the bells ringing long, the black flags painted with the four heavenly spirits rising slowly around the sacrificial altar, sacrificial fires lit from the divine path to the main mausoleum, the main priest holding the divine artifact high, and the thirteen abandoned ministers to be buried alive were pushed to the foot of the sacrificial altar.

The heavy doors of the majestic mausoleum opened, like a huge shadow covering down.

Under the escort of the guards, Yuexi paused one last time before entering the mausoleum. The cold figure on the sacrificial altar pierced his eyes like unreachable light from the horizon. He could not help but let out a cold snort, a sinister and vicious look flashing faintly in the depths of his eyes.

The inner palace where the Empress Dowager's coffin was placed had already been sealed. The place where the buried people were located was the burial chamber guarding the inner palace. Although it was a burial chamber, the magnificent wall carvings around it were no less than the inner palace. Huge scrolls, inlaid with gold and painted with cinnabar, stretched to the long corridors of the passage, not seeing the beginning or the end, which shows the grandeur of the underground palace and the luxury of the design.

At this time, thousands of pottery figurines were densely placed in other burial chambers, and only this one in the center was left for the thirteen abandoned ministers of Chonghua Palace.

Outside the door were heavy crossbow defenses. With the disappearance of the guards' footsteps, a loud noise, several heavy stone doors slowly sank, gradually swallowing the light outside. The buried people entered the tomb with the guards, trembling constantly, when suddenly someone shouted wildly: "I don't want to die! I don't want to die! Don't close the door, let me out!" While shouting, he rushed toward the falling stone door like a madman.

The ruthless tomb door slammed shut, cutting off the last trace of light. The buried people collapsed to the ground along the stone door, their desperate wails completely swallowed by the shadow of death.

In the dead silence, footsteps suddenly sounded.

Faint light appeared from the pearls inlaid on the tomb walls. Yuexi, who had been silent, walked out slowly from the darkness. The people waiting to die looked up blankly, looking at the Changxiang Marquis who had once wielded power, when someone suddenly let out a hysterical wild laugh: "Hahahaha, we all have to die, not one can escape. So what if you are the Changxiang Marquis, so what if the Empress Dowager favored you, you are still the same as us, ending up with a fate of dying a bad death!"

Yuexi was also laughing, the charming smile flowing from his eyes, like fresh flowers blooming in the graveyard, carrying a trace of cold evil. He leaned down and laughed low: "In the next life, you will understand, I, Yuexi, am always different from you."

The words fell, sleeves lifted, cold blades flashed, and amidst the suddenly cut-off screams, a spray of blood rushed into the heavy darkness...

The river water slapped the shore, flowing east, the sunset for a thousand miles, the setting sun like blood.

In the shade of Qishan, by the side of the Si River, outside the royal mausoleum, there were several other tombs, which had been left unattended for several years and were already desolate.

A carriage with green curtains and plain drapes drove slowly from the riverside, the long tracks freezing the dim afterglow of the setting sun, turning it into the last distant trace between heaven and earth.

The carriage gradually approached and finally stopped not far from the tombs. Mo Heng stepped forward to lift the curtain. Zi Hao walked out of the carriage, the river wind whistling, lifting the cloud-colored cloak on his body, withered leaves flying in the sunset.

Zi Hao stepped slowly over the rugged mountain rocks, walking through the tombs overgrown with weeds, and finally stopped before a grave.

Looking down quietly, every tombstone here was engraved with a familiar name. They were also princes and princesses, also imperial daughters with beautiful faces. This hill adjacent to the Qishan Wangling was the true mausoleum of the royal family. Over the past ten years, they had either died of illness or were executed for crimes. Except for him and Zi Rao, none of the Xiang Emperor's many children had survived. The Empress Dowager could not tolerate any bloodline born to the Xiang Emperor by any woman, and even if she exterminated them, she would not allow them to be buried in the royal mausoleum, so they were buried in the wilderness, all becoming wandering ghosts.

Looking up at the mountains and fields, Zi Hao's face was cold and calm, reaching out to brush away the messy weeds on the tombstone, when he suddenly heard Zi Rao's voice breaking the deep silence of the dusk: "Five years ago, was it you who ordered Mo Heng to go to the Xuan State?"

Zi Hao was silent for a moment: "Yes."

In the sunset, Zi Rao stepped forward, her dark shadow gradually casting onto the dilapidated and messy tombstone: "You let him take back Zi Yan's head?"

"Right."

A deathly silence behind her, the setting sun in the sky, powerlessly sinking into the distant mountains of Mu, only a blood-red color left by the riverside. After a long while, Zi Rao's voice sounded again in this sunset afterglow: "It was really you. Zi Yan had already arrived in the Xuan State, what could that woman do to him? If Mo Heng didn't strike, who in the Di Du could do anything to the Xuan King? Why, you wanted Mo Heng to travel thousands of miles to take his life?"

Zi Hao turned, meeting Zi Rao's somewhat burning eyes, saying calmly: "Because he was no match for Feng Wan, and even less a match for Ji Cang."

Zi Rao sneered, not knowing why her heart felt uncomfortable as if burned by an invisible flame, just like the setting sun falling straight into her chest, stagnant and heavy, making it unbearable. A sentence escaped her lips without thinking: "As long as Zi Yan dies, it will be impossible for anyone to threaten your throne ever again, right?"

Raising her eyes suddenly, Zi Hao's eyes flashed with anger, but only for a moment, his lips curling again, a trace of unspeakable loneliness melting into that cold smile, settling into the deep bottom: "You think he was a match for me?"

His indifferent tone made Zi Rao's heart tighten. Having said those words on impulse, she immediately regretted it. How could she say such things? If even she were to blame him, then who else in the world could understand him? Was it that she didn't know his intentions? It wasn't that she didn't know, but she was unwilling to admit it, unable to bear the heavy facts like him.

The Northern Xuan State was powerful, with strong soldiers and horses, dominating one side for many years, its strength far above the Di Du. The Xuan King, Ji Cang, conquered the feudal lords and had long intended to contend for the Central Plains, but because he had no name to justify his actions, he never dared to act lightly. Zi Yan fleeing to the Xuan State was a heaven-sent opportunity. The Xuan King would definitely use this as an excuse to send troops to the Di Du, and states like Chu and Mu would not stand idly by. Once the war started, the world would definitely be in chaos, the Yong Dynasty would definitely perish, and Zi Yan would only become the Xuan King's puppet. The day the Yong Dynasty perished would be his death day.

A useless person is better off dead. A person who must die is better off dying under Mo Heng's sword.

Zi Rao tightened her brows, the sun setting over a thousand mountains, like a raging fire in a sea of blood, the residual flames burning her eyes, as if suddenly it was that day seven years ago again.

That day, flames soared to the sky in Langxuan Palace, and when she was ordered by the Empress Dowager to be pushed onto the towering Yao Guang Terrace, the lonely and silent youth in Changming Palace knocked over the medicine cup sent by Chonghua Palace.

That was the first time he directly disobeyed the Empress Dowager's edict, completely tearing apart the harmony that had been maintained between the two palaces.

That day he protected her with his life, she remembered clearly.

One person, one body, who owed whom? Who had to protect whom? Who is he? Who is she? And who is Zi Yan? From the moment he discovered the secret in his medicine, from the moment he saw his mother sent to the royal mausoleum, from the moment the royal dignity was swept to the ground and insulted by others, he and she, along with every once-living soul buried under this yellow earth, had long had no choice.

Everything was his responsibility from birth. From the day he recognized this, every step he took had a clear purpose, needing to gain the greatest benefit. The royal family could no longer afford to lose, they all understood. It was just that this heart was ultimately not as calm as his, just like that simple "Endure" character, he could write it, but she could not.

The anger in her eyes gradually faded, Zi Rao smiled in self-mockery: "He should have been killed. Zi Yan tried to rebel and seize the throne back then, almost causing a disaster. He overestimated himself, and in fact, it was his own destruction. It's just that the records of the Criminal Division are clearly presented on the imperial desk in Changming Palace, how will Mo Heng deal with the crime of killing a prince?"

Zi Hao said nothing, just quietly standing with his hands behind his back, looking at the surging river.

Mo Heng, who had been following not far behind the two, stepped forward and knelt before Zi Yan's grave, lowering his head: "The Criminal Division only wants this subordinate's life, please Master, do not be troubled."

Zi Hao did not turn his head, his sleeves fluttering in the wind, a question as calm as water: "They want it, so you give it?"

Mo Heng was startled and looked up: "Master..."

Zi Hao looked at the long waves of the surging river, his voice extremely light, yet extremely proud: "Those who follow me, the things I want them to do, even if they are wrong, it is not for others to point fingers. But a few impeachments, if you, as the Left Guard General, cannot even bear this, what else can I ask you to do in the future?"

An invisible pressure came from his words, forcing people to hold their breath. Mo Heng lowered his head: "This subordinate... knows his mistake."

Zi Hao ordered calmly: "You don't need to stay in the Di Du at this time. Take a letter to the Mu State for me. Within three days, you must deliver it."

Mo Heng bowed again and retreated. Zi Hao tilted his head slightly, a trace of sadness appearing in his quiet eyes, then disappearing in an instant. This piece of mausoleum, Zi Yan, Zi Xuan, Zi Qing, Zi Ru, Zi Shu... The emperor is romantic everywhere, how many wandering ghosts are in the country? If one day he also goes, it would be good to be here. They are all here, complete, round, and perfect. It couldn't be more perfect.

The dusk finally cast deep shadows in his eyes, but a soft warmth came from his palm. It was Zi Rao who suddenly held his hand. His heart moved slightly, pausing, his fingers gently closing, holding her warm and soft hand.

Just standing by his side without speaking, Zi Rao accompanied him quietly. The two stood side by side, watching the river water flowing, the waves surging like flowers...

(End of Chapter) ===== CHAPTER 9 =====