Chapter 246: Wherever One Stands, Who in History Has Ever Been So?

The northern frontier has been settled, beyond reversal; it now changes hands.

Prince Lu Chen of Yan.

There is no turning back.

The patriarch of the southern clan, amid misty rain, though unwilling, now lacks the strength to contend further.

The north is a barren, treacherous land—twenty years of relentless war, harsh borderlands, starkly different from the wealth of the south.

At this moment, they finally understood—or comforted themselves—that the name "north" had become a place beyond the imperial court's reach.

A name that exists, but a reality that is dead.

Thus, after weighing gains and losses, the southern clans traded the useless north for peace, and in that calculation, found a measure of release.

The southern aristocrats, clad in crimson court robes adorned with auspicious beasts, stirred from shock; their glances met, and a faint, unnoticed joy spread.

Suddenly, this deal did not seem a loss at all.

Only Xie Chunan stood among the crowd, his gaze deep, silently sighing.

He gazed at the figure seated at the head, his heart a tangle of emotions, unsure what to think.

The north, corresponding to the Kan trigram, is of watery abundance; the Lu family's iron cavalry wear black armor and dark robes.

The south, Qian Yuan, inherits the fire virtue, raises red banners.

Chu is of earth, the origin of the five elements; now the five nations of the realm truly stand in balance.

This shift is not merely a change of territory, but a turning of heavenly mandate.

Though poor, the north harbors dragons and tigers, waiting for the right moment. And that young protector, having claimed it, now faces a future unbound—his power limitless.

From dragon, water is gained!

When the young protector left Mount Zhongnan for the capital, Xie Chunan, the former minister who once earned his living by divination, now gently stroked a tortoise shell and studied the yarrow stalks, casting another divination for the fate of the realm.

"Using the Nine: seeing a host of dragons without a leader—auspicious!"

The omen revealed, profound in meaning.

The great tide of the realm is like a host of dragons roaming the nine heavens, leaderless yet governing, each manifesting its own strength.

Applied to the realm, this omen foretells warlords rising together, no single leader, each nation governing itself, competing in development.

Within the four seas, a hundred boats race.

Qian Yuan, Northern Wind, Han, Chu—four nations, plus the newly enfeoffed Prince Yan, Lu Chen—five powers, each holding a corner: white, blue, black, red, yellow—five colors interwoven, as if the five elements of the realm are complete, mutually balancing.

The five elements generate and restrain each other; thus the realm achieves stable transition, yin and yang harmonized.

Xie Chunan knew: the moment Lu Chen was made prince, the great tide of the realm had already been settled.

Though the four nations encircled the capital, they could not form a true encirclement—each harbored secret motives, unable to unite truly.

The capital is secured.

You gaze calmly at Feng Haiping and say softly: "All troops, follow me north."

The Lu family army, at once obeying, their morale soaring, cried out:

"We obey Prince Yan's command!"

You step out of Taihe Hall, the grandest structure within the palace.

Towering, golden and splendid, it is the symbol of supreme power, its jade terraces and jeweled pavilions radiating imperial majesty.

Beyond lie the three thousand concubines, eunuchs, and servants.

Beneath Taihe Hall's central platform of white jade lie vast courtyards.

Whoever enters—whether enfeoffed prince or appointed minister—walks through the courtyard, ascends the steps, and finally enters Taihe Hall with solemn demeanor.

At the center of Taihe Hall, a great chair stands, symbolizing supreme royal authority.

The emperor's residence is called the palace; his chair is the dragon throne; his bed is the dragon bed.

He calls himself the Son of Heaven.

He invests imperial power with mystery and nobility, seeking to draw boundaries, dividing men into hierarchies.

They wish to separate men.

In essence.

Whether clad in dragon robes and phoenix crowns, or borne in eight-man palanquins, or pulled by nine horses—

All are but men.

You feel no attachment.

The Lu family army follows you in orderly procession.

Zhou Jinyu hurried to the doorway of Taihe Hall, her skirts lifted, watching you slowly descend the steps.

From start to finish, you never looked back.

Zhou Cheng stood atop the steps, bowing from afar.

Xie Chunan did the same, his gesture unusually solemn.

Dai Zhong also departed; this Grand Magistrate of Justice was already among the highest figures of Daqing.

Among the crowd, many held Dai Zhong in admiration.

An elder proposed: "Grand Magistrate Dai, why not remain in the capital? Continue to lead the Grand Magistracy? With you here, we feel at ease."

"Yes, Grand Magistrate Dai, the south is peaceful; the north is harsh and frostbitten. You should marry, have children, carry on your family line!"

Someone added: "The north is no place to go."

Living in the south, one forgets the sound of home.

These words came from two elders—the most respected patriarchs of the Li and Chen clans of the southern aristocracy.

With Lu Chen's departure and Zhou Jinyu's young son ascending the throne, the southern clans' influence in court grew ever stronger.

Only now could they speak thus, make such assurances.

They held Dai Zhong in such high regard not merely for his ability, but for his fairness, his willingness to labor for justice.

Only because of him did the south achieve such "clarity," with fewer wrongful or false cases among the people.

Fifteen springs and autumns, Dai Zhong labored tirelessly within the Grand Magistracy—his character and integrity plain to see.

Distance reveals a horse's strength.

Dai Zhong won the recognition of the southern clans.

Dai Zhong smiled at their words.

This smile was rare among those present; they were startled—Dai Zhong never smiled.

Dai Zhong said:

"No need for your concern, gentlemen. A true man does not need a fixed place to stand."

"As long as I follow the young protector, wherever in the realm, I am at home."

An unexpected answer—yet perfectly reasonable.

Someone in the Lu army called out: "Dai Zhong, hurry up!" It was Yu Xu; the two had been brothers since youth.

Dai Zhong's smile deepened.

"Dai Zhong, farewell!"

These words startled all, yet felt inevitable.

The Chen elder watched Dai Zhong depart, the Lu army marching closely behind the man at the front.

He sighed.

"This young protector—I grow ever more unable to understand him."

The Chen elder thought: if he were not clan patriarch, or if he were not in his position, he too would be forgotten once gone.

He asked, puzzled: "He cultivated for fifteen years, left the north for so long—logically, the Lu army, even the realm, should have forgotten him by now."

Yet!

The opposite is true: the moment he steps out of Mount Zhongnan, the realm rushes to follow him.

Heroes and warriors across the land abandon homes and kin to follow him.

Ancient histories record: when the founding emperor rose in rebellion, heroes answered, chanting:

"Raise the banner of righteousness, divide the land—the followers flock like clouds!"

The Chen elder gazed at the courtyard beneath Taihe Hall, where the Lu banner flapped fiercely.

At the front, the leader rode a horse in plain cloth, slowly exiting through Wumen, behind him a host of troops like dark clouds.

What does Lu Chen have?

What can he offer these people?

Xie Chunan shook his head, unable to help but smile wryly:

"From ancient times to now, I do not know who else could be so."

Zhou Jinyu recalled the young protector's edicts written the night before.

Thirty-eight thousand characters—not one word about himself.

All for the people.

Therefore!

The realm has long yearned for him.

(End of chapter)