Chapter 98: The Purple Micro Emperor Governs the World: The Twenty-Six Pavilion Commanders

Inside this dilapidated temple.

The howling cold wind swept through the hall, chilling every corner of the ancient shrine!

The green-robed Daoist at the entrance, his robes fluttering in the wind, paid it no mind, standing steadfast just beyond the eaves.

The sword-bearing man, however, kept glancing frequently at the green-robed Daoist.

The fat scholar’s low murmur.

“The imperial star wavers, Mars looms high!”

The group snapped back from their earlier shock.

Mention of Mars lingering over the Heart constellation—every monarch throughout history had paled at the mere words; it was the celestial omen they feared most.

Mars, this star, glowed crimson like fire, standing out vividly amid the vast heavens.

Its path was erratic, and wherever it appeared—eastern sky or western night—signified war and calamity.

Yet even more terrifying was this:

When this ill-omened star halted within the Heart constellation, it became Mars Lingering Over the Heart.

This was not merely Heaven’s severe punishment for a ruler’s moral failings—it foretold the sovereign’s divine calamity, the trembling of the state, and the instability of the realm.

History recorded thirty-two instances of Mars Lingering Over the Heart; each was followed by nationwide chaos, dramatic shifts in power, dynastic collapse, and rivers of blood.

Yet!

At this very moment, as the Empress gave birth to a prince and the capital rejoiced, a celestial omen appeared—foretelling “Mars Lingering Over the Heart”—a dire portent indeed.

The Son of Heaven, upon hearing the news, flew into a rage.

The woman in the green skirt said: “This grave offense is enough to bring ruin upon the Prefect.”

“Who could deny it!”

“But that wandering Daoist tricked us—apparently vanished afterward.”

The fat scholar shook his head and sighed: “Worse still, the stele carried further words.”

The white-robed woman frowned: “What does this have to do with the Young Protector?”

The handsome young lord glanced at the white-robed woman, a flicker of surprise in his eyes—he sensed her unusual interest in Lu Shaobao.

The fat scholar continued: “The stele bore twenty-eight lines of celestial script, corresponding to the Twenty-Eight Mansions. Of these, twenty-six were none other than Lu Shaobao’s former generals—the Twenty-Six Pavilion Commanders who once ruled the land.”

“Each man’s birth chart and life history were inscribed there—precisely and without error.”

“Could this be true?” Everyone was stunned.

“Moreover, two others on the stele completed the Twenty-Eight Mansions: Lu Shaobao and the Young Marshal.”

That is, Lu Chen and Lu Yu.

The fat scholar went on: “The stele plainly declared that Lu Shaobao is the earthly incarnation of the Purple Micro Emperor, come to govern the world, and the master of the Twenty-Eight Mansions.”

At these words, the temple fell silent once more.

Such treasonous words!

They would not be tolerated in any dynasty.

The Mandate of Heaven grants rule—this is profound blasphemy.

You, however, fell into quiet thought.

The beautiful woman sat on the long bench, gazing out at the torrential rain beyond the temple, as if lost in thought.

The white-robed woman, meanwhile, wore a grave expression, a trace of unease in her eyes.

The elderly man of the Zou family, his face shadowed with worry, spoke slowly: “Daqing is once more on the brink of storm and turmoil.”

“The Young Protector’s arrival in the capital… sigh…”

The beautiful woman rose and steadied the old man: “Father, do not worry. The Young Protector is blessed by Heaven.”

The old man sighed, then gave a slight nod.

The beautiful woman was Zou Shuning. She had come to the capital with her father and nephew for three reasons.

First, her father was elderly; she had urged him not to travel, but upon learning the Young Protector was coming, he refused to be dissuaded and insisted on going.

Second, her nephew was about to take the autumn provincial examination, and his impulsive nature required supervision.

Lastly, she wished to visit an old friend she had not seen in years, to renew their bond.

The handsome young lad smiled.

His aunt was no ordinary woman—since childhood, she had excelled in music, chess, calligraphy, and painting; in her youth, she disguised herself as a man and topped the provincial examination, becoming a celebrated tale.

Add to that her stunning beauty, and her fame spread across the entire prefecture.

But!

Her marriage prospects had been disastrous. Her uncle arranged three fiancés for her. The first, newly crowned a Metropolitan Graduate, died of illness the next year. The second, a rising literary talent, perished in prison after being implicated in an exam-cheating scandal.

The third, chosen for his “hard fate,” was a dashing martial hero—only to die in a storm of intrigue by year’s end. The match was finally abandoned.

Now nearly thirty, she was considered an “old maiden,” yet still dazzlingly beautiful.

The beautiful woman helped the old man sit back down on the bench to rest.

The fish-belly note and the celestial stele had thrust the Young Protector into the eye of the storm.

The imperial decree from Mount Zhongnan summoned him to the capital for audience.

The Zou elder wondered: this news had been tightly sealed—how had it spread across the entire nation?

Along the imperial road, countless martial artists were heading toward the capital.

The Young Protector’s arrival was now common knowledge—even street storytellers were deliberately publicizing it.

The handsome young lad chuckled: “With these two incidents, the Young Protector’s journey to the capital grows even more perilous.”

The thin scholar, while gathering his chess pieces, mused: “Ignorance is no crime. I recall the Prefect is imperial kin—his crime hardly merits death.”

“This time, the Prefect has truly pierced the heavens.”

The thin scholar turned at the voice—only to see the previously silent beautiful woman speaking solemnly.

“The Twenty-Six Pavilion Commanders on the stele.”

The white-robed woman spoke slowly, her voice tinged with memory.

Zou Shuning found it odd—the white-robed woman seemed intimately familiar with Lu Shaobao’s past.

“After the Young Protector retired to Mount Zhongnan, most of them laid down their arms and returned to the fields; the few remaining still held pivotal positions in the capital.”

“The notice posted on Wuyang Tower states that Feng Haiping, lord of the Northern Garrison Army, is now the Marquis of Gaomi.”

Zou Shuning nodded: “The father of Geng Bin, Commander of the Southern Naval Forces, was also one of the original Twenty-Six Pavilion Commanders.”

“And Yu Xu, the eunuch who slew several Northern Wind Princes, earned great military merit, received a python robe from Emperor Hui, and was enfeoffed as the Marquis of Longting.”

Yu Xu was a eunuch; in Daqing, only the Nine-Thousand-Year-Old surpassed him in rank among eunuchs, and he alone rose to marquis through military service.

“This is clearly an accusation against a high-ranking official—grave indeed.”

At these words, the others in the temple also looked startled.

Fifteen years had passed too long; the names that once shook the realm had faded from memory—but now, spoken again, they seemed to resurrect the turbulent age.

In chaos, heroes arise.

The woman in the green skirt laughed lightly: “This won’t end well. If those Twenty-Six Pavilion Commanders learn of this, what will they think?”

The thin scholar chuckled too: “They’d likely scramble to disavow any connection—after all, who wants to be branded traitors or rebels?”

The woman in the green skirt seemed to recall something!

“And isn’t there one of the original Twenty-Six Pavilion Commanders in Yuetangjiang?”

The white-robed woman’s gaze turned reverent: “That old man Qin!”

“The supreme leader of the green woods of Guangdong and Guangxi, master of both underworld and official circles.”

“Qin Xiaowu, Old Master Qin—he was one of the Twenty-Six Pavilion Commanders, famed for his breakthrough assaults.”

“When the Young Protector retired, Old Master Qin returned to his hometown in Yuetangjiang.”

The handsome young lad listened, startled—he had family ties to Old Master Qin.

He recalled how his elders, when mentioning him, spoke with deep respect, calling him “Old Master Qin.”

Old Master Qin’s reputation extended far beyond Yuetangjiang—it reached throughout Guangdong and Guangxi.

Old Master Qin was one of them.

The handsome young lad was greatly astonished.

(End of Chapter)