Chapter 667: Sacrificing to Heaven, Proclaiming Kingship, Establishing a Dynasty

After receiving Xiangling’s affirmative reply once again.

Xue Baochai then spoke with even warmer tones: “Itachi’re no longer a maid—Itachi’re the Second Young Mistress of the Xue household. Don’t call me ‘Miss Xue’ anymore; call me ‘Sister.’ And Itachi must refer to Baoqin as ‘Sister’ too.”

Xiangling nodded, half-understanding, gazing blankly at Xue Baochai, then ventured softly: “Sis… Sister?”

“My dear little sister,” Xue Baochai smiled indulgently.

Emboldened, Xiangling turned to Xue Baoqin, her voice now carrying a confidence it hadn’t had before: “Sister?”

Xue Baoqin immediately called Xiangling “Sister” in return.

Just as the Xue sisters, in their effort to save their family from ruin, resolved to cast aside all pretense,

Luo Fu, after two days of indulging in the tender care of Miaoyu and Xing Xiuyan,

finally began formally proclaiming himself king and establishing his court in Jiangnan.

By tradition, when proclaiming kingship, rulers typically chose their former fiefdom or title.

For example, the Han dynasty arose because Liu Bang had once been the King of Han; in the Three Kingdoms, Sun Quan ruled Wu, Cao Cao had been King of Wei, and the Jin dynasty followed suit because Sima Yi had been enfeoffed as King of Jin; the Tang dynasty did likewise, since Li Yuan had once been Duke of Tang.

This tradition was broken only with the Yuan dynasty—like Zhu Yuanzhang, who had called himself King of Wu, yet named his new dynasty Ming.

Luo Fu proclaimed himself king in Jinling; as with Zhu Yuanzhang, “Wu” was one option, but Luo Fu’s ancestral home was in Beizhili, once the land of Yan, and his ancestral territory had also been occupied by Zhao—so both Yan and Zhao were viable royal titles.

Of course, Luo Fu had raised his army as the Luotian Army and proclaimed himself the Great Emperor of Luotian, so “Luo” was also a candidate.

As Luo Fu prepared to ascend the throne and perform the rites of sacrifice to Heaven, his courtiers began quarreling over his royal title.

The four most frequently proposed titles were King of Wu, King of Yan, King of Zhao, and King of Luo.

Some bizarre suggestions also emerged, such as “Qian” and “Tian,” both drawn from Luo Fu’s self-proclaimed title, “Great Emperor of Luotian.”

Yet among these candidates, the real focus remained on Yan, Zhao, and Wu—“Luo,” “Qian,” and “Tian” received far less support.

Luo Fu had no intention of overcomplicating the matter; after his ministers argued endlessly, he simply decreed: Zhao.

After all, the ancient state of Zhao had been one of the Seven Hegemons, the only power that could consistently match Qin in battle, until its forty thousand young men were buried alive by Bai Qi, after which it never recovered.

Even so, Zhao held out longer than any of the other six eastern states—even after Handan fell, Prince Zhao Jia still established the state of Dai in Dai Commandery, continuing Zhao’s legacy.

The royal title was merely a transitional formality.

Once the Luotian Army launched its northern campaign and utterly destroyed the Qing dynasty, the true focus would be the new dynasty’s name.

For Luo Fu, the choice didn’t matter—what mattered was using this coronation ritual to firmly establish his power base.

Only after proclaiming himself king could he grant titles and promotions, thereby securing loyalty and setting the tone for the northern expedition.

When Luo Fu, the central pillar, decisively chose “Zhao” as his royal title,

on an auspicious day, he ascended the altar on Zijin Mountain outside Jinling, sacrificed to Heaven, and formally proclaimed himself King of Zhao, establishing a temporary boundary along the river with the Northern Qing.

Next, he established the Cabinet and Six Ministries, fully building his administration.

The entire process was astonishingly swift, yet utterly smooth, without a single ripple.

With Luo Fu’s formal proclamation as king, the northern expedition was now on the agenda.

With the Luotian Army’s formidable combat strength, and Prince Teng’s catastrophic defeat outside Yangzhou just weeks prior, the Northern Qing had effectively lost its backbone.

Even in the industrial age of Luo Fu’s former world, a great power losing tens of thousands of elite troops was a crippling blow.

In this era, Prince Teng’s defeat at Yangzhou appeared minor in actual losses—but it was the final reserve of strength that had upheld the Northern Qing’s prestige.

Even the noble families had emptied their coffers to fund it.

After total annihilation, the real blow was the utter terror the Northern Qing now felt toward Luo Fu—they had come to view the Luotian Army as invincible.

Some optimistic ministers under Luo Fu even believed that, with the Luotian Army’s current prestige and strength, the Northern Qing’s core territories could be subdued merely by issuing proclamations.

Don’t forget, Luo Fu was from Beizhili, and the former dynasty’s power base lay in the north—his ancestors had been high-ranking nobles of that very regime.

Given all this, unless Luo Fu truly went mad and enacted policies like the Manchus’ queue order or mass massacres, northern morale would likely be even weaker than Jiangnan’s.

Whether from court calculations or intelligence gathered from the north, all evidence confirmed one truth: the Northern Qing’s fate was sealed. It was like a crumbling house—just one kick from the Luotian Army, and it would collapse entirely.

As the Luotian Army began preparing for war,

Luo Fu, this newly minted King of Zhao, slipped into a state of idle inactivity.

After all, he was not a true self-made conqueror—his power was almost entirely in his own hands, as if locked in with unwavering loyalty.

There was no need to fear betrayal.

Luo Fu no longer needed to worry about the northern campaign; his true focus now was the foundation of the state.

Put crudely: gather beautiful maidens, and hurry to make his concubines pregnant.

Thus, within mere days of his coronation, Luo Fu’s wedding arrived.

When news of this reached the Northern Qing court, every minister, the reigning emperor, and the retired emperor all sighed in relief.

At first, when Luo Fu proclaimed himself king and sacrificed on Zijin Mountain, appearing ready to launch a northern invasion, the emperor and his court had been terrified.

The Luotian Army’s record had been terrifying: it seized wealthy Yangzhou in an instant, then crushed the Northern Qing’s last elite forces in open battle, crossed the river southward, and within days, took Jinling—Jiangnan fell almost without resistance.

Such terrifying combat power, though only a few major battles had occurred, was precisely because the Luotian Army was so overwhelmingly strong.

Had the Luotian Army pressed its advantage, the Northern Qing’s total collapse was inevitable.

While the Northern Qing trembled in fear, Luo Fu began his wedding.

This gave the Northern Qing a precious breathing space.

To the emperor and his court, Luo Fu now seemed utterly consumed by wine and women.

Rongguo Mansion.

As one of the noble houses among the Four Kings and Eight Dukes, with two dukes in one family,

though the Jia household’s servants had inadvertently led to Luo Fu’s rise,

now, with both the reigning emperor and the retired emperor ruling in tandem, nearly all the aristocracy were loyal to the retired emperor.

The reigning emperor had not yet fully seized all power.

Under these circumstances, the emperor and retired emperor could not simply exterminate the Jia family.

With the Luotian Army now controlling half of Jiangnan, public sentiment was already unstable—maintaining order was now the Northern Qing’s urgent priority.

Still, the Jia family had suffered some punishment.

After news reached Rongguo Mansion that Luo Fu had sacrificed on Zijin Mountain outside Jinling, proclaimed himself king, and was about to marry,

the Jia family’s masters gathered in Rongxi Hall: Jia Mu, Jia She, Jia Zheng, Jia Jing of Ningguo Mansion, Jia Zhen, and others.

“Auntie, how… how could this Luotian bandit marry Lin’s girl?” With the Northern Qing in chaos, even Jia Jing, who had long hidden in his Daoist temple to brew elixirs, was forced to emerge.

Jia Mu herself didn’t understand the reason.

After all, Luo Fu’s sudden rise couldn’t be described as “a spark that could start a prairie fire”—it was more like a nuclear explosion. From the moment he raised the Luotian banner,

he seized Yangzhou, defeated Prince Teng, crossed the river south, and within days took Jinling—Jiangnan fell almost without resistance.

Caught in this overwhelming tide, Jia Lian, escorting Lin Daiyu to Yangzhou, was inevitably swept up in it.

Especially after learning of Luo Fu’s feud with the Jia family, before the news arrived, Jia Mu and the entire household assumed Jia Lian, along with Lin Ruhai and his daughter, would be brutally purged by Luo Fu.

Who could have imagined that, after proclaiming himself king in Jiangnan, Luo Fu would immediately marry Lin Daiyu as his consort?

This revelation stirred new, unexpected thoughts among the Jia family.

After learning of Luo Fu’s feud with the Jia family, they had, publicly and privately, been forced to side with the Northern Qing.

Publicly, Luo Fu had been an unknown force, not yet showing his current world-conquering might; privately, the Jia family bore him deep enmity.

But now, with Luo Fu sweeping through Jiangnan and revealing signs of renewal, and especially with his marriage to Lin Daiyu, the Jia family began entertaining thoughts of hedging their bets.

Even without knowing what had transpired, Jia Mu now spoke: “Jing, no matter how this Luotian bandit came to marry Lin’s girl—do Itachi think our Jia family could…?”

“Auntie,” Jia Jing cut her off brutally, his voice sharp: “Some things must not be said.”

Jia Mu’s face darkened, but then, as if remembering something, she forced a forced smile, her eyes flickering: “I was foolish.”

Though she said so, even Jia Zheng had guessed her true intent.

If Luo Fu could marry Lin Daiyu, perhaps the Jia family could draw closer to him. Though the Jia family had no worthy heirs, like a house where yin outweighed yang, it now had several outstanding daughters.

With Lin Daiyu as a bridge, they might gain influence through the inner palace.

Since the Jia family’s decline began, under Jia Mu’s leadership, they had already walked this path—now they merely switched targets, from the emperor to Luo Fu.

Years ago, the Jia family’s second branch had sent their daughter, Jia Yuanchun, into the imperial harem.

For these Jia family members, content with comfort and devoid of ambition, using women to preserve their wealth and status was precisely what they desired—this was an unspoken agreement.

As for the past feud between the Jia family and Luo Fu, upon learning Lin Daiyu had become Luo Fu’s principal consort, they chose to forget it entirely.

“She, has there been any word from Lian?” Jia Mu abruptly turned to Jia She.

As the man who had escorted Lin Daiyu back to Yangzhou, Jia Lian had vanished after Yangzhou’s fall—the Jia family had heard nothing since.

Now, Jia Mu’s sudden mention of Jia Lian clearly wasn’t just about his safety.

Though Jia Lian was Jia She’s legitimate son, Jia She had another son—Jia Cong, his illegitimate child.

Even if Jia She had never cared for this illegitimate son, should Jia Lian truly perish, Jia She wouldn’t lack someone to carry on his line.

Yet despite this, Jia She’s eyes reddened at Jia Mu’s question—a rare reaction.

Though Jia She seemed heartless and insane, he was, in fact, one of the few in the Jia family with genuine humanity.

Recall when Baoyu was cursed by Madam Ma, and even Father Jia Zheng prepared his coffin—only Uncle Jia She insisted on treating him.

Now, with his own legitimate son at stake, Jia She would not be any less devoted than he had been for Baoyu.

But Jia She knew his mother wasn’t truly concerned for Jia Lian’s life.

Before the survival of the entire Jia family, both Rong and Ning Mansions, and even the Northern Qing itself, Jia Lian held no value.

Jia Mu’s real intent was likely to use Jia Lian as an excuse to establish contact with Luo Fu’s forces in Jinling.

Jia She took a deep breath: “Lian is likely already dead.”

“Lian is your legitimate son, the heir to Rongguo Mansion—how can Itachi, as his father, not know his fate?” Jia Mu feigned deep affection: “She, find a way to contact our old relatives—see if Itachi can reach Jiangnan. We must have a definite answer about Lian’s fate.”

The succession crisis in both Rong and Ning Mansions had reached utter desperation.

Between the two mansions, the only one truly able to operate outside and accomplish anything was Jia Lian.

It’s not that the Ning and Rong mansions, among all eight branches in the capital, had absolutely no one capable of action—Jia Yun, for instance, was quite a talent—but what the Jia household lacked was a genuine figure of authority, someone who could steer affairs or appear publicly.

In terms of status, rank, and all other aspects, among the Ning and Rong mansions combined, only Jia Lian met the standard.

Jia Zheng, needless to say, was incapable of any real work beyond idle talk; Jia She holed up in a small courtyard next to the stables, deaf to all affairs outside, obsessed only with antiques, fans, and concubines.

Jia Jing devoted himself entirely to alchemy and immortality in his Daoist temple; Jia Zhen’s mind was filled only with his daughter-in-law. Jia Rong, Jia Zhen’s legitimate son, was equally inept, meek and spineless.

In this sea of mediocrity, Jia Lian’s rarity stood out all the more.

(End of Chapter)