Chapter 445: Cost and Promise

Outside the imperial palace, civil and military officials knelt in homage; Wei Yiwen stood at the head of the civil officials, having followed Jiang Wanxiang long before he fully rose to power, when Jiang Wanxiang was already over thirty and Wei Yiwen merely a teenager.

There was a twenty-year gap between them.

He began as a civil secretary, later aided Jiang Wanxiang's ascension to the throne, becoming one of the founding ministers, then accompanied Jiang Wanxiang on southern campaigns and northern expeditions, repeatedly repelling the Turks and quelling rebellions in three regions; when the state was finally stabilized, Wei Yiwen ascended to the highest office at the youngest age in history.

He served as Left Minister of the Ministry of State Affairs and Chief Diplomat, granted the right to establish his own court, and held the rank of Pillar of the State.

He drafted new laws, led southern and northern campaigns, promoted agriculture and sericulture, repaired the new capital, and earned great virtue and prestige; yet this illustrious Pillar of the State, now kneeling here, appeared faintly dazed and detached.

The candlelight flickered; Wei Yiwen recalled Jiang Wanxiang's many deeds, and for a moment lost all thought of factional politics—but he was old now, and turning his head, he saw the civil and military officials kneeling outside the palace, their expressions changed.

Everyone knew the Emperor was likely dying.

The states of Chen, Ying, and Tuyuhun had each enjoyed three centuries of imperial rule; Tuyuhun fell first, while Chen and Ying each harbored their own flaws—but Ying's greatest flaw was the plague of factional strife among civil and military officials, suppressed only by this mighty emperor's iron will.

Now, the true dragon that had held these warlords in check was failing.

The sharp fangs and bold ambition of these civil and military officials began to emerge.

Even before Jiang Wanxiang's death, one could already sense the mutual hostility, the clashing ambitions among these officials—their words and gestures already hinted at tangled party alliances.

The myriad faces of civil ministers and military generals, the shifting hearts of men—all had surfaced.

With the Great Emperor of Ying's coma and death, the water level that had covered all of Ying receded, revealing the hidden hearts, the scheming, the conflicts between civil and military officials.

All were haughty generals and arrogant civil ministers.

After the Emperor's passing, who could control them—the Crown Prince, or the Second Prince?

If they could be controlled, the Great Ying might still preserve its grand momentum; but if not, would our Great Ying collapse from within?

Wei Yiwen knelt silently, sleeves hanging down, as if hearing the hearts around him, sensing the sharpness—the Emperor was dying, yet the civil and military officials already stared at each other like blades, their ambition cold and biting; in idle chatter, hidden currents began to surface.

"Your Majesty must preserve His Imperial Body—if Your Majesty should suffer any misfortune…"

"Silence! What are you saying? His Majesty is blessed by heaven—how could anything happen to him?"

"Damn the Wolf King! Damn Chen! Damn Qin Wu Hou!"

"We shall surely avenge this!"

As they conversed, they did not notice when rain began to fall from the sky—soft, patterning upon the palace walls and courtyards; Wei Yiwen, kneeling there, suddenly spoke: "My lords!"

His voice, deliberate and powerful, seemed to suppress the clashing ambitions and hidden forces among the civil and military officials, the noble clans, and the imperial in-laws.

All turned to the Chancellor; Wei Yiwen declared solemnly: "The Emperor still lives!"

Thunder cracked across the sky, illuminating the dark clouds; rain poured down, and a Vice Minister said: "The Chancellor is right—His Majesty's Imperial Body is surely unharmed."

He brushed off Wei Yiwen's warning with casual ease.

Under his sleeves, Wei Yiwen clenched his fists, yet he knew—the empire's fierce generals and powerful clans each had their own power and roots; now, with Jiang Wanxiang's crisis, everyone's intentions had shifted.

At that moment, steady, grim footsteps sounded.

A eunuch's voice rang out:

"Grand Marshal, Supreme General, First-Rank State-Preserving Duke, Jiang Su arrives!!!"

The faint ambitions that had stirred among civil and military officials, now that their dragon was gone, froze instantly; Jiang Su had not changed his attire—he still wore his battle armor, stained with the blood of suppressed rebellions.

The civil and military officials turned to see—the towering Grand Tutor, white-haired, solemn and icy, stood like a pillar holding up the heavens, radiating an indescribable pressure.

Though Wei Yiwen and Jiang Su had never been on good terms, at this moment he exhaled deeply, as if a taut string had finally steadied.

Jiang Su ignored everyone, striding straight to the palace entrance.

He drove his Soul-Extinction Divine Spear into the ground—still as sharp as when he waged war across the land—snuffing out the ambition in countless hearts; he brushed aside the eunuchs' attempts to stop him, pushed open the palace doors, and stepped inside.

Yet moments earlier—

Jiang Yuan had made his decision. He called to his father, but received no response; so he gritted his teeth, stepped forward, reached out, and tried to lift Jiang Wanxiang. Jiang Wanxiang's body was heavy, nearly immovable; after much effort, he finally raised him. Jiang Yuan stared at the strange-colored medicinal decoction, his face shifting through countless emotions, then clenched his teeth.

It seemed that because he had slept for too long, Jiang Wanshang's body had become extremely heavy, difficult to lift; it took a long while before they could finally raise him. Jiang Yuan stared at the medicinal broth now tinged with strange color, his face shifting through countless emotions, before he finally clenched his teeth.

He lifted his head.

Locked eyes with a pair of frost-cold pupils.

Jiang Wanxiang was awake.

He stared coldly at Jiang Yuan.

Jiang Yuan's body stiffened. Jiang Wanxiang asked: "What are you trying to make me drink?"

Jiang Yuan's body froze. He gritted his teeth, each word deliberate:

"To make Father drink the medicinal decoction."

In that instant, he felt boundless fear—so intense it seemed to crush his heart—but at the same time, Jiang Yuan seemed to have steeled himself, his face expressionless: "I fear for Your Majesty's health. The Imperial Physicians diagnosed you and sent this medicine—I was just about to assist Your Majesty in taking it."

In that instant, he felt boundless fear—a fear that seemed to crush his heart with iron fists—but at the same time, Jiang Yuan seemed to have made up his mind; his expression unchanged, he said: "I am worried about Father's health. The Imperial Physician diagnosed him and sent this medicine; I was just about to assist His Majesty in drinking it."

Jiang Yuan met Jiang Wanshang's gaze without the slightest wavering.

The doors burst open, swept by the chilling autumn wind carrying the scent of blood; Jiang Su's grim voice rang out: "Your servant arrives late—Your Majesty, are you well?!"

Jiang Wanxiang's gaze, cold as ice, fixed on Jiang Yuan.

Jiang Yuan knew that if this decoction were examined, he would be utterly destroyed; yet he feigned calm, pretended to be startled, his wrist trembled—and the bowl slipped from his hand, crashing to the ground, shattering, spilling the decoction and the Feixin poison across the floor.

Jiang Yuan knew that once this medicine was inspected, he would be utterly destroyed—yet his face showed not a trace of trouble. He feigned being startled, his wrist trembling, and the bowl of medicinal broth slipped from his hand, crashing to the ground with a sharp crack, spilling the broth and the Feixin poison across the floor.

Jiang Su strode in, his eyes sweeping over Jiang Yuan; Jiang Yuan stiffly lowered his gaze and stepped back, daring not to confront Grand Tutor Jiang Su. Jiang Su took several steps forward, ignoring Jiang Yuan entirely, and turned to Jiang Wanxiang, extending his hand to transmit Qi:

"Your Majesty, do not worry over the empire's fate—do not harm your root."

Jiang Wanxiang nodded with a smile, his face gaunt; his eyes passed over Jiang Su's still-resolute arms, then rested on his son, his gaze cold and indifferent, before turning to the Crown Prince hurrying out.

The Crown Prince's face was pale, dusted with dirt, his eyes glistening with tears.

Jiang Wanxiang sighed deeply, finally withdrawing his blade-like gaze from Jiang Yuan. Jiang Gao, seeing his father awake, finally showed relief, rushing forward and seizing Jiang Wanxiang's hand.

Jiang Wanshang let out a long sigh, finally withdrawing his razor-sharp gaze from Jiang Yuan. Jiang Gao, seeing Jiang Wanshang awaken, finally wore a look of joy and rushed forward, grasping Jiang Wanshang's hand.

Jiang Gao spoke the familiar term of address from childhood. Jiang Wanxiang gently patted his son's hand and murmured: "I am well, very well. With the Grand Tutor here, all is well."

Jiang Gao spoke up now, using his old familiar address; Jiang Wanxiang gently patted Jiang Gao's hand and whispered, "Father is well, very well—as long as the Grand Master is here, it is certainly well."

Jiang Gao saw the spilled medicinal broth and looked toward Jiang Yuan beside him.

"What happened?"

Jiang Yuan whispered: "Just now, the Grand Preceptor returned, his aura too fierce—I was momentarily dazed and accidentally knocked over this cup." His face bore sincere guilt, utterly free of any hint of his earlier intent to strike down his father.

Jiang Gao studied the remorse and regret on his face.

He patted his shoulder, his expression gentle: "Your father's collapse frightened you. A momentary lapse is natural. But now he's awake—thank heaven he's awake…"

Jiang Wanxiang laughed heartily: "Ahahaha, of course! Your father still has plenty of time and energy—just startled by that old dog, nothing serious. At least he got a good sleep!"

"But you two—this is how a Crown Prince and an Imperial Prince behave? Losing all decorum. Gao, go to the back and have the imperial physician brew another dose. Yuan, clean this up here."

"Yes! Father, rest a while—your son will attend to it at once!"

Jiang Gao replied, turned, and hurried out in small steps. At the corner, he wiped his tears and whispered: "Mother, your spirit in heaven has finally protected Father. May the future allow me, Father, and Ah Yuan to remain together."

He hurried to find the imperial physician; Jiang Yuan knelt to clean up the broth.

Only he, Jiang Su, and Jiang Wanxiang remained.

Jiang Yuan bent to gather the fragments; Jiang Wanxiang watched him, then suddenly asked: "Yuan, what did you give me to eat?"

Jiang Yuan's body froze. He bowed his head: "It's the medicinal broth—the imperial physician prepared it for Father, saying it nourishes the spirit and replenishes primordial qi. A truly excellent elixir."

Jiang Wanxiang said: "Is that so?"

He sat upright, no longer resembling the old man who had coughed blood and collapsed for days. His white eyebrows rose like two newly forged blades, sharp and fierce. He leaned forward, lifted a shard of broken porcelain, still holding a curve of medicinal broth.

Jiang Wanxiang said: "In ancient times, filial sons would taste their parents' chicken soup first, to test its temperature. Taste this broth for me." He pushed the shard forward.

Jiang Yuan's heart nearly stopped. He knew what was in the broth. He looked at Jiang Wanxiang—the man's solemn, commanding aura, like an ancient, disdainful dragon.

Father was never truly unconscious.

He was pretending!

He knew everything!

He knew everything!

That cold, watchful gaze of a contemporary warlord pierced Jiang Yuan's soul, as if aiming to pierce straight through his heart.

A thread of fear rose in Jiang Yuan. Jiang Wanxiang sat there, suddenly again the awe-inspiring, invincible father of his childhood—his gaze alone could paralyze him. Beside him, Grand Preceptor Jiang Su had already gripped the hilt of his sword.

Jiang Yuan knew: any hesitation meant certain death.

This was a death trap for any ordinary man.

Yet his face showed not a flicker of doubt. He raised the cup of the world's most potent poison and drank it down—when suddenly, Jiang Wanxiang flicked his wrist and knocked the cup from his hand.

With a surge of qi, he shoved Jiang Yuan backward. The prince fell to the ground, colliding with overturned tables and chairs. Had he not been thrown, he would have swallowed the broth laced with the venom of the Fei's blood.

Jiang Yuan landed on the floor. Jiang Wanxiang stared at him and said: "Good. Good."

"You're good."

These three "goods" seemed to drain Jiang Wanxiang's strength. He looked at his son, whose face still held only confusion and regret, and finally sighed, waving him away.

Jiang Su looked at the debris, bent down, pinched a drop of broth between his fingers, and said: "The broth is poisoned—Fei venom. It seems Jiang Yuan poisoned it?"

Jiang Wanxiang closed his eyes and nodded. He smiled:

"I feigned unconsciousness to test these two."

"Jiang Yuan—he's ruthless, cunning, and of such disposition. And his resolve to return with troops to defend Ducheng at the critical moment… Grand Preceptor, after I'm gone, who should inherit the throne of Da Ying?"

"A gentle, virtuous man who follows the Dao of all things?"

"Or a ruthless, scheming monster full of desire?"

Jiang Wanxiang sat there. Jiang Su looked at him, then finally answered:

"Your subject… does not know."

"Ha! Even you have things you don't know, Grand Preceptor?"

Jiang Wanxiang looked at Jiang Su and laughed—his laughter now weary. Jiang Su stared at the old man and suddenly recalled the distant past, when Jiang Su himself had been famed as invincible across the land, yet the nobles of Ying had refused to believe him.

Back then, Jiang Su had been like the Fire Qilin—honored, yet bound by constraints. These chains had even hindered his martial cultivation, forged from the nation's destiny as a shackle, fused with the martial aura of soldiers.

The Son of Heaven's divine art had become poison. A poison passed down as martial legend.

Even a martial legend could not escape it: when Ying's destiny declined, Jiang Su would die with it—like a loyal retainer bound by fate. The young Jiang Wanxiang had found him.

Then he had slashed through that chain of destiny with his sword.

"So… the destiny of the nation and its people carries filth? Did Father and Grandfather bind you with this filth of the world?"

"Then let me bear the filth of the world."

"I intend to swallow the world whole. This is my great vow, Grand Preceptor—will you aid me?"

A hundred years passed in Jiang Su's gaze. The boy who once held the world in his eyes had aged into this frail old man. In Jiang Su's remaining eye, complex emotion stirred.

Jiang Wanxiang said: "Hmph… the rain outside is heavy. The civil and military officials await."

He had intended to don his imperial robes, but even feigning death could not disguise his weakness. He tried, sighed, and said: "Old. So old."

"I've grown too weak. Grand Preceptor—can you carry me out and speak a few words to them?"

Jiang Su plunged his divine sword into the ground, swept his battle robe, turned, knelt on one knee, and extended his hands backward. Jiang Wanxiang leaned onto his back. Jiang Su rose, still like an unshakable mountain, and walked slowly out.

Jiang Wanxiang gazed down and smiled:

"This time, though I only pretended, I was nearly there. How else could I deceive them? While I live, they are loyal ministers to the state. When I'm gone, none can hold them back."

"They respect me—but only me."

"Do you know Wei Shanlan? He fought on the battlefield like a man who would give his life for the nation. Yet later, he embezzled—massively. I ordered him to return the money. He said he'd give me his life—but not his gold."

"He said he'd shed blood for the nation—why take his money? He earned his rewards, didn't he? But, cough, his indulgence left entire commanderies destitute, starving."

"And Long Taiyue, Ji Shushuang…"

"Ha. All loyal generals of the state. But alas—when I'm gone, no one can restrain them."

"Grand Preceptor, my feigned death was meant to bring you back."

"Otherwise, I truly fear that you, Grand Tutor, and Li Guanyi will stir up such intense emotions in your clash that, in rage and shock, you drag this world into the abyss—hahaha, so you've returned after all..."

"Only you have never changed."

Jiang Su walked out step by step; behind him, the old man was no longer the boy he had once been—his grand dreams and ambitions had rotted away with time.

Outside, the ministers whispered softly; amid the storm of factional strife among civil and military clans, the palace gates suddenly swung open again. The ministers lifted their heads to look, their hearts trembling violently.

A chilling aura surged upward, causing the autumn rain and wind to be driven down—The Divine Spear of Annihilation roared fiercely.

The civil and military ministers fell into deathly silence, staring as the towering Grand Tutor Jiang Su carried the aged monarch out on his back.

For a moment, not a sound remained.

Grand Tutor Jiang Su reached out and seized the Divine Spear, his gaze sweeping across the front.

Wei Yiwen saw Jiang Wanxiang and rose to his feet: "Your Majesty!!"

He rose almost instinctively, nearly rushing forward to support him—yet when the old man lifted his eyes, his body froze. Though clearly in his final years, on the verge of death, the old man now radiated an unprecedented, blazing imperial aura.

Like a dying dragon, more majestic and ferocious than ever.

All civil and military ministers were awed into stillness.

Jiang Wanxiang looked upon the civil and military ministers, his eyes absorbing every faction that had surfaced—his entire purpose in feigning death—then said: "My lords, my lords—I am still here. The Great Ying still stands."

"Why rush here to mourn so soon?"

That pair of aged eyes swept across them, capturing the entire state of the Great Ying now laid bare—this single feigned death had exposed countless hidden figures and unleashed suppressed desires beyond count.

Men like him—even their own deaths—could be turned into strategy.

A hero as open and bold as he, a tyrant as commanding as Wu Wang.

A man who in life would never submit to Ye Buyi, who would never die on a bed or at the hands of women and children.

Jiang Wanxiang pointed to the sky, his expression as free and bold as ever:

"It's already so late."

"My lords, please return now."

"Go, go, go—all of you. I'm not serving meals today."

The civil and military ministers wished to congratulate the Emperor's awakening, yet for some reason could not speak; they rose and withdrew, but as they retreated into the storm, the Emperor called out: "The night is dark, the storm fierce, my lords."

"Go slowly!"

"Don't slip and fall—hahaha."

The civil and military ministers felt as if a true dragon watched them from behind—sudden, boundless coldness rose in their hearts. All had now departed; the palace stood lonely and desolate. Jiang Wanxiang patted Jiang Su's shoulder and sighed wearily: "Tired, Grand Tutor..."

"Let me escort you back."

"No need. These days inside have been stifling—rare to have rain."

"I'll stroll through the palace."

Jiang Su remained silent, gripping the Divine Weapon. Jiang Wanxiang gazed at the sky and said:

"This world is trembling in storm and wind."

"Since the day we met, you have shouldered me for decades."

"Perhaps, after this, you will still be burdened by me."

Jiang Su smiled faintly: "How, decades ago, you—the bold, unrestrained you—who claimed you would swallow the heavens, dared to drag me along, taking you and that young man from the Gao family to crash the Emperor's wedding in Zhongzhou."

"The passionate, lawless Jiang Wanxiang."

"Why speak of such melancholy things?"

"They don't suit you."

Jiang Wanxiang laughed loudly: "Hahaha, you still remember that?"

Jiang Su said: "If not for such deeds, how would the world know we ever walked this earth? In future histories, they'll only record your boldness and dominance—no one will know how you toiled in youth, how you rose before dawn and worked past dusk."

Jiang Wanxiang gave a soft laugh, then after a long silence, said:

"To have met you in this life has been more than generous to me."

"Old friend."

"In this final year or so, let me ride once more through this chaotic world. After all, how can a man simply resign himself to die of old age? Dying in youth and dying in age—there is a difference."

"When I was young, I believed dying on the path of this world was the right death—joyful, glorious!"

"When I knew I was nearing death,"

"I feared, I weakened, I raged, I was bitter—but in the end, I must still be myself."

"Men like you and I cannot let the world laugh at us!"

Jiang Su said nothing. His battle robe flared, stained with blood, as he gripped the Divine Spear, bearing Jiang Wanxiang—just as decades ago, he bore the exhausted boy training with the spear, and that unyielding dream.

Jiang Wanxiang fell into deep sleep. Jiang Su walked slowly, each step measured with equal distance. He raised his gaze—the rain falling over the entire palace halted in midair, then, as his sleeves swept, reversed the heavens and flew upward.

In martial legends, longevity endures; those who come to this world always carry some clinging resolve.

To uphold one promise is to guard it for life.

No matter what, no matter what means, I will make you see the world we once painted together.

Jiang Su carried his old friend and his nation, step by step, walking far away.

"At any cost."

"The Great Ying will surely unify the world."

From this day forward, the entire Ying state began internal purges.

Emperor Jiang Wanxiang of the Ying state, through his own death, drew out all hidden threats within the court—those arrogant ministers who would have erupted in the future were lured out, and now, this aged dragon,

Lifted his blade.

Chen Dingye learned of what happened in the Ying state, laughed long and loud—but upon hearing Jiang Wanxiang was not dead, he sighed only in regret: "Jiang Yuan is too weak—he lacked the ruthlessness. Had he struck hard this time,"

And been killed by Jiang Gao and Jiang Su—that would have been a tale worthy of history.

More than enough for a joyful drink.

Emperor Chen Dingye rarely felt such joy, and the officials' moods improved along with him.

But his joy did not last long.

The officials' relief also did not last.

Soon after, military orders arrived.

The contents caused Chen Dingye's hearty laughter to vanish instantly—he could no longer laugh at all.

The text on the scroll was cold and lifeless.

【The Yue Family Army rebelled and attacked several of our Great Chen cities】

【Surrender to Qin Wu Hou Li Guanyi】

?? Managed to barely hold on, hoping to stabilize for a few days

? Please vote for monthly tickets, everyone~