Chapter 533: The Imperial Edict and the Entrustment

When Jiang Wanxiang spoke these words, it was as though he had committed a grave act of treason, as if the dignity and order of the eight-hundred-year reign of the Red Emperor had been trampled and shattered beneath his feet; in an instant, the atmosphere between heaven and earth grew heavy, solemn, and murderous, reaching its very extreme.

The assembled ministers and officials, that throng of lords, none of them dared speak.

On the old man's body, there seemed to rest a certain tremendous, visible momentum.

Rather than saying they felt a great pressure, it would be truer to say they sensed a fear beyond words, a fear that transcended the threat of life and death.

It was the fear of an accustomed, eight-hundred-year-old order about to be utterly smashed and trampled by a man—the dread of such violent change.

That fear seized their hearts and left them unable to speak.

All except Emperor Ji Zichang.

Emperor Ji Zichang looked at the Jiang Wanxiang before him.

Even though he had long foreseen this, when Jiang Wanxiang actually spoke such words, he still drew a deep breath, then let it out slowly, feeling the calm flow of blood through his body.

If it had been himself ten years ago, he would likely have been seized with fury—cold and fierce on the outside, yet panicked within.

But Emperor Ji Zichang discovered that, when this day truly arrived—

—there was not a single ripple in his heart.

Was it because he had long foreseen it, or because he had long been waiting for this day to come?

He appeared unusually calm and indifferent. Today Emperor Ji Zichang had not donned the imperial ceremonial robes; his strong hand gripped the hilt at his waist, letting him stand there and maintain—at the very least—the minimum dignity of a sovereign.

This sword was not the Chixiao Sword wielded by his ancestor the Red Emperor, who raised a three-foot blade to cut down all rivals and win dominion over the realm; it was merely an ordinary ceremonial sword, and the only thing Emperor Ji Zichang could rely upon.

He gazed at that aged, dusk-drawing Azure Dragon, whose cheekbones now jutted from his face, and said lightly:

"You intend treason, then?"

Jiang Wanxiang replied: "Only to free Your Majesty."

"And to set my own heart at ease."

In those two sentences there was none of the killing intent of a powerful minister forcing his sovereign to death—only the composure of an old, weary man.

At that moment, ministers of the Red Emperor's line finally came to their senses; they realized at once that this was the true, sudden upheaval of heaven and earth, the overturning and shattering of the old order.

Others realized this was the chance to truly change heaven and earth—to alter their own station.

And the chance to change their own lives lay in this very scene, which would surely be recorded in the histories.

No one knew who had signaled with a glance.

A fierce general of Zhongzhou suddenly roared: "The ruler of Ying shall be the rightful sovereign! The Red Emperor heeded villains, slew loyal ministers again and again, and lost the hearts of the people—any man may punish him!"

Having spoken, he had already drawn his weapon and lunged to stab at Emperor Ji Zichang's back.

He was a cultivator of the Sixth Heaven, a realm he had endured his way to; suddenly erupting into action at such close quarters, striking with savage force while others were unprepared, and with Emperor Ji Zichang's cultivation being shallow, by the time the latter realized, that terrifying gust of wind was already upon him.

His heart turned cold.

Yet he understood this was a pledge of allegiance to Jiang Wanxiang, and also because, earlier, he had borrowed the might of Qin Wang to cut away those civil and military ministers of great power; the confidants of those ministers, even their enemies, had long harbored deep resentment toward him, suppressed only by the might of Qin Wang.

Qin Wang's longevity lock was not only for the little Princess.

It was also their death lock.

Now that Jiang Wanxiang had appeared and for the moment held back Qin Wang's threat and pressure, the hostility and the grievances accumulated over these years burst forth all at once. Jiang Wanxiang simultaneously drew his sword—a blade that seemed to span the long sky, coiled with nine dragons—and thrust it out with chilling sharpness.

Blood burst open.

Emperor Ji Zichang's hair at the temples flew up.

Jiang Wanxiang's sword swept past his shoulder; the blade, exhaling cold, gleaming sword-light, pierced through that fierce general's face and killed him.

Emperor Ji Zichang stood stunned, watching Jiang Wanxiang slowly withdraw his sword.

That Zhongzhou general, clutching his face, fell backward to the ground; his weapon dropped with a ringing clang, blood pooling across the floor, flowing down the white jade steps of the Red Emperor's line, dripping down; the whole atmosphere grew ever more deathly still.

Jiang Wanxiang gripped the sword and sheathed that bloodstained blade.

Emperor Ji Zichang said slowly: "You do not want My life."

Jiang Wanxiang shook his head and said: "To me, Your Majesty is not someone who must be killed, and I am not one who slays the innocent wantonly."

"I need only Your Majesty to abdicate."

Jiang Wanxiang said calmly: "Then leave this place—go wherever you wish, it is up to you. Go find Li Guanyi, go to any peaceful and tranquil land, lay down this burden, and do what you wish to do."

Emperor Ji Zichang stood stunned, looking at Jiang Wanxiang with what seemed a trace of astonishment.

Jiang Wanxiang smiled faintly and said:

"The peace of the realm is for people like us to fight for. Your Majesty may also go in person to do what you wish. In the end, this age of chaos has bound you, me, and far, far too many others."

"We cannot do what we wish, nor be who we wish to be."

"Let me bear the filth Your Majesty has borne, and then Your Majesty may do as you wish, freely."

"After today, you shall be free."

Emperor Ji Zichang looked at the Jiang Wanxiang before him.

He suddenly realized how very aged this Azure Dragon had become.

In Emperor Ji Zichang's memory, Jiang Wanxiang had always been that fiercely ambitious man—white-haired, yes, but possessed of a spirit more vast and mighty than any ordinary young man.

But now his hair was entirely white, the skin of his face had lost its luster—pale, withered, like a land that had squeezed out every last drop of life, like sheets of white paper crumpled and piled together, left for who knows how many years.

His flesh and blood had dried up, like those of an old man on the brink of death.

The bones of his cheeks could barely hold the flesh; his cheekbones jutted out sharply, his eyebrows had gone white, and the dark-blue Azure Dragon-patterned long ceremonial robe that once fit his frame so well now hung somewhat loose and empty upon him.

When the wind blew past, it was like a strip of cloth hanging from bare bones.

Yet even so—

—the eyes beneath those white brows were still blazing, still like fire.

When a tiger dies, it does not fall from its frame.

How much less a dragon.

And a man, likewise.

Emperor Ji Zichang said softly: "So that's how it is... Qing, you've grown old."

Jiang Wanxiang said with a smile: "What is Your Majesty speaking of? The autumn hunt of the eleventh year of Tianqi, and now it is already the eighteenth year of Tianqi. Seven or eight years have passed; a mere mischievous child would now be of an age to marry and establish a career; the young man has also become steady. Is Your Majesty not the same?"

"As for this old man."

"This old man is not old, but about to die."

Emperor Ji Zichang looked at Jiang Wanxiang.

In the end, he did not open his mouth to agree.

The latter grinned and said: "It seems Your Majesty still does not agree, but rest assured, this old man can still wait for several days. Your Majesty, please stay in the imperial palace and think it over carefully, and rest well."

"I believe Your Majesty can make a sufficiently wise and correct choice."

"This old man will wait properly for Your Majesty's choice."

With thousands of troops and horses, Yuwen Lie and He Ruo Qinhu stood on the left and right of Jiang Wanxiang — Ying's elite forces had barely encountered any decent resistance before they had already taken the entire Central Province.

On this day, Emperor Ji Zichang was still kept in the palace, treated as the Scarlet Emperor.

Jiang Wanxiang ascended that tall tower.

The lamplights flickered. In his youth, Jiang Wanxiang and Gao Xiang had come here to snatch a bride — to snatch the Emperor's bride. He had never been a nature disciplined by rites and laws. Now, seeing the Scarlet Emperor's Central Province again, it no longer possessed the prosperity he had seen in his youth, only a stretch of distortion.

Jiang Wanxiang's complexion was pale; even climbing the tower left him feeling a sense of breathlessness.

Yet his own cultivation was still that of a Nine Heavens Sovereign, sustained by the Mandate of Heaven.

A powerful internal qi realm and a withering vitality appeared simultaneously in Jiang Wanxiang's body, giving one the feeling of flowers added to brocade, fierce fire cooking oil.

Yuwen Lie and He Ruo Qinhu looked at this aged sovereign with worry.

They wished to support him, but were waved off by the latter, and thus stopped. Jiang Wanxiang stood atop this tall tower of Central Province, looking at the Central Province in the night, looking at those ancient houses one after another, looking at the flying eaves curving upward, the lamplights of a grand human world — the Scarlet Emperor's eight hundred years of legend, those few measures of heroic spirit, of love between men and women, of the mortal world ten thousand fathoms deep, all lay between the lamplights.

Jiang Wanxiang stretched out his hand, five fingers spread, covering the lamplights ahead, and murmured:

"Lamplights bright, the mortal world."

"Truly beautiful, yet also ugly to the extreme."

"Such a world — how could people like you and I be willing to leave it just like this?"

"How could we stop, before the Great Vow?"

He Ruo Qinhu's eyes held sorrow, and he said softly:

"Your Majesty's achievements overshadow the world; you will surely enjoy a long lifespan."

Jiang Wanxiang laughed loudly: "A long lifespan? Hahahaha — even the solemn He Ruo Qinhu will say such things now. Cough, cough, cough, cough..."

He had wished to laugh it off as in days past, but after laughing a few times, it turned into violent coughing. When the coughing reached its worst, he opened his mouth and spat out a mouthful of blood. His sleeve was stained with blood, its color black, like thick ink, carrying a foul stench, shocking to behold.

Yuwen Lie and He Ruo Qinhu changed color and stepped forward to support him.

Jiang Wanxiang did not refuse. He looked at the black blood on his sleeve and said: "The blade and sword wounds of Yu Langwang — even if one took every life-extending thing under heaven, it can no longer hold on. The flesh and blood of a person ultimately has its limit. When one's natural lifespan nears its end, it cannot be reversed by human effort."

"What is to be done?"

He looked at his own palm — an old man's palm — which had already begun to tremble when gripping a sword. In his youth, gripping a sword, riding a horse, fighting on the battlefield for three days and three nights, he had never reached such a state.

In the snow-sealed mountains, hiding together with Gao Xiang in a hollow beneath a rock, reaching out to grab a handful of fallen snow, stuffing it into his mouth and swallowing it, feeling his skin gradually turn flushed and hot in the winter day, feeling the burning fire within his five viscera and six bowels.

He raised his head, and through the hollow punched out by his fist, saw the bright moon in the sky.

The moon illuminated the young man's dream.

He was young then, without foundation, without status or identity.

But he still had friends, still had dreams, still had the wild fire of a young man's unwillingness to submit.

Now he possessed everything.

Yet he had lost that vigorous bloodline and vigor.

Stripping away the Mandate of Heaven — this body of a human sovereign could not endure the backlash of the Mandate's stripping, leading to a great reduction in lifespan. But, just as he had said, the Mandate of Heaven under heaven, apart from Ying, still included the eight-hundred-year Mandate and name of Central Province.

Even though this eight-hundred-year Mandate of the Scarlet Emperor's dynasty had long been a foul atmosphere, long been like deadly poison, long been covered in filth everywhere — even so, such a Mandate was still a Mandate.

At this moment, no different from drinking ice and swallowing snow in his youth.

Even if it were a fierce poison, he did not care.

Jiang Wanxiang's palm slowly closed.

"Ji Zichang."

"Your capacity is insufficient to be a hero in these troubled times. A place of peace beyond the world is the destination suited to you."

"Go then to the place you should go."

"Even a Mandate like fierce poison is enough to support such a broken body, to rush to the final battle... The Great Vow lies ahead. Whether it is Li Guanyi who wins, or we who win, in the end it will not be too long."

Jiang Wanxiang murmured in his heart, then looked again at these two famous generals. His aged eyes lowered, spirit and charm hidden within, yet no one knew what he was thinking of. In the end, he still sighed.

He first had Yuwen Lie go out and wait. Yuwen Lie was silent, saluted, and left.

Jiang Wanxiang looked at He Ruo Qinhu, his voice calm and plain, as if in idle talk, and said:

"Qinhu, how many years have you followed me?"

He Ruo Qinhu said respectfully: "This humble general was seventeen years old when he began to campaign in all directions under Your Majesty. Now my temples have turned white; counting roughly, it has been forty-seven years."

"Forty-seven years, forty-seven years..."

"Truly a long span of time."

Jiang Wanxiang was helped to sit down, his voice warm and smiling, and said:

"Your clan and maternal clan are both great clans under heaven, and they are entangled with many forces in the court — this is a natural thing. Born of a great clan, a famous general, repeatedly establishing meritorious deeds, and of a bold and clear nature, naturally people gather around you."

"But, regarding you, this old man still has one thing to tell you."

He Ruo Qinhu said respectfully:

"Please bestow it, Your Majesty."

Jiang Wanxiang looked at He Ruo Qinhu: "Your nature is steady, mindful of the overall situation, but you are entangled in too much. As a pillar of the state, you must know what the true overall situation is, and must not be held back by these many identities and connections."

"So as to avoid any misstep that might cause something irreparable."

He Ruo Qinhu was stunned. Though he prided himself on never having been held back by his birth, his friends, or his clan in court, he still bowed respectfully and said: "This general will certainly keep Your Majesty's words firmly in mind."

Jiang Wanxiang looked at him for a long while, then said: "Good. You are a pillar of the state; you must not treat yourself lightly."

"Withdraw for now, and summon Yuwen Lie to come in."

"Yes!"

He Ruo Qinhu went out, and Yuwen Lie came in. Yuwen Lie had lost an arm, replaced with a mechanical contraption. The wild arrogance of former days had gradually faded, but the proud core within remained as before. He bowed and said: "Your Majesty."

Jiang Wanxiang looked at this general, who could hardly be counted among the younger generation of famed commanders, and said:

"You are proud and aloof by nature; at times, you too need to take a step back."

"Yet you cannot maintain that single word—pride—from beginning to end."

"…Heh, though to be fair, maintaining that single word—pride—from beginning to end is indeed something you are quite capable of doing, this old man still hopes that you can walk out from your former self, and walk toward a farther horizon."

"Gao'er, I entrust her to you, General."

Yuwen Lie silently bowed and said: "Yes."

A look of weariness seemed to cross Jiang Wanxiang's face. He waved his hand and said: "You may withdraw. Let this old man rest here for a while."

Yuwen Lie nodded and left.

Jiang Wanxiang remained here alone, surrounded on all sides by utter stillness. He raised his head to gaze into the distance, and also sensed the eight-hundred-year warped fortune of the Scarlet Emperor. He stretched out his hand—as though because this body was already one on the brink of death, his palm could clearly perceive the existence of that fortune.

He drew a deep breath, gradually taking control of the fortune accumulated over eight hundred years in the Scarlet Emperor's court. That which had once been glorious, once radiant on all sides, now rotted, like a fierce poison—he sensed his body once more, beneath a posture like drinking poison to quench thirst.

Swallow it all.

Wield it!

And then watch with open eyes as this damned eight-hundred-year warped fortune corrodes this body.

Wearing away his vitality, shattering his flesh and blood.

Severing the name left behind after death, sacrificing the life lived before it—seeking no status, seeking no renown, seeking only victory. All that remained was that one chestful of wild fire, propelling this broken body toward the great unity of the realm that generations of brothers-in-arms and ministers had jointly yearned for.

Too many had already fallen behind him.

He could not give up, and even less could he stop.

To give up at the time of the final battle would be the most shameless betrayal of all people and of himself.

Even if after death no bones remained, even if he fell into the relentless purgatory, even if after this body, his name was ruined and his honor shattered, even if he wagered everything of this life—struggling, twisting, rushing toward victory.

He clenched his fists, white-haired and gaunt, his eyes like fire, his heart a pale dragon.

As if, in those youthful years, he had shouted to himself.

"We have to win!"

"Jiang Wanxiang!!!"

Later, in the historical records, many historians could not understand why Jiang Wanxiang had to make the Scarlet Emperor abdicate at this moment. Some said he wished to break through the arrangement of fate at the last, to become a true sovereign; yet others said that a man like him, who had walked from a son born of a concubine all the way to the end, splitting the realm in two—

He had once taken the initiative in guiding the autumn hunt of the eleventh year of Tianqi and the upheaval that followed.

A man like him cared least of all about name and righteousness.

He was simply like a tireless pale dragon or fierce tiger, swallowing the strategic heartlands of the Central Province, drawing in every foundation before the final great war, seizing every existence that might increase the odds of victory, and then staking everything on the final battle.

This sovereign, of mixed praise and blame, was indeed, like Jiang Su, of one body with his ministers; their dispositions were the same—uncaring of their own life and death, uncaring of the honor left after death, with only victory in their eyes.

He was already far too old; he could already barely grip his sword.

More than life and death, he valued the future; he wished to set foot on the battlefield before everything came to pass.

Yet the heroes of this world were not just one man.

On this night, within the Scarlet Emperor's palace, Ji Zichang was silent for a long while. The night was deep and heavy. The elite troops from the State of Ying had surrounded and taken control of the Scarlet Emperor's palace, and even at night, the place was ablaze with lights.

Civil and military ministers, the hundred officials, came in an endless stream.

They came with utmost reverence to pay homage to the Scarlet Emperor, and then, almost in tears, urged His Majesty the Scarlet Emperor to consider the great trend of the realm, to consider the future. The realm was now divided; the line of the Scarlet Emperor no longer held the position it once did.

The great trend of the realm had been divided for three hundred years.

Now at last the time had come again for what had long been divided to unite.

Your Majesty should顺应 the times and hand over the honored throne.

To retire with merit accomplished, to soothe the hearts of the people of the realm, to settle the four directions—was this not also the conduct of a sage and wise sovereign?

The civil and military officials, some weeping bitterly, some with loyal and earnest hearts:

"Your Majesty, think thrice!"

Yan Taibao, who had taught Ji Zichang calligraphy, was today waiting at Ji Zichang's side. Watching the host of ministers and officials come and go in an endless stream, he looked out from the side door of the palace: the night was thick as ink, the lanterns like dragons.

Those were the red lanterns lit on the carriages of the hundred officials. Seen now, they bore not the slightest hint of festivity, only like bloodstains running wild, staining the night, like fresh blood coughed from a mouth.

The carriages came in an endless stream. After paying their visit to Ji Zichang, these men would not return to their own dwellings, but would instead change course and go to pay their respects to the great sovereign of the State of Ying, Jiang Wanxiang. Lanterns on both sides stretched like dragons, bright as day, in an unending stream.

Yan Taibao looked upon this scene, sorrow and fury in the depths of his eyes.

These high officials, generation after generation, had all fed upon the bounty of the court.

The great calamity of the state was here—and yet such was their conduct!

Ji Zichang looked upon this scene, but only said lightly:

"Teacher, there is no need for anger…"

Yan Taibao turned to look at Ji Zichang, at this disciple of his. This Emperor, on the contrary, was composed and unhurried in bearing, sorrow in the depths of his eyes. "Your Majesty…" He wished to say many things, to comfort him, to cheer him on, but the situation had rotted to such a state.

He only opened his mouth, uttered those two words, and could say no more.

He could only choke, tears streaming down his face, his words no longer words.

Just at this moment, suddenly a voice came, the door was pushed open, and an old man appeared there. The old man's expression was mild, his white hair was groomed immaculately, not a strand out of place, his Wu Gong at the peak of the seventh heaven, his inner Qi vast and powerful.

It was none other than Ji Yanzhong of the line of the Scarlet Emperor of the Central Province.

This old man could be considered the last face of the Scarlet Emperor's line, but the realm of a Grandmaster, in ordinary times of peace could still be brought out for mention. Now in these chaotic times, with heroes contending, the top ten of the realm all had the eighth heaven as their foundation, and the top five were all above the ninth heaven.

The old man's cultivation at the Qizhongtian Sect Master realm was, frankly, somewhat lacking.

"Your Majesty…"

Prince Ji Yanzhong called out softly, then took out a case. Inside the case was something Emperor Ji Zichang had told him to fetch. When he opened it, there was a seal — the very emblem of the Red Emperor's reign, the Great Seal of the Red Emperor.

Emperor Ji Zichang extended his palm, gently brushing over the seal, his expression calm and still.

He unrolled a scroll, dipped his brush in ink, and wrote with strokes like dragons and serpents, sweeping and unhurried, with tremendous grandeur — already at a level that astonished Grand Tutor Yan, who had taught him calligraphy. Only when one's state of mind and one's writing were in perfect harmony could such divine resonance be achieved.

Emperor Ji Zichang took up that seal, pressed it firmly into the cinnabar paste, and stamped the coiled-red-dragon seal deep onto the imperial edict. Then he rolled up the Red Emperor's seal together with the edict and handed them both to Prince Ji Yanzhong.

Abdication was merely a future he had long since foreseen.

But he still had a second choice.

"The edict, and this seal — I entrust them both to you, Imperial Uncle."

"Please leave this place, leave the Central Province, and head to Jiangnan."

"Deliver these two items to my friend —"

"Li Yaoshi."

?? Begging for monthly tickets, friends~