Chapter 548: Emperor

The death of Emperor Jiang Wanxiang of Ying State plunged the entire nation into mourning.

In accordance with his final wishes, no grand funeral was held; everything was kept simple, and the entire empire sank into a somber atmosphere—but no matter how intense the grief, it would eventually pass, and life must go on.

With the former monarch gone, a long-suppressed issue could no longer be contained and finally surfaced.

And the moment it surfaced, it erupted with extreme intensity.

Jiang Wanxiang is dead—who shall be the next heir to this vast empire?

Crown Prince Jiang Gao is virtuous and widely admired, yet his character is weak; civil officials favor him, but among military commanders, he lacks the aura of a ruler fit for turbulent times. Second Prince Jiang Yuan was once unruly, but later reformed, and notably led troops to reinforce the capital during General Yu Langwang’s assault on Ying State, earning commendable praise.

Both princes are backed by powerful factions.

After Jiang Wanxiang’s death, these two factions began secretly scheming against each other for their own futures, and the two divine generals who had once fought side by side in the southern campaign now harbored resentment.

Initial court deliberations gradually turned heated.

The other ministers dared not speak.

Yuwen Lie’s tone was cold and hard: “Since ancient times, succession has always favored the legitimate heir and the eldest son—this has never changed. At a time when the state is on the brink of collapse, replacing the crown prince is a path to ruin. He Ruo, do you not know this?!”

He Ruo’s wife’s family is tied to Jiang Yuan.

As Jiang Wanxiang himself said, He Ruo fought alongside him since youth, rising step by step, and naturally gathered support from court officials. Now, whether for profit, for the future, or simply because they could never support Jiang Gao, they have chosen to back the second prince.

He Ruo said: “Yuwen Lie, His Majesty once said the Crown Prince is a benevolent gentleman, unfit to rule in turbulent times—you heard those words. If the realm were at peace, I would wholeheartedly support the Crown Prince, even to the point of sacrificing my life.”

“But now the realm is not yet settled, and the Qin King’s military might is overwhelming.”

“Can the Crown Prince’s disposition ever raise a sword and stand against Qin Wang Li Guanyi?!”

Yuwen Lie replied coldly: “Even if the Crown Prince cannot match Qin Wang Li Guanyi, he is far superior to the second prince’s unruly nature. You say the Crown Prince is unfit—do you believe the second prince can stand against Qin Wang Li Guanyi?!”

“Before Qin is defeated, our own Ying State will collapse from within!”

He Ruo flew into a rage: “You ignorant fool, how dare you claim to understand the realm?!”

“In turbulent times, decisive action is required!”

“If we follow the rule of legitimacy and seniority, then our late emperor himself was a collateral branch of the royal clan—so in your eyes, was our late emperor also a ruin to the state?!”

Yuwen Lie was enraged by these words.

The air rippled, and a furious tiger’s roar exploded like thunder; the entire hall seemed to shake violently. The ministers, whose martial cultivation was far inferior, could not stand their ground and staggered backward.

Yuwen Lie said nothing.

He raised his hand and gathered qi into a long sword.

With a flick of his wrist, he tore through the air and slashed directly at He Ruo. Yuwen Lie was furious; He Ruo refused to yield, and likewise condensed his qi into a weapon. The two divine generals drew arms and clashed right there in the grand hall.

For a moment, the clashing of swords and blades pierced the air.

All civil and military officials retreated.

Chancellor Wei Yi winced in pain; he could not stop them, so he turned to look at the front row of military officers.

Jiang Su sat with eyes closed, his demeanor as still and unmoving as a mountain—he seemed utterly deaf to their quarrel.

Wei Yi sighed and said: “Grand Master, you must intervene.”

“This is utterly disgraceful.”

Jiang Su finally opened his eyes, raised a finger, and a terrifying aura erupted, sending ripples through the air. The two ninth-layer martial generals suddenly felt suppressed—their grip on their weapons stiffened.

The weapons formed from qi fell to the ground.

They clanged, shattered, and slowly dissolved.

A deathly silence fell.

Jiang Su’s voice was heavy and solemn: “The Emperor has been dead only a few months, and yet you two draw weapons in the imperial hall, fighting over the next ruler—do you think that after the Emperor, no one remains to control you?!”

His voice was calm, yet ripples spread through the void; Jiang Su’s martial legend form, having broken further into the realm of legend, manifested—golden light shimmered, and a weighty, mountain-like aura slowly enveloped Yuwen Lie and He Ruo, pinning them down.

Yuwen Lie remained cold.

He Ruo bowed his head.

Jiang Su said only: “I am stripping you both of three months’ salary and demoting you three ranks.”

“If you dare repeat this, do not blame me for showing no mercy.”

Jiang Su subdued the two divine generals, and that day’s court session ended in a complex, turbulent manner. Jiang Yuan watched Yuwen Lie, exhaled slowly, and wore a gentle smile as he stepped forward, bowing:

“General Yuwen, it seems you still harbor… feelings about my past…”

Yuwen Lie appeared not to see him at all.

He stared straight ahead, expression cool and detached, and strode past Jiang Yuan without a glance.

As if passing a worm or a dog!

Jiang Yuan froze mid-motion, still wearing that gentle, helpless expression—but a flash of ruthless malice crossed his eyes. He only offered a bitter smile to the surrounding ministers: “I was unruly in youth; I suppose I left a terrible impression on General Yuwen. He refuses to speak with me.”

Jiang Wanxiang is gone.

Crown Prince Jiang Gao, understanding that in this turbulent age, excessive mourning is inappropriate—if grief becomes excessive, it loses its meaning as remembrance—moved with propriety before the court: though sorrowful, he remained restrained.

But Second Prince Jiang Yuan grieved deeply, weeping repeatedly, so overcome with sorrow he fainted multiple times. The court realized the depth of his grief; Jiang Yuan then dismissed his most beautiful maidservants, shattered his ancient zither, withdrew from music and pleasure, dressed plainly, and ate no meat.

The people hailed him as virtuous and filial.

Yet when Jiang Yuan returned to his residence, he entered through a back gate. Outside, the mansion appeared simple, with few beautiful women—but inside, it teemed with beautiful maids, concubines, fine foods, and music.

Jiang Yuan changed his clothes; beautiful maidservants attended him, indulging him in luxury, as he muttered: “Damn Yuwen Lie—he relies on his martial strength and refuses to acknowledge me. But when I crush Li Guanyi, my authority will spread across the four seas.”

“Then your usefulness ends—I’ll kill you and be done with it!”

“To repay your insult today!”

The surrounding maids and concubines soothed him with soft voices, when suddenly a servant arrived with good news: the beauty sent last year had conceived and given birth.

Jiang Yuan was overjoyed, cradling the child and stroking its cheek.

Those around him offered congratulations.

But Jiang Yuan’s face twisted.

His hand caressed the child, and he lamented: “Pity… pity… such a good child, but you came at the wrong time.” The congratulating crowd and the new mother froze, stunned.

They stared at Jiang Yuan in disbelief.

Jiang Yuan watched the child instinctively grasp his finger.

A flicker of pity crossed his eyes.

But then he thought of the dragon throne, the imperial position—and that flicker of pity, the grief for his father, the blood bond with his elder brother—all vanished. He handed the child to the mother and said:

“Take your thousand gold pieces and leave.”

“My father has just died; if I now have a child, scholars and public opinion will call me unfilial.”

The mother stood frozen, unable to believe her ears, yet she clutched the child, weeping, and bowed in thanks to the prince. Jiang Yuan sighed, his heart heavy.

That day, he finally took pleasure in the sister of that maid and both women.

After their lovemaking, as he dismissed the two women, he suddenly thought: if one day I ascend the throne, and this woman reappears with the child, won’t my reputation be ruined?

At that time, the blame would fall on me—it would be disgraceful.

Then I shall be Emperor.

The Emperor is a god among mortals, ruling over all people, the supreme authority of the human world.

How could an Emperor commit such a mistake?

After much struggle, he summoned his hidden guards: “Go—kill this woman and her child.”

The guard hesitated long, then carried out the order. When he returned to report, Jiang Yuan rewarded him with a thousand gold pieces—but as the guard turned to leave, Jiang Yuan suddenly drew his sword and stabbed him through the lower back.

A torrent of dominant true qi exploded, shredding the guard’s internal organs to pulp.

The guard collapsed. Jiang Yuan wiped his blade on the guard’s body, then kicked him, shouting: “Base, treacherous minister!”

“How dare you kill my wife and child!”

Jiang Yuan swung his weapon, hacking the loyal guard into a bloody mess, then finally stopped. He exhaled slowly—and his conscience no longer pained him.

He raised his head, gazing at the distant heavens, whispering: “Child, you will not hate your father. It is the throne—the most powerful position in the world. For this position, any price is worth paying.”

“You will help me, won’t you?”

“You will not hate me.”

As for the woman, she was never part of his consideration.

He had already forgotten her face.

Because of this incident, Jiang Yuan resolved to thoroughly purge all his outlying concubines—but such things can never be kept perfectly secret; rumors still spread and were recorded in official histories.

【Yuan, constantly feigning virtue, all his concubines’ children died without cause.】

This is the subtle phrasing of the annals.

The imperial sons were born—but never raised.

If not murdered, then exiled.

It is also recorded that years ago, Jiang Yuan had already 【banished all beautiful concubines to secluded chambers, keeping only old, ugly women dressed in plain cloth to serve him; curtains were replaced with plain silk; all court officials believed he shunned pleasure.】

Second Prince Jiang Yuan was handsome, intelligent, deep and solemn; he loved learning and excelled in writing; he treated court officials with humility and utmost courtesy—and thus his reputation soared, unmatched across the land.

But Jiang Gao paid no attention to such surface displays.

He valued substance.

In court and even around the capital, Jiang Yuan’s support and popular favor were quietly surpassing Jiang Gao’s. On this day, after finishing court affairs, Chancellor Wei Yi was summoned by Grand Master Jiang Su.

Jiang Su’s residence was plain, bearing the sternness of a great general, with no luxury or indulgence. Wei Yi entered to find Grand Master Jiang Su alone, brewing tea and playing chess. The board was a fierce battle—representing the entire realm.

Wei Yi steadied himself, stepped forward, and smiled: “Grand Master, how leisurely you are!”

Jiang Su replied coolly: “Not leisurely at all—I see only the wars of the world.”

Wei Yi studied the board and thought of the current state of the realm. Autumn was deep; Jiang Wanxiang’s death still cast a heavy shadow over the court and the people of Ying State.

Wei Yi said: “With the Divine General Jiang Su standing guard, our Ying State can still stand firm in this world—we may rest easy.”

Jiang Su shook her head, her voice solemn and calm: “It’s too late.”

Wei Yi was stunned.

Jiang Su reached out and unfastened her robe; her body was robust and martial, riddled with scars—each earned in battle, each an old wound—but across her chest and abdomen lay a grotesque, piercing wound that even the legendary regenerative power of martial cultivation had failed to fully heal, leaving a massive, twisted scar.

Like a dragon’s.

Wei Yi, a scholar, had never seen such a brutal sight; he shuddered in silent alarm.

He rose instinctively and said:

“Grand Master, what is this?!”

Jiang Su pulled her loose outer robe back on and replied: “I fought Li Guanyi beyond Zhenbeixiongcheng. He used his Immortal Life Body to stir his vital essence and clashed with me to the death. He paid a heavy price—but I did not win easily.”

Jiang Su picked up a go stone and said: “In recent days, I often recall the past—when His Majesty gazed at the stars from Zhaixing Tower, when the Sword Madman of Jiangnan was still in seclusion, when all things flourished.”

“But now, His Majesty has fallen on the battlefield, Murong Long Tu has left the Jianghu, and one by one, the people of my era have vanished—leaving me with a strange sense of dislocation.”

“It feels as if they’ve left me behind.”

Wei Yi said: “Grand Master, how can you say such a thing? You are the Divine General of the Realm. Even if mountains and rivers collapse, with you here, you can hold up the heavens with one hand.”

Jiang Su said: “I am old.”

It was a cruel thing to say.

And it was a thing Wei Yi never imagined he’d hear from Jiang Su’s lips.

So much so that the Chancellor, who had once plagued Bai Jun, paused in thought—Jiang Su continued: “Since I first gained renown, over three hundred years have passed. The lifespan of a martial legend exceeds three centuries—but I rose to fame on the battlefield.”

“In my youth, I relied on my martial prowess, pushing forward recklessly, exhausting my blood and qi, undermining my foundation long ago. I am no longer what I once was.”

“Li Guanyi is at his peak.”

“He can still absorb experience from battle after battle, constantly growing stronger. After being wounded, he recovers faster than I do. He will grow stronger—but I will not. My body will not become tougher after healing.”

“Instead, I feel fatigue and weakness from the wounds left by three centuries of brutal warfare.”

“I am growing weaker. Li Guanyi is growing stronger.”

“My time is running out.”

“Our window of opportunity is closing.”

Wei Yi fell silent for a long while, then said: “What do you mean, Grand Master?”

Jiang Su said: “As His Majesty once said, the Second Prince is better suited to the realm now than the Crown Prince—not because Jiang Yuan is more talented, but precisely because he lacks talent and ambition.”

“If it were Jiang Gao, he would cling stubbornly to his ideals, yearning for peace. He is still too young, still clinging to the hope that we might coexist peacefully.”

“Jiang Yuan will indulge in comfort.”

“He will wish I never return—but also wish I defeat our enemies. As long as Jiang Su lives, he will at least not go too far.”

Wei Yi understood: the Divine General Jiang Su no longer needed a wise ruler. He had already served one—majestic, formidable, and worthy. He was satisfied.

Now, the Divine General needed a battlefield to ride upon.

And a puppet who would not interfere with his decisions.

Wei Yi said: “The Crown Prince may not choose to obstruct you.”

Jiang Su said: “Really?”

“Then I can wait a little longer. They themselves will give you the answer. Go now.”

Wei Yi sighed and departed, deeply troubled.

As a general, Jiang Su needed a stable rear—but his stability meant the Emperor must not meddle in his military advances, must not be a benevolent ruler eager for rest and recuperation at this critical juncture.

Wei Yi was Chancellor.

He faced the Emperor daily; naturally, he did not wish to serve a capricious, tyrannical monarch who suppressed his own desires. From his standpoint, he opposed Jiang Yuan’s ascension—but events unfolded as they would, regardless of his hopes.

The realm briefly entered peace when an envoy from Ying Guo arrived in Jiangnan.

He was an envoy of Crown Prince Jiang Gao, bearing lavish gifts to meet Qin Wu, hoping to mend relations between the two states. Li Guanyi received the envoys—but when he heard their words, he smiled faintly.

The envoy was Princess Jiang Cai, daughter of the Ying royal house and a former disciple of the Yuxuegong’s Diplomat School.

She saw the proud Bai Jun.

She saw the old companions from her days at the academy. She delivered Jiang Gao’s gifts and letter. Li Guanyi read it and said: “Brother Jiang Gao… hopes we negotiate peace?”

Jiang Cai said: “Yes. The Crown Prince now holds sovereign authority.”

“Since autumn of Tianqi 11, until now, Tianqi 18, eight years of ceaseless war have ravaged the realm. The people suffer, the soldiers bleed. If this continues, when will peace return to the common folk?”

“Qin Wang, you are the benevolent ruler of this age. Long ago, the Crown Prince and you made a pact: when peace came, we would drink together.”

Li Guanyi placed the letter on the table and said: “Brother Jiang Gao…”

“Still too young.”

Jiang Cai pressed her lips together. She saw the Qin Wang say:

“Take the gifts back.”

Jiang Cai said: “Your Majesty…”

Her words died unspoken as she met his gaze—calm, yet sharp as the glint of forged steel. Dressed in deep ink-blue robes, jade belt at his waist, sleeves embroidered with qilin, he calmly rested his hand on the hilt of his sword.

White hair fell at his temples; his eyes no longer held their former ferocity, only a quiet, unyielding strength: “Negotiation and peace treaties bring no true peace.”

“Pity. Has Brother Jiang Gao not grown at all these past years?”

Jiang Cai wanted to argue.

But before her stood a young man, weathered by war and the world, evoking the same awe she once felt before Jiang Wanxiang—and she was silenced. The Qin Wang said: “In the annals of history, has any empire ever thrived by retreating?”

“Only the blade reveals truth.”

“In war, we do not kill envoys. Miss Jiang Cai, return home.”

Jiang Cai murmured: “In war…”

“Qin Wang, when did our two states ever resume hostilities?”

The Qin Wang replied:

“When did we ever stop?”

The Qin Wang gripped his sword and stepped down, his gait steady and regal, robes swirling with imperial majesty. He said softly: “The war to unify the realm has already begun. And it has not ceased.”

Jiang Cai’s heart pounded wildly—not from excitement, but from dread and oppression.

As the Qin Wang walked out, his ministers followed on either side.

On his right, the first was the solemn and imposing Yue Pengwu.

On his left, the first was the young man she had once bested in debate—only to be beaten back with a staff: Bai Jun.

Bai Jun passed her, and as he did, his lips curled slightly:

“This time, I won, Jiang Cai.”

“Do you have a ruler like this?”

Jiang Cai stared at the young man with violet eyes, arrogant and proud, chin lifted, lips curved. Dressed in scholarly robes, she couldn’t shake the feeling—was it her racing thoughts?—that behind him, something like a tail was flicking rapidly.

As if about to strike her face.

Jiang Cai sighed, and after a long while, said: “Qin Wang…”

She had once believed Jiang Gao was a kind and virtuous ruler. When Li Guanyi rose, she had seen Qin Wu Hou’s vigor and martial spirit—and even then, she thought Jiang Gao would surpass him.

After all, Qin Wu Hou had spent his first decade wandering among the people. In imperial education, strategy, and hidden strength, he was no match for Jiang Gao.

But now, ten years later, she saw the Qin Wang.

She no longer dared compare Jiang Gao to him.

The question rising in her mind was not who was stronger—but whether Jiang Wanxiang or the Qin Wang possessed greater majesty.

Jiang Cai returned to Ying Guo. But her mission itself exposed Jiang Gao’s flaw: he still clung to the illusion of softness and gentleness, hoping to achieve peace without swords.

He lacked the spirit of a warlord of chaos.

He did not understand: only the blade brings peace.

Perhaps Jiang Gao still had time to grow, a future to shape him, to guide him, to let him reflect and awaken. After all, no one is born a hero—they must grow.

But chaos gives no time to grow.

Jiang Su no longer had such patience.

He did not need a future benevolent ruler—he needed a puppet now, one who would not interfere with his battlefield decisions. Even if this puppet brought ruin to the entire Ying court, he did not care.

Jiang Su always saw clearly.

Only by defeating Li Guanyi could Ying Guo earn the right to speak of its future.

He knew what mattered, what did not.

Grand Master Jiang Su, acting alone, invoked the late Emperor Jiang Wanxiang’s final edict: deposed Crown Prince Jiang Gao from the Donggong, installed the Second Prince Jiang Yuan as Emperor, proclaimed a general amnesty, and declared a new era name—

【Da Ye】.

The realm erupted in uproar. Some claimed the world was now divided: Ying Guo had declared itself an empire, subtly overshadowing the Qin Wang.

Thus, as Jiang Yuan ascended the throne and proclaimed his rule across the land,

Nan Hanwen stepped forward, holding a scroll, analyzing the realm’s great trends, public sentiment, and the power of reputation, sharply critiquing the times. Then he bowed deeply, his voice calm and deadly:

“For the sake of the realm.”

“To uphold the true mandate!”

“We beg Your Majesty to ascend as Emperor.”

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