Chapter 560: A World in Chaos, Love and Longing

“Sigh, sigh, have you heard?”

Song Changgeng, a new disciple of the Mo School, sat there sipping a bowl of duck blood vermicelli soup when a man at the next table lowered his voice and said: “You know, this is a big secret—don’t you dare tell anyone.”

The big man’s eyes and brows curled with a smug smile as he whispered:

“I heard the Emperor is coming back!”

Song Changgeng sighed.

Though the man claimed it was a secret, such a loud voice could be heard clearly a mile away—he just kept slurping his soup and nodded instinctively.

It wasn’t his fault.

This was the eighteenth time he’d heard this “secret” today.

He’d heard it before from Mo School masters, passing farmers, senior disciples, senior sisters, and even his Tianmo Sect martial arts instructor.

Honestly, what kind of secret is this?

Everyone in Jiangnan already knows.

Today, Jiangnan is busier than ever; even the common folk wear smiles, and no matter what they talk about, they can’t avoid one topic—

The Qin Emperor, who personally led the campaign to intercept the enemy nation’s divine general Jiang Su, is returning in triumph.

What good fortune!

For four full years, the people of Qin have lived without war, with light taxes and minimal corvée, and even the weather has been kind—when storms do come, some claim to glimpse the shadow of a nine-colored divine deer.

They also say that a few years ago, a river dragon surged through the Great River, threatening to swallow every house and field along its banks; elders in their fifties and sixties turned pale with terror—but in the end, nothing happened.

The Mo School masters had built irrigation works that diverted the floodwaters; though some farmland was damaged, not a single civilian died—only one child, too slow to return home, was swept away.

Days later, people found the wailing child in a field ridge; when asked what happened, he couldn’t answer, only saying that before he lost consciousness in the water, he’d seen a streak of crimson-gold light.

Powerful.

Powerful!

It had torn apart the raging torrent rushing down from the heights.

It grabbed him—saved him—but the force was so great he fainted instantly.

People believed it was the river spirit, and built a temple to worship it.

They also say such things never happened before—it must be because the Qin Emperor holds Heaven’s Mandate, so the people’s hearts unite as one, every household has surplus grain, and trade with the Western Regions and the steppes flourishes.

Beef and mutton are plentiful; the people’s lives are better than heaven itself.

Only the children, eager to play, are shoved into elementary academies.

Every day they train in martial arts, learn characters, and take exams.

When they cry out, the elders clench their teeth in frustration, cursing: “Back in our day, we never had an Emperor like the Qin Emperor—you brats, with such an opportunity, don’t you hurry up and learn?”

“Won’t learning even a little give you a foundation to stand on?”

“Hey, what’s called hardship?”

“If we’d had your chances back then, we wouldn’t need to talk about Qi flowing beyond the body—just having continuous Qi and all meridians open, mastering sword and spear—that’d be enough!”

So the children reported this to their masters, who passed it up the chain.

Somehow, it reached the Qin Emperor.

At the time, the Qin Emperor had just finished a battle with Jiang Su; upon hearing this, he laughed and, with a sweep of his brush, established an Elder Academy, inviting the older generation to learn martial arts and characters too.

“Live and learn—go study.”

Just this one move silenced the elders’ scolding.

They now understood that learning martial arts and characters was hard work too.

The children had nothing more to say.

Your parents study martial arts during off-season—why shouldn’t you?

The entire Qin state thrived: people were well-fed, warm, and clothed; society was harmonious; no disasters struck; no foreign invasions threatened—especially when contrasted with neighboring Ying Guo.

Precisely because they had endured those long years of war.

Now, all the people of the realm long for peace, not chaos.

They all crave a lasting, tranquil life.

Yet beneath this peace, they feared Ying Guo—if the Qin Emperor failed, and that tyrant seized the realm, their current lives would vanish like a dream, like foam.

Thus, the people’s support for the Qin Emperor, their hearts’ unwavering loyalty, surpassed any era in history.

Under these circumstances, the Emperor’s return from his expedition was as momentous as the New Year!

Song Changgeng understood their hearts—he was happy too.

But after hearing this news a dozen times a day, his head was spinning; he just slurped his soup, until he noticed a pouting gaze across from him—he looked up and saw a little girl eating duck blood vermicelli soup exactly as he did.

They stared at each other, wide-eyed.

Just then, the sound of hooves rang out.

Under the Qin Emperor’s rule, riding horses on the main roads was forbidden—but this rider wasn’t stopped; everyone instantly realized: as if a god’s power had descended, all sound in the world was stripped away.

Silence. Conversations. Footsteps. Laughter.

Every sound seemed frozen in an instant.

No one knew how long this sudden silence lasted.

In perception, it felt endless.

Yet it felt like only a breath.

The cavalry scout drew a deep breath and shouted: “The Qin Emperor returns in triumph!!”

His voice pierced the silence like a blade—instantly, cheers and laughter erupted; Song Changgeng thought, as a Mo School disciple, he shouldn’t be moved by a monarch’s return.

But then he was swept into the roaring tide of joy.

He found himself standing, like the common folk, gazing outward; he realized he was shouting, his heart pounding—he noticed everyone else was the same; in that instant, their bodies trembled with excitement.

Then he saw the crimson banners of the Qilin Army in the distance.

His mind went blank—only joy remained.

Perhaps, before, and after.

No monarch will ever again command such renown.

In Jiangnan, the crowd roared with joy at their Emperor’s return after years of campaigning; nineteen-year-old Xue Changqing held his halberd, standing on a small hill outside the city, gazing down and murmuring:

“Ah, the Qin Emperor’s prestige is truly unmatched.”

“A true man should be like this.”

The girl historian beside him said: “The Emperor took the battlefield as a youth, braving arrows and spears through a hundred battles to win this realm—and yet he governs diligently, loves his people, ensures they are fed, warm, and clothed; since ancient times, no monarch has stood so closely with his people.”

“To earn such loyalty is only natural.”

Xue Changqing smiled: “True enough.”

“But…”

He gazed far off, watching the Qin Emperor ride into the city, his crimson Qilin banner snapping in the wind; as a Fourth Heaven cultivator with sharp vision, he saw the Emperor’s regal bearing—and still, the Emperor wore that simple jade hairpin.

It seemed like relief, like a long-held breath finally released.

Yet he whispered: “But… my sister has waited for him so, so long.”

“The Qin Emperor, Brother Li.”

“He met my sister when he was thirteen or fourteen—they were childhood companions, innocent and close, sharing life and death; all these years, though Changfeng Lady’s tower couldn’t fight beside Brother Li like Li Duke did, she still aided him greatly.”

“Why aren’t they together?”

“Is it really true, as the storytellers say—that flowers have intent but flowing water has none, and only my sister pines alone?”

“Now that Brother Li has achieved glory and imperial greatness, must my sister grow old with white hair? Is this what they mean by ‘the emperor has no heart’? Oh, ow!”

Xue Changqing cried out in pain, looking up to see the girl historian Sa Atanti striking him with her scroll.

Sa Atanti said: “You’ve learned your ancestor Xue Shen’s gossipy tongue, haven’t you?”

Xue Changqing scratched his head.

“But he’s my ancestor!”

“Isn’t it normal to resemble my ancestor?”

“Isn’t it something to be proud of, to resemble my ancestor!”

Xue Changqing spoke with unwavering confidence, though his logic was weak.

The girl sighed: “Why learn your ancestor Xue Shen’s martial arts and strategy if you’re just going to copy his mouth?”

“Don’t speculate about the relationship between the Qin Emperor and the Changfeng Lady.”

The girl historian had been close to Qin Wu Hou in the Western Regions; when Qin Wu went by the alias Tian Geer , they fought and roamed the vast west together; she knew the Emperor had once spoken of that “Miss,” and said:

“After enduring peace, chaos, the founding era, and now the realm’s division into two, their bond is profound—beyond your or my imagining.”

Xue Changqing sighed, scratching his head: “But why…”

The girl historian said: “The Emperor’s eyes hold the realm.”

“The realm is divided; the people and soldiers are holding their breath—this breath is fierce courage and heroic spirit. If the Emperor marries now, even without saying a word, it sends a signal: the Emperor is beginning to indulge.”

“It will drain that fierce spirit.”

“One surge of momentum, then it fades—this may sound like common talk, but history is full of such cases; you cannot ignore it.”

“Before great deeds are done, indulging in comfort—that is the way of a foolish ruler.”

Xue Changqing protested: “Just indulging makes him a fool?”

The historian replied: “Indulgence is only the surface.”

“He who travels a hundred miles is halfway at ninety. At this moment, such an act—”

“It’s equivalent to betraying the comrades and brothers who walked this path with him.”

"The annals stretch long, and the iron pen has decreed: for such conduct, there are only eight words."

"Heroes grow short of spirit; lovers linger in sentiment."

These eight words, like the self-proclaimed title of a petty tyrant ruling a single region, left Xue Changqing with no rebuttal and no anger—only a sigh, his hands propping his cheeks as he murmured, "Four years. Four years."

"You and I used to quarrel, and now we’re both to be betrothed..."

"My family is too bound by traditions."

"If Li Daoge and my sister can’t be together, how can I marry?"

Sa Atan Di’s face flushed red.

She swung the historical text and slammed it down.

Xue Changqing caught the blow with one hand, seized the girl’s wrist, and burst into loud laughter, then sighed: "A king who unifies a chaotic age and ushers in a new era—such status and position is truly lonely. It is not something we ordinary people can ever fully comprehend."

His laughter blended into the wind, which swept down from the mountain, past the bells atop the city’s towers, over the orderly streets and banners, over the common folk, over the Emperor of Qin, who had dismounted and walked beside his horse, then passed over the Changfeng Tower.

Inside the Changfeng Tower, a woman leaned by the window, watching the mighty man walk through the mortal world.

The common folk clustered around him.

Over these past years, Xue Shuangtao’s martial cultivation had never advanced enough to fight on the front lines; she remained in the rear. Now, after years apart, seeing the Emperor of Qin’s grandeur and spirit, she exhaled softly—yet a sense of loneliness lingered.

The Emperor of Qin returned south, first attending to military affairs, then proceeding to the Tiance Prefecture to confer with its generals and strategists, setting the course to summon all court advisors—the fate of the world now rested upon him.

Parents, teachers, tutors, uncles, comrades, fellow soldiers, great-grandfather...

He, like Jiang Gao, could not turn back. He could not stop.

His heart was iron. He would not rest until his lifelong vow was fulfilled!

Summer days were longer than autumn or winter. Xue Shuangtao had prepared wine and meat herself, but no one came. Suddenly she realized: the man before her was no longer the humble guest-attendant of years past, nor the penniless little pharmacist.

He was not the bold youth who stormed the Ghost Market and was locked in confinement—the young Gold Guard, whose youthful spirit still burned. Back then, she had slipped away from her aunt, wearing the princess’s court robes, lifting her skirt to sneak to the Gold Guard’s detention quarters.

She piled bricks and stones beneath the window, stood atop them, tiptoed, and tossed small pieces of gold onto the ground. The boy followed the gold.

All those past events felt just as they had then.

That young Gold Guard raised his weapon and roared his defiance at the chaotic age. He rode with a million troops across this world, carving achievements worthy of eternal record. He had become the people’s heart’s desire—the hero of his age.

He still had much to do.

He was very busy.

The old heart remains unchanged, but the winds of this world can no longer be as they were.

Xue Shuangtao held her wine cup, about to drink alone, when footsteps sounded outside. As she opened the door and raised her gaze, she saw the Changfeng Tower’s female manager, her eyes lowering slightly: "Is there...?"

The female manager panted heavily, as if she had run all the way, her voice halting: "Huff—Madam, it’s, it’s yours—not, it’s..."

A hand reached out and pressed upon the manager’s shoulder.

A calm voice spoke: "It is Xue family’s chief guest-attendant, Li Guanyi."

Xue Shuangtao froze, nearly stepping forward instinctively.

The female manager stepped aside. The young man, still clad in his battle robe, raised an eyebrow and grinned: "You started drinking without waiting for me? Miss, that’s not fair."

The female manager bowed deeply and withdrew.

As she left, she closed the door.

On the stairs, she kept her mouth shut, waving her hands vigorously to signal others to retreat quickly, to keep away, to disturb no one.

Li Guanyi said: "Miss, drinking alone?"

Xue Shuangtao smiled lightly: "You’re so busy—I wondered if you’d gone to the Tiance Prefecture."

Li Guanyi looked at the woman before him. Xue Shuangtao was a half-year older than him. Now her brow was calm and refined; having consumed the Ageless Pill refined from Hou Zhongyu’s ingredients, her face remained as if in her early twenties, her demeanor transformed from the innocent, romantic boldness of her teenage years into a gentle, unwavering grace.

Li Guanyi said: "I just returned from the Tiance Prefecture. There’s still much to handle. When I was seventeen or eighteen, I hated paperwork and always sneaked out. Now I know—each word in these documents holds the tides of the world."

"Not a single word, not even half a sentence, can be ignored."

"Next, I must meet with Master Pojun and the others to finalize our next strategy."

Xue Shuangtao reached out and removed Li Guanyi’s battle robe.

She tossed it casually onto a rack. The Emperor of Qin loosened his helmet, revealing only the round-collar robe beneath his armor, replaced his jade belt, stretched his limbs, and laughed: "Now I’m truly relaxed!"

Xue Shuangtao said: "Thank heaven you’re a martial legend—otherwise, you’d reek of sweat."

Li Guanyi chuckled dryly: "No need to call me a Grand Master."

He sat down to drink. The Miss raised her cup to his. They were childhood friends, innocent and close, having endured countless separations and hardships—their bond ran deep beyond ordinary measure. Xue Shuangtao also fetched the Changfeng Tower’s intelligence files.

Even in Ying Guo, the Changfeng Tower still operated.

Indeed, it was precisely because Jiang Yuan’s reckless rule in Ying Guo had created ample opportunity and time for the Changfeng Tower to act. This vast land suffered from Jiang Yuan’s misrule: grain prices soared in many regions, military strength became unbalanced.

A nation is like a human body.

The ruler’s folly cannot be summed up by a single line in a dossier. It means population loss in a region, crop failure, rising public resentment, mass displacement of the people, and defensive voids caused by troop withdrawals.

It is holistic. It is dynamic.

Li Guanyi and Xue Shuangtao drank their wine on the intelligence brought by the Changfeng Tower, discussing the world’s situation. Li Guanyi, fighting on the front lines, facing the Divine General, even he could not fully grasp every shift in the world’s balance.

But Xue Shuangtao understood these things. As they spoke, she answered questions Li Guanyi needed. Gradually, his gaze brightened. They drank and chatted. An hour passed. As dusk fell outside, the Emperor of Qin rose and said:

"Miss, I must return to the Tiance Prefecture."

"The Changfeng Tower’s intelligence requires further confirmation of our strategy."

Xue Shuangtao looked at him: "Is this the final battle?"

Li Guanyi paused. He answered solemnly: "Yes. The final battle. The true last war—the one that will seal the era of peace."

"This battle gathers the blood of eight centuries of the Red Emperor’s lineage, three centuries of chaos, of Chen Guo, Ying Guo, Tuyuhun, Tangut, the Thirty-Six Western Kingdoms, the Eighteen Steppe Tribes—how many kings, how many heroes, how many innocent lives—all converged into me and Ying Guo."

"This battle must be fought!"

"And it must be won!"

"Previous campaigns dragged on because of mutual checks. But this final battle—neither side has rear threats. It will be swift."

The Emperor of Qin looked at the woman before him. He exhaled, extended his arm, and as the sovereign burdened with the peace of the world, he laid bare his emotions, drawing her into his embrace, whispering: "Before peace comes, I cannot be myself."

"I am not just me."

Xue Shuangtao smiled softly in his arms.

"I know. After walking so far, if you could forget those sacrifices and simply do what you wanted at this moment, you wouldn’t be you."

She reached out, adjusted his sleeve, and said:

"Then go."

"Do what you must do. Do what the Emperor of Qin must do."

"Win everything."

Xue Shuangtao watched him. Li Guanyi nodded, picked up the heavy, dark-gold broadsword beside him, and turned to leave. Xue Shuangtao clasped her hands before her, then suddenly said: "Guanyi."

"Hmm?"

The Emperor of Qin turned. He saw the woman standing there, slender and bright.

Sunlight poured through the window, bathing her. Xue Shuangtao smiled, then reached out her hand: "Here!"

She opened her palm. A small golden bean lay there.

In the sunlight, it glowed brilliantly.

The Emperor of Qin froze.

He suddenly remembered—he was fourteen, leaving Guan Yi City, riding off to seek his aunt, passing through the Xue family’s trading house. He had written to Xue Laoyezi and the Miss to report his safety. The Xue family’s shopkeeper had given him a gold coin.

"The Miss had sent word: if the young master comes to deliver a letter, give him a golden bean."

"One each time."

It was a simple meaning.

Come see me often.

The Emperor of Qin looked at the golden bean. His eyes softened.

He stepped forward, took the golden bean in his palm. In that moment, he was not twenty-five, not the magnificent, world-conquering Emperor of Qin, not the young, decisive master of the Changfeng Tower, the foremost intelligence network in the land.

He was the boy from the Xuegong, walking side by side, exchanging hairpins.

He was the embarrassed Gold Guard sitting in confinement, and the little princess perched by the window, tossing gold beans to fish for his attention.

He was the Miss. He was the blue-robed guest-attendant.

He was the little pharmacist waiting in the private school for his math problem.

He was the quiet girl with her chin propped on her hand.

So the boy of that time reached out, took the golden bean. Xue Shuangtao drew a deep breath, then exhaled. As Li Guanyi’s fingers closed around the bean, she let go.

Then her hand grasped his wrist.

A woman of only the Third Heaven Realm could never move the Emperor of Qin, the greatest warrior of the age. So she fluttered like a butterfly, close, grasping his sleeve, tiptoeing.

Xue Shuangtao’s lips met Li Guanyi’s.

The golden bean fell to the floor.

It chimed.

Just as in those youthful days.

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