Chapter 587: Epilogue · The Form of Dragon and Phoenix (Part Two)

Epilogue · The Form of Dragon and Phoenix (Part Two)

The former territory of the Western Regions’ Shanshan Kingdom, rich in sand and salt, poor in water and grass. To the north lies the White Dragon Dunes route; northwestward stretch hundreds of miles of shifting sands, six hundred and fifty li from Anxi Prefecture, where flying sand and gravel fill the horizon.

——————Historical Records · Atlas of Geography

Yellow sands and vast deserts, wind and dust descending. Sa’atandi lifted her brush and recorded the words; behind her, the Emperor’s carriage followed, while the Nine-Colored Deer herself forged the path ahead—even through this storm of wind and sand, only faint breezes remained, too weak to stir the white paper.

This imperial tour carried immense solemnity.

Not the wasteful extravagance and lavish splendor of the former Chen Dynasty’s peak, but a grave, dignified presence: armored cavalry patrolled front and back, crimson cloaks billowing, blades sharper and deadlier in the winds of the Western Regions.

These weapons had drunk blood during the wars that unified the realm.

The Emperor’s journey subtly shook the world; many could not fathom the hidden purpose behind his actions, but the Right Vice-Premier, Master Wen Qingyu, saw clearly. While idly eating roasted peanuts, he said to the Grand General:

“His Majesty’s procession is of the utmost splendor—he likely seeks to settle the hearts of the Four Directions.”

“Though the realm has been at peace for three years, before that came three centuries of chaos. Countless heroes and common men grew accustomed to seizing fame and status with their swords. Now that peace has come, they are unaccustomed to it.”

The Left Commanding General Qibibi Li fell solemnly silent, hand gripping his blade: “His Majesty’s military might crushed the Divine General, using the former greatest general of the realm as a stepping stone to quell the fierce spirit of all heroes.”

“And he treats the people with great leniency, winning their hearts.”

“Now, all the realm’s strongest are in awe of His Majesty; the people have turned to Qin. Who dares rebel?”

Wen Qingyu smiled and said: “The top heroes dare not move, the common folk won’t move—but what of those who consider themselves superior to ordinary men, yet have not attained the status they believe they deserve?”

“It is often these middle-tier men who stir up trouble.”

“They are dissatisfied with the present order, still accustomed to the past centuries when courage and boldness could swiftly elevate one’s station. They refuse to be bound by His Majesty’s laws, seek quick gains, yet fail to achieve them—of course they are discontent.”

Qibibi Li fell into thought.

Wen Qingyu patted Qibibi Li’s shoulder and said:

“The realm’s rules have changed, but habits within men’s hearts are hard to correct at once. They still wish to stir up ripples, then seize advantage from the chaos.”

“Didn’t border troops once provoke unrest on purpose, then quell it to earn merit?”

Qibibi Li said: “So His Majesty’s arrival is for this reason.”

Wen Qingyu laughed loudly: “Wrong.”

Qibibi Li was puzzled.

Wen Qingyu slowly pointed to himself: “This is why I am here—not why His Majesty came.” Qibibi Li was startled: “Master Wen…”

Before “Master Wen” could be fully spoken, Wen Qingyu halted him.

Wen Qingyu raised a finger to his lips and smiled: “Wrong.”

The wind of the Western Regions carried dry grit; the lingering heat from the fire that burned the Western Kingdom’s capital years ago had not yet faded. The scholar from the Central Plains, composed and sincere, said: “Here, call me—”

“Yan Daqing of the Western Regions.”

Qibibi Li paused.

He knew the past, and thus understood the storm and shock this name would bring upon its return to the Western Regions after years. Yet even now, Master Wen Qingyu persistently used the title “Yan Daqing” to flaunt his presence, never allowing himself to be placed in danger—leaving Qibibi Li helpless. He said:

“Indeed, Master.”

“Your humble general admires you.”

Wen Qingyu made no reply, but said: “As for why His Majesty came…”

“First, to display his majesty. The realm has been unified for three years; His Majesty won it by martial prowess—he should tour the four corners to quell rebellious hearts.”

“Second…”

Wen Qingyu fell silent, gazing into the distance.

Qibibi Li suddenly understood, murmuring: “Lord Li of Li Guo.”

Lord Li Zhao of the Western Regions, who had known the Emperor since youth, was the catalyst of the event that drew all heroes into the game. In those days, the young Lord Li, following the words in the young Emperor Qin’s letter, led his Black Armor troops into the Western Regions.

In that chaos, he successfully evacuated craftsmen, maps, geographical records, and the royal seal of the Tuyuhun before their destruction.

Li Zhao left behind the maps, craftsmen, and records—what mattered most to her at the time—and generously gifted the Tuyuhun royal seal to Emperor Qin.

Before the great Chen sacrifice, Emperor Qin gave that seal to Qibibi Li.

That was the beginning of the Tielei Nine Clans.

Now, at least Qibibi Li’s branch of the Tielei had settled in the Central Plains.

They changed their attire, adopting the surname Qi.

During the ten years of unification, Li Zhao, as Emperor Qin’s foremost general, had aided him greatly in the Western Regions, gifted him weapons, gold, and silver, and participated in nearly every major battle. Yet after the founding of the empire, he never came to the capital for three years to report.

Those with ill intent saw ill intent.

Only those old comrades who had followed Emperor Qin since his humble days knew these hidden truths. Wen Qingyu smiled and asked: “What do you think, General Qibibi, of His Majesty and Lord Li’s affairs?”

Qibibi Li bowed solemnly: “I am an outsider; this is His Majesty’s family matter—how could I presume to speak? I beg the Chancellor to reflect deeply.”

Wen Qingyu smiled teasingly: “Good, good. Did Master Wen Lingjun teach you this? Or Fang Ziqiao? Or perhaps Yan Daqing?”

Qibibi Li said: “Chancellor, you know my heart. Why test me?”

Wen Qingyu smiled without answering.

Yet the Emperor’s carriage did not proceed directly to the Duke Prefecture, but traveled slowly among the many city-states of the Western Regions, where the people celebrated and soldiers fought bravely, bringing great peace to the region.

The Grand Historian realized: this was a deliberate journey, using the Duke Prefecture as its core and the major Western cities as waypoints. The Grand Historian had met Emperor Qin when he was still young and had spent most of his life following the Emperor’s main forces, recording his daily life. Their bond was close.

Concerning Emperor Qin and the man later called the greatest of all Guogongs—the Jade of the Western Empire, Lord Li— the Grand Historian wrote cautiously. He had once asked Emperor Qin.

At that time, Emperor Qin was twenty-eight. His legendary martial body granted long life, and after taking Hou Zhongyu’s pills, his appearance had not changed.

But the journey, the battles, the governance—all were real.

The twenty-eight-year-old monarch sat cross-legged before a square table, wearing loose robes. A small incense burner emitted faint smoke. Emperor Qin slowly tuned his zither, his eyes like gemstones with inner radiance, handsome and steady. His fingers moved with calm precision; the strings sang a distant melody.

The white smoke from the dark yellow bronze brazier rose without stirring.

The Grand Historian sat quietly opposite the Emperor and asked:

“Why do you not go directly to see Lord Li?”

Emperor Qin smiled slightly: “...Child, you’ve grown more direct in speech.”

Sa’atandi replied: “Because I know your nature. If you were a tyrant, I would remain silent. If you were a hypocrite, I would speak obliquely.”

Emperor Qin fell silent, his tuning motion pausing. He sighed and smiled:

“I truly don’t know whether you’ve studied too hard, or whether Master Wen He taught you too well—you’ve truly learned a touch of his spirit.”

“As for why? It’s simple.”

“I met her in youth, in the chaos of war. I held a halberd; she held a bow. We fought side by side against the Divine General and the Turkic Khagan. Now, I come with my carriage and guard—not to command her, but to tell her: I have arrived.”

Sa’atandi voiced her doubt:

“The Emperor’s love should be domineering. But if you’ve come, why not see her?”

“The Emperor…”

Emperor Qin said: “When I met her beside the road at Guan Yicheng, I was not Emperor. The man who comes to see her now is not Emperor either.”

“I wish to see her. But I will not force her to come to me.”

“I only tell her.”

“I have come.”

The Emperor rose and stepped out. The freshly tuned zither strings trembled faintly in the Western wind, like the sound of youthful footsteps racing through Guan Yicheng’s streets, hearing the iron bells beneath the upturned eaves, carrying the scent of dampness.

The Grand Historian bowed his head for a long time.

“So that is it.”

She snuffed out the wick, embraced the ancient zither, and rose to leave.

Within the vast expanse beyond Anxi City in the Western Regions stood over a hundred small and large cities. The Emperor led his guard through each, inspecting local governance: rewarding the meritorious, punishing the guilty, never burdening the people.

Some presented auspicious omens, claiming a five-colored great bird descended from heaven and danced a prayerful ritual in the forest, exquisitely beautiful. The Emperor laughed and said to his attendants: “I once heard Chen Dingye, who foolishly loved omens, rewarding those who brought them lavishly.”

“Alas, I have no gold or silver to give you.”

“For the state, talent is the true auspicious sign.”

“What use do I have for such a bird?”

He released the magnificent bird back into the sky, rebuked the man who brought it, and sent him away. The desire to flatter the throne with omens among the people immediately faded; those who sought to fabricate auspicious signs to please the ruler ceased entirely, and public sentiment rose higher.

Similar news and events followed the Emperor’s procession wherever it went.

These reports were delivered daily to the Duke Prefecture by the Anxi Protectorate’s Feathered Cavalry. Riders came and went so frequently, they could almost see each other on the road—called “Running Horses.”

In the Duke Prefecture, a middle-aged man with streaks of white in his temples watched a sharp-eyed cavalryman in black armor, adorned with hardened eagle feathers of the Western Regions, ride away. The thunder of hooves echoed, and his face twisted in distress.

A gentle voice asked: “Elder brother, why such a look?”

Changsun Wuchou looked up, pressed his hand to his forehead, and said: “What else?”

“The Emperor and Lord Li… they…”

“Ah, ah!”

“My stomach hurts.”

The Emperor had not come directly to the Duke Prefecture. Yet after Changsun Wuchou told Li Zhao of the Emperor’s tour, Li Zhao did not, as he hoped, lead a welcoming party.

When Changsun Wuchou was thirty-three, he traveled as Li Zhao’s envoy and witnessed the evolving relationship between the fourteen-year-old Li Zhao and Li Guan. Fourteen years have passed, and their relationship remains unresolved.

Each time he thought of it, Changsun Wuchou, now at the sixth level of cultivation, felt stomach pain.

It was as if a thousand peaks churned inside his gut.

Changsun Wugou was helpless too, but her perception was clearer. Though the Emperor had not come in person, each act since his arrival in the Western Regions, each whisper carried on the wind, carried an undeniable, majestic momentum drawing ever closer.

Changsun Wugou had a feeling: “They will meet.”

Changsun Wuchou sighed: “I hope so.”

He patted his stomach and joked:

“Shi Dalin says this is overthinking and exhaustion—yearning without attainment. His medicine was forged in war’s chaos; he says it’s incurable. Under heaven, only Hou Zhongyu, who died fourteen years ago in the Qilin Palace, could save me—and even he is gone.”

Changsun Wugou said: “Hou Zhongyu?”

“The legendary alchemist of the previous dynasty, whom the historians judged as ‘morally flawed, unmatched in the arts of the sorcerer, yet with a questing spirit that betrayed his master and swore vengeance’?”

Changsun Wuchou said: “Yes. Our Qilin Army rose from nothing, and even today’s military system of physicians and alchemical pills is built almost entirely on the foundations he left behind.”

“He was no peerless genius like Zhang Ziyong in his green robe.”

“But he was obsessively relentless—deconstructing Zhang Ziyong’s methods and making them usable by all under heaven. His Majesty believes one must not judge a man simplistically; Hou Zhongyu’s crimes belong to his age, but his merits endure for a thousand autumns.”

“His Majesty built the Lingyan Pavilion to record the merits of each hero of the chaotic age.”

“Though Hou Zhongyu was His Majesty’s first great enemy, he still rests at the very top of the Lingyan Pavilion, painted by His Majesty’s own hand, ranked alongside Duke Yue Qianfeng of the Northern Ding and others.”

“Those who study medicine or alchemy in later generations may learn his knowledge, but never his character.”

“As for that old rascal Shi Dalin.”

“He now stays in the capital, attending to Master Yan Daqing’s health.”

“During the years of nationwide warfare, the Qilin Army’s gradual rise was due to His Majesty’s brilliance, the people’s valor, and the strategist’s cunning—but Master Yan Daqing’s behind-the-scenes care was equally vital.”

“Master Yan Daqing’s body was slightly frail, but he has gradually recovered.”

Changsun Wuchou pressed his abdomen and sighed deeply: “Pain! Pain! Yet when will this agony in my belly, intestines, and stomach end? What medicine can cure it?”

Changsun Wugou gently nudged her brother.

“Brother, that remark is impolite.”

Changsun Wuchou was about to speak again when the door opened and an old man walked over. Changsun Wuchou’s expression changed; he rose and bowed: “Old Duke…”

The visitor was none other than the former Duke, Li Shude.

This former Duke, who had shone brightly in the chaotic age and never yielded before Lu Youxian or the Prince of Qin, had lived a comfortable life since stepping down. Now, he was more spirited than five or six years ago, his eyes sharp, his beard and hair meticulously groomed.

He gestured for Changsun Wuchou to rise, then asked about his earlier words. Changsun Wuchou had no choice but to repeat them.

After listening, the Old Duke Li Shude sighed deeply and said:

“Childish sentimentality!”

“Make way! Make way!”

Changsun Wuchou froze: “What are you doing, Old Duke?”

Li Shude laughed loudly: “I’m going to get you medicine.”

He passed between Changsun Wuchou and Changsun Wugou, walked through three halls, entered the main hall of the Duke Prefecture, and saw Li Zhaowen standing with his hands behind his back, gazing at scrolls as if in deep thought. Li Shude spoke directly:

“Second son, standing there all awkward and hesitant—what are you doing?”

Li Zhaowen turned: “Father.”

Li Shude said: “Why have you refused to meet His Majesty for three years?”

Li Zhaowen fell silent, then calmly explained his reasons for avoiding Li Guanyi: “I am the Duke of All Under Heaven, a famed general of this age—how could I remain within the palace?”

Li Shude stroked his beard and said: “But hasn’t His Majesty come to you?”

Li Zhaowen froze.

Li Shude feigned surprise: “No one said you had to return to the imperial palace with him.”

“Hasn’t His Majesty come?”

He gestured to the Duke Prefecture: “Is my house too small? Are there not enough beds?”

Li Zhaowen paused: “He is His Majesty—I am his subject…”

Li Shude burst into laughter: “You forced your own father to step down from the dukedom. As a youth, you led the Xuanjia troops to seize the Wangyin of the Tuyuhun—now, when it’s your turn, you’re acting timid?”

“Let me speak plainly.”

“If you mean the Duke entering the palace—that would be improper.”

“But when an empress or imperial consort takes up a three-foot sword, achieves unparalleled merit, and defends the nation’s borders—does she not also possess courage? What are you thinking?”

Li Shude shoved his daughter’s shoulder and snapped:

“Life is full of regrets—why, at this moment, are you still worrying about the historian’s brush? Scholars lightly judge the dead; the dead laugh at their scholarly pretensions.”

“The White Hoof is already outside—go! Go!”

The woman, a Master of the Eighth Heaven, was pushed by her father and took a step forward. Her expression, once uncertain, hardened—just as it had in her youth. She exhaled sharply and said: “Fine!”

Hooves exploded in thunder as the dragon-horse galloped.

Li Shude watched his daughter’s figure and shook his head with a sigh. Xiahou Duan, who had followed Li Shude for years, said: “Old Duke, you are…”

Li Shude sighed: “I am no longer Duke, A Duan.”

“Call me Shude.”

“At this moment, I no longer need to think of my family or the state of Ying. By heaven and conscience, all I need do is help my daughter. She has always been proud and self-assured—but sometimes, she becomes stubborn.”

“Those with strong, unyielding natures often cannot pass their own inner barrier.”

“I am her father—I must help her.”

“Besides…”

A strange expression crossed Li Shude’s face: “Besides, His Majesty also bears the Li surname—my family isn’t losing anything.”

Xiahou Duan’s gentle smile froze.

“????”

He nearly blurted: “Didn’t you just say it was for your daughter’s future—by heaven and conscience?”

Li Shude joked:

“Heaven and conscience—those aren’t my conscience.”

Xiahou Duan could no longer hold back—he kicked Li Shude in the waist. Li Shude fell to the ground, but did not rise or grow angry. He lay there, laughing loudly—decrepit yet triumphant, triumphant yet disheveled, arms spread wide, white hair and beard:

“How will future scholars judge me?”

“Hahaha—even lying here, I win.”

Emperor Qin Li Guanyi toured the Western Regions, on the seventh day of his journey.

Duke Li Zhaowen of the Western Regions left the Duke Prefecture, leading the Xuanjia Army. The thunder of hooves shook the land, drawing the gaze of all under heaven. The entire Western Regions stirred, awaiting this meeting.

On this day, the Emperor saw an old friend by the roadside.

?? Easter egg chapter has something beautiful: Beijingdianyingxue Academy · Online Literature Derivative Co-Creation Contest Outstanding Work · “Chen Qingyan Transmits the Dharma” · Author Gong Yujie. Thanks to the artist. The original image is too large to include in the easter egg chapter—posted in the comments section instead.