Chapter 855: A Sign of the Realm

On the ninth day of the ninth month, the grasslands grew bone-chilling cold the moment it rained, especially at night.

Jing Yuan stood with his back to the wind, letting rain lash against him as he went to check on the soldiers.

Ahead, a group huddled together; he approached and discovered a curtain of rain had been parted—besides Pan Yun, Seeing Miao Zhen, Miao He, Tao Ji, and Xue Shao all sat facing outward, and behind them, a square space had blocked the rain, inside which sat or lay numerous wounded and sick soldiers.

Jing Yuan stared, dumbfounded.

Pan Yun, too, was searching among the soldiers, and soon returned with two men, tossing them into the rain curtain to shield them from wind and rain.

Jing Yuan's gaze swept over the four—Seeing Miao Zhen and the others—each holding yellow talismans in both hands, faces grim, lips slightly pale; he did not ask the foolish question: "Why not let everyone take shelter inside?"

Clearly, their ability was limited thus.

Jing Yuan turned and walked away, like Pan Yun, selecting the worst-off soldiers and bringing them into the rain curtain; those inside shifted their bodies continuously, making room for more, more, more…

The yellow talismans and endless Yuan Qi could repel the rain falling from the sky, but could not stop water seeping up from the ground.

Thus, the ground beneath them gradually soaked through, and everyone pressed tightly together for warmth.

This was still far better than sitting outside.

Soldiers slowly gathered, surrounding Seeing Miao Zhen and the others; even if they could not enter, merely sitting nearby seemed to lessen the cold.

Pan Yun watched silently, unaware when Jing Yuan walked up beside her.

Jing Yuan's heart had been uneasy; the harder it rained, the heavier his dread grew, and he could not help asking: "Master Pan, you are a high Daoist—can you divine His Majesty's current condition?"

Pan Yun gazed at the flickering lightning across the sky and said: "A sign of the realm's collapse."

Jing Yuan swayed, nearly losing his balance, and cried out: "Where is His Majesty now?"

Pan Yun fell silent for a long while; amid the thick clouds, she seemed to glimpse the Dao's design, then sharply turned her gaze toward the northeast, her eyes narrowing.

There lay Great Ming's future—where the Emperor had taken over fifty civil and military ministers, many of them pillars of the state.

If the Emperor dies, another can be chosen; but these civil and military ministers, requiring at least twenty years to cultivate, have been half-destroyed in this battle—especially the generals, the descendants of military merit, nearly wiped out. From now on, Great Ming will be strong in civil affairs but weak in military power; civil officials will gain ever greater influence at court, and Great Ming's northern strategy will grow increasingly conservative.

Even if these people were destined to die in another timeline, she wished to save as many as possible.

Pan Yun turned her gaze upon Jing Yuan, her expression startled.

The Emperor's personal campaign had been moved up by four years; Jing Yuan, the Commandant of the Imperial Son-in-Law, who should have died shortly after the campaign, now lived.

If more people could live, it should be possible—if she tried harder, and harder still.

Jing Yuan felt a chill under her gaze, but had no time to ponder; his mind was filled with the words: "A sign of the realm's collapse."

The precedents of the Southern Song and the previous Yuan…

The Founding Emperor overthrew the tyrannical Yuan, restoring dignity to the Han people—yet only seventy years have passed; history is still fresh before us—what calamity could bring about the realm's collapse?

Jing Yuan's face turned instantly pale.

It could not be that the Emperor died in battle.

The Emperor's death would be a disgrace to Great Ming, but the imperial house was strong—he had a younger brother, uncles, and countless nephews.

Only… like the Emperors Hui and Qinzong, captured alive by the enemy.

Jing Yuan gazed northeast without hesitation, turned, and ran to fetch his horse, shouting orders for his personal guards to mount at once.

A hundred men swiftly mounted behind Jing Yuan.

Jing Yuan looked down at Pan Yun and said: "Master Pan, thank you for your aid. I know monks and nuns avoid worldly affairs, but this is a time of national collapse—if His Majesty perishes, the Northern Yuan will march south, and Great Ming will face the same doom as the Song. At that time, our Han people may… I beg you, Master Pan, lead your scouts beyond the Great Wall to warn Jingcheng, and send reinforcements swiftly."

He left behind a captain named Song Yu, ordering him to gather the remnants, rest and regroup, then head northeast to search for the Emperor.

Jing Yuan tore off a piece of his inner robe, wrote a plea for aid in blood, handed it to the scouts, then fixed his gaze on Pan Yun.

Pan Yun said: "A sign of the realm's collapse—even as a monk, I cannot escape it."

Hearing this, Jing Yuan took it as her promise, bowed, wheeled his horse, and led his guards silently into the rain; soon, they vanished into darkness.

Aside from his personal guards, all other soldiers had reached their limit; Jing Yuan knew that taking them along would make them a burden—and they would die.

Thus, he acted decisively, taking only his personal guards.

He hoped those left behind would hold their posts, and after regrouping, come to reinforce them.

Pan Yun watched them depart in silence, then sat alone within the rain curtain, drawing talismans.

Until the middle of the night, the rain ceased; Seeing Miao Zhen and the others rose to check on the wounded.

It seemed the more suffering they endured, the more their bodies could withstand—after prolonged battle, wounds, and soaking rain, the soldiers had all survived.

The five of them gave them basic treatment; at dawn, they handed out the yellow talismans—one to each soldier, instructing them to take turns holding them.

Pan Yun said: "It will protect you on your journey back to Jingcheng."

The soldiers stared at her blankly: "Back to Jingcheng?"

Pan Yun nodded, then spoke to Song Yu, who was equally stunned: "Jingcheng knows nothing of the war's true state. It needs not only scouts, but someone of weight to return and report.

The Northern Yuan troops have breached the Datong and Xuanfu defenses; no one knows how many enemies lie within this line. Your forces are scattered, your intelligence delayed—you cannot protect the Emperor nor coordinate battle. Staying here is merely throwing away your lives.

Therefore, return to the Inner Great Wall, warn Jingcheng. I will go find the Commandant of the Imperial Son-in-Law and others; if fortune favors us, perhaps we may rescue His Majesty."

Song Yu, recalling their miraculous descent and last night's rain-blocking power, glanced back at the sodden, broken remnants behind him, gritted his teeth, and agreed.

Pan Yun handed him the talismans, watched them depart, then, once they were far enough, pulled out the Three Treasures Cauldron, called to her companions, and shot into the sky toward the northeast.

Song Yu and some soldiers turned back, saw the Three Treasures Cauldron soaring skyward, and stood frozen, dumbstruck.

Henceforth, they came to revere Pan Yun as a goddess; through their fervent promotion, the Great Ming army—especially the Northern Garrison—came to hold absolute faith in her, nearly offering prayers to National Teacher Pan Yun three times a day.

Of course, at this moment they were still stunned, and only after a long while remembered to call their companions to look.

The soldiers turned back, catching only a black dot in midair; one said: "What kind of giant bird is that?"

Song Yu shouted: "What bird! That's Master Pan—I watched them fly into the sky myself!"

Many soldiers in the ranks confirmed they had seen it too.

Remembering their powers from last night, no one doubted their words.

If they could block rain, flying through the sky wasn't so unbelievable, was it? (End of chapter)