Chapter 177: Chapter 173: Who Are You Waiting For? Suddenly Looking Back, That Person Is...
Yang Wenwan and his three familial branches were taken from the execution grounds and escorted back to the Ministry of Justice to await a retrial.
The spectators loved these kinds of dramatic twists and turns. They began to wildly speculate: was Yang Wenwan truly a victim of injustice? Or were his crimes so heinous that exterminating three branches of his family wasn’t enough, and only annihilating nine would be fair?
Countless low- and mid-level officials were also completely bewildered; not a single one could guess what was truly going on.
But in reality, only a handful of people at the center of power in this vast nation understood.
Yang Wenwan’s fate wasn’t decided by whether he had committed a crime or how severe it was. It wasn’t determined by the Emperor’s favor or displeasure, and certainly not by the "justice" the common people longed for.
Rather, it was the Magical Combat between the Immortal Sects.
Some Immortal Masters wanted Yang Wenwan dead, and some wanted to spare his life.
As for the Emperor of the Han Kingdom, he couldn’t afford to offend either side.
He could only wait for the two sides to determine a victor before he could pass sentence on Yang Wenwan.
He was nothing more than a puppet on a string.
But the Emperor of the Han Kingdom wasn’t dissatisfied with being a puppet. He was no longer a child.
His position, ruling over millions yet subservient to only a handful, was more than enough to satisfy him.
If he didn’t know his place, it would be a simple matter for the Immortal Masters to replace the Emperor.
Arranging for him to "die suddenly," supporting a new emperor, or even establishing a different branch of the Imperial Family on the throne... even uprooting the entire Imperial Family and installing a new monarch with a different surname were all common occurrences throughout history.
As long as the "Han" dynasty name remained, the nation’s territory was stable, and there were no mass civilian deaths, the Immortal Masters wouldn’t interfere with the rise and fall of the Imperial Family.
In fact, even the occasional mass death of commoners didn’t matter, as that was something certain Immortal Masters required.
It was the same across all Nine Countries of Momenan Desert.
Therefore, the Emperor of the Han Kingdom understood the way of a ruler very well: as long as he did not offend the Immortal Masters and let them take whatever they pleased, his family’s position on the throne would be as unshakable as Mount Tai.
As for incompetence, debauchery, favoring treacherous officials over loyal ones, or imposing crushing taxes—none of it really mattered. None of it would affect the stability of his throne.
Now, the Emperor of the Han Kingdom was curious about only one thing: between the two factions of Immortal Masters—one wanting Yang Wenwan dead and the other wanting him alive—which would gain the upper hand?
~~~~~~~~~
In a cell at the Ministry of Justice, Yang Wenwan now occupied a small private room. He had been given clean clothes and could finally eat a piece of meat that didn’t reek and drink a mouthful of clean water.
He could even read.
At this moment, he was reclining on a bed of dry, faintly fragrant straw, reading a scroll of miscellaneous essays by the dim light filtering through a small window.
Whether he was actually taking any of it in, however, was another matter.
He was now a stooped, shriveled figure, his face covered in deep wrinkles. He looked just like any ordinary little old man.
Where was the imposing presence he once had as an Innate Grandmaster and the Governor of Three States?
Of course, on second thought, it was understandable.
After all, he was a man over a hundred years old. After suffering such a great calamity, even though he had managed to cling to life, his future was uncertain.
Most of the subordinates and advisors who had followed him for years, including Mr. Si, had perished. Some of his kinsmen had also been killed while resisting.
The women of his household had also suffered unspeakably.
His Essence, Qi, and Spirit were nearly depleted. The fact that he hadn’t collapsed was a testament to his sheer force of will.
How could he possibly maintain his former bearing?
Outside the cell holding Yang Wenwan, two people were conversing as if no one else was there.
The jailers who passed by seemed completely unable to see them, yet would subconsciously walk around them when they got close.
"Brother Yu, since you saved that Mortal, why haven’t you spoken to him?" the chubby, middle-aged man asked in confusion.
Du Youqian just quietly watched the old man reclining on the straw, reading, through the small iron bars of the cell door.
It was as if time flowed backward and Space shifted. The old man reverted to middle age, reclining not on straw, but on the lush green lawn of the Governor’s Mansion. The lazy sun yawned behind the clouds, reluctantly casting down patches of light.
The stoic Swordsman who never left his side raised an eyebrow.
The middle-aged man looked up from his scroll and greeted him warmly, "Junior Brother Qiu, you’re here!"
’Yes, I’m here, Brother Yang.’
Du Youqian vaguely remembered that back then, his only thought was to find a chance to escape, to flee to the Wu Kingdom and join the Chongzhen Sect.
At that time, he didn’t really understand anything. He had only a half-baked knowledge of Cultivation and was completely in the dark about the true rules that governed the Nine Countries of Momenan Desert.
’So, can I say that time was meaningless?’
’It is the sum of all my yesterdays that has made me who I am today.’
’Who I am today, combined with all that I was, will become who I will be tomorrow.’
’If my future self attains the Dao, how can he cast aside his entire past?’
’All the experiences of my past selves, all the fated connections, all the friends and lovers who walked beside me for a time—how could any of it be meaningless?’
The vision shattered like a Water Mirror.
The middle-aged man vanished, the stoic Swordsman was gone, and the sunlight and lawn all retreated behind a thick curtain.
Reality surged forth, occupying his perception of the here and now.
"Do you want to be the Emperor?" Du Youqian suddenly asked.
The sudden voice startled Yang Wenwan, making him nearly leap up from the straw.
He looked all around but couldn’t see Du Youqian or Guo Mingsheng outside his door, nor could he sense their presence.
The words that had appeared out of thin air seemed like a mere illusion, an echo from the depths of his own mind.
He thought about it carefully.
’No, I don’t.’
"Reporting to the Immortal Master, I do not wish to be the Emperor," he said respectfully.
Yang Wenwan was no fool, after all.
After calming himself, he began to form a guess.
Du Youqian asked again, "Then... do you want to seek justice from the Imperial Family?"
Yang Wenwan’s lips trembled, his expression a contortion between a sob and a smile.
But in the end, the immense pain prevented him from smiling, and his tears could not flow freely.
Yang Wenwan raised his head and looked toward the cell door.
Behind the iron bars was nothing but empty air, but he knew the Immortal Master had to be there; he just couldn’t see him. "Reporting to the Immortal Master, the Imperial Family owes me nothing. The ones who harmed me were the Immortal Sects. I just don’t know if your Immortal Sect was among them."
"Insolent!" Guo Mingsheng snapped. "How dare you speak so recklessly of the Immortal Sects!"
"The Immortal Sects are as high as the heavens... and the will of heaven is lofty and hard to fathom. And I am just a Mortal... just a Mortal..." Yang Wenwan murmured. "So, esteemed Immortal Master, what is your purpose in coming to question a tiny Mortal like myself?"
Guo Mingsheng glanced at Du Youqian’s expression. Seeing that Du Youqian had no intention of responding, he said loudly, "What plans or thoughts the Immortal Master has is none of your business! Don’t make wild guesses. Just do as you’re told."
Du Youqian still said nothing.
Guo Mingsheng could only say vaguely, "The time is not yet right. For now, wait patiently."
"Yes." Yang Wenwan lowered his head in seeming obedience.
"Let’s go." With a flick of his sleeves, Du Youqian turned and left.
Guo Mingsheng hurried after him, panting as if he were completely out of breath.
"So winded from running? Are you tired?" Du Youqian asked.
"Y-yes... Yes, Brother Yu. You... you see this physique of mine? I really can’t run. I get exhausted after just a few steps."
"My young friend, you’re lacking exercise. How about this: run to the shores of Rongsheng Lake right now and pick some lotus seed pods for me to eat. Remember, you are not allowed to use a Flying Spiritual Artifact."
Guo Mingsheng’s mouth fell open wide enough to swallow a raw egg.
He wished he could just give himself two hard slaps across the face.
’I knew this master was intolerant of any deceit, yet I still pulled such a stupid stunt to test him. I really brought this on myself. I’m doomed.’
"Do I really have to go?"
"You really have to go," Du Youqian said calmly.
His voice wasn’t loud, but the underlying message—that no questions would be tolerated—was perfectly clear.
Guo Mingsheng’s face was a mask of misery. "Brother Yu... Uncle Yu, please don’t do this. It’ll kill me."
"Don’t worry. If you die, I will compensate the Zhongxuan Sect tenfold. I’ll also gift your beautiful wives and concubines enough gold and treasures to let them live out their lives happily in a Mortal City."
Dejected, Guo Mingsheng resigned himself to his fate and started running south.
Only after his silhouette had disappeared did Du Youqian slowly walk back to the Sacrificial Hall in the Imperial Palace.
He sat down, lit a dish of incense, and reclined on a soft couch, waiting quietly.
After a long while, he suddenly spoke, "Fang Hua, go back to Feixian Peak and check on Shen Miao’s Foundation Establishment for me."
Fang Hua, who had been hidden by his side all along, materialized. "Fellow Daoist Yu, you’re waiting for someone."
She stated it not as a question, but as a fact.
Du Youqian neither answered nor denied it.
"First you sent away that fat man, and now you’re sending me away. Who exactly are you waiting for? Who requires such caution?"
"Just go," Du Youqian said.
He had no intention of explaining.
Although Fang Hua was curious, she had no intention of disobeying Du Youqian’s command. She gave a slight nod and departed.
After leaving the perimeter of the Imperial Palace’s Grand Array, she tossed out a Flying Boat, leaped aboard, and flew west toward Yu Kun Mountain.
An hour later, the Flying Boat quietly flew back and landed.
Fang Hua put away the Flying Boat and gazed in the direction of the Imperial Palace.
It wasn’t that she wanted to disobey his orders; she was just too curious.
’Once I figure out who Fellow Daoist Yu is waiting for, I’ll leave obediently.’
~~~~~~~~~~~
Several hours later, a fully enclosed Flying Boat, exquisitely decorated and with curves that seemed to conform to some profound principle of heaven and earth, descended outside the Imperial Palace.
Of course, this Flying Boat had an Invisibility Array activated. Never mind Mortals; even Foundation Establishment Realm Cultivators would be unable to see it unless they had cultivated a special Pupil Technique or were using a Spiritual Artifact with a specific function.
Fang Hua focused her senses and stared intently.
She saw that after the Flying Boat came to a stop, its upper hull slowly lifted open. A Kun Cultivator with waist-length white hair, wearing a floor-length black dress so dark it seemed to absorb light itself, walked gracefully down from the side, her snow-white, jade-like feet bare.
As if sensing Fang Hua’s covert gaze, the Kun Cultivator looked up, revealing an incomparably beautiful face set with a pair of eyes so cold they could inflict frostbite.
Fang Hua’s mind reeled.
The moment she saw the Kun Cultivator’s face, a line of poetry that "Fellow Daoist Yu" had once murmured suddenly echoed in her mind.
"I searched for her a thousand times in the crowd, only to turn back and find her there, where the lights were dim and few."
’It’s her, isn’t it?’
’She must be the one Fellow Daoist Yu was waiting for.’
Although this Kun Cultivator wasn’t wearing the standard robes of her Sect, Fang Hua effortlessly recognized her aura.
A woman from the Heavenly Emotions and Oceanic Resentments Sect.
’How did Fellow Daoist Yu meet her?’
Comments