That night, under the bright moonlight, the sea was calm. The warship departed from the island, guided by experienced navigators. Dozens of sailors worked in unison, rowing steadily toward the mainland.
The islanders who had boarded the ship were settled comfortably. They gazed at the heroic figure of the young man in the distance with reverent eyes, while women hushed their children, trying not to make any noise.
Despite their sun-darkened and haggard faces, worn by years of hardship, their eyes now shone with a long-lost hope.
In just one day and night, their fate had taken a turn they had never experienced before. They knew that the man bringing them back to their homeland was to be the new ruler of the world.
These people had lived on the isolated island for years and had never heard of Marquis Yan Wei Shao. But out of an inexplicable intuition, they believed that this young ruler, who had halted his campaign to help them—mere commoners—would surely bring them the stability they had long yearned for.
How could they not feel joyous and encouraged?
…
With matters settled, Wei Shao dismissed Lei Yan and the others and then retired to his cabin.
He stood by the porthole, gazing at the starry sky, lost in thought for a long while.
…
Yongdu finally fell. The Later Emperor fled to Shu, but how could he withstand Wei Shao’s unstoppable military might, determined to sweep away all obstacles and unify the world?
He had finally breached the last stronghold.
As his soldiers occupied the city walls, cheering loudly to celebrate their victory, Wei Shao was informed that the Later Emperor had taken his own life in the palace chambers.
Corpses lay strewn about his feet, the air thick with the stench of blood. Buildings smoldered with dying fires and billowing smoke. The suppressed, fearful cries of captured civilians filled his ears.
He had long grown accustomed to all this. Surrounded by heavily armored soldiers, he entered the blood-soaked chamber.
In the pool of blood on the floor lay several dead women in colorful robes. On the bed, a pair of lifeless bodies lay side by side.
A trembling old eunuch knelt in the blood, stammering that the pair on the bed was the Later Emperor Liu Yan and his empress, Qiao Shi.
Liu Yan had ordered his trusted eunuch to kill all the imperial consorts, then personally killed the empress before taking poison.
Liu Yan’s eyes were tightly shut, his face was deathly pale, and his features were slightly contorted.
Wei Shao stared at the dead Liu Yan for a moment, then turned his gaze to the woman lying beside him.
The younger sister of his deceased wife.
Also from the Qiao family he despised.
Her imperial robes were intact, with a stab wound on the left side of her chest. The blood had congealed to a dark purple, staining the brilliant brocade and the layers of fabric beneath.
The sword thrust to her heart before death had been extremely precise, penetrating through to her back.
But compared to her husband’s almost agonized expression, this dead Qiao woman’s face was unusually peaceful.
Her eyes were closed, lashes lowered, as if she had simply fallen asleep.
Though she had been dead for some time and her body had grown cold and stiff, she still looked stunningly beautiful. The bloody wound on her chest, far from marring her exquisite features, only added a touch of tragic beauty.
Enough to move even the most stone-hearted person in the world.
But his gaze lingered only briefly on her beautiful face, which bore some resemblance to his wife Da Qiao, before turning away.
His expression was full of coldness, without a trace of pity.
Under the fearful gaze of the old eunuch behind him, he turned and left the chamber.
He was only thirty years old, yet he already ruled the world. Today, he had removed the last obstacle on the path to his great endeavor.
With this, all his enemies were eliminated. Those he wanted dead had died by his hand, one by one. No one in the world could challenge him now, and every inch of this beautiful land was under his control.
At this moment, he should have been excited. The jubilant cheers of his soldiers celebrating victory still seemed to ring in his ears, but for some reason, he felt no excitement at all.
Perhaps he had experienced too many such city conquests and victories before and had become numb to it all. Eliminating the Later Emperor, who had stubbornly resisted for years, was just another goal to be achieved. Now that the objective was finally complete, he felt a sense of bewilderment, even loneliness.
A feeling of solitude at reaching the summit and finding nothing but emptiness all around.
He strode through the smoke-filled streets of the city, coldly allowing his soldiers to vent their post-conquest emotions through killing, arson, and even rape. The agonized cries and moans of the civilians seemed to fall on deaf ears. To him, the people of this city had helped the Later Emperor resist his arrival, so this was their deserved punishment. It wasn’t until the next day, when his hastily summoned Chancellor Gongsun Yang arrived to dissuade him, that he finally ordered an end to the massacre.
From the first day of his ascension, Da Yan had never ceased its conquests. After returning to Luoyang, he employed capable ministers, opened new sources of taxation, filled the national treasury, and used the funds to pay for military expenses to support his war against the Xiongnu. Years later, the Da Yan cavalry finally occupied the Xiongnu capital of Longcheng, driving the Xiongnu people far to the north, completely eradicating them from the Longcheng area.
Beautiful women entered his harem one after another, but none could win his lasting affection. Even those he favored in the imperial bed for a time were soon neglected. As for Su Nü, whom he had made empress, he hadn’t summoned her for years. He only coldly watched as she and the other women in the harem vied for his favor, feeling increasingly disgusted and contemptuous.
The memories of his youth had long since vanished from his heart. Only occasionally, in the dead of night, when he climbed alone to the high towers of the palace and remembered his deceased grandmother from years ago, would his heart—which had seemingly turned to stone—slowly soften again.
He also knew that if his grandmother were still alive, she certainly wouldn’t want to see him become what he is today.
But he could no longer control himself. His grandmother was gone, his mother only needed to be respected and cared for, the women in the harem couldn’t make him pause, and there was no one left in this world who could soften the heart in which he had planted the seeds of hatred at the age of twelve. He needed the constant stimulation and satisfaction of conquest. The year after pacifying the Xiongnu, despite the opposition of Gongsun Yang and his court officials, he launched another war to conquer the Western Regions. After several years of intermittent warfare, he finally achieved his goal, incorporating vast areas of the subjugated Western Regions into the Da Yan Empire.
In less than ten years, he had accomplished feats no ruler before he had achieved, making the Da Yan Empire a formidable force across the four seas. However, before he could even open the pile of memorials praising his achievements on his imperial desk, that same year, the Yellow River breached its banks at Hua County. The great flood submerged northeastern Yu and southwestern Lu, converging with the Si River and finally rushing into the Huai River. Countless fertile fields and homes were destroyed by the raging waters, with innumerable lives and livestock lost.
The people, long-suffering under heavy taxes and corvée labor since the founding of Da Yan, finally reached their breaking point. Rebellions erupted in various regions. He was forced to suppress them, and just as he finally quelled the uprisings, more bad news arrived. Chancellor Gongsun Yang, whom he had always relied heavily upon, died of illness while managing flood relief and comforting the people in a distant region. Before his death, Gongsun Yang submitted a final memorial of remonstrance, stating that due to years of warfare, the national treasury was empty and public resentment was boiling over, with national calamities looming on all sides. He urged the emperor to focus on flood control and comforting the people, to cease military operations, and to implement lenient policies for the people’s benefit.
The old ministers and generals who had once followed him to conquer the world were now scattered—some dead in battle, some retired, some silenced by fear of his autocratic rule.
Only Gongsun Yang remained, unafraid of the several times he had angered the emperor and been demoted, still frequently offering stern advice.
Now, even Gongsun Yang had died of illness.
Suddenly, a feeling of utter loneliness came over him.
He was finally moved, suspending court for three days and personally writing an edict of self-reproach.
However, just as he decided to issue an edict for recuperation and rest, another peasant rebellion erupted in Baling. Within a few short months, the number of rebels swelled to hundreds of thousands. It was said that the rebel leader was none other than Green Eyes, who had once accepted the Later Emperor’s amnesty and had stubbornly resisted him for nearly two years.
He flew into a rage, the beast within him breaking free of its cage once more. Ignoring the desperate pleas of Wei Quan and others, he decided to lead the campaign personally. Before setting out, he performed a sacrifice to Heaven at Huanqiu, vowing to suppress this rebellion and kill Green Eyes, after which he would shepherd the people and never again lightly engage in war.
The emperor’s wrath would make blood flow like rivers. Filled with a desire for revenge, he led his great army south to annihilate the Baling rebels.
He won victory after victory, singing songs of triumph.
Months later, the final battle against the rebel army took place in a desolate area called Wangxiang.
In local Baling legend, this was the place where the spirits of the dead severed all ties to their previous lives and took one last look at their homeland.
The wilderness of Wangxiang became a scene of slaughter. The rebel army was decimated. His armor was stained with blood, his eyes bloodshot, and his body drenched in sweat. Every pore of his skin cried out with exhilarating satisfaction. Finally, in the heat of battle, he broke away from his guards’ protection and charged forward alone on horseback. A stray arrow, like a silent serpent, suddenly tore through the air from an unknown direction, shooting towards him.
When his blood-filled eyes caught sight of it, the arrow was already at his throat.
He didn’t even have time to react. His throat felt a chill as he sensed the cold, hard metal pierce through that soft, unprotected patch of skin, embedded straight in.
The wind rose, clouds rolled, and battle flags fluttered.
The prized blood-sweating steed beneath him, which had accompanied him on campaigns north and south for many years, seemed to sense the ominous aura. It suddenly neighed anxiously and went berserk, throwing him from its back.
He fell backward onto the ground, vaguely seeing countless people running towards him, his ears filled with the panicked shouts of his guards.
“Your Majesty! Your Majesty—”
Gradually, the swaying figures gathered around him and the various chaotic sounds became blurred.
The last image that remained in his bloodshot eyes was a patch of blue sky with drifting white clouds above his head.
The sky was as blue as a clear sapphire, the clouds as pure as white shells.
So beautiful.
Why had he never noticed this before…
As he struggled to exhale his last breath through his pierced windpipe, he thought hazily.
…
“My Lord! My Lord—”
A voice seemed to ring out in his ears.
Wei Shao cried out loudly, clutching his throat as he suddenly sat up, opening his eyes to see Gongsun Yang’s bewildered expression.
Wei Shao was drenched in sweat as if he had just been pulled from the water. His heart was pounding violently, almost leaping out of his throat.
Gongsun Yang was greatly startled and hurriedly stepped back, saying, “Did I startle you just now, my Lord? Please forgive me! The warship has docked, and as you hadn’t left your cabin, I dared to come aboard to wake you. What happened to you just now, my Lord? Was it a nightmare?”
Wei Shao slowly lowered the hand covering his throat and looked around in slight confusion, realizing he was still in the cabin from last night.
It was already broad daylight, seemingly around noon. The sunlight streaming through the porthole was almost blinding, and the sound of footsteps mingled with commands could be heard from the deck…
A dream of southern branches?
Fortunately, just a dream!
He suddenly looked at Gongsun Yang, staring at him intently without moving.
Wei Shao had personally boarded the warship to pursue Liu Yan the day before, while Gongsun Yang waited at the port. Finally, when the warship returned to port, he heard from Lei Yan that Wei Shao seemed to still be asleep, presumably due to exhaustion. Gongsun Yang felt this was unusual and, worried, came aboard to find him. Seeing him awake but with a strange expression, now staring at him with an odd gaze, even though he had accompanied him for many years, Gongsun Yang felt bewildered.
Gradually, as his lord’s gaze made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, he unconsciously touched his face and let out a dry laugh, “Why are you looking at me like this, my Lord?”
Wei Shao leaped from the bed, almost pouncing on him, and gripped his arm tightly.
“You’re not dead, sir! That’s wonderful!”
His lord’s grip was incredibly strong. Gongsun Yang felt as if his bones were about to crack. Enduring the intense pain, he grimaced and said, “What do you mean by this, my Lord?”
Only then did Wei Shao realize his loss of composure. He quickly released his grip, rubbed his hands together, and cast an apologetic glance at Gongsun Yang before turning away and hastily opening the porthole.
A gust of salty sea breeze rushed in.
Wei Shao closed his eyes, took a long, deep breath, wiped the sweat from his brow, and turned to say, “Liu Yan has been eliminated. I will now go to East Commandery to receive the Lady and her daughter.”
Gongsun Yang suppressed his astonishment and hurriedly said, “Please wait a moment, my Lord. I have one more thing to say. The trend towards unification of the realm has now taken shape. The people cannot be without a ruler, and the venerable elders nominated from various regions have successively arrived in Luoyang. They request that you comply with the Mandate of Heaven and assume the throne, to bring blessings to the common people. The people of Luoyang are also jubilant and excited. The matter of your ascension to the throne should be put on the agenda.”
Wei Shao nodded slightly, “I will write to Grandmother. As for the rest, I’ll leave it to you for now, sir. We’ll discuss the details after I bring the Lady and her daughter to Luoyang.”