The Great Yan Dynasty flourished for 850 years. Emperor Wu’s reign marked a resurgence, and historians hailed him as the most legendary emperor in recorded history. This legendary status wasn’t solely due to his unification of the entire Xuanhuang continent during his lifetime, ending the long-standing era of warlords and constant warfare. It was also because of his iron-fisted rule and autocratic style. Setting aside his numerous unprecedented political measures, two actions alone ensured his enduring legacy: arranging a marriage between his most favored eunuch, the Chief Steward of the Imperial Household, and another man, and maintaining only one wife throughout his life.
Of course, Murong Jinghe was unaware of this, and even if he knew, he wouldn’t have cared. Once actions are taken, people will inevitably comment, especially for someone in his position. The strong act while the weak talk; such has always been the way of the world. He desired sufficient freedom, which necessitated great strength. Thus, he ultimately dared to openly challenge the millennia-old ethical code, allowing Qing Yan’s ghost to become his legitimate consort and ensuring his woman would never again suffer any grievance.
Had he heard the word “legendary” applied to himself, he would have undoubtedly scoffed. He thought that if any other emperor had foolishly wandered around for days carrying the corpse of a stranger, they too would likely become legendary. From another perspective, being legendary often meant enduring a life more tragic and sorrowful than most. Like himself, and like the War God, the King of Cangzhong. In his youth, he had only loved the thrill of galloping across battlefields, never envying or looking up to that lonely, lofty position. As for the King of Cangzhong, that founding hero of the Great Yan…
One day, as they were drinking tea, playing chess, and chatting under the winter jasmine trellis in Meianchun Garden, Wu suddenly said, “I must leave.”
The surroundings instantly fell silent.
Seeing everyone’s bewildered expressions, Wu smiled.
“Someone has come for me,” he paused, then looked at Murong Jinghe. “As it happens, you know this person too.”
It was a tall, powerfully built man wearing coarse cloth clothing, with a long, cloth-wrapped object on his back. He stood outside Meianchun Garden, his features rugged and stern, his bearing majestic.
“I was originally a shaman of the Heyuan land,” Wu said, his clear eyes shimmering with distant memories. “At that time, foreign tribes incited demons, creating a disaster that destroyed my people. I used divine power to refine the disaster into a gu, which attached to bamboo, causing it to wither, and to pines, causing them to scorch. I consumed it, causing us both to fall into a deep slumber.”
Historical records contained no mention of the Heyuan land, so his account of the past seemed like mythology to those present. However, his abilities were indeed unlike those of ordinary people, so even if they didn’t fully understand, none doubted or disrespected his words.
“Later, his intrusion awakened my consciousness. Seeing him die in the underground chamber, his resentment unresolved, I used my power to bind his soul, accompanying me in that dark place. It wasn’t until you arrived and took away the guy that I was able to be reborn. He longed for his withered bones and relics, reluctant to leave, but unexpectedly, you brought them out,” Wu said, looking at Murong Jinghe when he said “you.”
Murong Jinghe’s expression remained unchanged; he had already guessed who the man was. When he returned to Zhongshan Stone Forest, it was partly to find a shortcut from An’yang to Zhongshan, but also for the King of Cangzhong. He had found the token that could command the Bindao Army on the King of Cangzhong’s body, which had been recognized by generations of his descendants. Whoever held the Bindao token could command the Bindao Army. This was why he could mobilize the Bindao Army, which had never before obeyed outsiders. However, he hadn’t expected that the King of Cangzhong’s soul was attached to it, later inhabiting the body of a recently deceased person. It took several years for the soul to fully merge with that body before coming to seek Wu.
These things sounded truly fantastical, but how many mysterious and inexplicable events exist in this world?
Watching the two walk side by side, gradually disappearing among the mountain cherries and thorny undergrowth, Murong Jinghe suddenly reached out and pulled Meilin into his arms, holding her tightly from behind.
Throughout, the man hadn’t uttered a single word. He didn’t speak of the past that had caused him such resentment and unwillingness, nor did he question Murong Jinghe’s use of the item on his body. He followed beside Wu, like a silent attendant, rather than the once-powerful figure he had been.
“Huahua, do you know the revered name of our dynastic founder?” Murong Jinghe whispered, nibbling on Meilin’s ear.
Meilin’s temple twitched as she pushed at his face. “I don’t know! And don’t call me Huahua.”
Murong Jinghe made a couple of noncommittal sounds, tilting his head to avoid her hand before leaning in again. “Huahua, I’ll tell you a secret. Our dynastic founder’s given name was the character ‘Qian.'”
Meilin’s hand missed its mark and was caught by his. She felt somewhat dazed.
Qian? Murong Qian?
She recalled the four characters written with bitter hatred before that skeleton: “Qian, the traitor, harmed me.” Could it be… She turned to look at the man clinging to her, her gaze uncertain and questioning.
Murong Jinghe kissed her temple, then nodded slightly, confirming her suspicion.
According to Murong Jinghe’s deduction, the dynastic founder had grown wary of the King of Cangzhong’s overwhelming merit but couldn’t strip him of his military power. So he devised a sinister plan. He secretly ordered the King to lead troops into the Stone Forest to eliminate the remnants of the Hu tribe. When they were locked in a life-and-death struggle with the people inside, he had others set poisonous fires and smoke around the forest’s perimeter, ultimately annihilating both sides and turning the Stone Forest into a toxic, fire-scorched place that no one dared enter. This plan achieved multiple objectives at once.
Of course, this was all his conjecture. The facts were likely buried deep in that silent man’s memories.
“Is that why you made me kowtow to him?” Meilin couldn’t help but shudder, feeling that the hearts of emperors were truly terrifying.
Murong Jinghe held her tightly and made an affirmative sound. Those kowtows, while partly out of respect and admiration, were primarily meant to beg forgiveness for his ancestor’s actions. Perhaps the King of Cangzhong knew all this, and seeing that he had later personally buried those three skeletons, allowed him to use the token to command the Bindao Army.
“Then just now… might he harm you?” Meilin recalled the man’s inscrutable expression, as deep as the sea, and couldn’t help but worry.
“Who knows? Huahua, are you worried about me?” Far from being troubled, Murong Jinghe seemed quite pleased.
Meilin fell silent, then suddenly said after a moment, “You still owe me a favor.” If he hadn’t mentioned past events, she would have forgotten.
Murong Jinghe was startled, his mind racing. Fearing she might ask to travel far away and leave him behind, he smiled and said, “What’s this talk of one favor or two? All my favors are yours. You couldn’t get rid of them even if you wanted to.”
Scoundrel! Meilin looked up at the sky, allowing him to shower her forehead with affectionate kisses, her expression impassive. She had long known he had countless methods and reasons to refuse things he didn’t want to do, even if she held actual proof in her hands.
Her nose filled with his scent, her forehead warmed by his touch, and her gaze grew increasingly tender.
Soft clouds drifted overhead, the garden lush with flowers and trees, and gentle mountains surrounded them, with occasional glimpses of distant homes. This place was truly wonderful.
And anywhere he was, was wonderful.
(End of the book)
(End of the Chun Hua Yan – Chapter)