The mountain water was clear, with spring flowers dotting the landscape.

Winter snow had gradually melted, and the stream in Jihe Valley was gradually rising. Fang Pingzhai had a large drum positioned on each side of him, enthusiastically striking them at will. The drum sounds were gentle and light, capable of tenderness like water, harmonizing with the murmuring sounds of the flowing stream, captivating the soul. Ever since Liu Yan taught him the basic drumming techniques, he had developed on his own, his drumming skills advancing by leaps and bounds. Though not yet at a divine level, he could already wield them freely.

Two foxes lurked sneakily behind the rocks, poking out their noses to sniff the scents in the air while curiously watching Fang Pingzhai. The vibration of the drum sounds had attracted these two foxes, who for some reason didn’t flee at the sight of people.

Birds flew about, circling overhead. Fang Pingzhai looked up at the blue sky, watching the spring flowers bloom in splendor. With little foxes poking their heads out beside him and orioles and swallows dancing, his heart felt warm, and every part of his body felt comfortable.

With a soft “tap,” a gap appeared in the ripples created by the drum sounds on the stream’s surface as a stone slid down from above into the water. The two foxes startled and fled without a trace, while the low-flying birds in the air also spread their wings and soared high away. Fang Pingzhai pressed his hand on the drum surface and looked up. Dark clouds had risen over the peaks on both sides of the valley, the sky darkened, wind suddenly began blowing, and then rain started falling.

In an instant, torrential rain poured down. Heavy raindrops struck the drum surfaces on Fang Pingzhai’s left and right, producing deep and magnificent drum sounds. Raindrops leaped, drum sounds rumbled. Fang Pingzhai sat leaning against the drums as the heavy rain instantly soaked his clothes. Heaven and earth were vast and limitless, the flowing water cold and endless. A sense of vicissitude swept over his heart. Suddenly, with a “ding,” something slid from his sleeve and fell to the ground.

He bent his finger to pick it up—it was a ring of gold material set with a purple jade stone that looked brilliant and dazzling even in the heavy rain. Purple jade stones were generally not very valuable, but this purple was pure and gentle, the jade quality fine and flawless, containing a majestic royal air that complemented the gold beautifully—it was a rare treasure. The ring was very small; even an adult’s little finger couldn’t fit through it, so it must belong to a child. Three characters were engraved on the gold band: “Prince Ji’s Residence.”

Fang Pingzhai picked up the ring, held it in his palm, sighed deeply, and tucked it back into his chest.

In the heavy rain, past events came flooding back like ethereal ghosts, one by one. Dark clouds rolled overhead, drum sounds captured souls, and many years ago there had been such a rainy day when he was carried from the magnificent imperial palace to a cold and desolate temple.

The rain that day was the same as today’s. Soldiers and horses came and went, heavy hoofbeats came from afar, like faint drum sounds.

“These two…”

“General, these two children are innocent. This old minister is willing to take them in.”

“This…”

“General… Your Majesty, this old minister kowtows to Your Majesty. This old minister dares to speak frankly—the late emperor’s kindness to Your Majesty was as heavy as mountains. Your Majesty, in the name of benevolence and righteousness, surely would not make things difficult for orphans and widows.”

“Very well, Minister Lu speaks reasonably. These two children, together with Zongxun, shall be sent to Tianqing Temple.”

“Thank Your Majesty for your great kindness.”

Many people’s footsteps receded. He and another smaller child were carried by palace maids, watching a group of people’s tense and chaotic steps, their hurried retreating figures.

That year he was four years old, yet already foresaw his destiny.

Yu Konghou said “Sixth Brother, you have abilities that Big Brother and I lack,” and Gui Mudan said he would wait to drink a cup of wine with him. Sometimes he would forget everything and believe it was out of brotherly affection, or expectation and trust.

But when heavy rain poured down and past events came flooding back, the facts were clear and easy to see. Expectation and trust, brotherly affection… perhaps were only born of ambition, perhaps only…

Because he was Prince Ji, Chai Xijin.

All under heaven knew that the late emperor donned the yellow robe, Chai Zongxun abdicated the throne, and thus began the Great Song. He was originally surnamed Chai, the second younger brother of Chai Zongxun. After Chai Zongxun abdicated, he was sent to Tianqing Temple by Zhao Kuangyin. He didn’t stay in the temple long before the monks sent him out. He heard that Chai Xirang was adopted by General Pan Mei and no longer knew his origins, while he was taken away by his father’s maidservant and fled to Baiyun Valley. His youngest brother’s whereabouts were unknown—whether he had died in the chaos was uncertain. His eldest brother Chai Zongxun suddenly died at Tianqing Temple at age twenty under suspicious circumstances.

His current mother was Fang Honglian, his father’s maidservant, utterly loyal to the Great Zhou. According to his mother, his brother died suddenly when he was already of age but unmarried—the circumstances were not simple. The two emperors of the Great Zhou had shown kindness as heavy as mountains to the Zhao Kuangyin family, yet he seized the throne when the master was young. Fang Honglian hated him to the bone and constantly reminded him from when he began learning martial arts at four or five years old that he bore the heavy responsibility of restoring the Great Zhou, that the Great Song and his Chai family had irreconcilable enmity.

The people of Baiyun Valley were all descendants of Great Zhou ministers. To outsiders they only claimed to be descendants of the Great Han, ordinarily disguised as common people. Every household regarded him as their lord, every household showed him kindness as heavy as mountains. He wasn’t unaware of his identity, but couldn’t bear such expectations and entrustment, so at sixteen he went far into the martial world, becoming a wanderer.

That was just a form of escape—he knew this very clearly.

He made brothers in the martial world and brought them back to his hometown to drink. The night he got drunk, Zhu Yan killed the Wu family. From then on he harbored killing intent toward Zhu Yan—that was… the first time he realized he was a descendant of the Great Zhou. The Great Zhou nation could be destroyed, but its ministers could not be humiliated.

It was the first time he knew he bore responsibility—he had to reclaim lives and dignity for the Great Zhou’s subjects and ministers, he had to protect these people who showed him kindness as heavy as mountains and were full of expectations.

However, the price of awakening was so heavy. The method he chose to protect his subjects was to leave resolutely and never return home, because if he didn’t bring disaster, disaster wouldn’t come. Baiyun Valley could continue living plainly and unremarkably, and no one would come with swords to kill in the night.

This was another form of escape—he knew this equally clearly.

For a person to choose to shoulder responsibility requires enormous courage… Deep in his heart he had no desire to become emperor, so he couldn’t support choosing a path of no return filled with war and gunpowder. Fang Honglian hoped he would restore the country, Gui Mudan hoped he would raise an army, Yu Konghou hoped he would be an obedient puppet, but he could do nothing and wanted to do even less.

Being Chai Xijin was so exhausting. He had been escaping for nearly twenty years—would he have to continue escaping in the future? Being Fang Pingzhai was so ordinary and humble. His days wandering the martial world were confusing—he didn’t know what he wanted to pursue or obtain. Why could he never feel happiness? He was gradually losing himself, accomplishing nothing, unable to find sustenance for this life. He was Chai Xijin yet not Chai Xijin, he was Fang Pingzhai yet not Fang Pingzhai. He couldn’t betray his bloodline, yet couldn’t abandon himself either.

The rainwater was ice cold, soaking him through. Fang Pingzhai leaned against one large drum with his feet propped on another, closing his eyes to enjoy the rain, his outward posture very leisurely.

“Sixth Brother is truly carefree.” In the heavy rain, someone approached step by step from the other side of the stream, “I’ve brought wine. I wonder if Sixth Brother has the mood to drink with me?” Fang Pingzhai was suddenly alarmed. Though rain sounds and drum sounds intertwined, he hadn’t heard the visitor’s footsteps. Opening his eyes, he saw a black robe embroidered with glaring red peonies—it was Gui Mudan. Ever since someone had broken into Jihe Manor last time, he knew this place was no longer safe, but he hadn’t expected Gui Mudan to come so quickly.

Gui Mudan’s face was fierce, but now it held a trace of peaceful smile, looking indescribably strange. He had a wine gourd hanging at his waist and carried no killing intent. Fang Pingzhai sighed, “Why won’t you give up? Why must you invite me to drink? Don’t you know I’m in a bad mood? If I drink when in a bad mood I might get drunk, and after getting drunk I might lose control and harm others and myself.”

“I’ve brought Sixth Brother a piece of news. After hearing it, you might ask me for wine, because this news is truly bad and heartbreaking.” Gui Mudan sat down beside Fang Pingzhai and glanced at the two large drums, “Congratulations to Sixth Brother for mastering the art of sonic killing. You’re truly a rare genius that makes Big Brother quite envious.”

“What news?” Fang Pingzhai stared fixedly at the wine gourd at Gui Mudan’s waist, “Where did you get this thing?” Gui Mudan patted the wine gourd at his waist, “This… I picked it up from Baiyun Valley. Oh my, this is the fine wine your Uncle Zhang hid in his family’s cellar, waiting for you to come back and drink.” Fang Pingzhai’s pupils contracted slightly, “Why did you go to Baiyun Valley?” Gui Mudan said, “Seventh Brother and I have always been very concerned about Sixth Brother and your mother. Don’t you know that ever since you left in anger, for these ten years, your mother has been supported by Seventh Brother? I know the news from Baiyun Valley best clearly.”

Fang Pingzhai gave a “heh” sound, “Then I’m quite grateful to Seventh Brother for fulfilling filial duties in my place. I’m deeply grateful, deeply grateful.”

“Seventh Brother and your mother always exchanged letters, one every ten days without interruption, but thirteen days ago, the letters from Baiyun Valley suddenly stopped.” Gui Mudan said, “Seventh Brother wanted to go to Haoyun Mountain and couldn’t spare himself to investigate, so I went.” He untied the wine gourd from his waist. Fang Pingzhai stared fixedly at the wine gourd—the red ribbon around the gourd’s waist was stained with bloodstains. What was that? “After going to Baiyun Valley, I learned that war is truly frightening. Rivers of blood and corpses everywhere—these aren’t exaggerations.”

“What happened to Baiyun Valley?” Fang Pingzhai asked quietly. He still stared fixedly at the stains on the wine gourd. At this moment, with his eyesight, he was certain those were indeed bloodstains—dried bloodstains.

“Baiyun Valley encountered the court’s soldiers and horses, was swept over by thousands of troops. Of five hundred thirty-two people, five hundred twenty-five corpses were left. What remained were just scattered limbs, too many to count clearly.” Gui Mudan waved his hand, opened the wine gourd and took a sip, saying contentedly, “Good wine, good wine. Your Uncle Zhang died in front of his house, dying while holding his grandson who wasn’t yet two years old. His corpse was cut in half at the waist. Your Uncle Yang held up a flagpole—I think that flagpole should have held the Great Zhou banner, but unfortunately both man and flag were burned beyond recognition. Your Great Zhou banner still couldn’t be preserved. Most tragic was your mother. Your mother was…” Before he could finish, Fang Pingzhai cut him off, “Baiyun Valley lived in seclusion and never raised armies in rebellion. Why would the court’s soldiers find Baiyun Valley? Why would they kill people?”

“Your mother was bound to horses and dragged. Her whole body was stripped to white bone, then finally torn in two by the horses and hung in front of your room, apparently as a warning to you.” But Gui Mudan didn’t stop, describing Fang Honglian’s manner of death with almost enthusiastic interest, then laughing heartily, “Baiyun Valley was loyal to the Chai clan. Though you have no heart for restoring the country, they all had the will to restore it. If you had been there, with the current court’s promises to the Chai clan, having an immunity medallion could have saved people, but you weren’t there. With you absent, Baiyun Valley’s five hundred-plus people couldn’t resist the court’s two thousand elite soldiers—that was natural.”

“How did the court learn of Baiyun Valley’s affairs?” Fang Pingzhai said word by word, “For over twenty years, no one moved against Baiyun Valley. Why would they suddenly send out two thousand troops?” Gui Mudan opened the wine gourd and offered it to him, “Naturally someone informed the court, saying Baiyun Valley was planning rebellion.”

“Who? You?” Fang Pingzhai frowned and asked quietly.

“Me? If I wanted to inform, I could have done so long ago. Why wait until now?” Gui Mudan extended the wine gourd. Fang Pingzhai didn’t accept it, “The one who sent troops was Zhao Zongjing.”

“Zhao Zongjing?” Fang Pingzhai’s eyes closed slightly, “How did Zhao Zongjing get the information?”

“Unknown.” Gui Mudan shook the wine gourd, “Do you want to see your mother’s corpse?”

“I…” Fang Pingzhai trembled slightly. Gui Mudan smiled, “You’re wavering.” Fang Pingzhai pressed his hand on the drum surface, his face losing its smile, “Where did you bury her?”

“Burial is such a solemn matter—naturally it must wait for you to arrange it personally.” Gui Mudan said, “Her corpse is at Drifting Eyebrow Garden. Whenever you return, that’s when the burial will take place.” Fang Pingzhai pressed down with his five fingers, creating fingerprints in the taut drum surface, saying quietly, “Is this a threat?”

“Just specially coming to tell you that if you have no heart for restoring the country, only people will blame you, people will die with eyes wide open, and no one will be grateful to you.” Gui Mudan sneered, “And even if you don’t want to restore the country, seeing Baiyun Valley destroyed because of you, thinking of your eldest brother’s mysterious death, your second brother changing his surname to Pan, your fourth brother displaced and homeless—would your heart be at peace? Your father showed kindness as heavy as mountains to the Zhao family, yet they seized your world and caused your family’s ruin. As the Chai family’s only hope, you spend your days accomplishing nothing, touring mountains and waters in the martial world. You live a carefree life, but what do your parents and relatives in the underworld, your family ministers and servants, the wronged ghosts of the Great Zhou think? Who are you worthy of? Are you worthy of Fang Honglian? Worthy of Empress Fu? Worthy of your father Chai Rong? Worthy of your eldest brother Chai Zongxun? Worthy of yourself?”

With a humming vibration, the drum surface sprang back. Fang Pingzhai’s face was pale as he stared fixedly at the drum beneath his hand. Had he truly been wrong? “Return…” The road had gone too far—to turn back and step onto the path he had abandoned twenty years ago, how could it be easy? The so-called return naturally wasn’t just burying Fang Honglian—once he returned, there would be no path back.

Should he continue to disregard the wronged souls of Baiyun Valley? Could Fang Honglian’s corpse just be abandoned? His father’s shadow, his eldest brother’s voice and appearance—were those phantoms unrelated to him? If he didn’t abandon these, he couldn’t be Fang Pingzhai, but if he abandoned them, could he still continue as Fang Pingzhai?

At this moment he finally understood that from beginning to end, “Fang Pingzhai” was only Chai Xijin’s dream and expectation, never reality.

Even though he was so confused and accomplished nothing.

“Sixth Brother, I know you have no heart for the throne. Seventh Brother and I have already arranged everything—we can help you restore the country. After restoration, you can find your second and fourth brothers, pass the throne to your second or fourth brother, and in your future life you can be Fang Pingzhai or Yuan Pingzhai—no one will care about you anymore, and you won’t need to blame yourself.” Gui Mudan grinned fiercely, “I’ll also speak honestly—if I help your Chai family become emperor, you must give me equivalent repayment. After success, I want to be below one person and above ten thousand.”

“You and Seventh Brother have such great abilities—why must you make requests of me?” Fang Pingzhai said slowly, “You could become emperor yourself, or Seventh Brother could become emperor. Wouldn’t that be better than being below one person and above ten thousand?” Gui Mudan said, “If Seventh Brother or I became emperor, countless thousands throughout the realm would oppose us, but if you became emperor, only the Zhao descendants would oppose you. The Great Zhou has been destroyed for only twenty-some years—restoration isn’t impossible.” Fang Pingzhai said, “Such precise calculations—this must be Seventh Brother’s idea. You want to be below one and above ten thousand—what does he want?” Gui Mudan said, “He says he wants to use troops against the Liao Kingdom, recover Youyun, pacify the Khitans—nothing more.” Fang Pingzhai said strangely, “He overturns clouds and rain, calculates step by step, risks great danger, and secretly plots rebellion just to send troops against Liao? With Seventh Brother’s abilities, if he devoted himself to the Great Song, wouldn’t he rise smoothly? To serve as general and send Song troops wouldn’t be difficult either. Perhaps sweeping north to defeat Khitans and south to conquer Jiaozhi, east to the great sea and west to pacify the Western Regions—where couldn’t he go? Why rebel?”

“I can’t fathom his thinking either. In any case, everything he does is only to have the ability, position and opportunity to send troops against Liao, to change our dynasty’s consecutive defeats.” Gui Mudan said sinisterly, “This is also a good deed benefiting the people—what’s wrong with it?” Fang Pingzhai was silent for a long while, then sighed, “Let me think carefully. This is a very difficult and arduous choice—I need time.” Gui Mudan pressed the wine gourd into his hands, “Fine. If you can disregard Fang Honglian’s corpse, not care about the wronged souls who died in vain at Baiyun Valley, and persist in not coming, I, Gui Mudan, will also admire you, haha!” He suddenly retreated, his figure instantly disappearing in the heavy rain.

The wine gourd in his hands retained human body warmth, feeling especially warm to the touch.

Fang Pingzhai sat in the rain, holding the fine wine left by the deceased, raising his head to drink a mouthful.

In confusion, the sky grew darker and the rain heavier, striking people with piercing pain throughout their bodies, chilling them to the bone.

In haziness, heaven and earth spun. He had always had poor tolerance and got drunk easily. Today perhaps even without drinking he would claim to be drunk, let alone having actually drunk a gourd of wine.

Fine wine—what did it truly taste like…

Pouring into his throat, the same spicy heat, like molten iron cruelly gripping his throat, forcibly suffocating him.

Perhaps drinking blood would taste the same, because blood and wine were alike—both hot, both carrying body temperature.