In the north of the Imperial Capital lay a small aerostat dock, reserved specifically for local residents.
At midday, the fleet of Prince Lin Jiang descended.
As the most prestigious of the regional lords, the Prince was entitled to a contingent of a thousand and nine hundred lightly-equipped soldiers for ceremonial honors, a number greater than even the Imperial Guard’s display. However, on this day, the soldiers present only numbered about half that. Years of court intrigue seemingly had tempered what was once a proud and flamboyant royal scion into a man of careful grace.
Even at this modest strength, thousands of square feet of the dock proved scarcely sufficient for the mustered warriors, forcing the ships to ferry the soldiers down one after another while the honor guard pressed tightly on the landing ground, filling the yard to its very edges.
No one noticed how among the royal attendants gathered groundside for welcoming, one had taken passage aboard the command vessel and never disembarked alongside the others.
Once all were assembled, clad in ceremonial attire, Prince Lin Jiang walked off his warship’s boarding ramp and straight into a blacked-out off-road limousine—the convoy departing at once.
The warships above continued lifting off and leaving. The majority of the fleet could not remain in Imperial airspace and had arranged encampment outside the capital’s boundaries, where Prince Lin’s remaining contingent awaited.
Once all the ships had reached elevation and turned their heads west through the atmospheric void, only the command flagship continued ascending further, until it broke through the stratosphere and entered outer vacuum. There, the ship began to circle in a fixed pattern.
Onboard, within the central command chamber, Emperor Hao sat face to face with Prince Lin.
Arranged between the two figures upon a polished surface were several porcelain tea implements along with multiple reports, maps, and imperial registers—some undoubtedly contributed by Emperor Hao, the rest by the Prince.
The Prince flipped through dispatches in quiet disinterest. Though the envelope showed seal-work originating of late from the cabinet war office, he scarcely read between the lines, skimming hastily to the final document, tossing it down without ceremony onto the stack of parchment.
Compared to his host’s demeanor was a more relaxed one—Hao sipped a thin-fired ceramic cup, his gaze fixed with seeming rapture upon the emerald shade within, a look as if the moment were one only of pleasure.
After a momentous silence, Lin Jiang queried, **”Has the finalization of matters around the Grand Princely House been settled?”**
The young monarch responded softly, **”Grand Prince’s direct line has formally had their names stricken fully from the Imperial Roll, with surname changes offered upon choice. Their ancestral provinces, apart from those retained officially by our blood, have seen their lands reassigned to imperial jurisdiction. The matter of relocativing may still require the year forward to complete.”**
For all his former rebellion, the purge of even the House of Longshan struck a contemplative chord in the heart of Lin Jiang. He exhaled sharply, lips pressing silent in understanding.
Glancing across a scroll, Lin Jiang spoke again,
**“The Ministry itself becomes now a kitchen-sink of opportunists and minor actors, with fingers from half the court. Back then—however chaotic—things were clearer, as even the various cabals retained coherence across the lines in the Ministry under Longshan’s reign. Your folding that body under cabinet oversight has only hastened its degradation into a bureaucratic chaos of disarray!”**
Hao’s expression bore no irritation nor haste when at last he replied,
**”Even Ancestor Emperor Wudi’s will could not forge unity in the war offices; our military must be one that serves an autonomy among lords as per ancient imperial law, spanning provinces both border and fiefal—that it became a seat of intrigue across centuries was always foreseen.”**
**“With our Heavens’ Lords outwardly removed from affairs these days, we find ourselves lacking figures to keep generals from striding their will as they please across governance. With Longshan’s removal, alliances that once governed order lie scattered—new pacts are but fragments and infighting natural.”**
Lin Jiang frowned faintly, well-aware how even the legendary Lin Xitang, in leading both Premier of War Offices and Imperial High Council, had barely claimed a share of dominance amid shifting powerplays—each general seeking dominance over the realm’s battlefield policies and imperial allocations.
Following the disgrace of the House of Longshan, the War Office had briefly shrunk, folded in with lesser bureaucratic tiers—only to become a contested domain in lightness of leadership. With no true First Minister seated yet, the Ministry itself still suffered a leadership vacuum nearly as pressing as the political vacuum surrounding those rising into power.
The Imperial polity resembled, he mused, a grand instrument with a thousand precisely-calibrated parts—if one could patch minor breakdown quickly, to repair even one core spindle—a calamity wrought no different then when entire Heaven Lords declared revolt against crown—such work would constitute rebuilding a province, or near a new empire altogether.
Taking a small sip, the Prince let out another exasperated breath, thinking on affairs so dire he turned instead to thoughts more personal—one such figure being that envoy dispatched to bear his summon in the capital’s name, that young envoy bearing the imperial mandate: Fang Qingkong, envoy from House Lin’s command.
He finally voiced his thought—
**“How fairs Master Fang? Remember his former rank within Intelligence—wasn’t he Third in Command of Oversight Directorate? Promotion into the Grand Chamber should’ve been well within his grasp, were talent alone the deciding matter.”**
Hao, still sipping tea, answered with a smile, **”Fang, even in his present capacity serves as master-in-respionibility for the grand-scale strategic intelligence arms still within the cabinet network—his recent dispatch, however: he had requested to retire, transferring back to the Army North Command.”**
**“Back to Northern Army command??—what for?”** Lin Jiang inhaled deeply, brow twitching with intrigue and sudden concern.
**“His martial appointment is sound,”** Hao replied smoothly, **”but it is not only command to which he returns. Master Fang also now seeks to reclaim his former military designation, and birth name of Ling Wu.”**
The northern battalions of late had, in structure, come near complete privatization—though held still under defense necessity due to the Wargod invasions sweeping westward territories. Without proper successor within House Lin, full procedural transfers had delayed the command succession further—placing the matter in the gray space where bureaucratic delay matched logistical impasse.
Given old memories and shared knowledge, Lin recalled the past—unearthed records revealing the younger Master Fang’s original recruitment path had followed no noble birth or pedigree but from deep within assassination battalions of the Imperial Guard—an anonymous ghost raised from the darkest pits, carving upward only with bloodied hands and sharper resolve. It wasn’t unusual that a past such as this called for a name shift as part of his eventual integration into civilian affairs.
In the present day he bore the power of a saint-general, if not greater—had he returned, the least suitable rank fitting might still see him appointed Commander-in-Chief of a regional legion. Yet Lin Xitang still maintained that office under a different title within western operations, one inherited and restructured not by him, but through the influence of Zhao’s commanding scion.
Even before Lin Jiang had fully considered the implications, the young emperor continued.
**“To be clear Prince Uncle, he has already resigned himself over command of the Intelligence Directorate. From henceforth all reports fall under your jurisdiction.”**
Lin Jiang expression twitched slightly—an honor, surely larded with burdens he could’ve done better with avoiding entirely.
And yet he understood the young emperor clearly—the apex strategic agencies bore responsibilities not for oversight only, but shaped key elements in decision-theorization, counter-balancing that which was offered via the Imperial Think-Net—the Bureau of Heaven’s Fate, controlled at present under Lady Empress dowager, and in which the Acting Regent’s oversight became critical in retaining a full and honest perspective, beyond political filtration.
Yet never, had he imagined Emperor Hao would relinquish strategic oversight so absolutely in so open a manner.
Lin Jiang’s tongue tested a quipping reply:
**“Hm, had I imagined Your Majesty’s willingness thus, arriving with full staff in escort was indeed most remise on my part…”**
Emperor Hao smiled, unfazed, as though speaking absolute truth.
**“If so Prince, might you then consider moving the entirety of your chancellery here? It is quite truth we lack capable men at times such as this.”**
Lin Jiang stiffened slightly.
Focusing briefly on a single folder left untouched, the Prince exhaled once before pointing—
**“Given you left oversight of the Bureau still under him, how have these rumors concerning Duke Lin surfaced already? They’ve reached me within only days!”**
Hao shrugged lightly: “They came first from the southern insurrection province of Younan, then reached here within only two. I believe the key transmission channel was again from… the Hall of Triumphant Bells.”
Lin Jiang turned glacial—**“Then again, from the Zhao? Does this nonsense never cease?!”**
Hao gestured toward another document atop his desk stack, calm though unyielding:
—“I suggest, then, that Prince Uncle begin familiarization swiftly in preparation. I personally seek westwards tour sooner than expected.”
The Prince had, of course, learned of the Heavenlords’ meeting and the matters beyond the border beforehand. Yet the volume awaiting him, even if some sections pre-familiar to passing gaze, now presented fresh burdens he could almost taste. Painfully, if the truth be known.
A stray thought broke his silence. He spoke suddenly.
**”Then concerning the Succession Line?”**
Hao answered softly:
**“While I still draw soul from breath, then such matters do not call upon need, no. The bloodline from Imperial generations will offer its heir, so long as I continue in life.”**
Being elevated to the rank of Heavens’ Lord, Emperor Hao held prerogative of succession within reach of even great-grandson generations of his House—yet even should the fickle hands of fate guide a ruler to mortal battlefields (however powerful such presence ensured), none may claim certainty to return intact.
One could assume, therefore, with Emperor having thought ahead to prepare the empire for nearly *all* eventualities—how could He possibly have forgotten to prepare for that very *singular*, crucial one?
Lin Jiang straightened his posture. Fixing on Haotian with hard-edged gaze.
He declared:
**”The Imperial Succession is the foundation of empire itself.”**
To this the young Emperor’s reply came measured, yet deliberate.
**“Nay, Prince Uncle. Empire is eternal. The Throne, merely its moment.”**
The words stirred unease in Lin Jiang who sought beneath to divine their weight and meaning, but the Emperor gave none save the echo of their cold simplicity.
After the quiet, the Prince’s voice returned, grave with meaning. **“You speak this… have the Heaven Lords spoken on the matter?”**
Hao offered a quiet musing half-smile—**“The Empire may keep no interference into matters of noble families, just as the noble houses do not interfere within palace lineage. If even the noble Lords have no say over succession—can they have *strong views*? And as of my two uncles… Well—*they too no longer rule from palace halls, do they now?.”***
Before Lin could complete a question, the Emperor cut in with quiet tone—his answer, almost rehearsed:
—“Does House of Gao share more unity, or does the Han differ so from any house that shares its founder and name only now?
The Prince paused, considering.
Even among noble houses, even among bloodlines as ancient and storied, no house remained singularly unchallenged. Innumerable offshoots, in a millennium’s span, formed and reformed. House Jin and House Zhang—House Gao and House Liang—descend alike, but their internal conflicts and schisms multiplied.
Even within the House of Ji, the imperial branch—was not wholly different in nature, merely different by prestige. Marital ties, dynastic alliances… the House blood and the Royal Line drifted far from one in practice. Within the Imperial House, One Crowned Sovereign, Sixteen Branches. Out of fifteen such lineal branches today, every single had seen change from its original primacy.
Save for one.
Since the expunging of Longshan houselines, the only remaining pure lineage to retain original blood, without any breaks or substitutions in royal descent across dynastic shifts—that remaining house still pure enough to wear the legacy of Xisu and the First Empress’s throne… remained that of *Emperor Fengyong*, who vanished decades past and never left heir behind.
And for all his royal rank—as much a scion as anyone—Lin recalled clearly *his* own ancestry’s entangled descent.
From mother born royal—but from a line descended not by imperial princess herself, but by daughter’s daughter of an Imperial aunt—born of a secondary house, further linked to lesser houses across multiple generations and strategic marriages with noble lines far outside the palace wall.
Even his own lineage carried the weight of aristocrats, not of sovereign descent pure. His identity, long a symbol for the noble opposition to Lin Xitang… bore far similarity to the political figure Zhang Boqian bore as the current Head of All Houses.
Yet unlike that figure, Lin carried no equivalent claim, nor that unyielding presence or force of vision… thus leading to his request, for a life outside court—a self exile into frontland command.
Finally, breaking silence:
**“Do you yet remember, at the War over Shimmering Land—your five princely sons deployed?”** the prince asked.
Emperor nodded, still silent sipping. The memories unfailing.
One slain in action, four others maimed and ruined. Two rendered invalid in battle—one blinded beyond recovery, others so psychologically ruined they withdrew from public duties entirely. Among such, he recalled—there came an unexpected loss—before her time.
In the official list, a Princess fell too.
Lin Jiang’s voice held measured restraint:
“Should something unforeseen ever take Your Majesty… and assuming all Royal Princess-bearing households’ children were *excluded in their entirety* from potential succession matters…”
“Could the only legitimate heir left… possibly *end up bearing* the favor of *Lady Zhao, consort of Zhaos?”*
Emperor made no reaction save that of polite calm.
His selection had always borne equal weight by maternal house ties and by raw talents displayed among the youths.
Should he fall suddenly… leaving no decreed heir—his absence of command would transform the crown to but a game board for noble rivalries.
And of all such, with all the possible factions within the inner palace—the strongest claim to dominance belonged still and always the Zhao house bloods—whose daughter, consort of equal rank, bore the greatest legitimacy by virtue.
Lady Zhao herself—better left unspoken altogether.
Thus, at last, Hao smiled, softly replying:
**“Why not?”**
The Prince flinched momentarily at the question. **How could it be this simple??** He tried, struggling.
“I see the consequences. Even should the Zhaos attain their desired place in that scenario…”
“—I wonder whether even then it would result not in unification… but *infighting* within the Zhao family first.”
A wry twist came over Hao’s lip.
**”Rest assured I’ve taken care of their due, even if their family name brings them no glory. Whether or not their heroes attain renown, titles granted have ever gone to the Zhao household. How they allocate them is up to the family… I would not involve myself in their inheritance.”
“The heavenly laurel… the war-merited honor scroll? Perhaps it surprises me not… that it was Lin Zetian and not I who approved the report. Even the old Lord houses did take but a casual observer role at best.”
**”Of all the many Zhao names that shine bright within Celestial Registers… I doubt even they would mourn the loss of a lesser scion’s name in its rankings.”**
**Lin Jiang couldn’t help but snort bitterly.**
**Any house, even with strong lineage, always found fractures. Brother against father against cousin… who came closest to blood bond, who stood nearest to blood bond’s betrayal. And beyond generations—great grand uncles and their scores of male heirs, all vying for power. Which youth to groom… who deserved cultivation blessings… and from how many dozens were others to be curbed—such decisions made with the best of family doctrine—yet even so, often failed the family as a whole more than aided them.
For House Zhao in particular—having grown stronger of late, even eclipsing House Zhang save one Heaven’s Seal—this growth had not come clean.
After the previous Patriarch of Zhao’s passing, the inheritance path had splintered. The new head of the clan, having claimed his position in a most unusual—and contested—manner through inheritance rites as the Imperial Grace Lord, this sudden ascent to power led internal equilibrium of House Zhao to be thrown completely off-balance.
To drop the imperial throne like brazier into an already unsteady cauldron would, perhaps to eyes on the street seem as flowers blooming and silk unfurling,
But in essence—was simply pouring oil directly onto open flame.
At last Lin Jiang spoke what both thought.
**“It appears You indeed loath Zhao greatly…”**
Hao smiled, almost amused:
**”The feeling, Prince, has always seemed quite mutual. I have no objection to the House hating their Emperor…”
“—What does strike me in wonder… Is the *cause*. Why hate Lin Xitang so?”**
**“Though sovereign… I have not stripped them wrong. Not even a hair’s loss to prestige, their daughters remain cherished—nor have their heirs faced any neglect.”**
**”And I have not, I swear it here before Heaven, taken any steps in suppressing their house deliberately.”**
At his calm response—Lin could but remain tongue-tied.
He knew all of it already, how impossible it proved trying to weigh the debt and grievances shared between House Zhao and The current Son of Heaven—it was simply a history written in too many layers, too many wounds long-scarred, never truly healed.
The origin: perhaps, at first, began decades ago with the tragic death of former Empress Zhao herself.
It was said she died during an early birth—precipitated through stress… induced when her husband, Emperor Fengyong in one night took a new favored court concubine—a dancer.
It became a palace storm none ever resolved—what followed was only deeper conflict. But the concubine’s son—what irony—grew, and one day took the Imperial throne himself, with the power and majesty of all Empire in his palms…
That very thought struck like a thousand lashes on the Zhao House pride—the blow never forgotten.
Naturally Zhao came to despise this boy prince of betrayal, even in those early days before power.
Natural also… that when the young boy finally rose in prestige and reputation through mentorship of the great Lin…
Zhao’s hate shifted effortlessly—targeting even the mentor, their opposition to his reforms and political maneuvering becoming second nature—born from this one deep wound.
Hearing the final thought, Lin remained contemplative—but then Hao finally answered:
**“And to think… even now rumors abound the Zhao House is already claiming this empire might ‘need a Zhou ruler,’ one worthy to balance the debt of past injustice.”**
That claim drew a look of absolute incredibility.
“What… who dares *dare speak* this?! Who’s *mad enough*?” Lin demanded sharply.
Hao only smiled wider now.
**“Remember the saying that gave rise to our imperial system?”**
**“A ruler must be elected by merit and wisdom among our noble peers—that this is what our ancestor Qin Di, the Founding War-Prince, proclaimed, that he himself rose to become sovereign at the first moment—chosen not by blood right alone—but by his ability of leadership in uniting the many under heaven.”**
**“Thus then,”** Hao added, the weight in every syllable unmistakable,
**”Then the throne was a prize to rule Empire—but not necessarily, any longer a *birthright* only of house Ji. And for the first time of thirteen centuries, we have entered into a generation post-Zailieh—an age that marks the closing of our founding House’s era.”**
With finality now clear and complete, Haotian selected two scrolls from upon the many. Each bore the imperial stamp of royal appointment and was placed side-by-side before Lin.
His words, delivered in the calm that settled the moment—were simple:
**“Prince Uncle…”**
The Sovereign said in the hush.
—”Of these two… one names you Acting Ruler… one makes you Acting King.”
**“Which you choose… shall depend on your own resolve. I offer no veto.”**
Lin Jiang sat silent, hand drawn reflexively to press on his forehead, as eyes squeezed shut in meditation long.
And Hao did not move through all the time that his Prince uncle reflected in heavy, brooding quiet.
Emperor Hao remained serene throughout. With the grace of eternity, the monarch even took occasion to refresh their tea.
In the end, Lin raised head and stared across silence at this Youth-Emperor for a long moment—
Then, reached forth…
and with calm strength… tore the scroll into powder—
And said simply:
**”This… would not be the path Lin Xian would have wanted.”**
**To which the young King could not resist smiling—half in amusement, the same expression he always showed… when his teacher scolded him…**
“**Zhang Wang”” —Lin Xitang—“Also once spoke same words.”**
Hearing this, Lin seemed to flinch.
He exhaled. The weight of the moment settling.
Then came the final inquiry:
**“…and *that* youth… is he yet fallen, in this storm? Are no news at hand?”**
The Emperor spoke without pause:
“Certainly not fallen…”
“—merely I pray he might, this last remaining time, find peace… far from our world.”
Lin looked up sharply now:
**”What now do we speak about?”**
**”Who has now, and yet not, come knowing this?”** He challenged.
Hao did not waver in the answer.
**“Three now know all truth… The Great Zhang King himself… You… me…”**
Something passed between them in that statement, something cold, something dangerous to know.
Lin turned pale as realization hit.
—He nearly tore a curse through the silence,
but only said grimly.
—
**”That was all you ever really did… playing innocence only in teacher’s company…”** He muttered with a tired bitterness in voice.
Hao’s answer—returned without pause—
—”**And you… not even the skill required to make pretense.”**
And at the verbal spar that followed, the two broke eye-contact in perfect sync—eyes turning briefly to the walls of their vessel. Both paused, and then—
They both began to LAUGH.
Laugh they did—in unison, long and deep.
Through years and decades they crossed, to the long forgotten days of their youth. Days where young prince and his guardian, his tutor, his uncle—stood together in those quiet rooms where laughter broke rank among equals.
What dignity… what calm decorum held between two of the most powerful scions on empire soil, no longer meant more than a shared memory.
Yet the joy passed all too soon.
Lin spoke, his voice soft once more. A wry note threading through the lines.
**“It surprises me truly, how despite Grand Chancellor Lin pushing these reforms forward… they have not fully passed through despite all his labors.”**
**He has now passed.”**
**”And you, now you speak of bringing back an age as our founding houses reigned once.”**
But Hao, ever composed in this, merely countered:
**“You misunderstood again dear Uncle. Empire need not fall… only House of Ji needs fade back. All else is not for our rule, but now for others to build themselves—new paths of the future to be forged by them, not imposed by us.”**
“**…but of teachers many doctrines did the many ideas you personally disagreed, did they not?”**
The Prince, recalling, admitted slowly:
**“Correct. Many were flawed ideas not wholly grounded… or unfeasible… particularly his push across all noble houses towards resource redistribution and universal martial access among lesser houses…”**
Hao smiled faintly.
**“Prince of Qing yang, same. Many shared this doubt too. Not merely from rivalry, as I’m sure my Uncle will recall, he voiced this often, though I never dismissed those doubts entirely.”**
He paused before explaining further.
**“Our beloved master envisioned, always, that we may expand support structures to provide base-level resources more widely—not confined by one noble bloodline or another… giving every youth of any station a fair foundation… from which we select strength from strength. But Prince’s opposition was not idle resistance either—not by rivalry, not out of malice.”**
“Back when Lin began his reforms—we reviewed the histories, the records of ages past. For millennia, before Empire, there was no question: families, lineages alone governed survival in dark times—only united bloodlines ensured that our kind did not fall completely into the mouths of enemies that lurk under stars.”
**”Now the modern state still begins not from birthright… but from the strength of each family.”**
“But for those whose households are weak—for orphans from fallen villages for blood wars past, let nothing say of the millions lost within Endless Black lands… their opportunity of starting even begins from disadvantage. And even for strong talents raised by such backgrounds… the chance to even the field remains rare.”
**“Back when four elite programs were set up during Empire’s rise—Yellow Spring and Black Blossoms, Heavenfall Rivers and Way of Celeste—they accepted trainees solely by raw talent.”**
**“Yet results remain questionable, after near four hundred years in operation. Perhaps if they had succeeded in providing strong pathways, we might not now need new reform…”**
**”…and for a time Yellow Spring failed—till two greats rose from their training programs—Lin, and Zhang—their rise drawing new focus and support from the Crown’s favor… and with support came opportunity to rise.”**
But even so, for the untalented or common recruits—while these training institutions gave rise to opportunity… there still existed an abyss between those who benefited, those still needing help.
A gifted commoner recruit with such support can stand on ground no richer than noble’s apprentice, but still fall further when faced with real hardship of war.
For such fighters lacking support structures—family traditions passed generation to generation, family mentors… inherited legacues, familial resources… those networks that bound noble houses tightly together—commonborn talent could never catch full pace.
That was how Zhang, himself of house lineage—but never fully part and parcel *with his house* could still call the training initiatives for ‘commoners’—as no more than protected sanctuaries… raising sheltered young not trained to war, only to survive in the shelter.
Only those bold could emerge—like Lin and his equal, yet for those left behind, a false sense of equality.
**The resources necessary for any large-scale redistribution of opportunity… the political will to make that choice for millions of people in countless households—all that was never there.**
Not one noble house—rich as they are willing—would risk reducing cultivation materials allocated only yesterday to their own heirs so that *new unknown faces* might one day rise, to stand equally?
The results proved the worst in Western land experiments.
Among rebellious provinces there, their attempts to establish systems allowing common youth equal training ground with noble youth… turned into mere shadows between the black lands and our light.
Instead of creating a class able to ascend through strength… a hierarchy formed once again between those who had something, even if meager, and others whose lives still ended in poverty and despair before they reached even starting lines. These attempts did provide a lesson in failure only—proof such idealistic programs could never scale without deep imperial coordination beyond anyone’s capacity to provide.
Then came Lin Jiang’s quiet words.
**“The late Chancellor… he moved quickly to grant power to commoners. Yet perhaps worse mistake… was him taking no political side. Even the smallest matters… from starting advantage to every next challenge in ascent of power.”**
He continued.
**“If Lin promoted you for talent alone—regardless of birth… yet never gave mentorship or family backing… the newly elevated still struggled without noble ties. While in other cases he gained no gratitude… for elevating noble scions—such candidates turned their back, distancing to avoid accusations by rival lines.”**
**“Then there came men of petty character… raised in humble background… and seizing the favor they had no right over—they attacked Lin himself with words… all for favor from noble circles… spreading lies with little or nothing rooted.”**
A bitter look crept into Lin Jiang’s eye.
**”There once lived a young man among *Red Scorpion’s* covert circles—an alumnus said of Yellow Spring Academy, even. His rise sought not to repay mentor and master, but to use favor to connect himself upward via Nan Palace house… and in pursuit… he did great harm… even involving false accusation against both Lin and Song Zining.”**
A shadow passed over Hao’s otherwise calm features.
**“Is that so? In our Red Scorpions… still walks such a person?”**
The voice, still mild. But even a whisper such a truth stirred a deeper edge.
Lin lifted a brow—**“That youth was eager. But I gave opportunity more than enough… He has moved onward since, I presume—has he not, since he’s gone quite quiet as of late.”**
The Emperor’s expression softened slightly.
In this case—only a small sigh was offered:
The Prince before him, though noble title aside—was not one truly to be seen as ‘benign’ or ‘kind.’
The chamber once again grew silent.
Then Lin finally moved—he rose, pacing, walking slowly to the observation window, gazing outside—into infinity.
And at long last, he asked,
”In a full-scale total war with Endless Night…”
“Pray, say: how might it end?”
The Emperor responded—tone unchanging as ever.
**”At best, slight loss in field… leading eventually to negotiated cease-fall. For Endless Dark to even consider parleys—victory must come costly enough to both side. In such a path, losses on the continent can perhaps remain… bearable… though for certain, the deaths of Heaven Lords becomes a cost accepted—starting perhaps even you… or me.”**
**”And worst?”**
“An outright, crushing, loss…”
“The collapse of Empire.”
“Survival… only as scattered remnant packs of human refugees within shadow, like beasts of ancient tales.”
He said this as if discussing a simple tea selection in morning court.
But even prepared though Lin was—the words made his brow twist darkly with discomfort.
At last, Haotian turned a quiet gaze.
He finally added:
**“There remains yet—a third possibility.”**
**“Atop The Sacred Mount exists a single throne for the People of Light. Should any living sovereign manage to ascend to reach that exalted level before the storm comes… should a Heavens Lord even of our land earn that throne before Endless Night rises… an invitation from *Parliament* may yet reappear.”**
Lin gave little sign of joy at the revelation.
—Knowing how *Parliamentary Invitations* never presented as gift, but as price.
He demanded: “And what price… what *terms* are expected in that *invitation, pray explain*?”
With the same calm as before… Hao continued:
*”To fully forsake ‘Blood to repay blood’ customs that we hold sacred…”*
*”Allow open commerce with black lands… granting access to all below rank level five warriors.”*
That ancient tradition that governed our wars with the endless darkness was simple…
Any crime, any slaughter committed upon our people by darkkind was to be answered by the pursuit with vengeance by Empire’s swords—should it not be possible due to unknown nature of enemy or their hidden retreat—we take from *whomever darkness called kin* the lives of their family in return.
A brutal, merciless edict.
Yet across Empire’s many generations, no other decree stood more fiercely, not because it cost blood or loss or endless retaliation but *due to its importance.*
Many laws came, many left. Only this one was sacrosanct.
Silenc*e stretched.
Then:
**“Would anyone… ever even *agree* to that, Your Majesty ?”**
But the Emperor answered cold.
“Some day… there shall those who see compromise in everything. Accept the darkness not only for peace… but for future unity.”
Lin Jiang had no reply, only the heavy feeling when remembering two old rumors circling back.
Of a connection once existing… in some ways still entangled still between *three* ancient names.
It set off in him a pounding deep in skull.
**“Of The Sacred Mount… how long have they known about this before?”**
He murmured under breath, recalling history,
“You mentioned this is not even an event that the *First Ancestor* himself was told?”
The young Prince Emperor confirmed with a quiet nod:
—“Of course, only our Imperial ancestors… and their descendants knew of its existence.”
**”…Whether any of the Great Lords who are not of Imperial stock have received this *offer*… has remained a guarded secret to those beyond the imperial circle.”**
Lin Jiang had heard many forbidden knowledge,
but this felt like being pulled into web he’d wish never been part of.
His tone laced with dry amusement—
“You’ve been most open. Telling me of all these truths known strictly within the sacred palace halls…”
“May I assume… if Favored Conselline’s child ever takes your crown…”
“…then these revelations might be shared on his behalf…?”
Hao gave thought a moment,
before smiling faintly and answering:
**“There may… still be no need indeed.”**
Then as though remembering something:
**“Oh right, I mean to abolish the royal decree that *Human Emperor*”**
“Will be only inherited to the Royal blood—henceforward all members of the Imperial Kinships, the major noble houses and senior bloodlines who achieved Saint Lord-level powers, may attempt. From this day I offer each of you—the choice, a ceremonial testing, and one of your own.”
He paused.
Then added lightly:
“Prince Uncle… care to try *the weapon* first?”
The invitation given with smile that bore no pressure or persuasion, only sincerity.
Without delay, Lin Jiang replied toneless, with dryness that chilled.
“I disdain the power… it’s simply too light a punch for my taste.”
The Emperor blinked, clearly unprepared even for that answer… lips curling briefly as he hid a smile.
“Then **The ‘Man’ Emperor**, may well be disappointed….”
The prince had no intention of matching playfulness now—his mind already heavy on a far more pressing thought than weapons or titles.
Then he asked, slowly:
**”You rose as Heavens’ Lord, even a year before Zhang Bo qian.”**
“You could perhaps surpass even the Great Sage’s limits, ascending even as one beyond fate.”
“If truly your strength is sufficient… would guiding this country *not be* wiser—through you?”
**“Would it truly comfort you to leave all to chance… as it is today?**
**“Can you not guide this people to rise in light under your wisdom, rather than abandon control to the chaos you yourself claim so readily?”**
The reply came gentle. Almost tender with memory.
**“Teacher long said to me: the star trails shift eternally, and every path leads to better fate… yet for some, leads worse still. Choices we make… while wise now—could unravel into ruin for those who inherit it. But he never feared failure; nor did he value recognition… for all who he saved… none looked behind… nor counted his pain… only walked ahead.”**
His voice softened further… with wistful honesty…
**“As a boy, I had no dreams nor wishes for this great role… neither did I carry thoughts nor ambitions of a legendary King when first I seated upon the crown… all desires I have now… to stand upon the same stars as He… to know whether the world He built shall yet come true.”**
Lin closed his eyes.
In the void between thoughts: there, still stood that man—always.
With stars in sight… and none reserved for himself.
To noble or orphan, emperor or footman…
He had saved them all.
Not once looking back.
Nor ever once did they give back in return.
Whether his deeds brought gratitude, or hatred—
Not a single soul, neither good nor villain,
ever managed to make that starlight… grow dim.
A second more, he stood unmoving.
Opening eyes again, he found the chamber was empty.
Only himself left.
Alarmed… he searched about.
Too late—
Haotian stood no more within.
As if a whisper returning—drifting back—three decades across,
As the world passed—yet one alone remained behind.
Shoulders weighed.
He looked down at them.
Not knowing whether burden he bore now was chosen freely.
Or was simply… something never given option to set down.
And as a mind’s echo:
*”Without mastering self… even Kings must perish… by chains we forge our self.”*
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