Luo Yang ignored the playful antics of the living man and the yin entity, tirelessly plucking the sword strings thousands of times. When the great Ta’ao sword tilted and hovered in a bizarre posture, the light within the cave suddenly dimmed. Xu Fengnian then realized that the entire chamber’s “starlight” was actually a single ray of light, refracted repeatedly through mirrored glass, making the cave as bright as day. Luo Yang’s meticulous unraveling of the mystery displayed insight into the realm of celestial phenomena, while her techniques undoubtedly reached the pinnacle of the Zhixuan Realm. This left Xu Fengnian with a trace of unease; even the yin entity paused its movements. With a wave of her sleeve, Luo Yang returned all the flying swords except Ta’ao to Xu Fengnian. She approached a bronze door engraved with countless ancient small seal scripts, where yin and yang inscriptions each occupied half the space. As Xu Fengnian stepped to the door and touched it, he muttered to himself, “These are the two letters of the Left Minister of the Great Qin Empire, one a royal edict and the other a hegemonic decree, each expounding on the ways of kingship and hegemony. However, only fragments remain in later generations; the Tingchao Pavilion possesses merely over three hundred characters, each word precious and profound.”
Luo Yang asked, “Do you recognize the contents of these two texts?”
Xu Fengnian did not directly reply to the female demoness but instead smiled joyfully, saying, “I was forced by Li Yishan to study the small seal script of the Great Qin, and when I returned to Beiliang, my master would be overjoyed if he knew I had memorized the complete texts of the royal and hegemonic decrees. He would surely ask me for half a jin more of green ant wine.”
Luo Yang did not dwell on Xu Fengnian’s words and remained silent. The four-armed yin entity, no longer confined by the thunderous pool, floated unsteadily and wandered leisurely outside the door. Although Xu Fengnian had nearly photographic memory, to deepen his recollection, he read and recited the texts repeatedly, later closing his eyes to silently recite them again, firmly imprinting them in his mind. After completing this, he turned back to look at the white-robed demoness and, seeing her motionless, grinned and asked, “Aren’t you going to act yet? Don’t you need to borrow my life force to open the door? Remember to return it.”
Luo Yang calmly replied, “I only know that the blood of a royal heir is needed as a key; I am not clear on the specifics of how to open the bronze door.”
Xu Fengnian asked, “You don’t know anything, yet you dared to enter the tomb of the Qin Emperor?”
Luo Yang naturally replied, “What is bestowed by heavenly fate, if not taken, is a sin.”
Knowing she was unreliable, Xu Fengnian proceeded to explore the secrets of the bronze door on his own. After a while, Luo Yang casually remarked, “Your flying sword can still withstand for another incense stick’s time. The stars on the cave ceiling have already completely reversed, the mechanism has been triggered, and when the time comes, I will kill you and splash your blood on the bronze door.”
Xu Fengnian sneered with a dark smile, “I must have had eight generations of bad luck to run into you.”
Surprisingly, Luo Yang nodded with a smile, “We’re even.”
Xu Fengnian instantly brightened, “Heh, I speak without thinking, you know. Please don’t take it to heart.”
Luo Yang sarcastically remarked, “You’re about to die and still won’t say a few sincere words. You must have lived a truly miserable life. Are all the princes of the Liyang Dynasty fated to live such tragic lives?”
Xu Fengnian stopped engaging with Luo Yang and, with a stern expression, turned his gaze back to the bronze door. Thanks to Li Yishan’s rigorous scholarship, Xu Fengnian was no stranger to the ancient small seal script of the Great Qin. Combined with his previous travels along the Jiangnan River, where he had listened to a discussion on the ways of kingship and hegemony at a flowing stream banquet, he could say that most of the later debates originated from these two texts. Whether following the stream downstream or tracing it back upstream, they could all be cross-referenced. As Xu Fengnian struggled with frustration, he still heard Luo Yang making sarcastic remarks, saying he had only half an incense stick’s time left to live. Recalling how Bai Huer had opened the bottom floor of the Tingchao Pavilion, Xu Fengnian gritted his teeth and took a desperate gamble. He leapt up, slashed his palm with his finger, letting the blood flow, and struck and lifted nine characters on the two bronze doors, five yang and four yin. He waited quietly for a moment, but the bronze doors remained unmoved. Without turning his head, Xu Fengnian knew that the Ta’ao sword was trembling in the air. These nine characters were ones he had deduced as incorrect, contradicting the overall meaning of the text. If even one character was wrong, he would lose his life there.
Luo Yang was clearly in a bad mood but still couldn’t resist mocking the Beiliang prince, clicking her tongue, “Try spilling a bit more blood. Don’t be stingy.”
Without a word, Xu Fengnian slashed his other palm, ready to pour his blood into the grooves, when the two bronze doors creaked open. In the astonished gazes of the two, the doors slowly revealed strange phenomena.
The left bronze door, bearing the yang script of the royal decree, glowed red like the rising sun. The right door, inscribed with the yin script of the hegemonic decree, was dark and gloomy like a moonless, starless night. The six thousand characters on the two texts began to shift and move like flowing water. Eventually, the two towering bronze doors transformed into two objects the height of a person. Even with Luo Yang’s temperament and experience, she wore a look of intrigued surprise, clearly indicating how bizarre and rare the objects before them were.
One was a bright red dragon armor.
The other was a dark blue Python robe.
Red leaves fell like fire, and the dragon shed its armor; green pines withered like strange snakes baring their teeth.
Xu Fengnian instinctively said, “Left dragon, right snake, facing each other for eight hundred years.”
Luo Yang narrowed her eyes, “The red armor is mine. Considering you’ve endured much, the dark blue armor goes to you.”
Xu Fengnian didn’t hesitate, his face lighting up with joy, “No problem. Later I’ll give this general’s armor to Xu Xiao. It’ll look mighty impressive.”
Luo Yang, having unexpectedly gained the fire dragon armor, did not wear it herself but had the yin entity don it instead. The creature, nicknamed Xiaoying, seemed to fear the princess’s authority. Without a word, just a sharp glance from her, it willingly put on the strange armor. However, as soon as one of the creature’s arms touched the dragon armor, the red armor acted like a living thing, flowing like water over the yin entity’s body and then solidifying like ice, encasing it within. But the armor exuded a yang energy that clashed with the yin creature’s nature, causing flames to erupt and burn fiercely. Even the pain-insensitive yin entity let out a piercing shriek, frantically trying to tear off the red armor with all four arms. Luo Yang watched coldly, but Xu Fengnian, fearing the yin creature might destroy itself along with the precious dragon armor, carefully reached out his hand. Perhaps because the armor had benefited from his blood, the flames suddenly extinguished, and the armor became as docile as a maiden meeting her beloved. The yin creature finally calmed down. Xu Fengnian cautiously withdrew his hand, and the flames roared back like a furnace. Only after several such tests did Xu Fengnian confirm that the armor indeed obeyed him. Hesitating briefly, he decided not to let the yin creature burn to death inside the armor. He first helped it remove the red armor before donning the dark blue Python robe himself. Though the armor appeared heavy, it was as light as a feather when worn, cool and refreshing, bringing a sense of tranquility to his heart and mind. Closing his eyes, he could clearly feel a mysterious energy flowing through it. He had heard of the practice of verifying lineage through blood, but never of armor recognizing its master through a drop of blood.
Luo Yang reached out to touch the fire dragon armor. When she put it on, the flames were even more intense than when the yin creature wore it. Flames danced like a red dragon over a meter long, swirling and roaring, sending waves of heat. Xu Fengnian watching it felt pain just imagining it, but Luo Yang remained calm, forcing Xu Fengnian to admire the formidable internal energy of this female demoness.
Once the bronze doors vanished, their view naturally expanded.
A path revealed itself before them.
Terracotta soldiers lined the way, weapons drawn.
At a glance, the road seemed endless.
Luo Yang led the way, with Xu Fengnian and the yin entity following. After counting over three hundred terracotta soldiers lining the path, they reached the end, where nine stone steps led up to a dragon throne upon which sat a withered white skeleton.
Was this truly the only emperor in history to unify the entire realm under one rule—the First Emperor of the Great Qin?
There were nine steps, each guarded by a warrior kneeling and holding a sword. The first seven steps were occupied by stone terracotta soldiers, but on the eighth step, the two figures on either side wore bronze armor and contained real human bones.
Xu Fengnian had no particular fondness or reverence for emperors. After all, directly or indirectly, no fewer than six emperors had perished by his father Xu Xiao’s hand. Yet, standing before this Qin Emperor, Xu Fengnian felt a complex and indescribable emotion. Today, people often described powerful ministers as wielding authority second only to the emperor himself. But during this First Emperor’s reign, historical records suggested there were no such powerful ministers. Even that Left Minister, despite his tireless service under the emperor’s watchful eye, still met the pitiful fate of being discarded like a hunting dog after the game was caught. In the Great Qin Empire, the Right Minister commanded the armies, while the Left Minister governed the state. The Right Minister died even earlier and more tragically than the author of the royal and hegemonic decrees. Xu Fengnian sighed. How light could Xu Xiao’s burden truly be, for the Xu family to have endured until today? With millions of households in Beiliang, how many still remembered and appreciated the deeds of the “Butcher of Men”? In Zhang Julu’s grand political strategy, Beiliang’s greatest value was merely to drain the strength of the Northern Meng—nothing more. The escape of Yan Chiji’s family into the capital was clear evidence of this. Yet the tragic irony was that Beiliang could not even accuse the esteemed Mr. Yan of being an ungrateful traitor. Indeed, who among the court and commoners did not praise the newly ennobled Beiliang scholar as a national treasure?
Xu Fengnian sighed repeatedly, then snapped back to reality as he saw the white-robed Luo Yang ascending the steps, approaching the dragon throne. With a single sleeve, she struck the skeleton—likely the First Emperor of the Great Qin—sending the skull flying. Xu Fengnian shuddered inwardly, thinking that even if she was the most powerful demoness in the world, she should still show some respect for the ancients. The one she had just “whipped in death” had been the Son of Heaven of the Great Qin!
The white-clad woman, her back to Xu Fengnian and the yin entity, fixed her dark gaze on a national tiger talisman resting on the emperor’s knee. Even in death, the First Emperor of the Great Qin seemed determined to hold the reins of power. Luo Yang bent down, seized the tiger talisman, and pulled out a pre-prepared golden thread, threading it through the hole and tying it to her waist. As she did so, two armored general corpses, clad in armor, moved stiffly, drawing their great swords, turning, and kneeling in reverence.
These mechanical puppets, eight hundred years old, still functioned just as the mountain-sealing Thunder Pool did. The skills of the Mohist school were truly miraculous.
Xu Fengnian gazed at the tiger talisman hanging from Luo Yang’s waist. It was about the size of a palm, and he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of envy.
Luo Yang, standing high above, saw through his thoughts and coldly laughed, “It’s not rare at all—just a bit of purple-gold aura is needed to open the bronze door. But this national tiger talisman, in the past eight hundred years, has been touched by only me without death. If you don’t believe me, go ahead and try taking it.”
Xu Fengnian waved his hand, “No need.”
Luo Yang looked down at the tiger talisman, still radiating fortune, then at the headless Qin Emperor, and laughed aloud—half joy, half sorrow. To Xu Fengnian, it seemed like the expression of a scheming woman who had finally achieved her long-sought goal after countless hardships. “You damn well aren’t even the Great Qin Empress who was denied burial in the same tomb back then. What the hell are you so happy about?”
Luo Yang grabbed the skeleton and hurled it down the steps, where it shattered at Xu Fengnian’s feet. She sat upon the dragon throne, inhaled deeply, her dual-colored eyes gleaming, and with one hand gripping the national tiger talisman, she slowly uttered two words: “The world.”
Luo Yang closed her eyes, her lips curving into a smile.
The world, eight hundred years later.
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