The aged monk dressed in black, Yang Taishui, was born into the prestigious Yang Clan of the Eastern Yue, renowned for his scholarly pursuits from a young age and mastery of the One Hundred Families (various schools of thought). At thirteen, he shaved his head and entered the monastic life, immersing himself in the classical texts of Confucianism, Buddhism, and Taoism. Particularly adept in the yin-yang and numerology, although a monk by vocation, Yang studied Taoist sorcery and military doctrines under a Daoist priest in Qingxu Palace. At twenty-four, while traveling in Longhushan, he was sternly reprimanded after a face-reading session by the great immortal Qi Xuanzhen, yet instead of anger, Yang felt joy. Later, he was recommended to the capital to serve the Crown Prince, recite sutras, and pray for the late Empress Dowager. He headed the imperial Yongfu Temple and assisted the previous emperor in claiming the throne. During this time, he took several palace eunuchs as disciples in the Bodhisattva precepts.
When peace returned to the realm, the old monk in black declined the title of National Master and devoted himself to the study of Buddhism in Yongfu Temple, completely severing ties with his family and having no connection with current officials. At Xilebi, he once strongly advised Xu Xiao not to execute the renowned scholar Fang Xiaoli, but ultimately failed. Rumors claimed that he cut off friendship with Xu by severing a sleeve. In the past decade, he lamented the chaos in Buddhist doctrine and the lack of clarity in its tenets. Thus, he founded the theory of “Perfect Circle,” authored “The Original Meaning of the Eight Schools” and “The Sutra for Refuting Errors and Saving the World,” yet refused to engage in any Buddhist debates, calling himself the “Old Man Not Involved in Monastic Disputes.” Despite his contributions to the founding of the nation, he preferred solitude, serving only as an assistant tutor to the Crown Prince, Grand Crown Prince, and other royal descendants. Three years ago, he resigned from his roles as the abbot of Yongfu Temple and chief monk of the palace, traveling alone across rivers and mountains like a dragon appearing unseen, and today, he appeared in Tai’an City solely to accompany the Prince of Beiliang into the city. However, after seeing the monk, the butcher Xu Xiao insisted on walking into the city himself, resulting in this scene, with Xu walking alongside the monk toward the palace gates.
Xu Xiao, dressed in the attire of a wealthy old man with his hands in his sleeves, strolled leisurely on the capital’s main thoroughfare, chuckling, “Master Yang Taishui, I heard you accepted a shut-in disciple and sent him to the Shangyin Academy? Let me clarify beforehand, no matter how much you fool around, if a serious problem arises, neither of us will intervene. And furthermore, were those five Fu Jiang Red Armors dispatched by your disciple? Don’t do it again. I’m very curious—weren’t the Fu Jiang Red Armors already stripped and dismantled by Han Diaosi, your disciple with the Bodhisattva vow? Then how come there are five sets now? What kind of treacherous plan are you hatching, old bald guy? Come on, are you still sulking with me? You’ve got such a narrow heart, just like a woman—was it because I didn’t agree to spare those six hundred scholars back then? We’ve had this life-risking friendship for decades; can’t you just let it go?”
The black-robed monk replied in a stiff tone, “None of that has anything to do with me.”
Xu Xiao narrowed his eyes, observing the somewhat unfamiliar view of the capital he hadn’t seen in years, sneering as he spoke, “Come on, give me the truth— is that kid really the bastard son of that person? Otherwise, how could he get the Fu Jiang Red Armor from Han Diaosi’s hands, and how could he get Han, that human cat, to obediently behave like a servant?”
The old monk furrowed his brows; with his already fearsome and grim appearance, he looked even more menacing. Amidst the bustling crowd, no one could approach either him or Xu Xiao as they walked, as though they were slippery fish gliding through aquatic plants.
Xu Xiao chuckled, “Baldy monk, if you don’t deny it, I’ll consider that your answer.”
Still, the old monk offered no explanations or arguments, maintaining a serene and tranquil demeanor. Xu teased, “Master Yang, Yang Taishui, sometimes I really do admire you. Serving alongside emperors like walking alongside tigers, if you live another twenty or thirty years, you could possibly serve three generations of emperors and each of them would be happy to revere you as a living Buddha. Now look at Longhushan—struggling desperately to maintain their position as National Masters, even willing to abandon two centuries of yang energy, going so far as to rewrite fate itself. But you? You do absolutely nothing, just keeping a vegetarian diet and reciting Buddhist scriptures, and when you grow weary of the capital, you just walk outside the city walls—this is truly the life of a celestial immortal. Baldy, when will you go meet my eldest son, Fengnian? He follows Buddhism, unlike me—he might get along with you pretty well.”
The old monk shook his head, softly reminding him, “We have arrived.”
At the end of the road stood the grand southern gate of the imperial palace.
According to current law, court assemblies were held every ten days. Though the morning audience had already begun, Xu arrived somewhat late; only carriages, horses, and servants lined outside the gate, with no officials in sight.
This grand portal, the very first gate of the imperial city, bore triple gateways topped with magnificent eaves and overlapping ridgelines. Each side had a pair of white jade lions and a stone stele commanding visitors to dismount. The gate bore a couplet inscribed by a senior academician of the founding dynasty: “Sun and moon shine brightly; rivers and mountains stand proudly.” North of the gate stood one hundred and ten rooms of colonnaded halls on either side, known famously as the “Thousand-Pace Corridor,” with connected eaves and ridges, sheltering Baohedian—the throne room, commonly known as the Golden Hall.
Aged monk Yang Taishui, dressed in black, sighed, “Are you really going to enter court in such attire?”
Xu Xiao grinned, “I’ll change in my carriage. Back in Beiliang, I had no chance to wear formal wear. Over the years, I’ve grown fat from indulgence and luxury; I’m not sure whether the robes will still fit. If not, it’ll be a problem.”
The old monk wore a rare expression of helplessness.
Xu Xiao laughed heartily and walked toward his carriage, where only a few personal attendants remained. Naturally, the ironclad cavalry under the Prince’s Mansion (prince’s mansion) banner couldn’t be stationed at the very foot of the palace walls—it simply wouldn’t do to look like a military force. However, Master Yang in black remained unmoved at a point a hundred zhang from the gate, his expression melancholy. In those days, when he still sought fame and glory as a monk, Xu Xiao had already led six hundred black-armored soldiers out of Jinzhou. He had strategized for the previous emperor, while Xu served as his vanguard—both complementing each other as scholar and soldier. Back then, the former emperor regarded both as his most trusted allies. Together, they entered through those grand gates and climbed to the Baohedian for wine and feasting. Under the moonlight, they spoke freely of the world’s affairs. Xu, though poorly educated, was always forced to recite poetry by them and often got mocked for his vulgar lines. Drunk, they would sprawl around without cares, heads resting on each other’s arms. The last time they met, Xu had just returned from his successful campaign in Western Chu, receiving his title of Great Column General. Yet their conversation was no longer filled with uninhibited camaraderie as it once was. From then on, he withdrew from politics and focused only on Chan and poetry.
Later, upon the command of the late emperor, he shared a farewell drink with Xu Xiao.
This prompted that extraordinary woman clad in white to enter the palace, sword in hand. Since then, he has had no face to meet Xu again.
Xu Xiao was not far from his carriage when another carriage came thundering toward them, its driver drenched in sweat. Xu Xiao waved off Han Laoshan, a younger fellow-disciple of the late spear master Wang Xiu, motioning not to intervene. He sidestepped just in time to dodge two galloping horses, signaling one of the Prince’s Mansion’s high-ranking retainers inside the carriage to quickly hand out a pre-prepared robe, ready to don his court attire and enter the palace for the morning audience.
Yet just as the saying goes—horses are often ridden, and men often taken advantage of. Xu Xiao bore no grudge against the reckless carriage that nearly ran him over, but the coachman from a dignitary’s mansion considered this hunched old man an irritating obstacle, mistaking him for an illiterate servant of some official. The nobleman in the carriage was already running late for the morning assembly due to poor health and had been furiously urging the driver along the entire way, leading to the driver being scolded repeatedly, fueling his frustration. In a temper, he lashed out with the whip at the old man. Xu Xiao smiled faintly, taking no action himself. However, Han Laoshan seized the whip, yanked the coachman down, and stomped on his chest with a resounding crack, instantly breaking two ribs.
A middle-aged Confucian scholar in fourth-grade official robes with cloud-and-crane motifs stepped out of the carriage. Seeing his servant suffering such a fate, he flew into a rage. Upon seeing the unfamiliar old man, and thinking him just some lowly servant from a government official’s household, he spared no decorum and flew into a furious tirade, shouting at the top of his voice about who dared to engage in violence outside the palace gates. He jabbed his finger at Xu Xiao and demanded his name so he could report it to the emperor himself right after entering court, exuding arrogance and menace.
This gentleman ranked fourth-grade, equal to regional governors, serving as the Left Gentleman-in-waiting to the Crown Prince—a coveted position within the palace’s inner court, and more besides. His father, Liu Binzhong, was an esteemed academician in the Eastern Pavilion Cabinet, a revered minister in two successive reigns. Among the current officials, the highest echelon included the Three Halls and Three Pavilions; although the Eastern Pavilion ranked the lowest among them, the Three Halls and Three Pavilions were not completely filled. With only four in total including the Wuying and Wenhua Halls and the Wenyuan Pavilion, Liu Binzhong’s status as one of the four made him remarkably honored and prominent. His elder brother, Liu Tiren, was a senior official with the title “Golden Minister of Light.” All three father and sons served jointly in the imperial court, becoming the talk of admiration. Without such influential family connections, he would not have dared to brazenly declare threats of impeachment at the palace gates, considering all the attendees had come to court bearing significance.
Xu Xiao watched the fourth-grade Left Gentleman Liu, splattering his saliva in a rage, and merely smiled. One of his attendants leapt down from the carriage carrying a bundle. As the wrapping unfurled slightly, an edge of court attire appeared. The Left Gentleman of the East Palace, Liu, glanced at it, involuntarily hesitated. Was the old man still an official? But among the civilian and military officials, he hadn’t heard of such a style of costume before. In the world, no one dared misuse court attire just as one might illegitimately overbuild a mansion, and those found guilty would face imprisonment and exile. When the bundle was fully opened, Liu, the Eastern Pavilion’s Left Gentleman, widened his eyes in astonishment—Dragon Robe? A blue silk robe embroidered with five-clawed imperial dragons?
Dragon robes had always represented dragon-like garments, resembling the emperor’s imperial robes, but with one fewer claw. They were also embroidered with “sea cliffs” just like dragon robes. This dynasty explicitly decreed that only princes could wear nine imperial dragons with five claws, and only royalty could wear the bright golden-yellow or apricot-yellow colors. The dragons and serpents came in five postures: bent waves, straight waves, triple waves of standing and lying, five waves of standing and lying, and full-lie waves, each posture strictly designated by rank, with the full-lie waves being the most honored, hailed as coiled dragons.
Liu watched in stunned silence as the old man, assisted by his attendants, slipped into the dragon robe, swallowing hard.
Coiled Dragon Dragon Robe.
Nine dragons with five claws—more than even the mighty general Gu Jiantang, who had an extra claw! With its blue silk, it indicated that it was not for royal family members but for a marquis of non-royal blood?
Considering in the entire empire, how many marquises of non-royal blood were there?
The old man, wearing what was the only such robe in the entire kingdom, clearly intended to appear at court. More shockingly, apart from donning this terrifying dragon robe, he also carried a saber.
Who had the right to bear arms in court?!
Even a man as foolish as Liu could recognize who this old man was now!
The Prince of Beiliang, Xu Xiao.
The hunched old man dressed in this exquisite and dazzling dragon robe, bearing the Beiliang saber, strode directly toward the southern gate of the imperial city.
The Left Gentleman Liu collapsed to his knees, all thoughts of attending the morning session vanishing. He could only kneel and knock his head on the stone ground repeatedly, leaving a pool of blood where he struck.
In dragon robe attire, Xu Xiao entered the imperial city.
The city gate tunnel was dimly lit, but upon stepping through, the person known as the Butcher of a thousand battles shielded his eyes from the warm sunlight and squinted toward the grand hall ahead.
Two rows of guards knelt down in unison.
The eunuchs stood alert, one by one calling out in loud voices, “The Prince of Beiliang has arrived at court!”
This bent old man walked slowly, limping without showing the slightest regard for the emperor, Grand Chancellor Zhang Julu, General Gu Jiantang, and the entire court of officials waiting anxiously.
He counted his steps silently. Finally, ascending the steps, he turned to gaze back at the city gate, smiled faintly, and muttered to himself, “I have grown old.”
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