After sitting quietly for a while, Zhao Heng slowly walked to the window, bathed in the clear moonlight, gazing up at the cold moon, his heart filled with desolation and confusion.
Although he was now the rightful heir of the Great Zhou, sharing in the power of the masses even more than when he had once sat on the throne as emperor, he feared he would never ascend to the supreme throne in his lifetime. Firstly, Gao Lan stood at the pinnacle of the Celestial Immortal realm, just a step away from the legendary level, with boundless potential in the future. Unless unforeseen circumstances arose, his lifespan would be so long that Zhao Heng could never outwait him. Secondly, even if an accident occurred and Gao Lan died prematurely, the one to ascend the throne would not be Zhao Heng, nor even the higher-ranked Xiao Meng. At that time, the emperor of the Great Zhou could only be the new master chosen by the Human Emperor Sword!
And as for the Human Emperor Sword recognizing a master, Zhao Heng did not believe any miracle would happen in his favor.
Thus, all his past ambitions and aspirations could only be illusory dreams. Without these, what meaning was there in merely occupying a position and sharing in the power of the masses?
Drifting aimlessly, like a walking corpse!
Should he completely abandon the past and seek a new path?
But where would that new path lie?
Zhao Heng asked himself this question over and over, but no answer came.
After an unknown length of time, he watched the cold moon sink in the west, and a sudden thought arose in his heart:
“I wonder if the Divine Capital can see the same moon at this moment?”
As this thought emerged, a wave of intense homesickness washed over him. The place that had carried his life for decades flashed before his eyes like a scroll: the imperial palace, the grand halls, the Wei Prince’s residence, and the bustling streets and alleys…
It was time to return.
To revisit the traces of the past, to walk into his memories, and to find a new path!
Having made his decision, as dawn broke, Zhao Heng entered the Changle Imperial Palace and requested an audience with Gao Lan, stating that after years away, he had suddenly felt homesick and wished to return to the Divine Capital to pay respects to his ancestors.
Gao Lan gazed at him with unfathomable depth in his eyes, asked no further questions, and nodded in agreement.
…
By noon, the canal was crowded with countless sails blocking the sun, hundreds of boats vying for passage, a scene of bustling prosperity.
The Divine Capital towered by the riverside, vast as an ancient behemoth, majestic and profound. Along both banks of the canal, buildings stood in neat rows, lively and vibrant.
“The Divine Capital remains as magnificent as ever…” The eunuch Hu Dou stood at the bow of the ship, a step behind Zhao Heng, gazing at the familiar sights and unable to resist sighing with emotion. “Truly a place where dragons and tigers crouch, commanding the world.”
Hearing this, Zhao Heng sighed softly, as if transported back to his youth.
In those days, the Divine Capital was the center of the world, surpassing Changle by immeasurable degrees. Merchants from all corners came to pay tribute, noble families gathered, and its influence spanned north and south. The imperial aura shone brightly, and the majesty of the kingly way kept powerful experts from causing trouble lightly.
Though its form remained, its spirit had faded.
The ship docked at the port, and Zhao Heng, hands clasped behind his back, led Hu Dou through the deep gate tunnel, traversing years of time.
As a Grandmaster, he could not seek protection from a Dharmakaya expert for his journey, so he traveled discreetly southward with only the ever-loyal eunuch Hu Dou.
Entering the Divine Capital, Zhao Heng paused briefly before choosing a direction. Instead of heading to the inner city, he walked toward increasingly remote areas.
“Your Highness, where are we going?” Hu Dou, noticing the increasingly familiar scenery, felt a stir in his heart and asked.
Zhao Heng nodded slightly. “Yes, to that place.”
As he spoke, a vast garden appeared ahead, filled with exotic flowers and auspicious trees, the river winding through it in graceful curves, a sight of breathtaking beauty.
“The Jade Forest Garden…” Hu Dou murmured the garden’s name.
This imperial garden was known to the world for the Qionghua Banquet once held there, where figures like the Yuanhuang Demon Emperor and others shone brilliantly or made their mark, writing a glorious page in history.
But for the Zhao clan of the Divine Capital, what was etched in their hearts were the hopes and disappointments carried by the Qionghua Banquet.
With a flash of light, Zhao Heng and Hu Dou entered the Jade Forest Garden. The winding river had changed course in many places, leaving clear traces. A large lake shimmered under the light, surrounded by cracks and desolate scenes.
Zhao Heng paced slowly, carefully examining these remnants, his heart filled with mixed emotions. Their appearance had destroyed the last chance for the Zhao clan’s revival!
At the time, it hadn’t seemed so, but in recent years, he had come to see it clearly. Had the true arrangements of the Qionghua Banquet succeeded, without the interference of the “Heavenly Emperor” Han Guang of “Myth” or the mysterious figure who amplified the calamitous thunder, the Zhao clan could have had a Dharmakaya expert to stabilize the situation and balance the forces. They could have ridden the waves of the tumultuous changes that followed.
It wasn’t that having a Dharmakaya expert would have allowed them to rival Gao Lan, but with one, they could have demonstrated sufficient value. With such vast territories in the real world, the Great Jin would have had no trouble attracting powerful figures to their side, gradually growing stronger to contend with Gao Lan.
Alas, the Zhao clan of the Divine Capital had missed this best and final opportunity, and now it was beyond recovery.
“If only I could return to the past and rewrite this history…” Zhao Heng closed his eyes, breathing in the riverside breeze as the events of the Qionghua Banquet flowed through his mind.
But the past could not be returned to, never to be returned to.
Beside him, Hu Dou, far from his homeland, also felt deeply moved and sighed repeatedly.
Zhao Heng opened his eyes and looked toward the inner city, sighing. “Let’s return to the residence.”
The Wei Prince’s residence was located in Duozi Alley near the imperial city, a quiet place with sparse traffic. Though it had been without a master for years, servants still kept it clean, lonely yet tidy.
Without greeting anyone, Zhao Heng passed through courtyards and halls, arriving at the study.
Inside were several bookshelves filled with volumes, a desk by the window bathed in the golden afternoon sun.
Looking at this familiar scene, Zhao Heng seemed to see his younger self, a small figure sitting behind the desk, eyes focused, studying diligently day and night, leaving childish notes in every book.
Born weak and unable to practice martial arts, he had been overlooked and scorned. Unwilling to accept this, he had studied frantically, hoping to change his fate through knowledge.
“Even then, Your Highness showed extraordinary qualities.” Hu Dou, as if understanding Zhao Heng’s thoughts and recalling the same scenes, couldn’t help but remark.
That was because he had been at his wit’s end, grasping at every straw, whether it could save him or not… Zhao Heng’s gaze shifted to the room on the left side of the study, now empty.
But years ago, it had been his place of suffering, filled with cauldrons, bottles, and jars. To cure his congenital deficiencies and practice martial arts, he had sought out divine physicians and remedies, trying acupuncture, medicinal steams, boiling his body in elixirs, and consuming all manner of strange pills and potions. Each time brought excruciating pain, a living death. Were it not for the experts in the residence protecting his heart with inner energy and imperial physicians on standby, he would have died young…
Through these experiences, his ambitions had taken shape. After being healed by the Six Paths, he had step by step moved toward his ideals, forging his own path.
That determined self, that unwilling self, that suffering self—even in self-torment, he had never thought of giving up, refusing to live a life of mediocrity.
Zhao Heng quietly observed his past “self,” as if turned into a clay statue. Unnoticed, the sun set in the west, and the evening sky danced with colors.
With another long sigh, he turned and left the Wei Prince’s residence, heading toward the imperial city.
Since the submission of the Great Jin, the imperial city of the Divine Capital had been partitioned—one portion remained with the Zhao clan, while the other was designated as the Residence of the Imperial Guardian.
As they approached the Residence of the Imperial Guardian, a middle-aged man with graying hair came forward, cupping his hands in greeting. “Qian Qian, Imperial Guardian of the Divine Capital, pays his respects to the Prince of Jin.”
“Qian Qian?” Zhao Heng looked at this Grandmaster, finding the name somewhat familiar.
Qian Qian smiled. “Thanks to the Yuanhuang Immortal Venerable, my name is often mentioned by the world.”
“It’s you!” Zhao Heng nodded, remembering who he was.
It was said that when Xiao Meng first entered the Divine Capital, he stayed at the Antai Tower. A martial arts master named Qian Qian, who had achieved “Unity of Heaven and Man,” challenged him one night and was defeated with a single strike. But Xiao Meng had advised him, “The path lies beneath your feet.” Afterward, Qian Qian had a profound realization, overcame his inner demons, left the Divine Capital, and step by step walked his own path, eventually achieving perfect advancement. Now a Grandmaster, he had become the Imperial Guardian of the Divine Capital two years prior.
After exchanging a few pleasantries, Qian Qian led them inside. The surrounding palaces and pavilions were all familiar to Zhao Heng, stirring memories of the past.
“Imperial Guardian Qian, the sight of these places moves me. I wish to walk around the Residence,” Zhao Heng said.
Qian Qian did not refuse, smiling. “As Your Highness pleases.”
Thanking him, Zhao Heng and Hu Dou walked deeper into the Residence. Night had fallen, the palace was quiet, and a chilling wind blew.
Pacing slowly through the slightly cold halls, Zhao Heng fell into prolonged silence. Hu Dou dared not speak, accompanying him quietly.
Unnoticed, they stopped before a particular palace, where an eerie and cold atmosphere lingered.
Zhao Heng closed his eyes briefly, exhaled, and transmitted his voice to Hu Dou: “After submitting to the Great Zhou, the Prince of Qin did not go north. He attempted another breakthrough but failed again, damaging his foundation beyond repair. He died here, consumed by melancholy.”
The Prince of Qin had once struggled so helplessly and despairingly.
Hu Dou felt a heavy gloom but did not know how to respond, following Zhao Heng into the palace.
As they pushed open the doors, both were startled—for inside, facing away from them, stood a man in wide robes, his black hair tied with a wooden hairpin, gazing leisurely at the cold moon outside the window.
“Demon Master!” Zhao Heng exclaimed.
Han Guang turned leisurely, smiling at him. “I’ve finally waited for your return.”
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