The moon was bright, and the stars were sparse yet dazzling, each as large as a lantern, casting the clear moonlight into a dreamlike and chilly glow.
Zhao Heng stood within the palace hall, gazing blankly at the night’s beauty, while the Hu Dou at his feet was soundly “asleep.” The surroundings were utterly silent.
“Being your puppet and being the Prince of Jin of Great Zhou—what’s the difference? The essence is the same!”
“Heh, in this world, which faction doesn’t have the shadow of a great figure behind it? Even someone as powerful as Gao Lan is no exception. Even if I hadn’t disrupted the Qionghua Banquet back then, the Zhao Clan of the Divine Capital would still have had to submit to the ‘will of heaven’ and attach themselves to some great figure. Though I may be lowly now, my heart remains unchanged, my path unwavering. My ambition lies beyond, aiming to become the great figure who manipulates the ‘will of heaven.’ When have I ever cared for mundane power? By then, wouldn’t the most ideal outcome align perfectly with the Zhao Clan of the Divine Capital?”
…
The previous conversation echoed in Zhao Heng’s mind, striking his heart and plunging him into prolonged silence.
Unconsciously, the cold moon sank in the west, and the great sun rose in the east. A glimmer of light on the horizon dispelled the night’s chill and suppressed the eerie gloom that had accumulated in the palace for centuries.
Zhao Heng exhaled softly, withdrew his gaze, and woke the Hu Dou at his feet.
“Your Highness, Your Highness, how did I fall asleep? Did something happen just now?” Hu Dou rubbed his eyes in confusion, startled and bewildered.
His last memory was of pushing open the door to this palace hall, sensing only darkness and the profound depths of the palace, as if something ominous lurked within, foreboding inexplicable horrors.
Could it be… could it be the lingering obsession left by the depressed demise of the Prince of Qin?
Otherwise, even if the surroundings were incomplete, he shouldn’t have suddenly fallen asleep—and slept until dawn!
Zhao Heng replied calmly, “Some obsessions are not for you to see, so I had you fall asleep.”
So that was it! Hu Dou set aside his worries and surveyed the hall. Under the morning light, it still retained a chilling, eerie aura, sending an involuntary shiver down his spine.
Back then, the Prince of Qin had suppressed the Great Jin imperial family with solemn majesty, yet the tides of the world had gradually turned against him. He must have borne a heavy burden in his heart, haunted by unshakable regrets. In the end, everything he sought to protect slipped away like the wind, leaving only profound obsessions behind.
“Your Highness, shall we proceed to the imperial mausoleum now?” Having followed Zhao Heng for decades, Hu Dou was adept at reading his moods. Knowing it was unwise to mention the Prince of Qin now, he quickly changed the subject.
Zhao Heng nodded, clasping his hands behind his back as he walked toward the exit.
“Yes, to the imperial mausoleum.”
“And while we’re at it, bid farewell to Qian the Governor. Ask him to inform the Human Emperor that I am hindered by the Dharmakaya barrier and wish to wander the martial world, observing the lives of the people, seeking a breakthrough.”
Hu Dou froze, his mind blank.
Why did His Highness suddenly want to wander the world?
When we left the capital, didn’t he only mention returning to pay respects to his ancestors?
Baffled, he followed Zhao Heng, his thoughts twisting and turning. In the end, he found it reasonable—after all, His Highness had been stuck at the half-step Dharmakaya realm for years, enduring struggles and pains beyond words. When all else fails, change is natural. A new environment, experiencing humanity—it made perfect sense!
In the governor’s hall, Qian Qian looked at Zhao Heng with concern. “Your Highness, Prince of Jin, your status is lofty, and your every move affects the court. Roaming the world recklessly may not be wise.”
Zhao Heng smiled faintly. “I understand your concerns. Why not directly seek the Emperor’s approval and let him decide?”
“That would be best.” Qian Qian smiled, producing a golden All-Knowing Token in Zhao Heng’s presence.
This specially crafted token connected directly to the Chang Le Imperial Palace, reaching the current Emperor’s desk—a privilege reserved for high-ranking officials. Though not a regional governor or inspector, his position guarding the former capital was anything but ordinary.
The golden All-Knowing Token shimmered with faint light, flickering with erratic electric sparks, linking to distant Chang Le.
After a few breaths, an elegant voice sounded. “Governor Qian, do you have urgent matters to report?”
Each specially crafted All-Knowing Token was uniquely paired, so the palace knew the caller without connection.
Qian Qian replied respectfully, “Chief Steward Li, the Prince of Jin wishes to pay respects to his ancestors and also travel the martial world to seek a breakthrough in the Dharmakaya barrier. Please report this to His Majesty.”
After a brief silence, Chief Steward Li responded, “Wait a moment.”
Soon, his voice returned. “Governor Qian, inform the Prince of Jin to pay attention to the people’s welfare and identify the current shortcomings of Great Zhou.”
“Your subordinate obeys!” Qian Qian ended the call and looked up at Zhao Heng with a smile. “His Majesty has agreed.”
Zhao Heng paused, then smiled. “His Majesty never forgets the hardships of the people, truly worthy of being the Human Emperor.”
With that, two streaks of light soared from the governor’s residence, heading straight for the imperial mausoleum.
The imperial mausoleum of the Great Jin Dynasty had not fallen into decay despite the dynasty’s demise, for the Zhao lineage of the Divine Capital still endured, their bloodline preserved. The clan members took turns standing guard over the sacred site. Now, the tombs nestled harmoniously between mountains and rivers, each occupying an auspicious feng shui location. As one walked among them, a solemn and majestic aura enveloped the visitor, as if being silently observed by the awe-inspiring presence of generations of emperors.
Without notifying the guards, Zhao Heng bypassed the security and ascended slowly. At each tomb, he paused, gazed solemnly, and performed three kneelings and nine prostrations with apparent gravity.
Finally, before the tomb of Great Jin’s founding emperor, he whispered, “Unworthy descendant Zhao Heng comes today to confess his sins.”
Another round of kneelings and prostrations followed. Beside him, Hu Dou sighed inwardly, “Great Jin is truly gone…”
The most vibrant phase of his life had been buried with Great Jin.
Zhao Heng rose slowly, surveying the mountainous surroundings, and spoke softly, “Let’s go. Look around.”
…
The Southern Wasteland’s skies were clear, its rolling peaks stretching endlessly, like an ocean of mountains from above.
On one solitary peak, Hu Dou trembled, not daring to raise his eyes, for standing beside his prince was the infamous “Southern Wasteland Demon Emperor”!
No matter how many praised him, the mere mention of the “Demon Emperor’s Claw” made Hu Dou shrink in fear.
Zhao Heng stood at the cliff’s edge, the wind whipping his hair. Suddenly, he sighed. “Who would have thought, when we first met, that we—once obscure—would each rise to such heights?”
Among their former teammates, one was the Jade Void Sect’s leader, a legend across realms, wielding the Overlord’s Saber and stirring the world’s storms; another, the Demon Emperor, ruled the Southern Wasteland, achieving unprecedented feats, feared by mighty beings, bearing the Demon Emperor’s Claw; another, the Sword God, stood among immortals, his name thunderous; another, secluded in Jiangdong, unmatched in music, nearing immortality. Even the least among them—himself—was the Prince of Jin of Great Zhou, a successor to the throne, a grandmaster ranked high on the Earth List.
Qi Zhengyan watched the shifting clouds, expressionless. “Though I believe in self-reliance and lifelong effort, I must admit opportunity matters. Perhaps heaven helps those who help themselves.”
Zhao Heng turned to him with a bitter smile. “Likewise, I never imagined you’d choose this path—not quite an enemy of the world, but one envied by heaven and earth, fraught with perils.”
Qi Zhengyan replied without emotion, “What meaning is there in living ten thousand years as a walking corpse? On this path, even if I die nine times, I’ll have no regrets.”
“Sometimes, I envy you,” Zhao Heng exhaled.
After these words, silence lingered between them. Eventually, Zhao Heng turned and stepped off the cliff, riding the clouds away.
The black-armored Demon Saint behind Qi Zhengyan frowned. “Did he come all this way just to say such trivial things?”
Qi Zhengyan said nothing, his gaze fixed on the sea of clouds.
…
Outside the Ruan family’s ancestral home in Langya City.
Zhao Heng and Hu Dou circled slowly when suddenly, a clear, haunting melody reached their ears, sending shivers down their spines. The surroundings seemed to tremble, as if heaven and earth might split.
The music quickened, like pearls falling on a jade plate. The sky darkened rapidly, nearby plants withering instantly, their vitality drained.
Then the melody shifted again, becoming ethereal and uplifting, like celestial music. The withered trees sprouted anew, flowers bloomed again, brimming with life.
The two pieces embodied life and death respectively, forming a black-and-white illusion in the air, like a singular origin point.
After a long while, the music faded.
Zhao Heng stood stunned for a moment, then smiled and turned to Hu Dou. “Let’s go. No need to enter.”
“Why?” Hu Dou asked, puzzled.
Zhao Heng walked as he spoke. “She has mastered two immortal melodies, intertwining life and death with precise control, affecting only plants. It shows she’ll soon break through the Dharmakaya barrier after some consolidation.”
But what does that have to do with us entering? Hu Dou remained confused.
Ignoring his questions, Zhao Heng murmured, “Life hangs by a thread, death unpredictable…”
No need to visit the Sword Washing Pavilion or Kunlun Mountain again…
Streaks of light pierced the sky as he and Hu Dou returned to Chang Le, entering his mansion.
Then, Zhao Heng sat cross-legged on a cloud bed, waved the meditation chamber’s door shut, half-closed his eyes, sighed softly, and began merging his Dharmakaya’s divine soul with his physical body!
Boom!
The sky darkened abruptly, thick with leaden clouds. A bolt of lightning struck down.
…
After leaving the Divine Capital, Han Guang’s figure grew indistinct, as if warped by time, vanishing into a hidden location.
There stood a short, ancient-looking man in a crimson robe and fish-tail crown.
Before him stood an altar, atop which lay a straw effigy, with a lamp above its head and another at its feet!
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