Dada, the carriage slowly approached.
Gao Lan, dressed in a green robe, had a faint shadow of dark beard on his lips and chin. His youthful handsomeness remained, yet a more mature masculine charm had deepened. He personally served as the coachman, not wearing imperial robes or a crown, resembling an ordinary husband driving his family on an outing.
Spring outing, apricot blossoms fall upon one’s head.
The carriage halted. Gao Lan leapt down, his expression gentle, his eyes soft and tender. Slowly, he opened the door and took out a memorial tablet. It bore black characters on a white background:
“Here lies my beloved wife, Yan Ran.”
“—Erected by her husband, Gao Lan.”
He walked slowly to the lakeside, placed the tablet beside him on a stone, and gazed at the shoals of silver fish shimmering under the sunlight at the lake’s center.
“Come over,” Gao Lan suddenly spoke. His voice was low, yet it clearly reached Meng Qi’s ears.
Indeed, even with the “Dao Yi Seal” at an introductory level, he couldn’t hide from someone wielding the Human Emperor Sword… Meng Qi sighed inwardly, slowly stood up, and took a step to stand beside Gao Lan.
After witnessing the previous display, he was nearly eighty to ninety percent certain that the Gao Lan before him leaned more toward a passionate and emotional personality. A little provocation would revert him into the humorous older brother, and even without provocation, he could still be approached amicably.
Gao Lan stood with his hands behind his back, gazing gently at the rippling water. His green robe fluttered slightly in the lake breeze as he casually remarked, “You rarely come without a purpose. You must want my help with something?”
I am neither alone nor an emperor… Meng Qi grew more certain inwardly. Standing shoulder to shoulder with Gao Lan, he also gazed at the Feiyan Lake ahead, at the glittering water surface: “Brother, you should already know how abnormally my fortune has been.”
“Correct,” Gao Lan replied succinctly and affirmatively without turning his head. A few loose strands of hair danced in the wind.
Meng Qi looked straight at the distant horizon where sky and water met, his tone light and casual like idle chatter: “This is because I’ve become a Dao marker or one of the alternative reincarnations of a great cultivator. Initially, things went smoothly, but the further I go, the more dangerous and precarious the Dao becomes. I find myself unable to control my own fate, even facing situations where I must confront old friends, benefactors, and acquaintances with swords drawn. I refuse to accept this fate, unwilling to become someone else’s puppet. I wish to break free, sever the past, and keep only this life. That’s why I’ve come to borrow the Mirror of This Life from you.”
Given the previous incident where the Six Paths discovered his secret search for the reincarnation of the Yellow Springs, Meng Qi didn’t need to hide much now. Moreover, with the Human Emperor Sword nearby, if any great beings like the Six Paths attempted to spy, the sword would instinctively react, creating a barrier between the inside and outside.
Gao Lan remained noncommittal, slightly lowering his gaze to the clear water not far beneath his feet, then sighed deeply: “Back then, my reputation was widespread. Together with Han Guang, we were feared by many sects and certain noble families of the Great Zhou, especially the major clans of Changle. Relying on sects like foxes using tigers for intimidation, they hated the Gao family and the imperial court even more than the sects did. They wanted to suppress my growth, so they pressured the Yan family, using Yan Ran to provoke me. They hoped that I, already known as the Mad King, would lose my composure, giving them a reason to unite the sects and suppress or even kill me.”
As Gao Lan recalled these painful memories of the past, Meng Qi felt a heavy heart, sighing inwardly at those entanglements of love and hate, listening quietly without interrupting.
“At that time, had I been able to endure, would I have been imprisoned and sealed for years? Originally, I wouldn’t have been much later than Han Guang in attaining the Dharma Body. But I wasted over a decade, only later returning like a dragon to the sea or a tiger to the mountains.” Gao Lan’s tone bore no trace of emotion, nor any doubt about his past decisions. “But I have no regrets.”
“One lives but once, standing tall between heaven and earth, only needing to be free of guilt before one’s heart. When one can no longer endure, there’s no need to restrain oneself. If I can’t even protect the woman I love most, then calling myself emperor or king would make me no more than a dog in others’ eyes. Therefore, I killed gloriously, I spilled blood across the entire city, leaving the Changle clans without descendants. At that time, I had already cast aside life and death. Even if Lu Da and Chong He arrived, I would have raised my sword against them. It had nothing to do with strength or weakness—it was for my heart!”
Gao Lan’s voice carried an irrepressible sorrow, as if some matters or emotions still couldn’t be let go.
He slowly turned his head to look at Meng Qi: “Therefore, I understand your current resentment and your struggle.”
His eyes were pitch-black, exuding natural majesty, making one dare not meet his gaze directly. He stood tall and proud, like an emperor standing alone in the world, not the slightest trace of madness or foolishness in him.
Meng Qi’s body hair stood on end, all his acupoints opened simultaneously, like a cat bristling in alarm.
This was clearly not the “jester” Gao Lan, but the “Emperor” Gao Lan!
His judgment had been gravely mistaken!
A chill ran through him, as if he had plunged into icy coldness. Facing even a Grandmaster wielding the Demon Sage Spear left him in a sorry state—how much more so for a Dharma Body wielding the Human Emperor Sword, and within the territory of the Great Zhou!
Yet recalling how the “Emperor” Gao Lan had just shared his past with him, Meng Qi managed to keep calm outwardly, appearing unaffected.
Gao Lan suddenly sat cross-legged, unceremoniously dropping down, patting the stone beside him, his tone calm: “Sit.”
Seeing this, Meng Qi grew even more puzzled. He sat down slowly while asking, “Brother, your condition…”
A slight smile tugged at Gao Lan’s lips: “My title as the Mad King has existed since my debut, not something that appeared only after Yan Ran’s death. It’s just that fellow martial artists thought I was pretending to be mad.”
He turned his gaze back to the lake, his tone tinged with reminiscence: “Back then, I was a young man in a green robe, always playful and mischievous, always harboring kindness, always unable to resist admiring all beautiful things. But my father emperor was strict. He always taught me that to become a true emperor, one must be ruthless and emotionless, allowing no feelings to interfere with decisions. One must not invest too much emotion in anything other than martial cultivation and the imperial throne. An emperor must be dignified, silent, and exude majesty without anger…”
“I was always stubborn and proud, not wanting to disappoint my father emperor, so I gradually changed myself, molding into a true emperor. I don’t know when it started, but another self emerged—one completely different from the true emperor…”
So his older brother’s split personality had begun in his youth… Meng Qi nodded slightly.
Gao Lan picked up a stone and flicked it across the lake. It skipped ten times before sinking. He withdrew his gaze, his eyes now carrying more emotion: “Afraid of disappointing my father emperor, I never told anyone about this other self. At the time, it wasn’t serious enough to be noticeable. Later, when I traveled the martial world and met Yan Ran, both the emperor and the madman fell for her. Thus, we gradually communicated and integrated.”
“After Yan Ran’s death, the emperor felt he wasn’t cold enough, grieving over a woman and unable to recover. The madman blamed the emperor’s initial restraint for failing to save Yan Ran in time. The two completely split. Later, after years of suppression and many experiences, and after obtaining the Mirror of This Life, examining past actions and inner thoughts, the emperor and the madman set aside their grievances, accepted each other, and became one again.”
Meng Qi exclaimed in astonishment: “Brother, you’re normal now?”
Had he been cured of his split personality through the Mirror of This Life?
Gao Lan nodded slightly, then suddenly said: “Third brother, why don’t you call me father?”
“Eh…?” Meng Qi was stunned, unable to follow Gao Lan’s sudden leap in thought.
Call him father? This joke wasn’t funny at all…
Gao Lan spoke with utmost seriousness: “Severing the past is extremely difficult. The ‘Human Emperor Golden Book’ has a specific page discussing this path. However, practicing the ‘Human Emperor Golden Book’ requires holding a position capable of refining the power of all beings. Therefore…”
His gaze burned into Meng Qi: “Therefore, become my son. Become the Crown Prince of the Great Zhou, and you can practice the related martial arts.”
What an outrageous idea… Meng Qi’s lips twitched a few times. He felt his older brother was indeed still a jester. He forced a dry laugh: “Or maybe the Imperial Younger Brother would work too.”
Surprisingly, Gao Lan actually thought for a moment, then nodded: “That makes sense.”
Meng Qi chuckled dryly: “Actually, Brother, I have other martial arts related to this. I only need to refer to this part.”
“Fine then.” Gao Lan suddenly smiled, as if everything he had said before was just a joke. He flicked his right thumb and middle finger together, sending a faint golden stream of light flying toward Meng Qi.
Meng Qi reached out to receive it, feeling within it a wealth of martial concepts. Yet more shocking to him was that his Yuanxin Seal had failed to determine whether Gao Lan was serious or joking just now.
“The true essence of the ‘Human Emperor Golden Book’ resides within my true soul. Until it reaches perfection, I cannot recreate it, so I can only give you the parts I’ve understood.” Gao Lan then took out the Mirror of This Life and handed it to Meng Qi.
After Meng Qi accepted the Mirror of This Life, Gao Lan examined him up and down, making Meng Qi feel uneasy.
At this moment, Gao Lan solemnly added: “Third brother, remember to return it after use.”
Remember to return it… return it… Meng Qi was speechless once again.
After speaking, Gao Lan patted the stone beside him and stood up leisurely.
He hugged Yan Ran’s memorial tablet to his chest, step by step leaving the lakeside, heading toward the carriage, his green robe fluttering lightly in the breeze.
After placing the tablet and sitting back in the coachman’s seat, he finally spoke again, his voice calm:
“Third brother, I won’t hesitate to help when you’re in trouble. But if you stand in my way, I won’t hesitate to strike you down. Take care.”
The carriage turned direction, clattering away into the distance. The green robe was thin, the back straight, majestic yet free-spirited.
Watching this figure recede into the distance, hearing the lingering words echo, Meng Qi suddenly gained an insight. The person before him was both the domineering, ruthless, and merciless Gao Lan, and the passionate, emotional, and tearful Gao Lan.
Gao Lan was now flawless.
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