Chapter 5 – Five Thousand Years

“A year has passed, yet the Imperial Aunt has returned after all.” Zhan Changfeng stepped out of the Hall of Statecraft. Snow pellets scraped against her face, stinging a little.

The head steward, assuming she missed her Imperial Aunt, said cheerfully, “Indeed! She’ll arrive in just two months, right in time for the New Year’s festivities.”

Zhan Changfeng let out a soft laugh. Had Mei Yichi been present, he would have noticed the desolation in that laugh bore a striking resemblance to Yi Shang’s—except that the latter’s desolation stemmed from a nation and family destined for turmoil, while the former was mocking an entire age.

“I may not be able to bear the truth hidden in that Chamber.” Zhan Changfeng felt that her emotions had been off lately. Her nine-year-old body seemed to carry the heart of someone ninety years old.

She had always been precocious—a precocity that manifested in her almost unnaturally gifted capacity for learning and understanding.

The old Emperor delighted in this, and pressed by circumstances, he continually piled more onto her shoulders, attempting to mold her into a qualified ruler within the shortest possible time.

An ordinary Crown Prince need only obey the Emperor’s words, learn to handle political affairs, and scheme against brothers and vassals along the way.

But the old Emperor treated her entirely as a sovereign. The way of thinking he taught her was always one that elevated itself above all living beings.

Such a mode of thought required formidable reason and capability—to detach oneself from the masses, and then to manipulate them, forging a dynasty worthy of its name.

A Son of Heaven who possessed this way of thinking was, without doubt, the most powerful of all.

Yet apart from those born as natural rulers, anyone who became Emperor inevitably had to endure ten thousand varieties of suffering that ordinary people could never comprehend, along with the cruel whims of fate.

In his youth, the old Emperor had harbored grand ambitions to conquer the realm and laugh at the wind and clouds. Unlike Zhan Changfeng, back then he not only had to clean up the mess left by his foolish predecessor, but also had to contend with the covetous gazes of countless imperial relatives spread across the land.

This one or that one—tracing back a dozen generations—claimed descent from an Emperor of the Yi family.

This one or that one—their ancestor was a relative of a Yi family Emperor.

They would bestow upon themselves the title of Imperial Uncle or Imperial Brother, then dare to raise a great banner in the name of purging the Emperor’s side.

Caught in a web of “have no choice but to,” “must,” and “absolutely,” the old Emperor struggled and wrestled with himself, until at last he cast aside joy, anger, sorrow, fear, love, hatred, and desire—all the emotions that encumbered his judgment—and buried the cravings of life, death, ear, eye, mouth, and nose that clouded the mind. He climbed atop a mountain of bones and secured the imperial throne.

To be Emperor was to be entirely rational—only then could one wear two faces without the slightest burden.

On one side, laughing and chatting with ministers; on the other, stripping generals of their military power over a cup of wine.

On one side, whispering words of love to his Concubines; on the other, issuing orders to exterminate their families.

On one side, distributing aid to disaster-stricken regions; on the other, threatening vassal states to offer tribute.

On one side, proclaiming all under heaven as the sovereign’s domain; on the other, leaving a hundred thousand corpses across the land.

In those ten years, the old Emperor became one of the greatest enlightened rulers in the History of the Yin Dynasty, and the Yi family’s realm slowly regained its former prosperity under his governance.

And then… the old Emperor grew arrogant.

The old Emperor came to believe there was nothing under heaven that he could not accomplish! Not only did he intend to restore the Yin Dynasty’s rule—he wanted to surpass the founding Emperor and become a ruler for the ages.

And so, he stepped into the Chamber.

The Chamber had been passed down through generations of Yin Dynasty sovereigns by word of mouth, listed as a forbidden place.

Simply put: do not go in and stir up trouble, unless you believe yourself to possess extraordinary willpower and courage.

The old Emperor was startled—is this not a description of me?

He entered resolutely, without the slightest hesitation.

The first book the old Emperor picked up was “The Chronicle of Kings.”

He gave it no particular thought—who could be more familiar with the Yin Dynasty’s imperial genealogy than he?

Yet the first figure he turned to, he did not recognize.

The second figure—he still did not recognize.

The third…

He read the introduction carefully, and found that the figures within traced back five thousand years!

The old Emperor became completely absorbed, losing all sense of time, immersed in that forgotten age.

This was a History entirely unlike anything circulating in the outside World.

He read of a man known as the King of Min who put forward the awakening of the people’s intellect.

He read of a man called the Phoenix King who established a great commonwealth.

He read of strange and unfamiliar words such as “interstellar” and “dimensional realm.”

He witnessed a human journey from ignorance to enlightenment.

Then, at the very moment this journey reached toward the stars, it was struck by a catastrophic blow. Five thousand years of scientific civilization collapsed in an instant, and the fewer than several tens of thousands of survivors were cast once again into an age of savagery.

The rulers of that time, in order to grow the population, fervently promoted reproduction, and from then on, women lived confined to the bed.

To consolidate power, they corrupted thought, reduced individuals to objects, and re-established feudal order.

After thousands of years of change and succession, History had long since become unrecognizable.

The Yi Family became the sole clan that retained knowledge of the full History.

Given the difference in social systems, the old Emperor, beyond feeling shaken by this History, experienced no great inner turmoil.

Because the realm of today belonged to him.

Because it was he who now controlled the course of History.

And so he set the book down.

But he made one mistake—he should have walked out of the Chamber and never returned.

In truth, he picked up another book.

This book was engraved on stone tablets, written in a script long since lost to the World.

So ancient that its Era could not be determined.

Fate chose that moment to play a jest.

Had the old Emperor been unable to read this script, all might have been well. But as fate would have it, in his youth he had studied under a reclusive master, and by chance, he had learned precisely this script.

And so was wrought the chaotic and hopeless second half of his life.

It was a book of prophecy.

Eight thousand years, from beginning to end.

Within it, the various events recorded in the first book were foretold—even the prophecy that the civilization would be shattered by a Light from beyond the heavens, annihilating all living things and Buildings on the surface, with only a few places spared.

The old Emperor also saw, written clearly, that the Yin Dynasty would end in its eight hundredth year, under a final Emperor whose reign title was Inheriting Brilliance.

Inheriting Brilliance was his own reign title.

Impossible!

The old Emperor refused to believe the Yin Dynasty would fall under his rule! Yet sometimes, the rise and fall of a nation has nothing to do with its sovereign.

He labored diligently, devoting himself wholly to the realm, yet he could not stop corrupt officials, could not halt the ceaseless succession of natural disasters and man-made calamities! No matter how desperately he struggled to turn the tide, the land of Shenzhou still plunged into chaos.

The old Emperor felt as though he could see fate drawing closer, step by step.

If it was already destined, what could he do?

The old Emperor was utterly exhausted, and he lowered his noble head. From then on he drank Wine and painted, entrusting his Heart to the Mountains and Rivers, treating it all as one final indulgence.

Until the night Zhan Changfeng was born—he dreamed of the sun and moon suspended in the sky, of Waters rising with the tide, of magnificent Beams of Light scorching heaven and earth, and of the Sound of the Dao echoing all around.

What was this? It was hope for the Yi family’s realm.

The old Emperor was never one to submit to fate. And so, with all he had, he placed into Zhan Changfeng’s Hands the blade that could slash apart a predetermined Future.

Zhan Changfeng was growing with extraordinary speed—in a few years she might well be able to take over his burden. But then Zhan Changfeng opened the Chamber.

Her gaze had always looked down upon the World from above, so when she contemplated this History of manipulation and control, she felt little emotional turbulence beyond what could be studied and learned from—she was even calmer than the old Emperor had been.

But she made the same mistake as the old Emperor. She picked up yet another book.

This book was called “Floating Life Notes.”

Its author called himself the Hermit of High Mountains, and it recorded various things he had witnessed and heard.

These accounts, to the eyes of Mortals, were truly bizarre and world-shaking.

Among them, one passage read: Passing through Shenzhou, I came upon the Sword Sovereign Zhitian and the Dharma Sovereign Xiyang in contest. The sheer ferocity of the residual force obliterated all living beings across an entire realm in an instant. The two Sovereigns lamented this, and with a wave of their Hands, brought forth anew the Mountains, rivers, and waterways, that the surviving living beings might have respite.

There is a kind of torment in this World called knowing too much.

There is a kind of suffering called knowing too much, yet lacking the power to change anything.

Zhan Changfeng could accept the annihilated History, and she could understand the centuries of rulers across countless dynasties who concealed and manipulated their people.

But she could not find peace with the fact that the human race’s long, accumulated journey of evolution could be reduced to nothing in an instant by some Sword Sovereign or Dharma Sovereign.

“Tell me—what exactly lies above the heavens?”

Zhan Changfeng received no answer, and felt a stifling frustration. “Yi Changsheng, why won’t you wake up yet?”

She had wanted to give her a firm pinch, but in the end couldn’t bear to, and changed it to an embrace instead.

Forehead resting against forehead, she settled into calm. The tangled chaos of her Thoughts slowly settled, set aside for the time being, and her Spirit, rarely so, finally relaxed.