Chapter 13 – A Twist of Fate

Following the scent of blood, the Chongming bird swept through layer upon layer of forest shadows and perched on a branch, tilting its head to peer at a group of black-clad figures, its four eyes reflecting the image of a young man in a dark robe.

Hmm, no, no — this one was a girl.

It spread its wings again and took flight, soaring over small bridges and homesteads, winding alleys and distant mountains, before circling above a secluded villa.

With a clear cry, it plunged downward.

Li Chonghua heard the call and looked up. Suddenly seeing that sharp beak diving straight at him, he was so frightened he crouched on the ground and covered his head — then felt a sudden weight on his shoulder.

“The Yin Dynasty has fallen. Will you come with me?”

“Who?!” Li Chonghua was so startled by the voice in his ear that he dared not move. His eyes rolled sideways, wide with both fear and bewilderment, staring at the bizarre featherless bird. “Is — is it you that’s speaking?”

“The Yin Dynasty has fallen.” The Chongming bird hopped down to the ground and repeated itself. “The Yin Dynasty has fallen.”

“Stop talking nonsense.” Li Chonghua came to his senses and glared angrily. How could that be? Not long ago he had finally been recognized by his grandfather, who had told him to bide his time in obscurity, even providing him with a bodyguard, to wait for the day he would ascend the throne.

Li Chonghua refused to believe it no matter what, and he rushed out the door.

The villa was heavily guarded, and he had barely taken a few steps before he was stopped.

“Your Highness, where are you going?”

“Has something happened outside?!”

“Whatever may have happened, we will protect Your Highness’s safety.”

How desperately Li Chonghua wanted a denial — yet that was exactly the kind of answer he received. He panicked at once. “What exactly has happened?”

The guard was silent for a long moment before speaking: “His Majesty has perished. The Crown Prince has fled. The Imperial City is now without a master, and great chaos is about to erupt.”

Li Chonghua opened his mouth but could not find words. How had it come to this?

“What — what should I do?” He thought of the imperial edict his grandfather had entrusted to him, his heart stirring, and he asked urgently, “Is the Duke of An all right?”

The guard nodded.

Li Chonghua was overjoyed. “Take me to him at once — he is my own blood uncle!”

Meanwhile, Li Mao had first gone white-haired with worry over the news that Yi Shang had vanished, then had his guts nearly shattered by the sudden eruption of the blood-smoke. Increasingly frantic and ruthless, he thought: if it came to it, he would simply stage a coup — even if he could not obtain the entire Yin Dynasty, he would still be a dominant power in his own right!

Then, at that very moment, Li Chonghua returned — and brought with him an imperial edict that could prove his identity.

Li Mao embraced Li Chonghua and wept openly. “The imperial line lives on!”

The very next day, Li Chonghua was rushed onto the throne, and Li Mao appointed himself Regent. He sent word to the feudal lords: “The young Emperor is right here — do you dare to rebel?!”

The feudal lords were not about to listen. Setting aside the question of whether this suddenly-appearing young Emperor was genuine or not, they had been confined to their territories by the old Emperor for so many years that their ambitions had long been chafing to break free. Even if he were real, they had every reason to call him a fraud!

Yet none of the feudal lords wished to bear the stigma of treason. Some seized the opportunity to reframe their military marches as loyal escorts coming to pay court. Others openly accused Li Mao of propping up a false Emperor for his own sinister ends. Still others quietly massed troops in preparation to swallow the smaller lords around them.

War among the feudal lords had been inevitable from the moment the blood-smoke rose.

When Zhan Changfeng heard the news of Li Chonghua’s enthronement, she felt nothing in her heart. In her eyes, the Yin Dynasty had already perished along with the old Emperor. This broken world no longer had much to do with her.

Zhan Changfeng stood at a great height, with shadow guards and imperial guards kneeling behind her.

“The first cup — offered to the heroic spirits who protected the nation. May their loyalty and valor endure forever.” She poured a goblet of wine in the direction of the Imperial City.

“The second cup — wishing the common people of the Yin Dynasty that suffering may not break their spirit.” Another goblet spilled to the ground.

“The third cup — I, Yi Zhan, an unworthy descendant, hereby vow: even if I cannot reclaim these mountains and rivers, I swear the Li traitors shall meet a wretched end, and I will carve out a place of peace and safety for the people of Yin.”

Zhan Changfeng raised the goblet in her hands and drained it in one long draught.

Did she feel reluctant?

Perhaps a little — but not much.

If her heart had truly been fixed only on the throne, or only on the Yin Dynasty, then the rest of her life should have been spent exhausting herself in pursuit of restoration.

But from the very beginning, she had possessed too much, and desired even more.

Deep down, this person was in truth both wild and proud. If one truly asked her why she had been so set on the throne, she would probably say that only the throne was worthy of her.

And even then, it was not so much fixation as it was simply plucking something from her own pocket.

The truth she had glimpsed through the Chamber was what she truly sought — the thing she desired but had not yet attained.

She was far too curious about this world, to the point that she wanted to hold it in her hands and turn it over at her leisure.

When one’s heart yearns for distant horizons, one grows less attached to the ground beneath one’s feet.

Such was Zhan Changfeng’s feeling toward the Yin Dynasty’s realm.

And so all her sorrow was not the indignation of one whose position had been destroyed — it was pure and simple: the lament of one who had lost home and country, of things remaining while people had changed.

Naturally, as a descendant of the Yi Family and the former Crown Prince, she still had responsibilities and obligations she could not shirk.

The “people of Yin” she had just spoken of referred to the members of the original Yin clan — those who also bore the Yi surname as their ancestral kin. When the founding Emperor had led the Yin clan to unify Shenzhou, he had dispatched the Yin people to the Burial Forest to resist invasions by foreign tribes.

One could say the Yin people were a great reason the Yin Dynasty had been able to exist at all.

They were the most loyal subjects of the Yin Dynasty — the sharpest weapon in the imperial family’s arsenal.

Yet precisely because they had been stationed for so many years in that distant border region, the imperial family had nothing to rely on when internal strife erupted, and collapsed without the ability to recover.

But the Burial Forest — Zhan Changfeng thought of the records in the ancient texts she had found in the Chamber, and a twinge of shame rose in her heart. In the end, the world owed the Yin people a great debt.

The Son of Heaven stands as the supreme sovereign of all under heaven — and so it was thirty-one generations of Yi Family emperors who had incurred this debt to the Yin people.

It was her debt as well.

She could relinquish the world, but she could not abandon the Yin people.

“Zero-Three, go and make contact with some people who are skilled in mechanisms and specialize in tomb-raiding.” She hoped the founding Emperor’s personal notes had not been lies.

If the Dragon Scale Divine Scripture could truly resist a national calamity, what harm was there in searching for it?

Suddenly, Zhan Changfeng paused as a thought surfaced in her mind: from ancient times to now, how many people had been concealed in sides of themselves unknown to the world? Were there truly people living within the legends that others told of them?

“Wait.” Zhan Changfeng narrowed her eyes. This world does not concern only me.

“Does Your Highness have further instructions?” Zero-Three asked.

“I want to see for myself what lies beneath the mysterious and the profound,” Zhan Changfeng said. “When you recruit people, make a great show of it. Specify that you want extraordinary individuals — ideally ones who can exorcise demons, walk through walls, and open the heavenly eye.”

Zero-Three fell silent. When she still did not retract the order after a long while, Zero-Three could only keep a stiff face while quietly simmering, as Zero-Four beside her awkwardly offered a dissenting opinion: “Your Highness, that will likely only attract swindling half-immortals.”

“How will we know if we don’t try?” Zhan Changfeng’s gaze swept over everyone present, then she beckoned to the young commander.

The young commander was named Jiang Wei — broad and sturdy in build, and quite solidly built at that. With a cold expression, she carried a certain military bearing; when she smiled, however, she looked like a foolish landlord.

“Jiang Wei.”

“Your servant is here.”

“The Yin Dynasty has fallen. What do you think I should do?”

Jiang Wei was taken aback and thought for a moment before answering: “Your servant has neither father nor mother, and nothing to tie me down. In this life, I failed to protect the nation, failed to protect His Majesty — I only hope Your Highness will take pity on me. I swear to follow with my very life. Where Your Highness goes, there shall your servant go as well.”

“That is only your own wish,” Zhan Changfeng said, looking out at the assembled crowd. “I know that among you, some hope I will make a comeback, and some yearn to win merit and glory. But the age of chaos has reached this point, and there is no longer any room to turn things around — and I have no intention of getting entangled in the wars between the feudal lords. I’m afraid that runs contrary to the desires of some of you.”

“You are the loyal and valiant servants of the Yin Dynasty, and you have shed blood for it. I do not wish to delay you for the sake of my own selfish ends. Today I will say it plainly: if you wish to follow a worthy lord and fight for a name and fortune in this age of chaos, go freely. If you wish to return home and spend your days surrounded by children and grandchildren, go freely. Do not hesitate.”

The expressions of the assembled company varied greatly. One man, with a trace of anger in his voice, challenged her: “Does Your Highness simply intend to abandon these lands? Such evasion is unworthy of a Crown Prince!”

Zhan Changfeng was not angered: “For a ruler to perish with the nation and the altar is a matter of integrity. To endure hardship in hiding and seek to restore what was lost is a matter of backbone. To betray one’s country is to be worthless. As for me — I follow the will of Heaven.”

She let out a quiet sigh. “When I was young, I encountered an immortal, who read my fortune: ‘Yin falls in grief of parting, the true dragon lies in the southeast; unrecognized by the world, the dark tortoise bears the map.’ The first half has already come to pass. Can the second half be far behind? The one who can truly save the world under heaven is in the southeast. I will not make an enemy of that person — and so I can only step aside. If you wish to make your name known under heaven, then go to the southeast.”

The gathered men were all utterly bewildered, exchanging glances with one another. On one hand, they felt it was far-fetched; on the other, the fact that the supremely self-assured Crown Prince could speak such words of concession made them feel that perhaps it truly was so.

Before long, men began departing in twos and threes, offering their farewells and taking their leave.

A missed posting time — publishing a makeup chapter.