Chapter 868 (1): Thirty Years in the Mortal Realm

That night’s battle of demon gods, for the common folk, was a spectacle of sheer visual horror. It had been like the sudden onset of the apocalypse, only to dissipate just as abruptly.

Most people at the time felt no real danger, only a chilling dread brought on by the terrifying visuals. Even when blades were drawn out from their scabbard, only those in Miaojiang were truly pushed to the brink, with some even having their blades to their own throats. Elsewhere, people merely found their weapons refusing to obey for a fleeting moment. According to official records, only a few hundred Miaojiang residents perished that night, their deaths caused by exploding

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insects. Not a single soul outside of Miaojiang suffered even a scratch.

There was no sense of imminent peril, no opportunity to revere a hero for turning the tide. There was nothing that would give birth to legend or myth.

Only those who truly understood the stakes would grasp the weight of what transpired. True domination lies in achieving victory without fanfare. When someone can arrange every detail so meticulously that, even at the precipice of catastrophe, the world remains unaware of its own salvation, such a triumph is far more meaningful than any last-minute miracle that comes drenched in blood and tragedy.

However, common folk cannot comprehend such things. And for the imperial court, there was little they could publicly say. Even their own Empress had served as a key pillar in the Four Idols Formation, yet this feat that was surely worth a celebration was difficult to boast about. After all, openly declaring that the court had opposed the Heavenly Dao would spark a storm. Public faith might sway, with many seeing the Heavenly Dao as righteous and the imperial court as villains.

So, the imperial court remained silent. It was the Tome of Troubled Times that spoke on their behalf. So what if the enemy was the Heavenly Dao? As long as the Tome of Troubled Times declared them an “otherworldly heavenly demon,” then that was how they were to be seen.

There once was an otherworldly heavenly demon, their body buried as the Spirit Tribe’s land across two eras.

In the eighth month, on the night of the Mid-Autumn Festival, with Vermillion Bird and White Tiger as offerings and the blood of all living beings as the lure, the heavenly demon stirred, and the world teetered on calamity.

The Sword Emperor turned all blades upon their masters, seeking to harvest the blood of all beings. But before he could accomplish what he sought to do, Ye Jiuyou struck him down, Piaomiao shielded the land, and the tribulation of weapons turning against their masters was dispelled.

Yue Hongling, Xia Chichi, Huangfu Qing, and Yuan Sanniang cast the Four Idols to seal the heavenly demon’s vengeful soul in the void. Ye Jiuyou, having slain the Sword Emperor, joined the battle against the demonic soul.

Huangfu Qing rose anew, and Zhao Changhe severed Han Wubing’s karma with the White Tiger. The heavenly demon’s body, not yet fully restored, drew upon the flesh and blood witchcraft of the Spirit Tribe in an attempt to restore itself. Piaomiao protected all beings, while Lie sacrificed his body and soul to end the cataclysm of crumbling mountains and sundered earth.

The heavenly demon’s true body dwelt beyond the three realms, seeking to erase the Heavenly Dao’s spirit and transform the three realms into a prison. Zhao Changhe became an arrow of fate, perishing alongside the demon god. Thus was the calamity of universal imprisonment resolved.

The third-ranked demon god, the Sword Emperor, has fallen.

The fifth-ranked demon god, Lie, has fallen.

The seventh-ranked demon god, the ancient White Tiger, has fallen.

The Ranking of Demon Gods is hereby abolished and merged into the Rankings of Heaven, Earth, and Man.

Ranking of Heaven, Rank 1: Ye Jiuyou

Ranking of Heaven, Rank 2: Piaomiao

Ranking of Heaven, Rank 3: Zhao Changhe

Ranking of Heaven, Rank 4: Huangfu Qing

In this campaign, the demon gods emerged in full, heroes rose in unison, turning the calamity of heaven and earth to silence and sparing the world another reset. The blood of heroes, a song eternal.

Though the frosty stars above may remain blind and aloof, I offer my blood in sacrifice to Xuanyuan.

[1]

Only when the Tome of Troubled Times shone across the heavens did the people catch a glimpse, through its sparse, poetic lines, of the weight and stakes behind what had seemed a rather anticlimactic night. It had held countless world-ending calamities, the world’s cycle potentially to reset, demon gods slain, and heroes etched into eternity.

The blood of heroes always flows where none can see—beyond the music and dance of peace.

According to the Rankings of Troubled Times, Zhao Changhe had already perished. Yet his name remained on the rankings, as if his spirit endured forever. No one knew whether he was truly dead.

All they knew was that for thirty years after the night of the battle, not a single trace of him was seen again.

It was no different from death, yet in the hearts of the world’s heroes, he remained eternal.

* * *

Heavenly Han Calendar, Year 31. Qingming[2].

This marked the thirty-first year since the Empress ascended to the throne. It had been thirty full years since that night when the Heavenly River was dyed red.

After that battle, Guanlong had submitted, the Western Regions were pacified, and the entire realm was unified. The divine land had seen thirty years of prosperity—the strongest and most glorious period recorded in this era. The Empress’s renown had reached the absolute pinnacle of mortal rulership.

People said that not even a minor calamity had touched the land in three decades, as though the qi veins of the mountains and rivers had truly come under the control of Her Majesty. It was then no wonder that Her Majesty remained as stunning as ever, with age seeming not to touch her. Only a touch more majesty and elegance distinguished her now from her maiden years.

Of course, the common people had no idea that after breaking through to the Profound Control Realm, one’s appearance ceased to age, and one would come to enjoy eternal youth.

The Empress was not the only one to enjoy this eternal youth. Owing to the unique nature of the Azure Dragon’s path, she could also bestow this gift upon others.

Had she not helped Baoqin maintain her youth, that little maid might have leaped into the river thirty years ago. Even now, seated at the same table each day, she never missed a chance to give her young miss an earful.

After all, she had been robbed of her youth’s most radiant years by none other than the Emperor herself. Thirty years of waiting, how could one speak of it without tears?

And if this youth had not been preserved for her, then perhaps the sole rebel left in the empire today... would have arisen from the Prime Minister’s own residence.

At this very moment, Empress Xia Chichi of the Great Han stood atop the imperial astronomical observatory, gazing skyward through a veil of fine spring rain. The three hundred and sixty-five lanterns stationed around the observatory burned steadily, flickering gently in the wind but never extinguishing.

She placed a hand on her abdomen, a faint glimmer of joy in her voice. “Big Sister Piaomiao, after thirty years of stillness, the child stirred. Does this mean he’s about to awaken?”

There was a moment of silence before a response came with the wind, “Life stirs in response. That should be the case.”

Even the soft drizzle in the air took on a faintly sour note.

“Don’t give me that tone,” Xia Chichi said dryly. “Do you think being pregnant for thirty years is some kind of blessing?”

“You’ve never shown any pregnancy symptoms, so does it even make a difference? Don’t you dare try to put this on me,” Piaomiao replied even more peevishly. This was no ordinary child—it was a strange fetus conceived in tandem with the father’s slumber. Zhao Changhe had entered a deep hibernation to mend the flaws in his overly rapid cultivation, and this child, born of him, had likewise gone dormant in kind. Day to day, there was no sense of pregnancy at all; it had no effect on the mother’s body. Yet once brought into the world, this child might well possess the most powerful human body of the era.

Xia Chichi constantly sighed and stroked her belly, pretending to lament. However, who could not see through her? Every time she touched her abdomen, it was to flaunt it, a blatant reminder to all that Zhao Changhe’s first child rested in her womb. Over the years, Empress Dowager Huangfu Qing and the Great Han’s Prime Minister Tang Wanzhuang would each storm off with a flick of their sleeves the moment she made the gesture. And yet she continued undeterred, enjoying every moment of it.

Yue Hongling, Lady Three, and the others had long since scattered across the world and never set foot in the palace. Only Piaomiao was stuck here, forced to keep watch, and thus forced to endure this display every single day.

One ought to be thankful this was not a palace drama from the storybooks. Otherwise, Xia Chichi would have been secretly fed abortifacients several times over by now.

But if the child stirs, why can’t we find him?”

Piaomiao snapped back, “Ye Jiuyou distorted time and spun her own secret realm to avoid both Ye Wuming and the Heavenly Dao. How are we supposed to locate him?”

“Is it really to hide from the Heavenly Dao and Ye Wuming? Or is she just hoarding him for herself, keeping us away on purpose?” Xia Chichi ground her teeth. “That damn woman was only present in this world for three years before vanishing into sleep, yet she’s been hoarding him for thirty? How does she even have the face?”

Piaomiao did not answer. She had no good retort either.

That battle had taken place beyond the confines of the world itself. None of them knew the full outcome. No one knew how badly the Heavenly Dao had been damaged or what state Ye Wuming had been left in.

With so many eyes watching, with so many women involved, who could say whether the Heavenly Dao or Ye Wuming still had tabs on their movements? If any of them ventured forth to seek Zhao Changhe and were discovered, the consequences could be catastrophic. Only Ye Jiuyou, cold and domineering as ever, could shoulder the pressure of all her sisters and keep the secret with a stone-faced silence.

But to call her entirely selfless would be a stretch. Piaomiao privately felt that Ye Jiuyou’s motives were far more possessive than altruistic...

Who knew what kind of things she did to Zhao Changhe as he reformed his body in that secret realm? The thought alone was enough to make her itch all over, as if there was an angry cat clawing at her heart.

Piaomiao was certain that Ye Jiuyou would not be feeding him fruits. That dramatic arrow he fired, sacrificing himself so gallantly, had masked something far less noble. To save Ye Wuming, Zhao Changhe had offered up his own life without hesitation. That much was clear to anyone willing to examine the truth.

If the rest of them ever found out where he was, they would probably kill him.

Piaomiao wondered whether Zhao Changhe’s decision to remain hidden might be partly motivated by that fear—that if he were found, he would be beaten half to death by the very women whom he loved and who loved him.

Suddenly, a voice from the stairwell rang out through the rain, “Your Majesty, Prime Minister Tang and Bureau Chief Cui request an audience.”

Xia Chichi’s cheek twitched slightly. Every time she heard the title Bureau Chief Cui, a strong sense of dissonance gripped her. And when Cui Yuanyang’s round, unchanged face appeared before her, completely untouched by thirty years of work, that dissonance grew unbearable.

The little bunny was now the head of the Demon Suppression Bureau.

The former Bureau Chief, Tang Wanzhuang, entered alongside her. The two looked for all the world like an elegant big sister leading along a bright-eyed little sister.

1. This is a line from

A Self-Inscription on My Portrait

(自题小像) by Lu Xun (鲁迅). Xuanyuan refers to the Yellow Emperor, who is regarded as the ancestor of the Chinese people. ☜

2. This is also known as Tomb-Sweeping Day and takes place on the fifteenth day after the Spring Equinox. ☜