Chapter 137: As Natural as the Sky Above Us
Chapter 137: As Natural as the Sky Above Us
Zhao Zhen remained half-doubting the words from this so-called Demon Dao. Later, he asked about the origin of that gentleman and his appearance.
Xuan Tian told everything he knew. Having nothing more to say, he desperately begged the Prince of Xiang to spare his life.
Xuan Tian thought he might escape death, but after hearing everything, Zhao Zhen merely nodded slightly and said, “Take him away.”
“Your Majesty! Your Majesty…”
Xuan Tian was bewildered, not understanding why.
Zhao Zhen gave no answer. He just waved his hand, not even bothering to look at Xuan Tian.
Guards stepped forward and dragged Xuan Tian outside.
“Why?! Your Majesty! Why kill this poor Daoist? I told no lies, Your Majesty…”
Xuan Tian’s hoarse cries faded into the distance, until not a sound remained within the grand hall.
Despite revealing all he knew, Xuan Tian’s destined death could not be changed.
Zhao Zhen had resolved to kill the moment he recalled this so-called Astrology Overseer of the Directorate of Celestial Observation. No matter how much Xuan Tian pleaded, he would never revoke his decree.
Those who deserved death would die.
This former Astrology Overseer of over ten years was finally hanged at Shangjing City’s Eastern Market. His tongue was cut out too, likely because his shrieks proved too disruptive.
Following the royal decree, Xuan Tian’s body remained hanging at the Eastern Market for three days. A notice listing his crimes was posted nearby: Practicing Poisonous Pills, Deceiving the Emperor, Treacherous Daoist Disrupting the Kingdom.
“The Demon Dao deserved death!”
“Well killed!”
Yet, only the people of Northern Xiang witnessed this. With Da Xiang newly established, unrest still plagued many regions. Despite destroying Great Jing, Zhao Zhen favored granting amnesty. Those who submitted could live within Da Xiang as Jing people. The common folk leftover from Great Jing would be dealt with after handling the present chaos.
Zhao Zhen later pondered Xuan Tian’s words thoroughly. He even sent people to Autumn Moon Market specifically to inquire about a certain Mister Chen.
But ultimately, nothing was discovered. The Taoist Temple Xuan Tian mentioned stood empty long ago, only a lone Peach Tree remaining inside its walls.
That night, Zhao Zhen’s gaze fell upon the bamboo scrolls beside him.
His curiosity about the Immortal of Longevity persisted.
First the scrolls, now a Mister Chen. This subtly shook Zhao Zhen’s long-held convictions.
“Could Immortals who live forever exist in this world?” Zhao Zhen murmured.
But after much contemplation, he finally shook his head, pushing such thoughts away.
He remembered Yan Xun’s warning from history. As a sovereign, he must not chase after such illusory things. Throughout the rolling tides of time, weren’t countless rulers dead because of their pursuit of ‘long life’?
Understanding this truth is why Zhao Zhen didn’t obsess over the Immortal of Longevity.
In this regard, he surpassed Yan Xun a thousand, ten thousand times.
…
Currently held within Shangjing’s Great Prison were war criminals and officials left from Great Jing. Their kingdom shattered, homes lost, they were merely called “Great Jing remnants” now.
Imprisoned here were pre-war generals, former Great Jing officials, and even scholars from the Hanlin Academy—over three hundred in total.
Their impending fate was clear.
Though Zhao Zhen could pardon commoners, he would spare none of these high-ranking, central figures among officials and warriors.
In the prison’s damp, gloomy depths.
Tong Zhihuan, clad in prison garb, sat hunched in a corner. His hair was disheveled. He clutched a Wooden Talisman tightly, utterly silent.
“Is that talisman very important to you?”
Tong Zhihuan turned towards the voice beside him.
Beside him lay a man looking deathly pale, bare-chested. A deep saber wound on his chest was still wrapped in bandages, unhealed. He’d almost died—had the enemy’s Long Saber struck slightly differently, he wouldn’t be in prison now.
“Yes,” Tong Zhihuan answered softly.
The man glanced at him. “A gift from your sweetheart?”
Tong Zhihuan sighed wearily. “Junior Minister Chang, why ask about such things at a time like this?”
Chang Shan replied calmly, “All of us here will surely die. Thinking on it, wouldn’t it be better to just… live freely?”
Though they hadn’t perished on the battlefield, imprisonment destined them all the same.
Dynasty changes always demanded many lives.
Tong Zhihuan asked, “Junior Minister Chang, don’t you have someone you long for?”
Chang Shan thought for a moment. “I do.”
Confused, Tong Zhihuan pressed, “Then why are you so at peace with it?”
Chang Shan answered, “What else can I do?” He turned towards Tong Zhihuan.
“The following day would be the execution. Tonight… would surely be sleepless.”
Having faced death repeatedly on the battlefield, he now viewed things with detachment.
“No more of this,” Chang Shan waved dismissively, shifting focus. “Tell me about that talisman.”
Tong Zhihuan looked down. “I promised a girl I would come back to see her often. When I left… she gave me this talisman. Yet… years passed, and I never returned.”
“That sounds exactly like a sweetheart,” Chang Shan observed.
“Not quite…” Tong Zhihuan hesitated. He struggled to define his relationship with Miss Tao’er from start to finish.
“What do you mean ‘not quite’?” Chang Shan tried to sit up, but a sudden sharp pain tore through his chest.
“Hsss…”
Tong Zhihuan quickly helped him lie back down. “You’d best not move recklessly. If your wound breaks open seriously… you might die in this prison tonight.”
Chang Shan simply waved it off, unconcerned. He pressed, “Don’t tell me you haven’t even figured out whether you… care for her?”
Tong Zhihuan stiffened, then fell silent.
Seeing this silence, Chang Shan understood. He gently patted Tong Zhihuan’s shoulder and said no more. He himself didn’t truly grasp the world’s affairs of the heart, so he chose not to delve deeper.
Unexpectedly, moments later, Tong Zhihuan beside him spoke abruptly: “I…”
“Hmm?” Chang Shan looked at him, sensing he struggled for words.
Tong Zhihuan said quietly, “I suppose… I do.”
“You suppose?” Chang Shan questioned.
Tong Zhihuan paused, then clarified, “I do care for her.”
Chang Shan remarked, “Physician Tong, sometimes you seem… a bit slow.”
Tong Zhihuan stared at the talisman. He gave a self-mocking smile. “I’m actually quite clear-headed normally. But when talking about her… I become foolish. I didn’t understand why before… only later did I start to grasp it.”
He lowered his head and murmured: “Loving a girl… is as natural as the sky above us.”
Chang Shan was taken aback. “As natural as the sky above us? Why say that?”
Tong Zhihuan shook his head, offering no explanation.
He tightened his grip on the talisman, clutching it deep within his hand, afraid to ever let go.
This thought—this longing—was what had kept him alive until now.