Chapter Forty-One: A New Journey

"What use does this have?" Lady Jia asked with a puzzled expression.

"This coin is fashioned after a legend about the bond between mother and child. Once blood is dripped upon it and it is worn close, it allows mother and child to transmit simple messages to one another. As long as the coin changes hands, there remains a sense of connection," Shangguan Chuanyun explained.

"The fortune of mother and child is entwined, an unbreakable thread. The heavier the longing in one’s heart, the deeper the resonance."

Hearing this, Lady Jia gathered her three sons into her arms and said, "What weighs on my heart most is you three brothers. As long as you are safe and well, that’s all I ask."

Shangguan Qingyun struggled in her embrace but managed to say, "Don’t worry, Mother. We will be fine."

After releasing them, Lady Jia was reminded by Shangguan Chuanyun, "The coin only works after you drip a drop of blood upon it."

Without hesitation, Lady Jia bit her finger and let a drop of blood fall onto the coin. The bronze instantly absorbed the blood. A moment of clarity dawned within her heart. She quickly wrapped the coin in cloth and put it away.

Shangguan Xingyun, head lowered, made no pause as he forced a drop of blood from his middle finger and let it fall onto the coin. Watching the blood vanish, he clutched the coin tightly but did not raise his head.

Shangguan Qingyun’s eyes shone as he gleefully dripped his blood onto his coin, flipping it back and forth in delight as the blood was absorbed.

Seeing that all was in order, Shangguan Chuanyun patted Shangguan Xingyun on the shoulder. "Brother, come here, I have something to tell you."

Shangguan Xingyun nodded and followed Shangguan Chuanyun aside, finally lifting his eyes to look at him.

Shangguan Chuanyun noticed that though his brother’s eyes were slightly red, much of the sorrow usually etched between his brows had faded. He nodded and said, "Brother, with me gone, the family will rely on you."

With unwavering determination, Shangguan Xingyun replied, "Don’t worry. As long as I am here, no one will dare harm our family."

Shangguan Chuanyun knew his brother would shoulder this responsibility, even without being asked. In the past, when he himself was unaware, his brother would rather take the beatings and blows, even from sticks and stones, to protect him from harm.

When trouble befell their mother, it was always his brother who maneuvered openly and covertly to shield her, never once yielding despite the losses he suffered.

Now that his brother's strength had increased, if not for his recent absence at the provincial examinations, it would not have fallen to Shangguan Chuanyun to deal with Shangguan Hongyun. Had his brother stepped forward, it would have been miraculous if Shangguan Hongyun escaped unscathed.

Shangguan Chuanyun continued, "I trust you, brother." After a pause, he added, "Lately, the capital has been restless. All manner of demons and spirits have begun to reveal themselves. Just days ago, the so-called Cihang Pudu, who entered the palace to refine elixirs for the emperor, turned out to be a centipede spirit."

Shangguan Xingyun’s expression grew grave, but he betrayed little fear. "When a nation nears its end, monsters and fiends emerge. Preparations must be made."

"I know you have many means at your disposal, but just in case, I’ve prepared these." With that, he drew a small cloth pouch from his robe and handed it to Shangguan Xingyun. "These are Sky-Shattering Thunder Bombs, crafted through alchemy. Last night, I used seven to blast the centipede spirit, forcing it to flee with injuries. I kept five for myself; the remaining twenty-four, representing the solar terms, are for you. They are most effective against evil forces. With your steady hand, they’ll add another weapon to your arsenal."

Shangguan Xingyun accepted the pouch with solemn care and tucked it into his robe. He had heard of these Thunder Bombs—their destructive power was such that even an immortal might fall victim if caught unawares.

Forged by Daoist masters using spells and potent ingredients, the magic infused within them was formidable. From the aura emanating from the pouch, these bombs were far more powerful than any he had seen before, carrying a righteous, bracing energy tinged with the scent of thunder.

Surprised, Shangguan Xingyun nodded and said,

"You may rest assured—so long as I am here, nothing will threaten our family. I know you, Chuanyun, are not bound by worldly ties. Go wherever your heart leads; this will always be your steadfast home."

Shangguan Chuanyun nodded, when his mother’s voice rang out.

"Are you brothers finished talking? Hurry up, it’s getting late."

She then turned to a servant. "Go with my son and see to his needs. Bring these things along; they may prove useful." She pointed at the carriage as she spoke.

The guards exchanged glances, dumbfounded. Was this a march to war or a pleasure excursion? Yet, just as they were about to protest, an overwhelming sword intent pressed upon them like a tidal wave, suffocating any thought of objection. They wisely lowered their heads in silence.

Shangguan Chuanyun had expected the Shenfeng Guards to object, so he had cowed them with a show of sword intent.

He had thought this journey nothing but trouble, but seeing his mother’s concern, he resolved to take with him whatever she gave—not for the items themselves, but for her care.

The heart is the master of all spirits; whether sword or Dao, all begins with the heart. Shangguan Chuanyun cultivated his heart at all times, and naturally understood his mother’s.

He ordered the carriage made ready, bid farewell to his family with a wave, and climbed inside, not daring to look back.

With a twist of his sword intent, he buried this surge of emotion deep within. Sitting cross-legged in the carriage, which was nearly the size of a small room, he closed his eyes to rest.

"Hyah!"

With a flick of the reins, the coachman urged the Western steed forward. The guards mounted their warhorses and followed.

...

Within the imperial palace’s Hall of Governance, the emperor, who rarely attended morning court, now sat upon his throne. Ministers stood arrayed left and right, their voices blending into a cacophony as they debated some matter.

The emperor appeared aged, his air of authority undiminished, but weariness was etched upon his face, and he yawned repeatedly.

Sensing the restlessness below, he gently coughed twice. Instantly, the hall fell silent as all eyes turned to him.

"What was the cause of last night’s explosion? Let each of you speak your mind."

The Grand Astrologer stepped forth. "This portends a breakdown of law and order among the people—disaster abounds, demons and monsters rampage unchecked, and the common folk know no peace. It is heaven’s warning. Your Majesty must steel yourself and restore virtue to the court."

The Minister of Rites grew anxious—wasn’t an imbalance of law his responsibility? He hastened to protest, "Nonsense! These are nothing but wild tales meant to sow confusion. Our dynasty is governed by civil and military virtue; peace and prosperity reign. Minister, do not use superstition to alarm the court."

"Indeed, Your Majesty," added the Assistant Minister of Revenue, "the capital is filled with music and joy; as a single leaf foretells autumn, so does the state flourish from end to end. The Grand Astrologer speaks only empty words. We beseech Your Majesty to see clearly."

He thought to himself, Misery among the people and heaven’s warning? Is that not a charge against my department, that disaster relief has been lacking? I will not shoulder this blame.

The Minister of Revenue glanced surreptitiously at the Grand Astrologer, while the Minister of War cast a hostile look and said,

"Your Majesty, our Great Liang Dynasty commands two million troops, stationed at strategic points. Should rebellion arise, our forces would crush it instantly; where are these demons and monsters? Recently, there’s been unrest in the south—a mere three thousand rebels holding one county, remnants of the previous regime abetted by demons. Thus, the Marquis of Wu’an was dispatched; otherwise, there would be no talk of rebellion. The Grand Astrologer’s words are alarmist."

The Minister of War thought, Demons running amok? That’s an accusation against me for dereliction—no, I won’t wear that hat.

At this, a chorus rang out, "May Your Majesty see clearly."

The emperor’s face darkened. Only a handful of officials remained silent, while the rest bowed in unison and intoned their plea.

He glanced at those standing—they seemed to have nothing to add. His gaze shifted to the Crown Prince, Regent of the Realm, hoping for support, but the prince stood motionless.

He looked about. Something was missing—the sound of dissent.

Usually, at such moments, the Marquis of Wu’an, Shangguan Jin, would raise objections. A little back-and-forth, a few concessions, and the matter would be settled.

But he quickly dismissed the thought. The Marquis must not return; during his own absence from court, the Marquis had usurped all authority, rendering his own words meaningless. He had finally found a pretext to send the Marquis away and had no intention of letting him return.

Only one voice in court—this was not good. If he himself spoke out now, he would be branded an autocrat, standing alone against all his ministers.

If this continued, he thought, there would be little point in being emperor.

He resolved to find someone willing to play the contrarian.

After some thought, his mind turned to Cihang Pudu. The man’s abilities were beyond question.

After taking the elixir refined for him by Cihang Pudu, not only did he feel invigorated, but he was as vigorous as a dragon or tiger, able to pleasure seven or eight concubines in a single night.

According to Cihang Pudu, if he was named National Preceptor, he could refine an elixir of immortality. Then, in court, he could say whatever he wished, and no one would dare oppose him. With this in mind, he declared,

"This matter, I believe, stems from a lack of a sage to preside over the dragon’s fortune. I wish to appoint a National Preceptor to balance the realm’s fate."

Prince Xin exchanged a glance with Minister of Revenue Zhang Wenyuan, who was the father of the Marquis’s second wife. Minister Zhang nodded subtly and stepped forward.

"Your Majesty, Cihang Pudu is both versed in profound Buddhist law and skilled in alchemy; he is well suited to be National Preceptor."

The emperor nodded. "So be it."

The Crown Prince’s eyes narrowed in alarm; he sensed danger and lowered his head in thought.

The other ministers appeared unconcerned—as long as their own interests remained untouched, what did it matter? If the emperor wished to pursue immortality and ignore the court, so much the better. Once again, they bowed in unison.

"Your Majesty is wise."

The emperor rubbed his brow, recalling the elixir of immortality Cihang Pudu had promised. He waved his hand, "Court is dismissed."

"Long live the emperor!"

At the very instant Cihang Pudu was named National Preceptor in the court above, deep below the palace, a mangled centipede hiding in the drainage tunnels suddenly revived, as if infused with potent medicine. It crawled along the tunnel and emerged from a grate.

Enshrouded in mist, it transformed into a tall monk—none other than the centipede spirit Cihang Pudu, gravely wounded by Shangguan Chuanyun’s sword and the seven Thunder Bombs.

His form was less robust, his face pale. Sensing his own condition, he thought,

"Fortune favors me—I survived. This surge of fate could not have come more timely; otherwise, it would have taken a century to recover."

Orienting himself, he turned into a streak of black light and sped toward the place where he refined his elixirs.