Chapter 46: With No One to Tend the Clear Breeze and Bright Moon

The Crown Prince of the Great Zhou Dynasty, a middle-aged man nearing forty, glanced at his favorite son and said indifferently, "It is merely a poem."

Zhao Xiang was somewhat surprised. Although some medical prescriptions used rhyming formulas, the tone of his father’s voice suggested he did not mean it in that sense. He wanted to ask further, but his father had already closed his eyes to rest, clearly unwilling to say more. However, his father’s hand gripped the prescription so tightly that the veins stood out, revealing just how much the document troubled him.

***

The Imperial City was also known as the Daming Palace, a name given by the Empress after she changed the era name, signifying that all lands and rivers under the sun and moon were under her rule.

That a woman could become an emperor was, of course, not due solely to political maneuvering; her breadth of mind far exceeded that of emperors throughout history, though such breadth was not the same as tolerance. Toward her enemies, she could be as cruel as winter, while toward those who supported her, she could be as warm as spring.

The Empress was currently in the Shui-liang Palace within the Daming Palace, the perfect spot for viewing the scenery. From here, one could gaze out upon ten miles of lotus flowers, their faint, lingering fragrance drifting through the air. She was sixty years old, yet she looked to be in her thirties—even younger than the Crown Prince, Zhao Xun. Few would believe that she had once given birth to five sons and two daughters.

A gentle breeze stirred, and the moonlight over the lotus pond could be felt and seen from the terrace. As an emperor, she possessed vast mountains and rivers, yet what she could truly see was less than one ten-thousandth. Thus, she required other eyes and ears, spread across the world, to watch this vast domain for her.

Standing with her hands behind her back, she tilted her head slightly, the cold moonlight reflecting in her eyes. Her indifferent voice echoed on the terrace: "Master Ku-hui, I heard a poem today that I found quite interesting. Shall I recite it for you?"

Though she wore only casual robes tonight rather than her imperial dragon gown, the majesty in her words and her tone, which brooked no argument, left no room for anyone to dare refuse. The Empress never kept many guards, yet no assassination attempt against her had ever succeeded. Those nobles or rebels who had sent assassins were almost all captured, their families executed, and their clans wiped out, without a hint of mercy.

Ku-hui stood a yard behind her. His monk’s robes billowed in the wind, and the moonlight illuminated the deep wrinkles on his forehead and his greying beard. He pressed his palms together and said, "Please proceed, Your Majesty. This humble monk is listening."

"Today, Zhao Xun left the city to seek medical treatment. Upon his return, his complexion had improved significantly, and he brought back a prescription to root out his ailment. I took a look at it, and it is truly quite interesting." The Empress chuckled softly, though there was no warmth in her expression; her eyes were like the cold moonlight—all-encompassing, yet devoid of emotion.

Ku-hui did not interrupt, waiting quietly for her to reveal what was written on the prescription.

"Planting melons beneath the Yellow Terrace, the melons ripen and hang in clusters. One picking makes the melons grow well; a second picking leaves them sparse. A third picking is still acceptable, but pick them all, and you are left holding only the vines." Her tone was frigid, merging with the imagery of the poem, cold and ruthless. The Yellow Terrace was a high platform within the palace, where, naturally, no melons were grown.

Finally, she asked, "Do you not find this poem quite interesting?"

"This humble monk dares not speak rashly." Ku-hui’s face was filled with sorrow. This Empress was no ordinary ruler; one had to be extremely cautious with every word and action.

The Empress lowered her gaze again, fixing it on a lotus leaf before her, seemingly watching a single, rounded dewdrop containing the reflection of the moon. Her face could not be called stunningly beautiful; it possessed a masculine fortitude and a captivating, almost magical power.

"It is merely urging me not to be too thorough in my exterminations. Even a tiger does not devour its own cubs. Does the Master also believe that I am the kind of person the rumors describe—someone who would not even spare her own flesh and blood?"

A breeze swept across the ten miles of lotus pond, and the reflection of the moon in the water fractured into layers, dreamlike and illusory.

Ku-hui replied, "If Your Majesty cared about the criticism of others, you would not be who you are."

The Empress was not moved by his clever words. "Tomorrow, I will announce the removal of the Prince of Qi from his position as Chancellor. Zhao Xun should be able to rest easy now. As for the one who wrote the prescription, I wish to see him in three days' time. I must trouble you to make a trip for this matter."

A slip of paper fell silently before Ku-hui. He reached out to catch it. It bore the poem the Empress had just recited. The signature at the bottom caused his heart, which had been as still as stagnant water, to ripple. Like the moonlight on the lotus pond, many memories flashed before his eyes.

*So, you have returned to the world of the living,* he thought.

As he recalled these things, he suddenly sensed the Empress’s meaningful gaze, feeling as if all his thoughts had been laid bare. Ku-hui felt no fear. This Empress was also a practitioner of the Way, and her unfathomability was beyond anyone's imagination.

He bowed his head. "This humble monk will strictly follow Your Majesty's decree."

Each stroke on the paper seemed to shimmer with flowing moonlight. Most striking of all were the two characters: "Shen Lian." It was as if, from this name alone, one could see a delicate, scholarly youth standing in some corner of the world, appearing as though no challenge could ever defeat him.

***

In the "Living Dead" clinic, Ruoxi curled into the corner of the bed, clutching her thin quilt tightly, her face filled with terror and fear. She wanted to cry out loud, but she knew that one must never be disturbed while practicing Qi; her brother had made that point very clear.

She did not know what kind of technique her brother was practicing, though she had begun to grasp the concepts of cultivation in recent days. Half an hour ago, her brother had suddenly erupted with a powerful surge of energy, and he had instructed her not to move.

Unlike the invisible breath of the world, this energy possessed color—eight in total: red, orange, yellow, white, cyan, blue, purple, and black. The dark room was illuminated, as if by the sacred glow radiating from a Bodhisattva’s image in a temple. The eight colors twisted and tangled, waxing and waning, uneven and chaotic.

Shen Lian’s face was twisted in agony, sweat dripping continuously. He was floating in mid-air, as if an invisible force from the earth had surged upward to support him, preventing him from landing. Finally, the eight streams of energy swirled slowly into a vortex and sank back into the ground. Shen Lian dropped to the floor.

Moonlight filtered in, flowing through the room. Ruoxi whispered, "Brother, are you alright?"

Shen Lian steadied himself before standing up. He sat on the edge of the bed and took her hand. "It is nothing. Go back to sleep."

He had ultimately underestimated the *Tai-Xu Divine Strategy*. Over the years, as he had repeatedly experimented, the *Tai-Xu Divine Strategy* had unknowingly planted the seeds of magical power within his body, seeds that could no longer be purged. They had merged with his essence, his energy, and his spirit, growing as he grew.

For now, he could still suppress and seal them away, but as this strange power continued to erode his foundation day by day, he would be powerless to save himself within a decade or two.

By now, Ruoxi’s breathing had evened out, and she held his hand tightly, refusing to let go.