The morning breeze, calm and silent, passed through the stone columns of the temple, scattering the fragrance of sandalwood into the air. The flickering flames of lanterns, hanging in the corners of the hall, cast dancing shadows upon the walls.
In this sacred silence, the faint sound of wax dripping from the half-burnt candles could be heard, as if time itself had suspended in this corner of the world.
In the heart of this heavy tranquility, Su Guang, the ruler of Beichi, was kneeling in the vast hall of the temple. His long silk robe, embroidered with golden dragons, spread out upon the stone floor. His posture remained firm, but the faint creases on his forehead and his deep gaze spoke of thoughts so burdensome that not even the fragrant, pure air could alleviate them. The dim morning light, filtering through the wooden doorways of the temple, fell upon the delicate lines of his face, casting a cold, elongated shadow that emphasized his inner sorrow.
His gaze was fixed upon the immense statue of the Goddess of Truth; a face that bore a serene smile, as if gazing from a world free of suffering and conspiracy. Before this magnificent silence, Su Guang let out a long sigh, a sigh that resonated like a silent lament throughout the hall.
He gently pressed his hands together, lowered his head, and murmured a brief prayer, but his heart remained in turmoil. The bittersweet scent of incense burning in the corners of the temple awakened distant memories in his mind—the memory of his son, Prince Su Yao.
Their bond was nothing but a chain of suspicions, endless tests, and silences that had never been broken by kindness. Every time Su Yao's gaze fell upon him, it was as though he was breaking under the weight of unspoken judgments.
In a world tainted by the coldness of politics and power, was there still a place for the compassion of a father and son?
His thoughts, like a raging wave, twisted and turned in his mind, but Su Guang could not afford to show uncertainty before the Goddess of Truth. He closed his eyes, calmed his breath, and tried to rid his mind of the dust of worries. His fingers, which had been tightly clenched moments before, relaxed slightly. A heavy silence enveloped the temple.
Suddenly, the sound of soft, measured footsteps broke the stillness of the hall. Steps that, though taken slowly, echoed in the ruler's ears like a distant and near bell. Someone was approaching. Su Guang opened his eyes, but did not divert his gaze from the statue of the Goddess of Truth.
"My lord…"
Without turning his head, the king asked coolly, "Has the discipline ceremony for the prince been completed?"
The newcomer, standing a few steps away, took a difficult breath. He paused for a moment before replying,
"My lord, to be honest… it has finally happened."
Su Guang's eyes slid away from the statue of the Goddess of Truth and focused on an unknown point in the darkness of the temple. His tone remained calm, but beneath it lay a thin line of threat and anticipation.
"What event?"
The young man, with a hesitant step but a face trying to remain calm, replied, "Master Su… truthfully, he acted exactly as you predicted."
Su Guang furrowed his brow, the flickering light from the half-burned candles casting shadows that accentuated the lines of his face and left a bitter shadow on his forehead. He said, "he stopped the disciplinary ceremony. Right?"
The young man lowered his head in confirmation. "Yes, Your Excellency."
For a moment, no one spoke. It seemed even the temple walls were awaiting a response from the king. Su Guang stood motionless, his eyes gleaming in the candlelight, but within that gleam, a storm of thoughts churned. His silence stretched on, as if he were trapped between two paths of decision.
Finally, as if emerging from the depths of those thoughts, he rose from his seat. His robe swayed in the gentle breeze that passed through the cracks in the walls. His shadow stretched long on the floor, as though he too had become a statue in this temple.
With measured steps, he passed by the statue of the Goddess of Truth. But just before exiting the hall, he paused. His gaze, which had been lost in the darkness of his thoughts, now fixed on the stone face of the Goddess. A faint smile was etched on the statue's lips; a smile that had never changed. It seemed to have preserved the same ancient silence in the face of all the world's suffering.
Su Guang took a deep breath. In the depths of his gaze, something between doubt and anger was hidden, but the Goddess of Truth offered no response. She was always silent. Always indifferent. With a frown that deepened the lines of his forehead, he left the temple. The sky was strangely clear and bright, as if fate's hand had wiped it clean of any blemishes. Yet, Su Guang's mind, in contrast to the sky above, was in turmoil.
The young man walking beside him, his voice soft but curious, asked, "Master, what do you Intend to do?"
His name was Jie Fei. A man in his thirties, taller than his master, with a physique that showed off his muscles even under his silken robes. His face was lean and elongated, but his eyes, with their sharp intelligence, marked him as a man who knew the world well.
Without glancing at him, Su Guang answered, "There's no need for me to show any particular reaction. Everything will resolve as we expected."
The words, though seemingly simple, concealed a secret within their depths. Jie Fei had served the ruler for years, yet he had never been able to read his mind accurately. Su Guang was not a man who easily revealed his thoughts. His position as the ruler of Beichi forced him to speak in veiled terms, always cautious with his words.
He descended the stone steps of the temple, which had cracked over time, each crack a testament to the years it had weathered. The temple walls, their colors faded by time, bore witness to the countless springs this structure had withstood. The massive columns cast long shadows upon the stone floor of the courtyard, and the grand roof of the temple stood firm and majestic, overseeing the history below.
Outside the temple, a carriage adorned with golden decorations awaited. Beside it, soldiers stood silently; nameless shadows in the service of their lord. Twelve men in black, four noble ladies of the court, and two eunuchs—all awaited his command. Without hesitation, Su Guang spoke:
"Release the monks."
One of the attendants bent at the waist and immediately went off to carry out the order. The ruler of Beichi was not a man who often sought solace in temples. But if there was a place for contemplation, the Temple of the Goddess of Truth was his first choice. At times, he would stand there before the silent face of the stone goddess and think of something beyond himself. For this, he found it necessary to distance those who might disturb him.
The Goddess of Truth was a symbol of power and fertility for the people of Beichi. It was said that she made no distinction between anyone—be they king or commoner, master or slave—all were the same before her. The only condition was pure intent and a sincere heart. If one had a desire, and that desire aligned with their destiny, the Goddess of Truth would grant it.
But now, in the face of her silence, in the face of her emotionless smile, Su Guang knew that this time, he would receive no answer from her.
A soft breeze blew from the temple gates, rustling Su Guang's cloak.
Jie Fei stepped forward and said, "Your Excellency, please, get in."
His hand gestured towards the shining wooden door of the carriage, but Su Guang averted his gaze from him and stared into the distance. "I want to ride for a while," he said.
A faint furrow appeared on Jie Fei's brow. He hesitated briefly, then said, "But we didn't bring your horse, my lord. You might not be comfortable."
Su Guang's eyes fixed on the horses standing nearby—black, brown, and gray, all with simple, unadorned saddles. None of them compared to his own horse. He almost said, "It doesn't matter; I'll ride one of these," but soon realized that would be nothing but stubbornness.
These days, his back pain came earlier than ever. He was no longer the fearless and proud youth he once had been. Now, fifty years had passed, and his body no longer concealed the signs of fatigue.
He took a deep breath and, without saying a word, walked towards the carriage. Once inside, he moved to the back of the carriage and sat down on the soft seat made of feathers and cotton. The interior of the carriage, contrary to its exterior, was regal—blue velvet curtains, delicate wooden panels, and a small table with a teapot and gleaming China teacups on it.
Jie Fei also entered and sat next to Su Guang. Moments later, he commanded, "Move!"
The man holding the reins pulled the ropes and shouted, "Hey!" as the carriage began to move. The sound of the horses' hooves hitting the ground echoed, and the carriage moved smoothly along the cobblestone path.
Su Guang reached for the small teapot beside him, lifted it, and carefully poured tea into two green teacups. A gentle steam rose from the cups, filling the air with the pleasant fragrance of tea. He handed one of the cups to Jie Fei. With great respect, Jie Fei took it, bowing his head slightly in gratitude.
For a few moments, they drank in silence, the only sounds being the rhythmic movement of the carriage wheels and the heavy steps of the horses on the ground.
Finally, Jie Fei spoke in a calm voice, pausing as if carefully weighing his words. "My lord, may I ask you something?"
Without looking at him, Su Guang replied, "Ask."
Jie Fei hesitated, as if choosing his words with great care. Then, respectfully, he said, "my lord, I don't know much about politics. I've spent my life fighting, and I don't fully understand many of your decisions, or… perhaps it's better to say, I can't judge them."
His tone was sincere, and it was clear that the relationship between him and the king went beyond that of a lord and servant.
Su Guang gently placed his cup on the table. He interlaced his fingers, and without turning toward Jie Fei, he murmured, "You want to know why I condemned the prince. Is that right?"
"Yes, my lord."
Su Guang paused for a moment, then picked up the teapot again and refilled his cup. However, this time, he didn't drink. His fingers wrapped around the cup, feeling its warmth. Then he spoke.
"Sometimes, a person has to make decisions that others won't like. But rulership is about choosing between what is right and what is necessary. And sometimes, those two are not the same."
He raised his gaze and locked eyes with Jie Fei.
"I only did what had to be done."
He then brought his cup of tea to his lips and took a sip. Afterward, he continued, "Beichi is one of the few countries with a unique strategic position. To the north and west, it faces invasions from desert tribes; to the south, it ends at mountainous borders, making passage difficult. Ethnically, its people are distinct from those of the central plains, with an independent culture, and their view of the empire has long been one of skepticism. Ruling such a land is different from governing other countries—it's like night and day. A person who takes the reins must be a shrewd politician, an experienced commander, and most importantly, someone who has the trust of the people."
He furrowed his brow slightly, and with a tone that carried a hint of doubt, he added,
"Su Yao… he won't be able to handle it."
Jie Fei tilted his head slightly and asked, "So, this is why you decided to remove his name from the list of potential successors? Is this why you ordered the lashes?"
"That's right. According to the law, anyone who is subjected to disciplinary punishment is no longer fit to rule. This tradition was designed for such times."
Jie Fei slid his fingers along his knees. Leaning slightly forward, he said cautiously, "And if the prince had been punished, everything would have resolved on its own? He would have been removed from attention, and no one would have recognized him anymore."
"Yes, that's right."
"But, my lord… now that Su Jiong has ruined everything, what do we do now?"
Without answering, Su Guang drew back the curtain of the carriage. Sunlight filtered through the trembling leaves of the trees, casting its rays inside. The road they were traveling on was covered with ferns and grass. The branches of the trees intertwined and bent low to the ground, as though trying to block their way. He stared at the scene for a moment, then, without turning his face, said,
"Su Jiong and Su Yao are both troublemakers. I expected Su Jiong to remain quiet, but he's truly bold and reckless."
He let go of the curtain, and once again, darkness enveloped the inside of the carriage. His face, now half-shadowed, continued,
"Su Jiong is stubborn and thoughtless. Unlike his father, he never thinks about the consequences of his actions. The hatred he holds against me has clouded his vision. He wants to resist every decision I make. But this time, it's different. Now that he's caught in this trap, I won't let him slip away so easily."
Jie Fei, surprised by his words, instinctively repeated, "Trap… my lord?!"
"Yes, a trap. Did you really think I would let such a reckless young man get away with his mistake so easily?!"
Jie Fei hesitated for a moment before speaking. "Well… you usually arrange everything like chess pieces. But you had previously said that you don't know exactly how Su Jiong will react, right?"
Su Guang placed his hand on the velvet armrest of his chair, his fingers slightly clenched. With a tone that remained calm, he replied, "That's right. I didn't expect him to be so bold. Not everyone dares to disrupt a government ceremony… but he did. Of course, Su Jiong doesn't matter to me. My main focus has always been the prince's confidants. I expected to see a reaction from them, but apparently, they're smarter than I thought."
Jie Fei responded, "So, you wanted to suppress the prince's faction as well?"
Su Guang, as though not bothered by his tea, picked up the teapot once more. He poured his cup and then extended his hand to fill Jie Fei's cup. Taking a sip, he paused, then continued, "As long as we don't rid ourselves of the termites, we can't ignore the danger of Su Yao. Even though he doesn't seem powerful on the surface, there are always those who support him."
"Are you referring to Lord Ming Zhou?" Jie Fei asked.
Su Guang lifted his head. A loud laugh erupted from deep within his chest, a laugh that, rather than conveying humor, seemed to carry a bitter mockery. With a faint smile, he said, "ming Zhou?! A threat?! No, no… he's not only no threat, he's a golden piece. Ming Zhou will never betray me."
Jie Fei was still unconvinced. His face bore a thoughtful and skeptical expression. He spoke slowly and carefully, "But whatever he is, he is the uncle of Prince Xiaoyan and Lord Su's nephew."
Su Guang fixed him with a piercing gaze. He ran his fingers along the rim of the cup and said, "That's true. But Ming Zhou's duties go beyond familial ties. His position is owed to much more significant things than blood relations."
Jie Fei blinked slowly. This answer, though indirect, was far beyond his reach. He shook his head and said, "You must know things I don't. So, you're right."
Su Guang calmly took a sip of his tea and said, "Of course, I'm right. If the greatest commander of my army were against me, what value would ruling have?"
After saying this, he gently placed his cup on the table. His eyes narrowed in the dim light of the carriage, and with a tone full of spite, he added, "It's not me who is under Ming Zhou's shadow, It's him!"
At that moment, the carriage wheels suddenly slowed. The pace diminished until it finally came to a halt. A brief silence settled between them. Then, the firm and serious voice of one of the guards came from outside: "Your Excellency… a rider Is approaching us."
Jie Fei, his entire being on high alert, asked loudly: "Is the soldier one of ours, or a stranger?"
The guard replied:
"He carries a yellow flag, Your Excellency. It seems he's a messenger."
Su Guang and Jie Fei exchanged a brief, intense glance. Unspoken questions swirled in their eyes. Without a word, Jie Fei swiftly crawled out of the carriage.
He stood, his eyes fixed on the path ahead. His clothes fluttered in the breeze, and beneath them, a suit of steel armor, gleaming and ready for battle, could be seen.
His gaze locked on the rider, and he noticed the insignia emblazoned on the yellow flag. It was clear that this messenger hailed from the Tiger Legion.
Jie Fei furrowed his brow and turned his head toward the carriage in disbelief.
"Your Excellency… the Tiger Legion!"
Su Guang leapt from the carriage, his face no longer bearing the calm of earlier moments. Ignoring his surroundings, he fixed his gaze on the horizon, his jaw clenched with either rage or concern.
As he exited, the entire guard and servants immediately lowered their heads.
Su Guang stood, alert, eyes fixed on the rider quickly approaching them. His heart pounded with unease; his breath was shallow, and he was in turmoil.
The young man on horseback wore a hardened, battle-worn expression, his face scarred by a deep wound running from his forehead to his lips. Each line seemed to tell a tale of past bloody battles.
As he reached the governor's caravan, he yanked the reins. The horse neighed loudly, stamping its hooves into the ground and halting. The rider, draped in layered armor, without a trace of fatigue in his breath, asked firmly, "Whose carriage Is this?"
His tone was sharp, as if coming from a throat honed in the battlefields for years.
Ignoring the man's question, Jie Fei posed another: "Who are you?"
The reply was as firm and resolute as ever:
"I come from the northern borders. I carry urgent news. I heard along the way that the Beichi governor had gone to pray at the temple. I went there, but found no sign of him. Are you the governor's caravan?"
Su Guang, with poise and authority, answered, "I am the governor of Beichi. What is your news?"
The young man, in a sign of respect, struck his fist firmly against his chest — a military salute rooted in the ranks of soldiers. He then said:
"My lord, I'm glad to have found you outside the palace. The news is this: the Third Prince has quelled the uprising of the people of Zhongji. We were victorious in battle, Your Excellency!"
The words fell like thunder from the sky. Jie Fei, overcome with excitement, let out an involuntary cry of joy. However, Su Guang, still in disbelief over what he had just heard, murmured under his breath,
"Did we win?!"
Then, as if doubting something, he said hesitantly, "So soon?"
The courier, without a pause in his speech, continued, "The Third Prince said that, according to your orders, the rebels were disarmed after surrendering. Once your power is solidified, he will return to Beichi soon."
Joy spread like a sudden wave throughout the caravan. Servants, filled with excitement, grabbed each other's hands and danced in jubilation. The guards, with proud smiles, whispered their victory to one another. Even the Black Guard, who always wore cold, expressionless faces, now had a subtle, victorious curve at the corners of their lips.
Jie Fei, looking at the courier with satisfaction, said,
"You've brought us good news. Come with us, rest in the palace. I'll reward you well."
The young man, full of enthusiasm and respect, bowed and immediately stepped aside from the caravan's path, quickly rejoining the other guards.
Meanwhile, Su Guang remained standing in his place, motionless, with no trace of joy on his face. His eyes were fixed on an unknown point. He didn't blink, as though he hadn't heard the news of victory but instead some great disaster. Moments later, a deep furrow appeared on his brow. His gaze darkened. Without speaking a word, he took heavy steps toward the carriage.
Jie Fei, intending to join him in the carriage, reached out to lift the curtain, but suddenly, the sound of the ruler's command fell sharply like a blade: "I want to be alone!"
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The Land of Yanxia — A World Beyond.
Yanxia was a mythical land, its stories whispered through the nights long before history found its way into books. Tales of this realm flowed from generation to generation, carried on the tongues of storytellers.
In an age so distant it seemed the mists of memory had yet to take shape, a man named Liudou Gusan set foot upon an unknown land. This barren and vast territory lay cradled between towering mountains and endless seas, its wide plains untouched—like a blank canvas waiting for the stroke of destiny.
Liudou Gusan was a disgraced nobleman, exiled for his astonishing abilities. People often labeled what they could not understand as magic. Yet, perhaps his powers were nothing more than Cultivators—the mastery of one's inner forces and harmony with the cosmos. Though he was not considered the originator of these arts, in Yanxia, he was the first to cultivate them within the boundless and mysterious embrace of nature.
This land, though it existed before Liudou Gusan's arrival, was overlooked and forgotten by most. But with keen eyes and a heart full of longing, he perceived the beauty and untapped potential hidden within. Accompanied by his tribe—those who, like him, had been cast out—he ventured into this forsaken expanse and transformed it into a magnificent haven.
At first, they knew not the bounds of this vast domain. But as they journeyed further into the plains and mountains, they discovered unclaimed lands lying silent and empty. So it was that Liudou and his followers gradually expanded their settlements, tirelessly transforming the deserted fields into fertile, flourishing lands.
He named this land Yanxia—a jewel of the earth, a realm rich in blessings, yet brimming with secrets that only those with a truth-seeing eye could uncover.
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Governance and the Birth of Kingdoms and Empires.
Liudou Gusan, founder of this newly reclaimed land, became a legendary figure in its history. His name, etched into ancient inscriptions and carried through the oral traditions of future generations, was revered as that of a wise and powerful leader. He took the first step toward establishing a lasting civilization—but the journey from scattered settlements to kingdoms and eventually empires was one that spanned millennia, fraught with upheavals and triumphs.
In its earliest days, the land consisted of dispersed villages and towns, each functioning as an independent city-state. Every city-state was governed by a chieftain, chosen from among the tribal elders, who upheld local laws and customs. Yet the world does not remain idle. Over time, powerful and charismatic individuals—especially military commanders—emerged. Their strength and leadership drew people to them, igniting the first sparks of central governance.
As centuries passed, nations began to take shape across this domain. Some of these regimes, through military success and diplomacy, grew into vast empires. Others, after the collapse of such great powers, fragmented once more into independent kingdoms. This cycle of rise and fall continued for generations, each era redrawing the boundaries of the land.
In the time of Su Jiong, the Kingdom of Beichi stood as one of the largest and most prominent powers in Yanxia. It was politically autonomous, governed by its own native laws and traditions.
Neighboring it was the Empire of Jing, a formidable force made up of dozens of provinces and local governments. Once, Beichi had been a vassal state under Jing, forced to deliver wealth and manpower to the empire year after year. However, diverging interests, cultural conflicts, and recurring tensions eventually led Beichi to cast off Jing's dominion and declare itself an independent kingdom.
The Empire of Jing Itself was divided into eastern and western regions. The eastern territories lay beyond the misty mountains, outside Yanxia's borders. The western territories, however, were deeply embedded within Yanxia. This division reflected Jing's aggressive nature—after discovering Yanxia, it launched invasions, gradually annexing parts of the land into its domain.
In contrast, Beichi was a native kingdom, its people descendants of Liudou Gusan and his original tribe. They honored their history and heritage, standing firm against foreign domination. Their customs were rooted In ancient legends, and their laws were shaped by the teachings of their ancestors. Beichi stood as a symbol of resistance and native identity in Yanxia—a land that braved the storms of time and etched its name into the scrolls of eternity.
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Su Yao, a Lonely Prince—or…
According to Su Guang, no prince in the world is ever truly without support. Even if no visible allies stand by his side, unseen hands linger in the shadows, offering silent aid. Su Yao was no exception. Yet those who backed him from the darkness knew well that to step into the light meant only one fate: death.
Like a patient hunter lying in ambush, Su Guang made it his mission to eradicate every one of Su Yao's supporters. Experience had shown that anyone—even those who had offered a fleeting moment of loyalty to the first prince—was doomed to a grim end. Some had slipped into eternal sleep, as though claimed by sudden death. Others had fallen into silent comas, never to wake. And those who, under pressure or despair, had taken their own lives, had their names recorded in the death registers—though the truth of their demise remained a mystery to all. But not all of Su Yao's allies shared such fates. Those gripped by fear had retreated into deeper shadows.
Behind a veil of silence and ambiguity, clever minds still dared to challenge Su Guang's authority. Their support took many forms: influence in the royal court, pressure on provincial rulers, and subtle subversion of his commands. Some governors of cities and rural districts, through calculated strategy, questioned Su Guang's orders, complicating his path.
Su Guang—a ruthless and calculating man—longed to sever every one of these hidden ties. But he knew well that he could not afford to openly oppose every judge, magistrate, regional governor, royal scribe, and court official. Politics was a perilous game. At times, he had to strike with an iron fist to assert his power; at others, he had to bow his head and pretend to see and hear nothing. It was a double-edged sword—tighten the grip too much, and one day the blade might turn on him.
So, as the shadow of death loomed over Su Yao's supporters, the dangerous game of power carried on...
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The Tiger Legion.
After being dispatched to the border to quell the Zhongji rebels, the third prince assumed command of a ten-thousand-strong army. This force, previously known as the Gangshi Legion, was given a new name under the third prince's command: the Tiger Legion.
But why that name? There were several reasons.
First, the third prince had a deep admiration for tigers. Fierce and powerful, the animal represented strength, boldness, and majesty in his culture. He revered the beast's striped coat and piercing gaze, believing such grandeur and dignity should be reflected in his soldiers.
Second, he chose the name to instill the spirit of the tiger within his troops. He wanted each soldier to see himself as a wild predator—merciless, relentless, and ready to tear into the enemy. To this end, he ordered storytellers to appear before the troops each day, reciting epic tales of invincible warriors, igniting their spirits to burn with the fury of mountain tigers. In the eyes of the third prince, this legion was more than an army of men. He was sending ten thousand tigers into battle—ready to rip, ready to conquer.
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Su Guang's Journey to the Temple.
Whenever kings or high-ranking officials set out on a journey or pilgrimage, they were accompanied by grand caravans of attendants, servants, and guards. The sound of hooves, the gleam of armor, and the bustling crowd that followed made their presence impossible to ignore.
Su Guang was no exception. Though his visit to the temple appeared to be without ceremony, the public response made it clear even the common folk of the streets and markets had caught wind of his departure. In one teahouse along the route, the very messenger who had been dispatched to deliver the news of victory to Su Guang paused for a brief rest and a cup of tea.
The cool, tranquil air of the teahouse buzzed with a pleasant murmur—merchants discussed the prices of their goods, farmers talked about the year's harvest, and elders shared ancient tales with infectious excitement. Amid the chatter, one particular conversation caught the messenger's attention. A man, who appeared to be a low-ranking palace official, said confidently:
"Apparently, the king has gone to the Temple of the Goddess of Truth!"
A ripple of murmurs passed through the room. Some nodded thoughtfully, others whispered in intrigue. The messenger, sipping his hot tea, listened carefully. He now knew where the king had gone. There was no longer any need to race back to the capital or report to the palace. He simply had to continue on toward the temple—and there, he would find His Majesty.
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