Chapter Twenty-Nine: Then Go See the Late Emperor

Marquis Shengwu was dressed with exceptional simplicity: a plain blue hemp robe, so thin it was no defense against the bitter winter of the Eastern Capital. Except for a single piece of smooth jade at his waist, there was not a trace of luxury about him. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary—until he spoke.

As his words unfolded, those present gradually began to understand the true circumstances of that long-ago battle.

First, the fall of Tong Pass was not, as the rumors claimed, because Marquis Shengwu had abandoned his post, allowing the Northern Yan armies to seize the opportunity. Instead, he had defended Tong Pass for three months before, overwhelmed by the enemy’s assault, he was forced to withdraw.

Second, the contents of the late emperor’s final edict, long shrouded in secrecy, were now revealed to all. It was not as the official histories recorded. According to Marquis Shengwu, the late emperor, on his deathbed, stripped all seventeen princes of their titles, save for the peerages granted to them upon reaching adulthood.

Yet the three young men at Shanglin Park thought little of these political undercurrents. The proud and unyielding figure of Marquis Shengwu was indelibly etched into their hearts, especially that one phrase: “If I have done no wrong, why should I bow?”

Now, the gates of Shanglin Park had been broken open. The Shangguan family made no protest; on the contrary, they had Shangguan Qi leave the scene, as if what they had shattered was not the grand gate of Tiance’s Shanglin Park, but nothing more than a rotten plank. Prince Jingwu, too, wished only to see the matter settled quickly, to minimize the incident, and avoid further trouble.

The three thousand elite soldiers of Tiance Mansion, led by three great generals, waited on Chang’an Avenue not far away, making no move. At this moment, Tiance’s forces were at a numerical disadvantage in the capital. A conflict provoked by Shangguan Qi would most likely end with Tiance yielding, the dust settling quietly.

Most people in the world choose only to act when they are sure of victory and will side with the stronger faction. The wisest choice for Tiance Mansion now was not to tear all pretenses apart. Better to bide their time and settle the score with the Shangguan family after the Tiance troops returned from the northern frontier. This was how Chu Ge saw it, how Yang Zixu saw it, and how the three distant generals saw it as well. Thus, at first, the three thousand elites of Tiance did not intervene.

But Marquis Shengwu was not like the rest. The shattered gate of Shanglin Park disturbed him deeply.

“Is it possible, Marquis Shengwu, for you to remain in the Eastern Capital and protect Tiance Mansion for a lifetime?” Shangguan Hong asked coldly.

“Why not?” Marquis Shengwu replied calmly.

Shangguan Qi pressed, “As the guardian of Tong Pass, is it not your duty to ensure its safety? Are you not sworn to defend the peace of our Great Tang?”

Marquis Shengwu narrowed his eyes and replied coldly, “The defense of Tong Pass is my responsibility. What is there for you to worry about?”

Today, on the surface, it seemed Shangguan Qi had come for Li Fu, but in truth, it was the Shangguan family striking at Tiance Mansion. No one would believe that the family elders were unaware of Shangguan Qi’s actions. Most of Tiance’s promising young officers were still stationed on the northern frontier, not yet returned to the capital. The Divine Strategy faction, however, was mostly present in the city. This was the perfect opportunity to strike at Tiance Mansion, even if only to humiliate them.

“But the late emperor’s edict forbade you from ever leaving Tong Pass. Now, you have abandoned your post and slipped into the capital, Marquis Shengwu—do you intend to rebel?” Shangguan Hong’s voice was dark and cold.

Most in the court did not fear Marquis Shengwu. The late emperor’s edict had exiled him for life to Tong Pass—a powerless prince stationed at the empire’s edge, what threat could he pose, even with soldiers at his command? Two hundred years ago, among all the princes of Great Tang, he had the strongest hand, yet he had still been trapped at Tong Pass. In the years since, he had been all but exiled, far from the center of power.

But now, Marquis Shengwu treated the edict as mere waste paper, standing here in the capital, before the shattered gates of Shanglin Park.

“Shangguan Hong, you accuse everyone of treason. Yet was it not treason when you killed Prince Qi? By the laws of the Tang, even princes must be judged by the Office of the Imperial Clan, the emperor’s review, and the Three Dukes’ verdict. No official outside the Clan Office has the right to detain a royal. You killed the emperor’s most beloved son—was that not treason?” Marquis Shengwu smiled faintly, cold light flashing in his eyes.

“Oh, and you were close to the late emperor. Back at Tong Pass, you were his guard commander. Since you know him so well, you should go and see him yourself.”

As soon as Marquis Shengwu finished speaking, the sleeve of his robe flickered.

Amid the cold wind and falling plum blossoms, the blue sleeve rippled like water, and a blade’s light burst forth.

With a crisp clash, dozens of white air currents swept before Shanglin Park.

Before Shangguan Hong could react, Prince Jingwu’s expression shifted to utter shock. His royal robe whipped in the wind, his eyes blazing, and he raised an iron spear.

With a tearing sound, the surface of Chang’an Avenue shattered like fragile paper. A sharp blade light burst through the flagstones, smashed through the currents, and with a terrifying howl, slashed toward Shangguan Hong.

Marquis Shengwu’s strike at Shangguan Hong was startlingly simple—casual, almost indifferent, as if he cared not at all.

The long saber cut through the air, and an iron spear swept across its path. Yet the blade’s true target was not Prince Jingwu’s spear, but Shangguan Hong behind it. The intent was clear: should you try to block, I will cut you down as well.

Seeing the relentless blade, Prince Jingwu was both shocked and furious.

Fury, unwillingness—yet he had no choice but to block!

A thunderous crash erupted.

Plum blossoms swirled through the air, and fresh blood stained their pale petals.

Prince Jingwu was hurled back, blood spraying, crashing heavily into the courtyard across from Shanglin Park.

Amid the dust and shattered stone, his furious, unwilling roar rang out.

“Li Chengrui, are you mad?!”

Just as Marquis Shengwu’s blade was about to fall upon Shangguan Hong, a clear cry pierced Chang’an Avenue. At last, a hidden onlooker could restrain himself no longer, flashing before Shangguan Hong.

His movements were lightning-fast, yet he radiated the weight of a mountain.

In his hand was a strange broadsword, shining with a cold, bright light—dazzling as the sun, but chilling to the bone.

His very presence, from movement to technique, exuded a penetrating coldness.

His eyes were sharp, his demeanor grave.

Marquis Shengwu laughed coldly. First Prince Jingwu had intervened to block his strike, now even Shangguan Yu had stepped in. Clearly, there were many who would not let Shangguan Hong die today.

At his current cultivation, Marquis Shengwu was not absolutely certain of victory over Shangguan Yu, for they were evenly matched. Yet even so, he was determined to kill Shangguan Hong.

Shangguan Yu’s slender hand broke the force of Marquis Shengwu’s blade. The hand was long and elegant, not quite suited to wield the heavy broadsword, but the callused palm showed the mark of a master spearman. Now, Shangguan Yu stood between Marquis Shengwu and Shangguan Hong, his sword intercepting the descending blade.

In that instant, two mighty auras clashed.

Just then, an angry shout echoed down Chang’an Avenue. Prince Jingwu, like a stone flung by a sling, shot back into the fray, covered in dust and blood, his iron spear whistling through the air for another strike.

Wounded, Prince Jingwu was even more ferocious. His battered robe was spattered with blood, his eyes deep, terrifying, ablaze with violent energy.

“Thirteenth Brother, stand down!”

At that moment, before the gates of Shanglin Park, a blazing sun seemed to rise. When the dazzling light faded, a stern and dignified face was revealed. The man appeared around thirty, his complexion warm as jade, his stature tall and powerful, his bearing that of a dragon, his hands pale and delicate, with fingers longer than most men’s. With one hand, he gently grasped the tip of Prince Jingwu’s spear, halting its advance.

He stood between Prince Jingwu and Shangguan Yu, left hand on the spear, eyes on Marquis Shengwu, calm and focused, as though greeting an old friend after a long separation. Then he nodded slightly.

But in the very instant he nodded, Marquis Shengwu’s sleeve flickered again.

Amid the light rain and gentle wind, the blue sleeve rippled, and the blade rose once more.

Marquis Shengwu swung his saber at Shangguan Hong. The movement was startlingly simple—casual, almost indifferent, as if he cared not at all.

A blade of light flashed in the plum-scented winter wind.

It shone so bright it lit up the wintry petals on the street and dazzled the eyes of the onlookers—concealing, too, a faint strand of silvery brilliance.

Then, several plum petals drifting from the sky suddenly turned red.

They had been stained with blood.

In the swirling snow and wind, countless icy sword flashes appeared. The sounds of blades piercing flesh and muffled groans rang out in quick succession.

Shangguan Yu’s strange broadsword shattered in pieces, and Shangguan Hong fell into a pool of blood, life fled from him.

Blood spattered across the flagstone petals—a shocking sight.

It all happened in a heartbeat. From the moment Prince Jingwu’s spear was halted to Shangguan Hong’s collapse, it was as if the whole scene had been rehearsed countless times, played out to perfection.

“Seventh Brother! Ninth Brother! Just what are you two trying to do?!”

When Prince Jingwu saw who had blocked him, his anguished cry echoed down Chang’an Avenue. It was not for Shangguan Hong’s death that he grieved, but for the two hundred years of uneasy silence and forgetfulness among the great powers. Could this balance not continue? Why must it be shattered?