Chapter 267 — Slaying the Human Emperor
The Herdsman of the Wasteland · Page 1 of 6
We drew ever nearer the capital, and the spies along the road grew more numerous. Though beyond its walls the world suffered flood and famine, war and ruin, the lands about the capital still sang and danced in peace; red silk was wound about many a tree, and the roads filled with foreign embassies hurrying to the capital. The enthronement of a new emperor was no small matter—all the more so since this new sovereign, before he had even taken the throne, showed at every turn how he differed from the dynasty before him: he treated foreign lands with kindness and was willing to make friends of them.
In the former reign, the Imperial Preceptor of Jingping had loved the use of arms. He had swallowed up dozens of nations, beaten the other great powers of the region into the dust, seized their lands, or forced them to submit as vassals and pay tribute—arrogance and bluster in the extreme. Before the Imperial Preceptor turned his armies upon the Wasteland Ruins, Jingping stood at the height of its power, waging war against five great nations at once; only after the Imperial Preceptor was assassinated did Jingping's road of expansion slow.
But the new sovereign of this reign was gentle and refined, full of courtesy. He treated Jingping's sects with kindness and received foreign envoys with impeccable manners. Not only did he return to the surrounding nations the lands that the savage, bloodthirsty Imperial Preceptor had conquered—he promised indemnities besides, and declared himself willing to mend relations with foreign powers.
The rule by which other nations did homage to Jingping was abolished by the new emperor as well. The foreign lands were delighted and lavish in their praise, calling the new emperor Ling Yuxia a wise ruler such as Jingping had not seen in fifteen hundred years. Beyond all this, the emperor not yet enthroned had widely invited the men of the sects to attend his accession ceremony.
And there were whispers that on the very day of his enthronement he meant to issue an edict of self-accusation—to take upon his own head the wrath of Heaven and the resentment of men that Jingping's years of reform had brought down, to beg forgiveness of the blue sky, praying that Heaven visit its punishment upon him alone and spare the countless multitudes of Jingping. "That is the cruelest stroke of all. " Shen Mu exclaimed in admiration again and again, and said to the Imperial Preceptor of Jingping and to the emperor: "Two hundred years you labored at your reforms, toiling without rest, remaking the common notions of the world, driving forward the arts of the Dao and the divine powers. How many curses did you bear, how much heart's blood did you spend, how many men fought and bled for it—and only so did Jingping become what it is today.
One edict of self-accusation from the new emperor, and your two hundred years of labor, the two hundred years of soldiers who died for it, all go down the drain. That stroke—cruel. Cruel beyond measure.
" Emperor Yanfeng gave a stifled grunt. A tearing pain filled his chest; he wished to weep and had no tears. His voice was bitter and dry: "Yuxia. My good son. That blade is planted in my heart.
.
. " The Imperial Preceptor of Jingping's face was as still as an old well. "Once we are in the capital, a few days will suffice for me to reach my old subordinates. Seven or eight of every ten ministers at court will support Your Majesty. Add to that the Dragon Guard, the forbidden army hidden within the nine dragon veins, and we can seize the capital at any moment. The only problem now is this: the Great Tingming Temple and the Daoist sect have left so many monks and priests in the households of these princes and ministers—in name to beg alms, in truth to keep watch.
Cult Master Shen, I need you to use the strength of the Nether Demon Cult to get me into the city to meet with them. " Shen Mu shook his head.