For preview purposes only; final product may differ
Author: Priest
Translators: Yog, SassyStrawberry
Editor: 星星Nyani
First frost. Year 21 of the Qizheng era. The Great Qi Empire.
A cavalry galloped down the road, both men and horses worn from travel. Suddenly, the leader of the cavalry, a young man, shouted, “We’ve arrived at the boundary stele!”
Not far ahead stood a stone monument greater than a man in height, etched with vivid crimson calligraphy. The imposing sign read: Here lies the Crimson Abyss, beyond which the living shall not pass, lest ye perish. Waiting next to the stele were a middle-aged general and a line of soldiers. Armour clanging, the guards knelt down in unison.
“Greetings to Your Royal Highness, the Crown Prince.”
The young soldier leading the cavalry leapt down from his steed before it could come to a complete halt, causing him to stumble. The welcoming general rushed up to help him. “Are you all right, Your Highness?”
“I’m fine.” The young man waved his hand and asked, “Where is my un… Imperial Father?”
Before he had even finished speaking, however, he heard his pet name being called a short distance away. “Tong’er, over here.”
The young heir looked in the direction of the voice and saw a man dressed in black, standing alone, his back to his men, past the boundary stele that claimed death to any trespassers. The prince glanced at the crimson letters written on the stele and, without hesitation, crossed into where even gods feared to tread. He knelt before the man.
“Your Maj—”
The man extended a hand to dismiss the gesture. “Rise.”
Both his words and his actions were steady and unhurried, displaying great poise. Though he appeared aged from behind, his face was surprisingly untouched by time. This presented a rather uncanny and unsettling contrast. Looking at his face alone, one could hardly believe him to be Sheng Xiao, also known as Emperor Wu, the sovereign of Great Qi of twenty-one years. His eyebrows were as sharp and decisive as the blade he wielded, yet the crescent of his eyes dipped downward, giving the handsome man a touch of gentleness.
The prince rose and called out softly, “Uncle.”
Since the emperor had no heir, he had adopted the child left behind by his late brother and made his nephew the heir. Sheng Xiao was, by nature, a distant and cold person. Thus, the prince referred to him as “Imperial Father” in public for the sake of etiquette, despite the fact that they were not father and son. Privately, however, the two still referred to each other as uncle and nephew.
“Would it scare you to walk on this side of the stele with me?” Sheng Xiao asked.
“Of course not, Uncle! As a young man, you restored the land to its former glory by bringing peace to the Abyss, suppressing the evil yao race, and slaying millions of ghost soldiers. I cannot hope to compare myself to your existence, but I dare even less to speak rashly of fear lest it tarnish your reputation.”
“What reputation? My infamy, you mean?” Sheng Xiao chuckled nonchalantly and walked forth. “Do you hear it?”
The prince listened intently, but only the wind made itself known. “I do not hear a thing.”
The emperor smiled. “Precisely. Nothing remains.”
The prince took a moment to recall the legends he had heard as a child. It was said that the millions of resentful souls of the perished had been sealed in the fires of the Abyss. Their resentment remained so strong that a fiery gale had blown incessantly through the canyon. Standing before the boundary stele, one would have heard the agonising wails and cries from the other side. However, now that he walked safely within the boundary with only stifling silence and scorching heat to accompany him, he came to a single conclusion: folklore and legends are indeed filled with rumours and exaggerations.
They had barely advanced two hundred steps past the boundary when the heat wave arrived. It was late autumn, and though the prince wore only a thinly lined robe, it had been soaked through. Beads of sweat trickled down his forehead. Stealing a glance at his uncle, he ultimately resisted the urge to wipe them away.
Emperor Wu had a bad reputation. Stories of how he was a temperamental madman born from a pool of his father and brothers’ blood circulated among the folk performers of the land. They also claimed that he had killed his mother and his teachers, burned books, limited public rhetoric, favoured sycophants, exploited his army, waged reckless wars, and even cruelly slaughtered loyal and virtuous subjects. For the young prince, however, the man was his only family. Regardless of what happened, his uncle was always gentle and calm, never speaking harshly or appearing unkempt. The prince had looked up to him since he was young. Even now, as an eighteen-year-old with the strength to draw the heaviest bow and the knowledge and poise to govern a state, he found himself looking to his uncle, following in his footsteps as he had always done.
As the two advanced a mile past the border, Sheng Xiao stopped. The smell of sulphur began to fill their noses, and the prince found himself short of breath.
“Let us stop here this year. You’ll burn if we go any further.”
The prince was perplexed. “This year?”
“Yes. This year.” Sheng Xiao turned around and drew his nephew’s sword. A protective ward was engraved onto the blade, and the symbols glowed red as the scalding winds of the Abyss swept along the blade’s length. He stabbed the sword into the ground. “This is the first and most important task I have for you. I have spent my whole life tackling the Abyss, and I’m finally seeing the results. I estimate this sword can advance five miles each year. In less than a decade, the Austral Flames will be extinguished completely. Once the sword reaches the edge, and the canyon is windless, you may station someone from the Bureau of Peace here.”
The prince was stunned. He felt a sinking feeling in his heart. “Unc… Imperial Father, wha…”
“My Prince,” Sheng Xiao said impassively, “I hereby pass unto thee the Throne of Great Qi.”
The prince fell to his knees. Emperor Wu had left the capital twice this year to inspect the empire and suppress dissent across the realm while allowing the prince to oversee the state’s affairs. The emperor gradually relinquished control of internal governance and carefully paved the way for the incoming ruler. Given these circumstances, the young heir had been preparing himself for this day, but no amount of preparation could have allowed him to accept reality so easily.
“I’ve taught you everything that needs to be taught.” Sheng Xiao went on, sparing him a glance. “As for the rest… Zhang Bo and Kong Yu will both make fine subjects. Zhao Kuan is still imprisoned, but he is innocent. Release him and offer compensation to his clan, and he will devote his entire being to serving you. A son does not speak of his father’s faults, so when you find it troubling to speak ill of me in the future, push Yang Dong out as a sycophant who will bring calamity to the country. That man is no paragon of virtue, and he’s been eating his mind dull and his gut full over the years. Consider him my gift to you.”
The prince crumpled over, pressing his forehead to the ground. “Imperial Father, you are at the peak of your reign.”
Sheng Xiao looked amused by his nephew’s reaction. “What, do you expect me to work until I’m a frail, old man or until I’m in a coffin? I’ve been toiling for the empire for decades. Show some pity for me, won’t you? Zhang Bo and Feng Chun both possess a copy of the edict. In particular, Feng was a close friend of your father’s when he was alive. He will look after you, so do not be afraid.”
The young man’s eyes reddened.
Sheng Xiao looked towards the Abyss, his hands clasped behind his back. “Do you remember how your parents, who gave life to you, died?”
“This dutiful son dares not forget even for a day.”
“Good.” Sheng Xiao nodded approvingly. “You’re all grown up. You know the path that you must walk. Now go; the Austral Flames will one day be extinguished, but the heat still remains. Staying any longer will be harmful to your body.”
“Then, what about…”
“I shall stay for a few days more.” Sheng Xiao waved his hand and did not elaborate. “A country cannot be without a ruler. There is much to do in the capital, so hasten back.”
The prince knew that the emperor’s words were final, and he dared not disobey. Although reluctant, he left. When he reached the boundary stele, he couldn’t help but look back at the man once more. His uncle was seated on the ground in front of the sword. The unspoken farewell weighed heavy like a stone in his heart. He shook his head but found himself growing dizzy from the heat. Kneeling before the stele, he prostrated himself to the black-robed man before rushing back to the capital, speeding overnight onto the road of his destiny.
After sending the prince off, Sheng Xiao ordered the imperial guards to return to their official posts and await further orders, leaving only a single personal bodyguard behind.
As night descended, the guard approached Sheng Xiao from behind and made sure they were alone before kneeling down and curling up. His armour fell away, and his clothes crumpled to the ground soon after. A chick no bigger than a palm wriggled out from the clothes to perch next to Sheng Xiao.
“Oh, right…” Sheng Xiao scratched its neck and pulled out a fine golden thread. “Almost forgot about you.”
Complex inscriptions flowed over the golden thread, appearing as if they were part of the bird’s neck. With a light pinch, the thread shattered at his fingertips. The chick grew more than ten times its original size. It swiftly unfolded its wings and raised its head, letting out a cry that stirred the stars in the southern night sky—it turned out to be a young fire bird known as a bifang.
Sheng Xiao stood up. “You don’t have to watch over me anymore, nor should you feel compelled to serve me. It’s time for both of us to be free.”
The bifang hesitantly took a step forward and tugged timidly at his robe. When the man looked down and met the bird’s gaze, it flinched and let go meekly.
Sheng Xiao removed his diadem, placing it askew on the bird’s head before removing his seal, thumb ring, jade pendants, and other accessories. Finally, he removed the jade pendant shaped like a man from his neck. He gave it one last glance before casually tossing it aside.
The pendant was evidently important. The fire bird panicked and chased after it, carefully grabbing it with its beak. By the time it turned around, the man had walked away towards the Abyss, his hair untied and messy. The fire bird chirped anxiously. It no longer cared about the pendant and flapped its wings to give chase.
The Abyss spanned a thousand miles, and violently hot magma flowed within. When the bifang was two hundred steps from the cliff, its wings suddenly erupted into black flames. It screeched and tumbled to the ground. Having nearly been turned into roast bird, it knew it could go no further.
Sheng Xiao, however, had reached the cliff’s edge. His robes and boots were scorched, and the man’s stoic mask finally cracked open. Pleasure and madness spilled out.
It was better to be mortal. A mortal life lasted for but a moment. Bitterness or joy, it endured only for a few decades. The pain one’s shell experienced was always limited. Often, one would be released from suffering before anything could even be felt. As for him… Well, he might have to suffer a little.
At a screeching cry from the bird, Sheng Xiao threw himself into the sea of flames. Searing heat consumed him. Everything that it touched quickly burned to a crisp. His hair disintegrated, and his flesh peeled off layer by layer. Blood vessels burst through charred flesh. His blood was boiling, and every last meridian was severed. He coughed up a mouthful of ash that might have been his heart or his lungs. Then, his body crashed into the molten rock. His body proved far sturdier, and despite having fallen from such a lofty height, it did not shatter when it made contact with the crust on the surface. His spine snapped in half and pierced through the igneous shell, causing flames to erupt and soar high into the sky like a war banner. The hot magma that could melt both gold and stone swallowed him whole.
Nevertheless, he did not die.
If one could experience the sensation of having their bones pulverised to dust and scattered in the wind, then every memory and experience profoundly etched in their existence would also amount to nothing more than mere dust on stone. The narrative of his life, encompassing all its ups, downs, joys, and sorrows, had been amalgamated along with his melting consciousness in that great fire.
Incessant laughter echoed through the Crimson Abyss that day, persisting until the stubborn remnants that would not be reduced to ash gradually sank to the bottom and the disturbed magma returned to a standstill.
Sheng Xiao, Emperor Wu of Great Qi.
Following the murder of King Ping in the Crimson Abyss at the hands of the Yao, his youngest son, Sheng Xiao, succeeded the throne at birth. Rising from a tumultuous time, he slew the King of the Yao beneath the walls of Yong’an at the age of three-and-twenty and proclaimed it the start of the Qizheng era. He restored the empire and pacified the borders, a deed that rivalled those of the Five Great Emperors, but with such cruelty and bloodlust, he corrupted both principle and virtue. He ruled for one-and-twenty years before taking his own life in the Austral Fires of the Abyss, leaving no remains. A decade after the ascension of Emperor Wen, the fires subsided, and peace came upon the Abyss. Emperor Wen withdrew the boundary stele and erected a mausoleum in the name of Emperor Wu.
The blue sea turned into mulberry fields; over a thousand autumns, a vast forest grew on the ashes of the fire. The primaeval forest of the Great Canyon became a top-ranked tourist attraction of national interest.
Deep within the earth, a tremor emerged, followed by indistinct, unsettling mutterings. The noises grew louder and louder, enshrouded in an unfamiliar ritual, and pierced into his chaotic consciousness like sharp needles.
What... is that noise? Who dares cause a commotion?
“I will sacrifice everything…”
“With my body... as a medium…”
“May the gods above and the demons below…”
“Demon…”
The sudden clamour left him bewildered.
Before he could find his bearings, he was bombarded by stimuli. Senses that had been dormant for millennia suddenly awoke and greedily extended their tendrils outward, taking in every vibrant detail in their vicinity. The noisy world outside crashed into him, boring into his consciousness through his senses—the texture of the soil, its musky smell, the sound of wind and rustling leaves, footsteps, voices…
“Who dares to disturb my slumber?” He felt a loss of control and immediately rose up in anger. Ominous black clouds emerged from the depths of his mind, manifesting as sharp claws that lashed out at the voice that had the audacity to disturb him. “Insolent fool!”
Amid his confusion and irritation, his newly awakened senses detected a faint but familiar presence. Instantly, his stormy mind cleared, and his heart, which had lain still for millennia, trembled.
What… was that?
His hostility dissipated, but before he could catch it, the presence disappeared.
Wait, no… Don’t go.
He couldn’t remember who nor where he was, but he had an undeniable urge to latch onto that wisp. The noise around him fell away to that one desire. He began to struggle. Desperately.
Suddenly, his consciousness shook, and he could sense his body. Then he heard a crack. Wind blew past his face, and his eyes opened. Tears welled up as long-absent sunshine dazzled him. He found himself lying in the debris of a coffin, a cluster of delicate, fiery red fluff (he wouldn’t even consider it feathers) nestled in his arms. It was all dried up after being buried underground for who-knows-how-long, preserved from decay by a weak trace of spiritual energy from an unknown source. When he grabbed it, the small fluff disintegrated into dust, scattering in the wind.
He curled his fingers and gazed down at his empty palm. After a long while, he looked up, squinting at the dust floating in the air.
The mortal realm… Have I been brought back to life?