Absolute darkness. A bone-chilling draft snuffed the torches. A piercing shriek echoed in the void.
Soul-deep terror slammed into Ren Ye. Though he could no longer see the face in the blackness, its horrifying details were etched into his mind: the lank hair, the weeping sockets, the purple, twisted lips. He felt phantom touches – something pressing against his back, a sudden weight on his shoulders. Was cold breath ghosting over his cheek? Was it right there, inches from his face?!
The mind's conjurings were the most terrifying. He felt surrounded, suffocated, memories of pale, waxy faces glimpsed in village coffins flooding back.
"Damn it all! I'll fight you!" Ren Ye snapped. Pure instinct took over. He ripped the Sovereign's Blade from its scabbard, slashing wildly into the darkness before him, behind him, anywhere the terror might lurk.
SWISH!
As the blade cut through the air, it erupted with a sudden, blinding radiance – a celestial weapon unleashed, dazzling and fierce.
Ren Ye winced against the glare. Two faint, agonized wails echoed, then silence descended once more.
Adrenaline still pumping, Ren Ye kept swinging the Blade, its heavy whoosh filling the chamber. "Come on then! Fight me! I'll shave that mangy fur right off your—!"
"Your Highness! Your Highness!" Blockhead's frantic yell came from his left. "Stop! It's gone! The thing's gone! Stop swinging, or I'll have to defend myself...!"
"Huff... huff..." Ren Ye lowered the blade, panting, the world slowly coming back into focus.
SNAP!
The rasp of flint on steel. A torch flared back to life.
Ren Ye turned to see Blockhead sprawled flat on the stone floor. One hand clutched a small, bleeding wound on his backside. The other held the torch aloft, his face flushed crimson.
"Your... rear? Did the ghost... bite you... there?" Ren Ye asked, genuinely concerned.
"I serve you as my lord," Blockhead whimpered, his voice thick with betrayal. "Why did you use my buttocks as a scabbard?"
"I... stabbed you? Ah, sincere apologies! My swordsmanship is purely... improvisational."
"Just a scratch," Blockhead mumbled, probing the wound, momentarily confused about its precise nature. "Hardly noticeable."
"Good. I'll have Lotus apply some healing salve later."
"Truly, Your Highness?" Blockhead's eyes instantly brightened. ...
Torches were relit. An uneasy calm returned. Both men gave the ominous iron door a wide berth. Ren Ye hung the Sovereign's Blade prominently in the center of the room – its mere presence seemed to ward off the lingering chill. They resumed their search with renewed urgency.
About a quarter-hour later, Ren Ye's fingers brushed against something tucked beneath a low writing desk. He pulled out an ancient, yellowed scroll sealed with faded wax. Holding it near a torch, his eyes scanned the opening lines. Elation surged through him.
Leaning against the cold stone wall, Ren Ye read the Imperial Edict carefully by the flickering light.
The message, penned by the late Emperor to his son, the previous Prince of Huai (Zhu Zigui's father), read roughly:
My Son,
May these words find you well. News of unrest on the Southern Marches reached me yesterday. Anxiety grips me; food holds no taste, sleep offers no rest. Last night, at the Hour of the Rat, a terrible agitation seized my heart. I coughed blood.
Master Xu came at dawn. Under my insistence, he revealed the truth: my life's thread frays. I may not see another year. Since founding our Dynasty, I have united the heartland, repelled the northern barbarians, and conquered the southern wastes. I stand before Heaven and the people without shame.
Yet, years of war have emptied our coffers. Powerful clans rise like forests, factions of merit entrench themselves. The Crown Prince's faction stirs restlessly... Should I depart now, chaos will surely follow.
The Dynasty's hope rests with me. My hope rests with the Heaven's Pardon Bearer.
Master Xu declares: To open the Tomb of the Late Dynasty's Princess, the Heaven's Pardon Bearer must anchor the grave-site. And this person will awaken in Qingliang Prefecture. Find them swiftly. Extend my life. Extend the Mandate of Great Qian.
It has been too long since I saw my grandson, Zigui. I send him the Imperial Brush – an artifact of power – and a single drop of my heart's blood. Anoint the brush with the blood to restore its divine light.
May he, when grown, ascend the high tower and paint our mountains and rivers anew.
Your Father, The Emperor.
The edict was blunt. The old Emperor was dying. He was Great Qian's linchpin; his death meant collapse. A Daoist master claimed opening a specific tomb – the Late Dynasty Princess's – could extend both his life and the Dynasty's fate. But opening it required the Heaven's Pardon Bearer.
Is this where ultimate power leads? Straight into the arms of mysticism? Ren Ye thought cynically. His mind raced. Why me? Again? The date was clear: Emperor Jing's third year. This edict was at least four years old, written when the old Emperor had less than a year left. Did he know back then that I, the Heaven's Pardon Bearer, would appear in Qingliang? Four years ago, I was busting scams on the frontier, clueless about Star Gates! Yet he and that Daoist were already scheming around me. And the Tomb? What lay inside? Why was he the key?
The implications were chilling. Too many puzzles, too few answers. Unraveling this now was impossible. He had to play the Star Trace Gate's game, scene by scene.
Forcing calm, Ren Ye retrieved a small, exquisite porcelain vial nestled beside the edict in the wooden box. This must hold the Emperor's heart's blood.
He closed his eyes. "Imperial Brush."
FWOOSH!
The artifact materialized instantly in his hand.
Ren Ye uncorked the vial with his left hand, right hand poised with the brush. Before he could ponder how to use it, a blinding crimson light erupted from the vial. A single drop of blood, shimmering like liquid ruby, flew out and splashed onto the brush's tip.
[Ding—]
[Congratulations, Prince of Huai. The Imperial Brush's divine power has been restored. Second Task Completed.]
[Reward: 500 Source Points. 200 Experience Points.]
[Exclusive Item: "Late Emperor's Imperial Brush"]
[Effect: This miraculous brush can replicate any skill witnessed within this Star Trace Gate. Duration: 6 hours. Can be used only once per replication. After use, enters a 12-hour cooldown period.]
[Ding~ 500 Source Points acquired. Current Balance: 500.]
[Ding~ 200 Experience Points acquired. Note: Player Levels, Professions, and Legacy Traits cannot be activated within this Gate. Will be calculated upon exit.]
The Gate's voice, cold and ephemeral, vanished as abruptly as it came. Like a one-night stand with cosmic bureaucracy.
Ren Ye blinked, a slow grin spreading across his face. Replicate any skill? Holy hell! Now that's a reward worthy of a hell-difficulty opening!
He savored the moment, the vial now dull and empty in his hand. He placed it back carefully. "Recall."
FWOOSH!
The brush vanished from his grasp, reappearing in his mind's eye – a strange, comforting presence within his mental space.
The brush's power was a lifeline. Ren Ye felt lighter, invigorated. He spent the next hour meticulously combing the vault for further clues, Blockhead dutifully (if less enthusiastically) assisting.
At one shelf, Ren Ye picked up a manual:
[Heavenly Yin Maiden Sword Formation: Legend claims the Late Dynasty Princess was obsessed with martial arts. She secretly trained twenty-four beautiful maidens for eight years, developing a bizarre sword formation capable of shattering a warrior's Yang essence.]
"Sword maidens? Not exactly useful right now." He set it aside, picking up a vividly painted vase instead.
[Eight Treasures Vase: A seemingly useless decorative piece. Extremely valuable. Suitable for solitary contemplation or as a prestigious gift.]
[Gold Ingot: Common yellow metal. Allegedly universally beloved.]
"...Charming."
"Whew." Ren Ye wiped sweat from his brow after the final shelf. "Looks like the Gate isn't handing out any more free hints for this act." He turned. "Blockhead? Blockhe—?"
He found his lieutenant sitting by the entrance, cradling a long, silver-white blade with no scabbard, a goofy grin plastered on his face. "What are you doing? Trying to hatch it?"
Blockhead looked up, reverence in his eyes. "Your Highness, in all my years wielding blades, I've never held steel like this. It feels alive. It sings. This... this is a treasure!"
"Let me see."
"...Yes, Your Highness." Blockhead handed it over with palpable reluctance.
Ren Ye grasped the blade. Information flowed:
[One of the Ten Great Blades: "Summoning Moon"]
[Wielder: Hidden Maiden, the legendary assassin, fifty years past. Peerless.]
[Legend: The blade carries the echo of Hidden Maiden's lifetime of skill. Master the blade, master her art.]
Short description. Maximum power. Ren Ye glanced at Blockhead's expression – pure, desperate longing, held in check by loyalty. "You like it?"
"More than life itself, Your Highness! But such a divine weapon should be wielded by... by...!"
"Take it." Ren Ye cut off the stammering, thrusting the blade back into Blockhead's arms.
Blockhead froze, stunned into immobility.
"Take it!"
"Truly... Your Highness?"
"..." Ren Ye turned away, surveying the vault. "Later, sort through all this. Keep the martial manuals, scrolls, and documents. Inventory the gold, jewels, and valuables. Distribute them equally among the eunuchs and maidservants in my personal retinue. Every last one."
"Wha—?! But Your Highness, this fortune... you could use it...!"
"Money scattered gathers loyalty," Ren Ye waved dismissively. "Given my situation, they still choose to stand by me. A little gold is the least I can offer. Expecting loyalty without reward? That's not how the world works."
"Your Highness..." Blockhead's voice held a new depth, his eyes shining with something akin to pride. "You... you are truly not the man you once were."
Don't compare me to that waste of space, Ren Ye thought, heading for the exit. "Time's slipping away. I have a... rendezvous with my beloved Consort."
Blockhead, clutching "Summoning Moon" like a sacred relic, squared his shoulders. "Your Highness treats me like a father, gifting me such a priceless blade...!" He took a deep breath, steeling himself. "Even if you truly commanded me to serve the stallions... I would strive to excel!"
"Gods damn it!" Ren Ye groaned.
"This... 'Gods damn it'? What does it signify?" Blockhead inquired earnestly.
"It's... an expression of vigorous activity. Like a stallion... performing his duty."
"Your Highness possesses such profound knowledge...!"
...
After a hurried meal and a perfunctory bath, Ren Ye donned fresh robes. He selected a pair of unexpectedly "innocent" pink undergarments. Mimicking his earlier security measure, he tied a strand of Lotus's hair taut across his chamber door frame. Only then, with Blockhead and a small guard trailing him, did he approach Consort Xu Qingzhao's private quarters.
Servants waited outside. Inside, the air hung heavy with the scent of sandalwood incense, thick and silent.
Ren Ye looked towards the massive bed draped in layers of gauzy silk. Consort Xu sat cross-legged upon it, barefoot. Droplets of water still glistened in her raven-black hair. Her cheeks held a rosy flush, as if freshly bathed.
Xu Qingzhao always exuded an aura of detached, icy elegance – an immortal untouched by mortal concerns. Tonight, however, was different. A single crimson dot adorned her forehead. She wore only a sheer, white silk robe that clung to her form. Her shoulders were bare, the deep valley of her cleavage clearly visible. Her pale calves, crossed beneath the thin fabric, hinted at the smooth skin beneath.
Ren Ye's breath hitched. Three years... Three long, dry years... If this is the dress code... consider me wide awake.
Xu Qingzhao slowly opened her eyes. She tilted her head, her gaze meeting his. She patted the space on the bed directly in front of her. "Come. Up here."
"?!"
Ren Ye's heart hammered against his ribs. Feeling suddenly awkward, he approached, kicked off his boots, and climbed onto the luxurious bed. "Beloved Consort... shall we... discuss matters lying down?"
SWISH!
Xu Qingzhao flicked her wrist. The silk cords binding the bed's canopy seemed to unravel by themselves. The fragrant curtains whispered closed, shrouding the two figures on the bed in intimate secrecy.
"Remove your robes," she commanded, her voice cool and detached.
What kind of demanding tone is that for someone asking a favor? Ren Ye thought, even as his hands moved. Fine. Off they come.
Rustle... Rustle...
In under three seconds, Ren Ye was down to his pink undergarments. He fumbled with the waistband. "Beloved Consort, I know you're eager, but patience... almost... done..."
"The Sovereign's Blade has chosen you anew," Xu Qingzhao's voice cut through the dimness, cold and clear as shattering ice. "Its awakening shook the heavens. My congratulations... Heaven's Pardon Bearer."
The words struck Ren Ye like a physical blow. His head snapped up. Xu Qingzhao gazed down at him, a knowing, almost predatory smile playing on her lips.