Tome of Troubled Times

Chapter 622: Who is the Dragon Slayer?

Bo’e could not fathom anyone being this patient or this ridiculous. The entire battle had been a whirlwind of chaos, the kind of high-stakes conflict that would push anyone to act. Yet, the thief had held back, silent and unseen, until the very end. And when he finally appeared, it was not to join the fight but to steal something!

A thief more patient than the deadliest of assassins... His entire purpose was theft, and for the right prize, he could wait until the end of time. The outcome of the battle? The victor or the loser? He could not care less.

Originally, Ye Wuzong’s target had been Xia Longyuan. The quip about stealing his underwear had been a joke to obscure his true goal—the Heavenly Tome. But now, Bo’e had presented himself as a target, and the satisfaction of stealing from the second-ranked on the Ranking of Heaven was just as sweet. The Axe of Tngri was no less valuable than the Heavenly Tome, and stealing it even came with the added dignity of thwarting the barbarians. In the eyes of the jianghu, it was a righteous act.

If Bo’e had not shown up, Ye Wuzong would surely have gone after Xia Longyuan. So what had Bo’e accomplished by intervening? Had he just substituted himself as the target?

The humiliation made Bo’e’s rage boil over. It was a thousand times worse than a regular theft. He was so furious that he coughed up blood mid-flight, almost crashing out of the sky.

However, Bo’e’s will was as tough as iron. He forced the anger down, focusing on more pressing matters. Retrieving the axe was of paramount importance.

He knew his intervention had not been for nothing. If Xia Longyuan had managed to survive the aftermath of this battle, he might have had a chance to recover. But after burning his last reserves in a desperate surge of power, recovery was now beyond him. Even if he survived, he would lose his cultivation of the Profound Control Realm. And without that power, his advanced age made him no longer a threat.

The greatest danger to the Central Plains was neutralized. The next step was to sweep through the heartland. But would they live long enough to enjoy their spoils?

There was a problem: the bitter cold of winter. Launching a campaign now, with the freezing winds and deep snow, was impractical. Keeping the troops alive would be a victory in itself. But with the western passes now open, they no longer needed to batter themselves against Yanmen. They could march straight into the Central Plains. Perhaps this was the opportunity they needed.

There was another problem: Batu. The lands between the Mobei and the Central Plains were under his control. If Batu was not dealt with, their advance would falter. This needed to be discussed with Timur, the military commander.

In earlier days, Bo’e and Timur had never been close. The tension between the second and third-ranked on the Ranking of Heaven was predictable—religious authority clashing with military power. The Temple of Tngri had often sought to suppress Timur’s influence. Batu’s rise had, in part, been allowed by the temple to keep the tribes divided. Even Zhao Changhe had noted how the temple tolerated internal strife. If Bo’e had truly wished to eliminate Batu back then, he would not have needed Timur’s help.

But now, everything had changed. The pressure from the Great Xia Empire had forced the tribes into unity—something the strategists of Great Xia had not foreseen. A united Grasslands might prove more dangerous than ever before.

Bo’e mulled over these thoughts as he vanished into the icy wind, the first light of dawn breaking on the eastern horizon.

* * *

At the base of the Imperial Ancestral Temple.

Li Shentong sat cross-legged in silence, eyes closed. Having taken two of Bo’e’s strikes for Xia Longyuan, he was in no condition to do anything else. He paid no attention to the rest of the battle unfolding around him.

Ying Five, on the other hand, was taking his frustration out on Li Gongsi. It was less a fight and more a one-sided execution. Trapped in a fractured space, Li Gongsi’s body was slowly being sliced apart by the chaotic currents. His screams were muffled, unable to escape the twisted space, making the scene eerily silent.

Meanwhile, Yang Jingxiu, who had long prepared for escape, took advantage of the earlier clash between Xia Longyuan and Bo’e. He slipped away, vanishing into the shadows. In that moment of chaos, no one could stop him.

Opportunity favors the prepared.

As Wang Daoning prepared to flee, a massive broad saber blocked his path.

“This way is closed.”

Zhao Changhe had kept his eyes fixed on Wang Daoning the moment the tide of battle turned. There was no way he would let him escape.

Swish!

Wang Daoning had no patience for words. If Xia Longyuan recovered, it would all be over. He unleashed a crushing palm strike, a tidal wave of force barreling toward Zhao Changhe. By all logic, Zhao Changhe should not have lasted even a second.

But Vermillion Bird was right there with him, moving in perfect sync, almost like a shadow—or perhaps it was better described as a deadly duet. The moment Zhao Changhe raised his broad saber to block the strike, blood seeping from his mouth as he was hurled backward, Vermillion Bird’s fiery claws raked across Wang Daoning’s back. Her talons gripped tight, her demonic flames blazing, setting him ablaze.

Wang Daoning channeled his vigorous qi to shield himself from the flames and wrenched free, flinging Vermillion Bird off him. But then, a metallic crash rang out from Xia Longyuan’s direction.

Wang Daoning’s heart clenched in panic, his eyes wide with terror. He shouted instinctively, “Xia Longyuan! What are you doing?!”

Xia Longyuan, still suppressing his wounds, seized the brief moment of strength his faltering power afforded him. The first thing he did was not to chase Wang Daoning—it was to grab the four divine swords.

Li Gongsi, still trapped in the fractured space by Ying Five, stared in wild desperation, his silent screams lost to the void.

Clang!

The sound reverberated as Xia Longyuan smashed the swords together.

The blades held firm. His power was not enough. Worse, the backlash from the swords’ spirits made blood trickle from the corners of his mouth, the raging sword qi slicing into his flesh. The pain was no less than the slow agony Li Gongsi endured.

However, Wang Daoning was more desperate than the blood-drenched Xia Longyuan. His voice cracked with urgency. “Stop! The sword spirits will retaliate! You’ll die!”

Xia Longyuan did not listen. With grim determination, he struck again.

Clang!

Cracks spiderwebbed across the four divine sword, a surge of wild energy ripping through Xia Longyuan’s chest.

Even Zhao Changhe and Vermillion Bird halted their assault, frozen in disbelief at Xia Longyuan’s sudden madness. Li Shentong opened his eyes. Ying Five turned from Li Gongsi, her expression stunned.

Xia Longyuan’s aura began to crumble, his strength bleeding away until he was nothing more than a hunched, withered figure, his hair stark white.

“These four swords were meant to be the swords of the land, the swords of the mortal realm. But once they found masters, they became something else...” His voice was raspy, each word an effort. “No matter how carefully I planned, no matter how they defined themselves, they always became symbols of family legacy, tools of private power... I once held back, fearful of losing the clans’ support... But now, I fear nothing. While I still have the strength to destroy them, I will finish this task. They must not remain for those who come after.”

With a final, decisive blow, he brought the swords crashing together.

Clang!

The four swords shattered as one. The sword spirits vanished without a sound.

Wang Daoning’s mouth opened in a silent scream. A hollow emptiness filled his chest as he turned, dazed, to Li Gongsi. Blood-drenched and wide-eyed, Li Gongsi stared blankly at his broken sword, his mind shattering along with it. The meaning of his life, his family’s legacy—all of it dissolved into nothingness. Terror and despair swallowed him whole, and with one final gasp, he fell lifeless to the ground.

The future was gone. The past was severed. The emptiness consumed him.

Far away in Qinghe, Cui Wenjing coughed up a mouthful of blood. A weary sigh escaped his lips. “It’s over... Qinghe.”

Yang Jingxiu, fleeing down a distant road, felt blood surge to his throat. He turned northward, his eyes hollow and lost. For a moment, he was speechless.

Wang Daoning felt the world spinning around him, his voice trembling. “You... How dare you... They may have been claimed by families, but they still protected the land...”

“Just like your supposed noble clans protected me?” Xia Longyuan let the shattered swords fall from his hands, a bitter smile twisting his lips. He turned slowly and began ascending the steps to his throne. His laughter rang hollow. “If I must die for this nation, then so must you. Isn’t it fitting that my final act is to rid this land of two plagues?”

Each step he took was unsteady, a shadow of the power he once wielded. The platform he once ascended in a single bound now seemed a mountain. At last, after what felt like an eternity, he reached the top and sank down cross-legged.

“I...” He paused, his voice faint. “I was never much of a scholar. Never even finished nine years of compulsory education... Learned all my ‘henceforths’ and ‘thereins’ here.” He muttered a phrase in a dialect only those from the modern world would understand. Then he continued, “But I know a few stories from history. Earlier, Li Shentong said, ‘It was merely a single man’s rage, blood spilling within five paces.’ I used to like that phrase. And now... the entire realm, noble clans and commoners alike, have turned against me. I wonder... am I no different from Yang Guang[1]?”

No one answered.

In hindsight, since Li Shentong had spoken those words, Xia Longyuan had been unusually silent. He, who had always been so quick to speak, now seemed struck to the core. Only when the battle shifted did he find his voice again, as though grappling with a bitter realization.

“I’ve thought about it carefully,” Xia Longyuan said quietly. “I may not have been as brutal as Yang Guang, but perhaps we share the same essence. In the end... I never really saw you as people.”

His voice was calm, almost detached. “But like a game’s end-screen summary, if the judgment is Yang Guang, it’s hard to swallow. Who doesn’t want the perfect ending? Maybe I misunderstood something fundamental. What should an emperor do? Challenging gods and demons sounds lofty, but as an emperor, is that any different from a cultivator chasing immortality?”

Zhao Changhe finally spoke, “No, it’s not.”

Xia Longyuan nodded and continued, “So if you want to play the game of gods and demons, don’t be an emperor. If you choose to be an emperor, then fulfill an emperor’s duty. Isn’t that right, Changhe?”

“Yes.”

“So, will you take up the role?”

“No. You have a daughter.”

“Heh. She may not command the people’s loyalty, but if you can support her, do so. If not, make your own path.”

Zhao Changhe replied simply, “Alright.”

“Then let’s return to what an emperor should do.” Xia Longyuan did not linger on the topic. Instead, he turned to Wang Daoning. “Daoning... Do you think you’re slaying a dragon? For a long time, the dragon in my heart has been you.”

Wang Daoning stared at him, silent.

“If everyone wants to slay the dragon, let’s do it thoroughly. Daoning, do you remember the words we read together? I shall sever the dragon’s limbs, gnaw its flesh, so that it cannot return by day nor rest by night. When you acted, was this not the verse echoing in your mind? As fate would have it, it echoed in mine, too.

“Yet, you failed to become the dragon-slayer. I succeeded. Now tell me, Daoning—are you not the one who can neither return by day nor rest by night?”

Wang Daoning’s expression twisted with bitterness.

Xia Longyuan pointed at Ying Five and Li Shentong. “You two... You didn’t finish the job either. The only person who can kill me is myself. Isn’t that so?”

Li Shentong said nothing, but Ying Five, ever forthright, replied, “Yes.”

Xia Longyuan knew the truth deep down: his downfall was the backlash of an entire nation. Yet even now, he refused to acknowledge it aloud, clinging stubbornly to his pride.

Hearing Ying Five’s agreement, Xia Longyuan burst into laughter, genuine and unrestrained. “Then this game is over.”

No one else laughed with him. He laughed alone, a hollow sound fading into the stillness. Suddenly, he said, “There’s something I want to say... It’ll ruin the grandeur of the moment, but I’ll say it anyway.

“One reason I left governance to that idiotic imposter is... because it was too damn hard. I didn’t know how to rule! If I’d done it myself, I might have been even more of an idiot than him.”

Zhao Changhe: “...”

Li Shentong: “?”

Xia Longyuan chuckled, his voice growing fainter. “I carry a page of the Heavenly Tome in my robes... It’s a dowry for you...” His laughter dwindled to a whisper. “In the end, I never even wanted to see Chichi. Am I really so cold-hearted?”

A sliver of light pierced the depths of the chamber. Zhao Changhe lifted his gaze.

Xia Chichi stood above them, silent and still. She had been watching for who knew how long.

1. This is in reference to Emperor Yang of Sui. ☜