In the distance, the forest loomed, its snow-covered branches swaying gently in the evening breeze. Somewhere beyond those trees, plans were being set into motion. Plans that would one day reach even this remote corner of the empire, altering the lives of everyone within it. And when that day came, the villagers would realize just how deep their chains truly ran.
Emperor Zhou Yongil’s Bedroom, Ningxiang Palace, Central City of the Central Plains,
The cold, silent night shrouded Ningxiang Palace. Inside his opulent bedroom, Emperor Zhou Yongil stood near the frost-covered window, his silhouette framed by the dim light of a waning moon. Sleep had evaded him for yet another night. In his hand was a letter from Liang Feng Cha Ling, the sect leader of the Blazing Dawn Sect, whose words had haunted him ever since they arrived days ago.
The contents of the letter reverberated in his mind like the toll of a distant bell. Liang Feng’s retirement announcement had shocked the empire, sending ripples through every corner of the imperial court. However, it wasn’t just the retirement itself that gnawed at the emperor’s thoughts—it was what it represented. With Liang Feng stepping down, the last of the leaders from the legendary survival squads of twenty years ago would be gone.
The emperor clenched the letter tightly. Those survival squads had been instrumental in reclaiming the lands lost to the southern barbarians during that brutal war. Liang Feng’s words struck deep: "I do not need to be remembered as a man of battle. I am content to be forgotten as the leader who protected this era of peace."
Yongil’s gaze wandered to the night sky, the clouds dense and unyielding. The same could be said for the imperial court. Ever since Liang Feng’s announcement, the political climate within the palace had grown more fractious than ever. His daughter, Huangshu, who had once shown no interest in politics, was now maneuvering to form her own faction. She was pitting herself against her brothers, who had spent years solidifying their alliances.
This turmoil troubled him deeply. The imperial court, which should have been a bastion of unity, had become a battlefield of ambition. Yongil sighed heavily, the weight of years pressing down on him. He had hoped to accomplish something meaningful before relinquishing his throne, something that would define his reign and leave a lasting legacy. Yet, the years had slipped by, and with them, his opportunities.
His indecision, he realized, was the root of this growing rift within his family and his court. Factions had begun to form long before he officially announced any plans to abdicate. His hesitation had sown seeds of uncertainty, and now they bore bitter fruit.
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Behind him, the rustle of silk and the soft voice of Empress Zhou Ming broke the silence. “Not sleeping again?” she asked gently, her presence warm and steady as she approached him.
Yongil turned slightly but did not release the letter in his hand. “The letter from Liang Feng has been on my mind,” he admitted, his voice low and burdened. “His retirement marks the departure of the last surviving member of the squad that fought alongside me twenty years ago. I am the only one left now.”
Zhou Ming reached out, placing a reassuring hand on his. “It is natural to feel their absence. You shared a bond forged in blood and fire. But their departure does not diminish what you achieved together,” she said, her tone soft yet firm.
He shook his head, his expression grim. “It’s not just their absence, Ming. It’s the children—their actions trouble me more. Huangshu, who once cared nothing for the court, now schemes to outmaneuver her brothers. The factions they form are fracturing the court. My indecision allowed this to happen. It is my fault,” he said, his voice tinged with regret.
Zhou Ming studied him carefully. She could see the exhaustion etched into his face, the weight of decades of rule that had taken its toll. “You’ve always done what you believed was right,” she said gently. “But perhaps now is the time to be decisive. Let them fight for their beliefs if they must, but you can set boundaries, ensure their actions do not tear this empire apart.”
Yongil’s eyes grew distant as he considered her words. “I wanted to be idealistic, Ming. I wanted to preserve this fragile peace we’ve fought so hard for. But I see now that peace cannot be maintained through hesitation. It demands action, even if that action risks my legacy.”
Zhou Ming tightened her hold on his hand. “You speak as if you fear being forgotten,” she said softly. “Liang Feng’s words resonate with you because you see yourself in them. But you must remember, it is not the memory of others that defines a leader—it is what they leave behind.”
The emperor looked down at her, his tired eyes glinting with a faint spark of clarity. “You’re right,” he said quietly. “What good is it to be remembered as a man whose inaction led to bloodshed? It is far better to be forgotten among the sea of names who held the peace.”
For a moment, silence enveloped them. The clouds outside began to thin, allowing the moonlight to bathe the room in a pale glow. Zhou Ming saw something shift in her husband’s expression, a determination she had not seen in years.
“I have made my decision,” Yongil said, his voice resolute. “It is time to act, not for the sake of my legacy, but for the future of this empire.”
Zhou Ming’s lips curved into a small, knowing smile. “Then act, my emperor. Let this night mark the turning point for our empire.”
Yongil turned back to the window, his heart lighter but his resolve unshaken. The Central Plains had weathered countless storms, and now it would weather another. The actions he would take in the coming days would alter the course of the empire’s history forever.
Outside, the clouds parted completely, and the moon shone brightly, as if bearing witness to the decision that would shape the fate of the Central Plains and beyond.