The world was not peaceful.

When Da Xiang founded the nation, there was still some turmoil in the south. Slowly, it calmed down, but this calm did not last long.

With a royal decree, taxes increased by twenty percent, and the government began recruiting soldiers.

That twenty percent increase in taxes was practically unbearable.

The Jing people had lost their power; they had no backing. With wives and children waiting to be fed, many joined the army. Doing so exempted them from that twenty percent tax, ensuring their families had food to survive.

It was a cruel reality. Under someone else’s roof, they had to bow their heads.

But not everyone was willing.

In the southern regions where Jing people gathered, under this pressure, someone rose up in rebellion. They shouted slogans to “Restore Jing!” Many answered the call, ready to revolt against the Prince of Xiang.

But Zhao Zhen was no ordinary man. Since he dared to take this step, he had made thorough preparations.

A hundred thousand troops had already moved south. Any signs of rebellion would be instantly crushed.

Several uprisings erupted one after another. Nearly ten thousand Jing people were killed or injured. Those captured ended up in prison. The severe offenders were beheaded publicly in the streets; those who surrendered were drafted into the army.

“I’d like to see what trouble a bunch of stray dogs can cause.”

Zhao Zhen intended to solve the Jing problem at its root.

Initially, he emphasized pacification. But after two years, it showed no effect. Instead, the Jing people became more clustered in the south. He wouldn’t tolerate such an instability.

Either they submit, or he would kill until they were terrified!

Through ruthless measures, the unrest in the Southern Region was completely suppressed. Most chose to submit, while those who couldn’t truly submit chose to hide and endure.

Spring winds blow endlessly; wild grass sprouts repeatedly. Someday, they would rise again.

This brief peace allowed Da Xiang’s conscription to proceed smoothly.

As the Lunar New Year approached, fifty thousand soldiers had been recruited.

Though it didn’t meet Zhao Zhen’s original target…

… the Northern Campaign against Mang would not be delayed.

Year Four of Xinglong. The day of Insects Awaken.

Zhao Zhen personally led a hundred thousand troops on an expedition to crush Northern Mang!

“Attack!!”

With a hoarse cry, war drums thundered.

The world, peaceful just years before, was engulfed in turmoil once more.

Northern Mang was a recent uprising, born from a righteous army. Though they had seized half of the old Beixiang territory, their depth of strength was far inferior to the established Da Xiang.

Nevertheless, Northern Mang leveraged easily defensible terrain and managed to hold against Da Xiang for a while.

This war lasted from Insects Awaken to early autumn.

That day, Zhao Zhen stood clad in armor, a long sword at his waist.

He surveyed the battlefield strewn with countless corpses, the air thick with the stench of blood.

Accompanied by a soft sigh, this king, well past fifty, sheathed his blood-soaked sword.

Northern Mang vanished into the torrent of history.

With that, the Eastern Lands were unified!

Once the world was divided among Beixiang, Northern Desert, and Great Jing. Within these five years,

Great Jing had fallen, Da Xiang rose, Northern Mang established its rule only to be quelled. Now only Da Xiang and Western Xiao stood side by side.

This relentless, surging tide could finally pause.

—

Moyuan had traveled a full circle outside, thinking he would be back in time to see the Master. Who knew he still missed him?

Now things were even better. Miss Tao’er and that boy Tong Zhihuan had gone down the mountain to travel. The temple was empty.

Moyuan found nothing interesting anywhere. So he decided to simply stay and watch over the Taoist Temple. Occasionally, he swept fallen leaves from the courtyard, waiting for the Master’s return.

During this time, Moyuan received many things.

Most were favors or tokens originally meant for the Master.

For instance:

A family in the Autumn Moon Market: Zhang Xiaoliu sent up several jars of wine every year during Huai Xu, explicitly for the Master. Moyuan accepted them as a matter of course.

Besides that, Moyuan sometimes heard knocking at the door. Opening it revealed a fleeing figure, running extremely fast, vanishing in the blink of an eye. But that person always left a packet of tea by the doorway, invariably excellent tea.

This was the most extremely strange person Moyuan had ever seen. They came all the way, only to leave things behind.

Moyuan didn’t pay it too much mind. He just stored the tea.

Another thing worth noting: there was a woman named Yun Xiang.

She came every year during Huai Xu.

She brought a packet of preserved fruit each time, along with a few freshly picked lotus blossoms. All for the Master.

Moyuan was puzzled when he received these things.

Bringing preserved fruit made sense. But the lotus? That he couldn’t figure out.

Moyuan thought: This girl has something with the Master, chances are 80%.

So every year Yun Xiang came, Moyuan would nag at her with many questions, trying to fish information out of her.

But after that first attempt, Yun Xiang never lingered if she couldn’t see the Master. Even a proper, disciplined person like her felt Moyuan talked far too much.

Year after year.

Moyuan looked at the accumulating items in the room.

Preserved fruit: three or four packets. The lotus? He threw them into the well. With his magical power, they wouldn’t wilt.

The side room was almost overflowing with stacked wine jars. On the table lay dozens of packets of tea – probably not even half would be drunk in the next few years.

Mr. Chen’s karma is truly something else, Moyuan mused. To be remembered like a ghost deity… probably only Mr. Chen could manage that.

As the year began, lanterns were hung and decorated in the Civic District.

This day, Zhang Xiaoliu from the foot of the mountain brought up lanterns, candles, and decorative couplets.

Moyuan didn’t pay much attention. He just said he’d accept them on behalf of Mr. Chen.

But Zhang Xiaoliu told him they were not for the Master.

“For me?” Moyuan looked at the lanterns and couplets in his hands, confused.

“Yes.” Zhang Xiaoliu said, “It’s lonely for a young master all alone in the mountains. Lighting the lanterns makes things brighter, that warmth you feel in your heart too. Hang these couplets tomorrow; then it will feel lively.”

Hearing this stirred complex emotions in Moyuan.

To be honest, he had lived over a thousand years. He spent half his life striving for Dragon Ascension. Demons and monsters were his usual contacts…

But humans?

He really didn’t have close acquaintances. Tong Zhihuan counted, of course, but… this felt different from Zhang Xiaoliu outside.

Zhang Xiaoliu was simple, down-to-earth. Like that from the very start.

It was this simplicity that evoked a different kind of feeling within Moyuan’s heart.

In a daze, he seemed to understand why the Master was so attached to these mortals, and that inexplicable, indescribable mortal world.

This feeling… It truly was extraordinary.

Moyuan smiled warmly at Zhang Xiaoliu. “Thank you.”

“You’re too kind, Young Master,” Zhang Xiaoliu replied.

Zhang Xiaoliu had been here many times but rarely saw this young master smile. But this time, he felt the smile was unusually sincere.

It simply wasn’t like before. Though he couldn’t pinpoint how it was different.

That night,

Moyuan prepared the lanterns and hung them up.

He lit the candles and placed them in the Main Hall.

Seeing the joyful display, a satisfied smile crept onto Moyuan’s face.

“This truly is different.”

He chuckled to himself, then lowered his head to read his book.