The sword was thrust, penetrating the heart of the demon, and left it dead on the ground.
"By heaven's blessings, malevolence is slain and evil is subdued!"
On either side of the Grand Avenue of Divine Might, cheers erupted like an ocean current, coming in wave after wave, each one cresting higher than the last. In the courtyard that stretched before the scarlet-red gates of the palace, the two cultivators who played the roles of god and demon bowed to the surrounding crowds and stepped down, standing off to the side. The martial match that opened the show heightened the excitement in the city. Not only were the streets packed elbow-to-elbow, even the rooftops were full of brave climbers, clapping, hollering, flailing. The crowds went wild.
A celebration of this magnitude was truly brimming and bustling with energy. In the history of the Kingdom of Xianle, if any festival of Shangyuan was to be described thus, it had to be the one happening today!
Upon the towering platform, row after row of finely dressed royals and nobles overlooked the crowd, all wearing courteous smiles on their faces. Within the palace, a line of hundreds waited silently. When the bell chimed, the State Preceptor stroked his nonexistent beard and began to call roll.
"Path-Opening Warriors?"
"Present!"
"Jade maidens?"
"Present!"
"Musicians?"
"Present!"
"Calvary?"
"Present!"
"Demon?"
"Present!"
"The God-Pleasing Martial Warrior?"
No one answered. The State Preceptor frowned as he noticed the complication and turned his head.
"The God-Pleasing Martial Warrior? Where's the crown prince?"
Still, no one responded. The one who had answered to "demon" paused before he removed the monstrous mask, revealing a delicate, fair face.
This youth appeared to be about sixteen or seventeen. His skin and lips were both light in color, fresh and neat, and he bore a pair of bright, shimmering eyes, as black as obsidian. His hair was soft and silky, and a few loose strands lightly littered his forehead and cheeks. He looked quiet and obedient, in contrast to the monstrous demon mask in his hand.
He replied quietly, "His Highness the Crown Prince has left."
The State Preceptor almost fainted. But for the sake of this grand occasion he couldn't faint, so he held on and instead yelled with an angry exasperation. "Wha—?! He left?! When did His Highness leave?! The ceremonial parade is about to leave the palace gates!! When the grand stage is revealed and there's only a demon but no god, my old bones won't be able to swim out of all the spit that'll come flying at me! Mu Qing, why didn't you stop him?!"
Mu Qing hung his head. "When His Highness left, he told me to pass on the message not to worry and that everything can proceed as planned. He will return promptly."
The State Preceptor was in hysterics from anxiety. "How can I not worry? What do you mean, 'promptly'? When is 'promptly'? What if he doesn't make it?!"
Outside the palace gates, the citizens who had been waiting since early morning were losing patience and were noisily demanding for the event to start. A cultivator came rushing forward.
"My Lord State Preceptor, the queen sent a messenger inquiring why the parade hasn't started! The fortuitous hour is fast approaching! If we don't leave now, we'll miss it!"
At those words, the State Preceptor desperately prayed that a rebel army would suddenly invade and disrupt the Shangyuan Parade completely. Why did this headache have to happen right at the most crucial moment?!
If the troublemaker were anyone else, he would've flown into a rage already; no one would consider it a strange urge if he brandished a sword with intent to kill. But this troublemaker just happened to be his very, very favorite, most precious disciple, and the very, very distinguished, most precious son of another. He couldn't beat him, he couldn't yell at him, and he most definitely couldn't kill him. Rather than kill him, he'd more likely kill himself!
Just then, someone ran across the palace's black path and rushed inside, shouting, "Lord State Preceptor, why hasn't the parade started? The hour is about to pass; everyone outside is on edge!"
The one who'd arrived was also a young man of sixteen or seventeen. His build was upright and tall, his skin the color of wheat, and on his back, he carried a long black bow and snow-white quiver. His lips were pressed tight, his brows knit. Even at such a young age, his eyes were determined.
The moment the State Preceptor saw him, he grabbed him.
"Feng Xin! Where's That Highness of yours?"
Feng Xin was taken aback, but understanding instantly dawned, and anger filled his eyes as he turned his gaze to Mu Qing. As for Mu Qing, he had already put his demon mask back on without a word, his expression now unseen.
Feng Xin said gravely, "There's no time to explain! Please start the parade immediately, His Highness the Crown Prince will not disappoint you, sir!"
There was no other way. Bringing out a grand stage without the God-Pleasing Martial Warrior was death; delaying the procession and missing the fortuitous hour was also death. Despairingly, the State Preceptor waved his hand.
"Start the music! Depart!"
Upon receiving the command, the flutes and strings started to play, and the hundreds of royal warriors at the front of the procession roared in chorus to begin their march and lead the massive, impressive parade. They had departed!
The warriors at the front symbolized the thorny paths of the mortal world. Immediately following were the virgin girls meticulously selected from thousands of applicants, demure and beautiful. With baskets in their hands, they scattered flowers in the air like the celestial maidens they played, paving the path with blossoms and filling it with fragrance to signify enduring and unsullied virtue. The musicians rode in carriages of gold. The moment the procession left the palace gates, the crowds were amazed and astonished, fighting to catch the flowers. However, no matter how magnificent, how extravagant, how grand, this was only the warm-up act. The grand float, a glorious stage, was about to emerge.
Sixteen white stallions adorned with gold pulled the grand stage from behind the palace gates, slowly bringing it before the eyes of millions. On the stage was a black-clad demon with a monstrous mask on his face and a nine-foot-long saber in his hand. Gravely, he shifted to a fighting stance.
The State Preceptor was tense like a taut string, hoping for a miracle. Yet no miracles occurred. The crowd broke into chatter. Above, on the high platform, the royals and nobles frowned, exchanging wondering looks with each other.
"What's going on? Why is the God-Pleasing Martial Warrior not on stage?"
"Has His Highness the Crown Prince not arrived yet?"
"Where's Lian-gege?"
At the center of the tall platform sat a dignified, handsome man and a fair-skinned, amiable, gracious noblewoman. They were the king and queen of the Kingdom of Xianle. Not seeing the one who should be there, the queen gave the king a worried look. The king took hold of her hand and sed his gaze to comfort, telling her not to worry and to watch and see what would happen. The crowds below, however, had no one to comfort them, and their cries grew louder, so much so that the noise could almost raise the rooftops. The State Preceptor could only blame himself for not having the courage to kill himself right then and there. Yet, on stage, Mu Qing was quite calm. Even without his opponent he remained meticulous, taking care of his own stage directions. CLANG, he hurled his heavy saber down into the stage, standing it upright before him.
Pantomiming an act of chilling slaughter, the black-clad youth impressively ended the opening act as the "demon."
By face and by form, Mu Qing was delicate and elegant like a gentle scholar. And yet he still swung an impossibly heavy three-meter saber as if it were feather-light in his hands, as if it were weightless. Another group of cultivators playing the roles of demon vanquishers leapt onto the stage one by one, and one by one they were instantly defeated and chased off the stage. That saber danced skillfully and made the performance quite exciting to watch, so some in the crowds cheered for him. Except the people didn't come to watch "Demon Causing Havoc," so after that act there were more complaints.
"Where's the God-Pleasing Martial Warrior?!"
"Where's His Highness the Crown Prince?!"
"We want to see His Highness playing the Heavenly Emperor! Defeat the evil!"
Upon the towering platform, a furious voice shouted, "Where's my cousin? What the hell?! Who wants to watch this crap? Where the fuck is my cousin the crown prince?!"
No need to confirm who that was—obviously that loud voice belonged to none other than Prince Xiao Jing, Qi Rong. Sure enough, many looked up and saw a young man, finely dressed in light turquoise brocade and a necklace, rush to the edge of that platform shaking his fists angrily. This youth was no older than fifteen or sixteen, his face fair and his brows black, rather attractive. But his face was twisted murderously, as if he was going to jump off the tower at any moment to beat someone. However, the tower was too tall—if he jumped, he'd break his legs if not die. So instead, he grabbed a white jade teapot and hurled it down.
That hurled teapot flew quickly right at the back of the demon's head, looking like it might knock him out on the spot and spill his blood.
Unexpectedly, however, the demon shifted his stance, slanted his saber flat, and caught the teapot on the tip of the blade. The tottering teapot came to a stop, prompting another wave of cheers. Mu Qing then flicked the long saber, and the teapot was hurled into the air to be caught by someone below.
He continued to play the role of the demon languidly, swinging the long saber, slaughtering humans. Qi Rong was outraged and was about to throw something else, but the queen had ordered someone to pull him away, so he was reluctantly dragged off. Yet the faces of the nobles were looking more and more grim, and some were growing restless.
That the God-Pleasing Martial Warrior would disappear right before the Heavenly Procession of the Shangyuan Festival was no laughing matter!
But just then, a roaring cheer like a storm exploded from amongst the people, louder than the cheers from before. A snow-white silhouette had descended from the sky and landed right before the black-clad demon!
Upon his landing, his heavy white robes fluttered and covered the grand stage in the shape of a giant flower, and a golden mask hid his face. He held a sword in one hand, and the other gently flicked that foreboding blade, the resounding ringing pleasing to the ear. This gesture was serene and confident, as if the demon meant nothing to him. The demon slowly raised his long saber and pointed it at him, and the white-clad martial warrior unhurriedly rose to his feet.
Qi Rong's eyes were shining bright, his face red. He jumped up and down, shouting, "Cousin Crown Prince! COUSIN CROWN PRINCE HAS COME!!!"
Above and below, all were agape.
This entrance was like the descent of a real heavenly being, exceedingly audacious!
The city wall's tower was at least thirty meters tall, and the eminent crown prince, whose person was worth a thousand gold, had still leapt down from it! In that moment, thousands had thought a god had truly descended. When they recovered from their shock, fervor filled their veins; the crowd went hysterical, applauding with wild intensity. Qi Rong too was shouting, leading the crowd in wild applause, yelling until his voice was hoarse, clapping until both his hands were red. The king and the queen shared a look, smiling, and applauded too. The rest of the nobles eased their furrowed brows and sighed a breath of relief before joining in the cheer. On either side of the Grand Avenue of Divine Might, the crowds went wild like crashing waves, hundreds and thousands of men so excited that they pushed against the royal guards, wanting to approach closer to holler.
Upon the grand stage, two figures—one black, one white faced each other. Each with their own weapon in hand, god and demon would finally face off.
Seeing that everything had worked out, the State Preceptor finally relaxed his shoulders and mounted the towering platform. After nodding to his fellows in greeting, he found a seat for himself and sat down.
The king chuckled. "State Preceptor, how did you come up with such an exhilarating entrance? How splendid."
The State Preceptor wiped sweat from his face and smiled. "Splendid indeed. But unfortunately, this lowly subject didn't come up with it. I'm afraid it's His Highness the Crown Prince's own idea."
The queen patted her heart. "That mischievous child. To jump from such a height without a word of warning! I almost stood up in fright."
The State Preceptor couldn't help but lace his words with pride. "My Lady Queen can be at ease. The martial might of His Highness the Crown Prince is extraordinary. Dozens of meters is nothing to him. Even with towers that are many times higher, he can easily mount and easily jump off with his eyes closed."
The queen appeared pleased and said gently, "Thanks to the teachings of the State Preceptor."
The State Preceptor laughed. "It's nothing, it's nothing. His Highness the Crown Prince, darling of the heavens, is divinely gifted, marvelously talented, and graciously brilliant. It is the fortune accumulated from three lifetimes that gave this lowly subject the chance to become his teacher. I have a feeling that with His Highness the Crown Prince's presence, today will go down in history as the most impressive of the God-Pleasing Ceremony's Martial Matches."
His words of praise were exceedingly smooth, alluding to the heavens. The king smiled and turned back to watch the performance.
"I hope that's the case."
In the Heavenly Procession of the Shangyuan Festival, the God-Pleasing Martial Warrior and the Demon were the two most important roles. Both must be played by young men exceptionally skilled in martial arts. The God-Pleasing Martial Warrior especially—the presentation and make of his costume were strict, transcendentally magnificent, and after dressing, the weight of everything worn came to twenty-five or thirty kilos. The Martial Warrior must, under this heavy burden, before the eyes of millions, march around the capital a number of times and perform in the Martial Match for at least four hours. There must also be no mishaps throughout, and so the performer must be extraordinarily skilled.
Fortunately, both of these young men were outstanding. It was a fierce match, the saber parried the sword—the combat was a thrilling sight to behold. The moves were also calculated to the minutest detail, obviously having been practiced and rehearsed many times.
"Who's the one playing the demon and sparring with the crown prince?" the king asked.
The State Preceptor cleared his throat. "Your Majesty, he's a young trainee from the Royal Holy Temple. His name is Mu Qing."
The queen said sweetly, "I see that child is also rather skilled in fighting, just a bit weaker than my son. Maybe about the same level as Feng Xin?"
The State Preceptor didn't appear to agree with her sentiment. Qi Rong had been lying on the queen's lap eating grapes, and he spat out the skins in a rush.
"Psh, psh, psh! No way, no way! Not just a bit weaker, he's faaaar weaker! Not just anyone can compare to Cousin Crown Prince!"
Hearing this, the queen patted his head, smiling, and the rest of the nobles all laughed, their bodies swaying back and forth in mirth. They teased, "Rong-er certainly clings to his cousin! If a day passes when he doesn't praise him, he's miserable."
Down below in the sea of people, the cheers and hollers were shooting through the heavens.
"Fight! Fight! Kill him!"
"Slay the demon!"
The roars of excitement were growing stronger. Qi Rong was also adding to the noise, circling both his hands around his mouth like a trumpet, shouting and laughing.
"COUSIN CROWN PRINCE, GO! YOU CAN EASILY KNOCK HIM DOWN WITH ONE HAND! SHOW HIM HOW IT'S DONE!"
Suddenly, the demon on the stage slashed forward. The Martial Warrior repelled the attack with his sword but made a noise of curiosity.
During the Heavenly Parade, the Martial Match was a performance for pleasing the gods, and at most, one should use just a seventh of their power, pulling their swords at contact. However, with that strike he received just now, the sword in his hand had almost flown from his grip. Obviously, his opponent had used all of his might in that blow.
Xie Lian raised his head slightly and called out, "Mu Qing?"
The young man playing the demon didn't say a word, just slashed at him again. Xie Lian had no time to think as he received one attack after the other, their weapons clanging.
Well, this is more exciting than fake sparring, Xie Lian thought, and his spirit heightened, immersing himself more into the fight.
Thus, under the crashing roar of cheers, the weapons clashed and sparks flew. The more invigorating the fight was on stage, the louder the cheers below.
Suddenly, there was a deafening clang. White light flashed, and the crowd gasped, their breaths hitched. That three-meter saber was flicked out of the demon's hand by the long slender sword of the God-Pleasing Martial Warrior and was nailed directly into a stone pillar of the towering platform. A few bystanders tried to pull it out, but even when they pulled with all their strength, the long saber didn't move an inch. They were greatly astonished.
"What kind of saber is this? What strength you'd need to wield it!"
Upon the grand stage, the God-Pleasing Martial Warrior shook his sword, and he flicked his finger on the blade again. Another resonant ring, and from behind the golden mask there came soft chuckling.
"You fought well. But you still lost," Xie Lian said, cheerfully and leisurely.
With his weapon lost, the demon bent one knee to the ground. He was still silent, but his fists clenched harder. Xie Lian skillfully twirled his sword and, surrounded by the cheers from all around, prepared to make his final strike and "slay" the demon.
Just then, there was screaming from above!
Shocked, Xie Lian lowered his sword and looked up, but he was only able to see a blurry shadow plunging rapidly from the city wall.
In that split second, he didn't have time to think. He pointed his toes and pushed off the ground in a flash to leap into the air, darting upward weightlessly.
He surged and flew, his sleeves fluttering open like the wings of a butterfly, then landed gracefully, light as a feather. Firmly in his hold was a person, and only when he touched solid ground did Xie Lian sigh a breath of relief and look down.
In his arms there was a child, his head wrapped in bandages, dirty and unkempt. He was curled up in his hold and watching him dazedly.
This child was no older than seven or eight, and quite the small, gaunt creature. After falling from such a height, his little body was shaking uncontrollably in his arms like a newborn animal. However, from that mess of bandages wrapped around his head there peeked a large black eye that reflected the silhouette of a snow-white figure. He was watching him unblinkingly, as if he could no longer see anything else.
Loud gasps were heard from all around, and when Xie Lian raised his head, his heart sank. In his peripheral vision, he saw lying on the ground not far away a golden object. The golden mask that hid his face had fallen.
Xie Lian had landed in the middle of the Grand Avenue of Divine Might, and the ceremonial parade was dozens of meters behind him, the procession not having made it this far yet. The sudden commotion broke the steady march of the warriors, the flower-tossing celestial maidens looked panicked, the golden carriages stopped, a number of white stallions stomped their hooves and neighed in alarm, and the strings missed notes with their rhythm disrupted. Some kept going, and some stopped. Without being able to coordinate their march again, the entire situation was spiraling out of control. The crowd on both sides of the street still hadn't had the chance to react, but the King of Xianle upon the towering platform stood up immediately, looking worried and grave as he watched his son.
The moment he stood, how could the rest of the nobles remain seated? Thus, they all rose to their feet in a frenzy. The State Preceptor's bottom had only just warmed his seat, but now it was cold again. He was frantically deciding whether he needed to prostrate on all fours immediately to beg for forgiveness when Qi Rong leapt onto the railing, his sleeves rolled up, shouting in rage.
"WHAT'S GOING ON NOW? WHAT'S HAPPENING? WHY DID THE PROCESSION FALL INTO CHAOS? WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU USELESS TRASH DOING? DID YOU ALL EAT NOTHING BUT PLAIN RICE, CAN'T EVEN HOLD YOUR HORSES?!"
The queen's face was pale, her brows lightly knitted, and she hurriedly sent for another person to drag him back. The crowds were growing agitated and a riot was about to erupt when just then, Xie Lian rose to his feet once more.
Usually, the honorable crown prince was hidden deep within the palace or training at the Royal Holy Temple, so he rarely had the chance to show his face to the people. This was such a rare occasion that many couldn't help but be intrigued, their gazes all falling on him. Yet when they gazed upon his face, their breathing hitched. That young man had long brows and charming eyes, exceptionally handsome, radiating nobility, so dazzling it forced down the eyes of those looking. With the child in one arm, he slowly raised the other with sword in hand, and pointed it to the grand stage.
The demon had been observing the situation from above the stage, and seeing that gesture, he paused for a moment before leaping off the parade float.
The crowd wowed in amazement as the demon, his form like a streak of black cloud, stole through the air to the stone pillar where the saber was deeply embedded. He gripped the hilt and yanked the saber out of the crack, then flipped again to land in the middle of the street before the martial warrior.
Seeing that he instantaneously understood his intentions and came forward to cooperate, Xie Lian lauded him under his breath, "Good, Mu Qing!"
Now both the God-Pleasing Martial Warrior and the demon had descended from the stage. One black, one white, one saber and one sword clashed once again, heightening the excitement, electrifying the crowd. Upon the towering platform, the faces of nobles finally relaxed, looking appeased.
The demon feigned aiming for the child in the warrior's arms; with both his hands gripping the saber, he flashed the blade, then lunged at Xie Lian. The two faked parrying, move after move, strike after strike, before they leapt back onto the stage anew. While the crowd was distracted, Mu Qing used the opportunity to do a somersault onto the street and grab that golden mask, then dashed through the procession, urging in a low voice:
"Stay in formation! Compose yourselves! Pretend nothing's happened and continue the march! Finish marching this round and return to the palace!"
Everyone in the procession immediately steadied and returned to their posts, their spirits renewed. The moment Mu Qing returned to the stage, his attacks became even more vigorous, clinking and clanking as Xie Lian received more slashes. Just then, the child in his arms cried out, probably terrified from being stuck between the clashing weapons.
Xie Lian's left hand held him tighter, and he whispered, "Don't be scared!"
Hearing his words, the small child clutched the folds of Xie Lian's robes at his chest. Even with a child in one arm and the other hand handling a sword, Xie Lian was still fighting with ease. After parrying for a while, he felt the child in his hold raise his trembling arms and grab his shoulders in a desperate grip, as if he were hanging on for dear life.
Xie Lian soothed again, "Don't worry, nothing will hurt you."
Then, Xie Lian ordered in a hushed voice, "Mu Qing!"
The demon facing him imperceptibly nodded, and Xie Lian struck.
Thus, before the eyes of millions, the God-Pleasing Martial Warrior pierced the heart of the demon, slaying it on the spot!
Mu Qing, with his demon mask on, clutched his "wound," stumbled back a few steps, and struggled for a moment before finally—THUD—he fell to the ground and stopped moving.
Above, on the platform, Qi Rong laughed out loud, applauding.
"DEAD! HE'S DEAD! COUSIN CROWN PRINCE HAS SLAIN THE DEMON DEAD!"
While all this was happening, the magnificent Heavenly Procession had continued to march and soon moved onto the path back to the palace. Because of how well the act was saved and how the unexpected improvised act was so exhilarating to watch, not only did the people not complain, but their excitement grew even stronger. Countless within the crowd were shouting "Your Highness!" or hollering "God!" and followed behind the grand stage, thousands upon millions rushing to the palace. A few generals had to send out more troops of warriors and soldiers to block the overly excited people. In the end, they still couldn't hold them back, and the crowd broke through, pushing themselves toward the palace gates.
The King of Xianle ordered from the top of the towering platform, "Guards! Warriors!"
Meanwhile, the hundreds within the procession had reentered the palace, and the giant scarlet gates closed soundly shut after the grand stage, the colorful banners of the performance now out of sight. The people rushed the gates, knocking and slapping upon it, their cheers shooting to the heavens.
Inside those firmly shut palace gates, upon the grand stage, the white-clad God-Pleasing Martial Warrior and the black-clad demon both tossed their weapons aside with clanking sounds before they collapsed heavily on the ground.
Xie Lian was covered in sweat and ripped open layer after layer of his elegant costume before he heaved a long breath. "That was close. Too close. I'm exhausted."
Mu Qing also removed his heavy demon mask and let out a silent sigh, but he didn't complain about being tired. When he looked over, he saw that Xie Lian was still holding on to that young child and frowned wordlessly. Feng Xin, on the other hand, called out as he followed after the grand stage in a jog.
"Your Highness, what are you doing bringing that child in too?"
The young child was lying on Xie Lian's chest, his small body frozen and unmoving, afraid to even breathe loudly. Xie Lian sat up.
"What was I to do, throw him back out on the streets? It's a mess out there, and he's such a tiny creature. He'd get trampled to death."
He held up the small child and stroked his head, asking casually, "How old are you, little one?"
The child didn't blink, and his lips uttered no sounds.
Xie Lian continued his query, coaxing, "How did you come to fall earlier?"
"Your Highness, the child probably doesn't dare to speak. He's obviously scared witless," Mu Qing said.
Xie Lian stroked the head of the child again, but his unresponsiveness was making him lose interest, so he eventually stopped.
"What a silly child," Xie Lian commented. "Feng Xin, go find someone to take him out through the side doors when you get a chance. And check if he's injured—his head is wrapped in bandages."
"All right." Feng Xin extended his hand. "Give him here."
Xie Lian held the young child up to pass him over, but when he tried, Feng Xin said, "Your Highness, why haven't you let go?"
"I did let go…?"
Xie Lian was puzzled, but when he looked down, he laughed in exasperation. It turned out it was the child, who was still clutching tightly onto his clothes, refusing to let go.
A few were taken aback and started laughing out loud. While training at the Royal Holy Temple, so many devotees, men and women alike, tried their hardest to get a glimpse of Xie Lian, whether out of curiosity or devotion. But as soon they'd seen him once, they would want to see him again; if they could train next to him, even better. They couldn't believe that a child of such a young age would be the same. Guarding the grand stage were many young trainees from the Royal Holy Temple, and they all laughed.
"Your Highness, this child doesn't want to leave!"
Xie Lian also laughed. "Is that right? That won't do. I've got my own things to take care of. Go home, little guy."
At his words, the child finally, slowly loosened his grip, letting go of his clothes, and Feng Xin picked him up. Even when Feng Xin was the one holding him, the child still stared fixedly at Xie Lian with his big, bright black eye, almost as if he'd been possessed. At this sight, many started grumbling under their breaths. Xie Lian himself, however, wasn't even looking at the child anymore, and only spoke to Feng Xin directly.
"Don't dangle him like you're picking up trash. You're scaring him."
Feng Xin put the child back down on the ground. "Enough joking around. The State Preceptor is freaking out. Your Highness better think about how you're going to face him later."
Hearing this, everyone stopped laughing.
***
An hour later, at the Royal Holy Temple, on the Divine Might Summit, inside the Palace of Divine Might…
Clouds of incense wafted in the air, and the sound of chanting came in waves. The Chief State Preceptor and three other Deputy State
Preceptors sat in a line by the side wall within the great hall, their faces clouded. Mu Qing was kneeling before them. Xie Lian was also kneeling, but before him was no one but the golden statue of the Heavenly Emperor. Feng Xin followed his master and knelt behind him.
The State Preceptor picked up that exquisitely crafted golden mask, and after a moment, he heaved a heavy sigh. "Your Highness, Your Highness."
Even when kneeling, Xie Lian's back was straight, his posture perfect and his head held high. "Present."
The State Preceptor looked pained. "Do you know that, in the history of Xianle, and the countless Shangyuan Heavenly Ceremonial Processions we have held, never once has the grand stage only circled the capital thrice. Thrice!"
In the Shangyuan Heavenly Ceremonial Procession, every ritual, every decoration, every place had a meaning behind it. To have the grand stage circle the capital once symbolized the kingdom's prayer for the peace and prosperity of the people for one year; thus, however many rounds the grand stage made meant that many years before another such grand ceremony would need to take place. Not only did this signify good fortune, it also saved money. Having only made three rounds, didn't that mean the kingdom would only be protected for three years?!
The worst thing on top of that was that the golden mask on the face of the God-Pleasing Martial Warrior had fallen mid-ritual.
Since ancient times, the people of Xianle had believed that the spiritual qi of a person gathered upon the five facial features; the spirit of a person was on their face, and the best must be offered to the heavens. Thus, while performing the ceremony, the Martial Warrior must wear a golden mask to hide his face, because his face could only be appreciated by the gods, and mortals had no right to see it.
The State Preceptor was both furious and disappointed. "The God-Pleasing Martial Warriors of the past circled the capital at least five times, at most fifteen or sixteen times. You? You could do fifty with your eyes closed! A hundred even! But you killed yourself dead at three—why didn't
you just kill me, your shifu, first? Now look at you. Our dear Highness the Crown Prince is going to go down in history, dragging me along with you!"
No one dared speak in the great hall, and yet Xie Lian still looked atease and responded calmly.
"Perhaps the State Preceptor should look at it this way. If that child
had fallen to his death with no one to catch him, spilling blood on the path of the procession, wouldn't that be equally ominous? Wouldn't the parade still have to come to a stop? At the very least, the ceremony ended fairly respectably, which was the best-case scenario. Let's just call what happened
an accident."
For a moment, the State Preceptor's words were stuck in his throat, but then he blew up. "You child! With so many royal guards at the scene, anyone could've caught him! Even if the catch was off and he broke his arm, he wouldn't have died. You could've just marched forward a few steps, performed a little flashier, and everyone would've forgotten whatever had fallen and moved on."
Xie Lian raised his brows, however. "State Preceptor, you understand as well as I do. Under those circumstances, no one else but me could have reacted as fast, and there was no second person who could've caught him without being injured. Let him fall, there'd be one dead. Catch him, and there'd be two dead."
His tone was matter-of-fact and confident. The State Preceptor also knew that what he said was true and couldn't refute him. Seeing him kneel before the divine statue, looking like all was well and nothing was the matter, made the State Preceptor angry, amused, and proud all at once. Before his precious, darling disciple, he just couldn't get angry, and could only pull at his own hair and use the pain of his scalp to relieve the worry in his heart.
After a pause, the State Preceptor spoke again. "Another thing!"
Xie Lian inclined his head. "This disciple is listening."
"You did well on stage today," the State Preceptor said. "But no matter how well you perform, you can't just suddenly change things up right before the start without a word of warning. Both majesties were terrified by your act today. Do you know what would have happened if we missed the fortuitous hour?"
Xie Lian raised his brows, looking puzzled. "State Preceptor, hadn't I already asked for your permission in regard to this before today?"
The State Preceptor was taken aback too. "You asked already? Before today? When?"
Hearing this, Xie Lian turned his head to the side, his brows furrowed. "Mu Qing?"
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Shangyuan Festival is also known as the Lantern Festival, marking the 15th and last day of the Lunar New Year. It's a day for worshipping and celebrating the celestial heavens.