The Prisoner of Beauty - Chapter 162

Chapter 162

That night, the moonlight was bright and clear, and the sea was calm. The warship departed the island that very night. Guided by an experienced pilot and propelled by the synchronized rowing of dozens of sailors, the vessel sailed toward the mainland at a steady speed.

The islanders who had boarded the ship were now settled. With expressions of awe, they carefully watched the heroic back of the young man in the distance, and the women hushed their children, doing their best not to let them make the slightest sound.

Yet, upon their sallow and haggard faces—worn by hardship and poverty—there shone a radiance of hope, something they had not felt in a long time.

From yesterday until this moment, in just one day and night, their destinies had undergone fluctuations they had never experienced in their entire lives. They knew that the man who was bringing them home was soon to be the new ruler of the world.

These people had lived on the isolated island for several years and had never heard the name of the Marquis of Yan, Wei Shao, before. But out of an intuition they themselves could not clearly explain, they believed that this young new ruler, who was willing to pause his encirclement for the sake of commoners like them, would surely bring them the stable life they had long craved.

How could they not feel joyful and encouraged by this?

...

With nothing left to do, Wei Shao dismissed Lei Yan and the others and returned to his cabin.

He stood before the porthole, looking up at the starry sky, lost in thought for a long time.

...

Yongdu finally fell. The "Later Emperor" fled to Shu, but how could he withstand the force of Wei Shao’s blade, which was destined to sweep away obstacles and unify the world?

The final city was finally breached by him.

As his soldiers occupied the city walls, cheering loudly to celebrate their victory, he was informed that the "Later Emperor" had committed suicide in his quarters.

Dead bodies lay scattered in all directions at his feet. The air was filled with the foul stench of blood. The buildings were still smoldering with embers, thick smoke billowed, and the surroundings were filled with the muffled, terrified weeping of the captured city residents.

He had long since grown accustomed to all this. Surrounded by soldiers in heavy armor, he entered the quarters filled with the scent of blood.

In a pool of blood on the floor lay several women in colorful clothes who were already dead. On the ta (raised platform bed), a man and a woman lay side by side, their breath having already departed.

A trembling old eunuch knelt in the blood, saying in a shaky, discordant voice that this pair was the "Later Emperor," Liu Yan, and his Empress, of the Qiao clan.

After Liu Yan ordered his trusted eunuchs to kill the consorts, he killed the Empress with his own hands, then took poison to end his own life.

Liu Yan’s eyes were tightly shut; his complexion was a deathly, pale blue, and the muscles of his face were slightly contorted.

He stared at the dead Liu Yan for a moment, then swept his gaze to the woman lying supine beside him.

The younger sister of his own deceased wife.

She also hailed from the Qiao clan, whom he hated.

Her palace robes were neat. On the left side of her chest was a wound pierced by a sharp blade; fresh blood had soaked through, congealing into a purplish-black color, and the layers of fabric beneath the gorgeous brocade lapels were also thoroughly soaked.

It was evident that the sword strike to her heart before she died had been executed with extreme precision, and the force had carried through her back.

But compared to her husband's expression of near-painful contortion, the expression of this dead Qiao woman was unusually peaceful.

She merely closed her eyes, her feathered eyelashes drooping low, as if she had simply fallen asleep.

Even though she had been dead for some time and her body was already cold and stiff, she still looked astonishingly beautiful. The wound on her chest, soaked through with blood like a flower, did not damage her peerless countenance; instead, it added a touch of sorrow and tragedy to her beauty.

It was enough to move the heart of even the most cold-blooded person in the world.

But his gaze only paused briefly on her beautiful face—which bore a slight resemblance to his own wife, Da Qiao—before he withdrew it.

His expression was filled with indifference, devoid of any pity.

Under the gaze of the old eunuch’s muffled, fearful eyes, he turned and exited the quarters.

He was only thirty, yet he had already ascended to the throne of the world. Today, he had cleared the final obstacle on the path to his grand ambition.

With this, all his enemies were eliminated. Those he wanted dead had all died by his hand. No one left in the world could contend with him; every inch of this beautiful land was now under his control.

At this moment, he should have been excited. The roars of his soldiers celebrating victory moments ago still seemed to fill his ears. But for some reason, he did not feel a shred of excitement.

Perhaps he had experienced too many such city-breaches and victories, and he had long become numb. Eliminating the "Later Emperor," who had stubbornly resisted for years, was merely one of his goals. Now that the goal was finally accomplished, he actually felt a hint of confusion, even loneliness.

A sense of loneliness that comes from standing at the peak alone, looking out at a vast, empty expanse.

He walked with long strides through the streets of the smoking city, coldly allowing his soldiers to vent their emotions after the breach through murder, arson, and rape. The painful cries and groans of the city's residents were ignored, as if he did not hear them—for the people in this city had helped the "Later Emperor" resist his arrival, and so this was the punishment they deserved. It was not until the next day, when his Prime Minister, Gongsun Yang, rushed over upon hearing the news to dissuade him, that he finally ordered an end to the city slaughter.

From the first day after his ascension, the Great Yan had never stopped fighting. After returning to Luoyang, he employed capable ministers, opened up new tax sources, and filled the national treasury to support the war against the Xiongnu. After several years, the Great Yan cavalry finally occupied the Xiongnu royal court of Longcheng, driving the Xiongnu living there far to the north, until they were completely eradicated from the Longcheng area. Beauties also entered his harem one after another, but none could hold his heart for long. Even after favoring them in the dragon bed for a time, they were soon cast into the cold. As for the Su woman he had crowned Empress, he had not summoned her for years. He merely watched coldly as she and the other women in the harem schemed and fought for favor, feeling only increasing annoyance and contempt. The memories of his youth had long vanished from his heart. Only occasionally, when the night was deep and quiet and he climbed the high towers of the deep palace alone to recall his grandmother who had passed away years ago, would his heart, which had hardened like a stone, slowly soften again.

He also knew that if his grandmother were still alive, she would certainly not wish to see him become what he was today.

But he could no longer control himself. His grandmother was gone; his mother only needed to be honored and provided for; the women in the harem could not make him stop his march. There was no one else in this world who could soften the heart that had buried the seeds of hatred deep since he was twelve years old. He needed the stimulation and pleasure of constant conquest. The year after the Xiongnu were pacified, he ignored the opposition of Gongsun Yang and his court officials and continued to launch the war to conquer the Western Regions. After years of intermittent campaigning, he finally achieved his wish, incorporating the vast Western Regions, which had submitted to him, into the territory of the Great Yan.

In less than ten years, he had achieved a great feat that no monarch before him had accomplished, making the Great Yan Empire dominate the four seas. Yet, those memorials singing his praises were still piled high on his imperial desk, waiting to be read. It was in this year that the Yellow River breached its banks in Hua County. The floodwaters submerged the northeast of Yuzhou and the southwest of Lu, merging into the Si River and finally diverted into the Huai River. Countless fertile fields and civilian homes were washed away by the surging floods, and the number of human and livestock casualties was incalculable.

Since the founding of the Great Yan, the people, who had suffered under heavy taxes and forced labor, could finally no longer bear the exploitation. Riots erupted everywhere. He was forced to suppress them. Finally, after the riots were pacified, bad news arrived: his Prime Minister, Gongsun Yang, whom he had relied on heavily, had died of illness in a remote area while managing flood control and providing for the people. Before he died, he had submitted a letter of remonstrance, stating that due to years of warfare, the national treasury was empty, public resentment was boiling, and hidden dangers were everywhere. He urged the monarch to focus on flood control and public welfare, cease the wars, and return to lenient policies for the people.

The old ministers who had followed him to win the empire were now scattered; some died in battle, some retired into obscurity, and others, cowed by his increasing despotism, no longer spoke out.

By his side, only Gongsun Yang remained, the only one who did not fear his past punishments or demotions, and would still frequently offer bitter remonstrances.

Now, even the last one, Gongsun Yang, had died of illness.

In his heart, a feeling of utter, desolate solitude suddenly emerged.

He was finally moved. He suspended the court for three days and finally wrote a self-reproach decree with his own hand.

However, just as he decided to issue the policy of rest and recovery, a riot of displaced people broke out in the Baling region. In just a few months, their numbers reached hundreds of thousands. It was said the leader was the "Green-Eyed General"—the one who had previously accepted the "Later Emperor's" amnesty and had single-handedly blocked his path to eliminating the Later Emperor for nearly two years.

He was furious. The wild beast in his heart escaped its cage once more. Ignoring the bitter entreaties of Wei Quan and others, he decided to lead the campaign himself. Before the march, he sacrificed to Heaven at Huanqiu, vowing to quell this rebellion and kill the "Green-Eyed General," after which he would govern the people of the world and never lightly initiate war again.

The wrath of the Son of Heaven turned rivers red with blood. Carrying a heart full of vengeance, he led his massive army south to slaughter the Baling rebel forces.

He was victorious at every turn, singing songs of triumph.

Several months later, the final battle against the rebel forces of displaced people took place in a remote, desolate wilderness called Wangxiang.

In the legends of the local Baling people, this was the place where the souls of the dead severed all ties to their past lives and took one last look at their hometown.

The wilderness of Wangxiang became a slaughterhouse of carnage. The rebel forces were scattered. His armor was stained with blood; his eyes were blood-red, his entire body drenched in sweat, every pore clamoring with a dripping, exhilarating pleasure. Finally, caught up in the thrill of the slaughter, he broke away from the protection of his personal guards. As he galloped ahead on horseback, a stray arrow—like a silent, soundless viper—suddenly tore through the air from an unknown direction and shot toward him.

By the time his blood-filled eyes saw it, the arrow had already reached his throat.

He could not even react; he felt a chill at his throat, and then felt the cold, hard metal pierce through the soft, unprotected flesh and bury itself straight inside.

The wind rose, the clouds rolled, and the war banners fluttered.

The steed beneath him, which had accompanied him through countless battles for years, seemed to sense the ominous aura and suddenly whinnied in anxiety, going mad and throwing him from its back.

He fell backward onto the ground. Vaguely, he seemed to see countless people running toward him, and his eardrums were filled with the panicked shouts of his personal guards.

"Your Majesty! Your Majesty—"

Gradually, those swaying figures and various noisy sounds gathering around him became blurred.

The final image lingering in his bloodshot eyes was a blue sky with white clouds floating above him.

The sky was as clear as a gemstone, and the clouds were as pure as white shells.

Extremely beautiful.

Why had he never noticed this before...

Struggling, before breathing his last breath out of the windpipe pierced by the foreign object, he thought vaguely in his heart.

...

"My lord! My lord—"

A voice seemed to be ringing in his ears.

Wei Shao let out a loud shout, covered his throat, and sat up with a start. He opened his eyes, and what met his sight was the bewildered expression of Gongsun Yang.

Wei Shao was drenched in sweat, as if he had just been pulled from the water. His heart was pounding violently, almost leaping out of his throat.

Gongsun Yang was quite shocked and hurried back a step, saying, "Did I startle my lord just now? My lord, please forgive me! The warship has already docked. My lord had not emerged from the cabin for a long time, so I made bold to board the ship to call for you. What happened to my lord just now? A nightmare?"

Wei Shao slowly lowered the hand covering his throat. He looked around in a slight daze, discovering he was still in the cabin from last night.

The day was already bright, as if it were noon of the next day. The sunlight outside the porthole was so bright it was nearly blinding, and the sounds of footsteps, mixed with commands, came from the deck...

A dream?

Fortunately, just a dream!

He looked sharply at Gongsun Yang, staring at him fixedly, motionless.

Wei Shao had personally boarded the warship the day before to pursue Liu Yan, and Gongsun Yang had waited at the port. He had finally waited for the warship to return to port, only to hear Lei Yan say that he seemed to still be deep in sleep, likely from extreme exhaustion. Gongsun Yang felt something was unusual and was uneasy, so he boarded the ship to find him. Seeing him wake up with a strange expression, and then suddenly look at himself with such an eerie gaze, even though he had accompanied him for many years, he felt baffled at this moment.

Gradually feeling his back hair stand on end from being watched by the Lord, he subconsciously touched his own face and gave a dry laugh: "Why does my lord look at me like that?"

Wei Shao leaped up from the bed and almost pounced on him, gripping his arms tightly.

"Sir, you are not dead! That is wonderful!"

The Lord's grip was incredibly strong. Being gripped by him, Gongsun Yang felt his bones were about to crack. Enduring the intense pain, he grimaced: "What does my lord mean by this?"

Wei Shao then realized his loss of composure, hurriedly let go, rubbed his hands, cast an apologetic glance at Gongsun Yang, turned, and swiftly pushed open the porthole.

A sea breeze carrying a salty, fishy scent rushed into his face.

Wei Shao closed his eyes, took a long breath, wiped the sweat from his forehead, and turned his head to say: "Liu Yan has been executed. I am going to Dongjun now to pick up the Lady and her daughter."

Gongsun Yang suppressed his surprise and hurried to say: "My lord, please wait a moment. I have one more thing to say. Now, the trend of the world's unification has already formed. The people cannot be without a ruler. The elderly and esteemed public figures recommended from various regions have also arrived in Luoyang one after another. I ask my lord to comply with the will of Heaven and rule the world, in hopes of bringing prosperity to the common people. The people of Luoyang are also jubilant. The matters of my lord’s ascension should be put on the agenda."

Wei Shao nodded slightly: "I will write to my grandmother. Leave the rest to you, Sir. After I pick up the Lady and her daughter and bring them to Luoyang, we will decide the details then."