Chapter 283: Land of Birth (Part Twenty)

Chapter 283: Land of Birth (Part Twenty)

The news spread wings, flying to all corners.

The prince, once known for defying the gods, was recognized by the heavens and the earth on the eve of his execution. The celestial stairs descended to welcome him to the divine realm, yet he renounced his path to immortality.

So many long for the path to divinity, and he casually forwent such a prospect.

Some whispered behind his back, calling him a fool. In this world, was there a better outcome than ascending to divinity?

Others were envious, failing to understand why the celestial stairs chose to descend by his feet.

Some pondered: If even a god-slayer could gain the recognition of the heavens and earth, perhaps the gods aren't so special after all.

Others, discreetly in their homes, crafted rough deity figures from wood or clay.

Never having seen the prince in person, their handcrafted figures varied wildly, each imagining the prince's likeness differently.

Yet, during their devout prayers, most weren't for personal gain.

"O mighty heavens, the prince is a good soul. Please don't blame him for slaying a deity. The deity was wicked, not the prince's fault... I pray for your mercy, bless the prince with longevity..."

Invisible streams, delicate as golden threads, emerged from the land of Ru, so fragile yet enduring. They traversed miles, crossing morning dews and frosts, ultimately converging upon one person.

Though the prince had refused divinity, no earthly blade would dare approach someone who nearly became a god.

The matter of his execution was no longer mentioned, almost as if by mutual unspoken agreement.

Yet, Xie Fangcheng's position became somewhat awkward.

The emperor, wary of him, had already adopted another as the crown heir. The former prince couldn't return to the palace.

The border at Luo Xia Pass had changed commanders over the past three years, and the emperor was reluctant to grant him military authority.

But the deposed prince seemed indifferent, moving into the previously built divine palace, delving into the arts of the deities.

Xie Fangcheng might not wish for divinity, but such a potent art was worth mastering. Not just for himself, but for its propagation to benefit many.

The divine palace, situated atop a mountain near the capital, initially attracted nobles seeking divine favor. However, once the prince moved in, they fled overnight, fearing this man who had even slain a god.

After the nobles departed, the mountain's base remained quiet for a time.

One day, a limping woman mustered the courage to knock on the grand doors of the divine palace.

"I beseech... Prince Xie to aid me!"

The woman, originally from a remote village, married a local farmer. Though their life was hard, they managed.

However, her husband never returned after heading to the city to sell charcoal. After making inquiries, she learned he had a dispute with a wealthy merchant's son. Allegedly, her husband struck first with a staff and was consequently beaten to death.

Impossible! These rural folk wouldn't dare raise their eyes to officials, let alone confront a wealthy merchant's son in the city.

Disbelieving, the woman ventured into the city the next day.

The merchant refused to meet her, sending out a paltry sum of silver. When she inquired about her husband's remains, a servant sneered, "He dared to strike our young master, so he was beaten to pulp and fed to the dogs."

The desperate woman approached the city's court, but upon hearing the merchant's name, the judge accused her of false charges, ordering her to be beaten with thirty lashes.

After the beating, she was barely breathing and was forcibly made to fingerprint a confession before being thrown into jail.

Fortunately, a kind-hearted village official pulled some strings and had her released.

Once his wounds healed, he limped with one leg.

To pay for his medical bills and to repay her for the money she spent, everything pawnable in the house had been sold.

She initially resigned herself to it, after all, she had a three-year-old child. How could an egg smash against a rock?

But just a few days after the New Year, their window broke and they couldn't afford repairs. The woman patched it with straw, but the cold still seeped in.

The child caught a cold, and she tried to borrow money throughout the village. Everyone knew her husband had passed and she was now lame. They doubted if she could ever repay the loan.

Everyone was struggling. With the wars at the borders and increasing taxes each year, coupled with the building of new temples for the gods, who wasn’t living hand-to-mouth, unsure of the next meal? Who would lend her money?

And so, the fever took her child too.

Why did this happen?

She couldn’t understand.

She and her husband had been simple farmers, never vying for favors when the gods descended, not even daring to pray for immortality or godhood when offering incense at the temple.

They merely knelt before the deities, hoping for less tax, a good harvest, fewer pests the next year, and health for their young child.

They felt like weeds by the roadside; it wouldn’t matter if the elite trampled them, as long as they weren't uprooted. A bit of rain was all they asked for to survive.

But why… why wouldn’t fate even give them that chance?

The limping woman no longer wanted to live, but dying at home would bring a bad omen to the village. She couldn’t do that to her neighbors who had helped her so much in the past.

Jumping into the river wasn’t an option either. In this freezing weather, it had frozen over. And what if a child were to see her body while fishing? That would be traumatic.

What else could she do?

At that moment, she thought of the tailor in the city.

The tailor's youngest son was taken to serve the gods, and the tailor was heartbroken.

But the boy was handsome, with large, round eyes that shone like moonlight on a lake. Officials said such a boy could surely catch a god's eye and might even inherit some divine powers.

Even if he didn’t become divine, once the gods no longer needed him, he’d return home with a reputation. Which noble family wouldn't want him then? It was a future that many coveted.

With such prospects for his son, the tailor consented.

But when the god died, the boy returned, not having learned any divine arts and now blind.

Rumor had it the god fancied his eyes and took them to brew an elixir.

What life could a blind servant lead in that celestial palace? If not for the kindness of other children, he would’ve starved.

Hearing this, the tailor wept till he almost went blind himself.

The woman heard about this from her husband, who sold charcoal on the streets and related the tale upon his return.

After listening, the woman exclaimed in astonishment, "That prince is truly a benevolent official; he has saved so many lives!"

Her husband corrected her, "Not just any official, he's a 'Highness'."

Highness? Why is he addressed as such?

The woman was puzzled.

But titles like prince, emperor, lord, or highness were beyond their understanding. Such dignitaries were like deities—elevated and unreachable.

Yet, as her end approached, she wondered…

This princely Highness had saved so many, could he possibly save…

Save whom?

She didn't know.

Without knowing about the Highness, she might have resigned to her fate.

But hearing his tales, it felt like a tiny ember within her refused to be extinguished, casting a faint glow of warmth.

She buried her child with a mat and, limping, made her way to the city, seeking the residence of the prince.

It wasn't hard to find out. This prince was renowned, and fortunately, his abode wasn't too distant.

The woman journeyed like a refugee in famine, gnawing on tree bark when hungry and nibbling river ice when thirsty. After roughly ten days, she saw a majestic palace atop a mountain from a distance.

It was surely a heavenly palace, even the walls seemed carved from jade.

The woman climbed the mountain and became the first to knock on the grand doors of the palace.

She also met the legendary prince.

Was he, perhaps, a celestial being from the tales?

Dressed in a pristine black robe, he looked as ethereal as fresh snow under moonlight, possessing an aura of unapproachability.

The woman felt awkward.

Her hands were dirty, staining the jade handle of the door as she knocked.

Her knees, too, were muddied, and she was sure she dirtied the polished jade floor when she knelt.

Would the celestial being punish her?

Probably.

Yet, if he could assist her before any retribution, then even death would be worth it.

"Please... Your Highness, help me!"

The prince, as ethereal as a celestial being in her eyes, reached out, not repulsed by her beggar-like filth, and helped her to her feet.

"What injustice have you suffered?"

Never before had anyone — no noble — ever directly asked her about her grievances.

Pouring her heart out, the woman narrated her story, crying so hard she beat her chest and stamped her feet, as if trying to spill a lifetime of suffering.

The prince, unfazed by her tear-streaked face, led her inside the divine palace, seated her on a pristine jade bench, poured tea for her, and patiently listened until she had cried herself out.

"How do you wish me to assist you?" he inquired.

What did she hope for, indeed?

Deep in thought, the woman pondered.

She had so many grievances, but after crying, they seemed to have dispersed.

People like them, the lowliest... to say they were "people" felt wrong, for they were valued less than cattle.

The loss of a cow might bring queries from city officials, but a human life was no more significant than a crop severed from its stalk, left to silently rot in the soil.

It was their destiny to live this way.

"I... I'm not sure," she replied nervously.

The prince spoke gently, "I will investigate this matter. If it proves true, I will avenge your husband's death by taking the life of the wicked merchant's only son and punish the magistrate with thirty strokes, for justice. Does that sound fair?"

The woman stared in disbelief, "That... is that even possible? That's the merchant's sole heir, and the magistrate is such a high-ranking official..."

Could her husband's life be exchanged for the merchant's son? It seemed as absurd as trading a pearl for a mere pebble; everyone knew the two weren't interchangeable.

How precious is a pearl!

The prince simply looked at her, "But if he unjustly killed your husband, he must pay with his life."

He added, "Isn't your husband's life valuable too?"

It felt as if a beast was suddenly roaring and struggling within her heart. The woman, illiterate and unfamiliar with profound philosophies, suddenly realized...

In this moment, in the eyes of the prince, she and her husband were also humans.

Just like the merchant's heir, or the high-ranking magistrate, they too had two arms and two legs.

Their lives were as precious as any noble's.

How strange... why did she feel like crying again?

Hesitantly, the woman asked, "Is it... truly possible?"

Was she questioning the prince or herself?

Since birth, no one had ever clarified to her that if you take a life, you must pay with yours. It doesn't matter if the person was seen as insignificant or a mere roadside weed without protection.

"It can be done," the prince declared, drawing a sword from seemingly nowhere. "Rest assured, I am quite formidable."

The woman wept, then laughed once more.

The Crown Prince... truly is a good man.

Her husband wasn't wrong.

Before leaving, the Crown Prince made sure she was settled.

"Stay here and don't venture out. There are rice and flour in the kitchen. Do you know how to cook?"

The woman nodded.

"Then have a good meal and rest. I'll be back shortly."

As he stepped out of the celestial palace, the woman hurriedly asked, "Your Highness, what can I do to repay your kindness?"

The Crown Prince shook his head.

"No need for repayment. This is a right you inherently possess. What you've been through, someone should have looked after it."

"Now, since they've all neglected their duty — I will take it upon myself."