Chapter 284: The Birthplace (XXII)

Chapter 284: The Birthplace (XXII)

The woman anxiously waited in the celestial palace.

She waited till sunset, waited till the moon was high, but the Crown Prince hadn't returned.

Indeed, the kitchen of the celestial palace was stocked with rice, flour, and an array of vegetables and fruits.

Deities do not partake in earthly grains, they have no need, but the children who serve them do.

Despite her hunger, the woman dared not eat.

She already feels she has troubled Prince too much.

Night deepens.

The woman began to wonder if she should have sought out the prince. Perhaps her actions might endanger the benevolent royal.

As these thoughts occupied her mind, distant clamor reached her ears.

With her heart racing, she approached the entrance of the celestial palace, discreetly peering out through a narrow crack.

Upon seeing the scene at the entrance, the lady's eyes widened in astonishment, and she fully opened the doors of the celestial palace.

The mountain, once desolate and empty, was now lined with torches, one after another, forming a continuous trail leading upwards.

And at the very beginning of the line, the prince, who had journeyed to and fro, appeared no different than when he had left.

Beside him, several old farmers tugged a wooden cart, upon which lay a body covered with a white cloth.

The lady quickly grasped the situation; her legs weakened as she stepped out of the celestial palace, and she all but crawled to the cart, lunging towards it from a distance.

Beneath the white cloth was a face, now unrecognizable.

Yet having spent so much time with this man, the lady recognized him instantly.

Only at this moment was she able to throw herself beside her husband's body and weep uncontrollably.

The surrounding torches cast a golden hue, as if a dawn had been ignited within the celestial palace.

This dawn shone upon worn-out clothes full of patches, upon sun-weathered faces wrinkled like old bark, and upon the bent backs of many.

At that moment, no one knew what this signified.

What everyone knew was that the prince had dragged the intimidating lord from his high seat in the county office, pinning him outside for the public to judge.

The locals, especially invited from the city and neighboring villages, stood awkwardly outside the county office.

It was peculiar; the lords always judged them, when had they ever been in a position to judge a lord?

At first, no one dared to speak.

But there are always those, backed into a corner with nothing left to lose, who will stand up.

"I beg your highness to help us!"

Over three years, while the prince traveled far and wide to defeat the gods, besides this major quest, numerous seemingly insignificant events occurred.

Like Master Liu, who just wanted a silver necklace for his daughter but accidentally offended a lord's relative and ended up with a broken leg; or Li Bayi's family, who were simply farming their land but were trampled to death by a nobleman's horse.

One by one, names of the departed were called out at the entrance to the county office.

The county magistrate initially glared at those who dared to speak. Yet, as the crowd grew, fear crept onto his face.

"Your Highness," the magistrate began with a forced smile, "I admit I have made mistakes in the past. I am willing to apologize to these... villagers."

He seemed to think his apology was a generous compensation, his face bearing the weight of his supposed humility as he spoke.

The prince did not acknowledge him but looked at the gathering crowd instead.

"County Magistrate Hua Shixin has held his position for five years without notable achievements. Instead of restraining the corrupt, he allowed them to commit heinous acts, being both negligent and protective of them. This man has abused his power, exploited the common folk, and has now been brought to justice. Today—"

The sharp edge of the prince's sword rested against the magistrate's throat, making it abundantly clear to the latter why he felt such fear.

Is he afraid of these people before him?

There's nothing to fear! They're merely beasts, no different from the livestock in the manor. One just needs to brandish a stick, and these creatures will cower and tremble on the ground.

He's not afraid of these people, but he does fear this deposed prince who even killed a god!

"Your Highness! Your Highness! We are on the same side! How can you kill me? I am of scholarly lineage; my father is a respected figure among the literati! If you kill me, can you bear the condemnation of scholars across the realm?"

They are literate, officials, elites, those who don't need to toil in the fields. They are superior, not like those commoners.

Has the prince gone mad? Why would he stand up for these people?

An intense silence envelops the surroundings, all eyes fixated on the scene at the county office entrance.

What will the prince do next? Perhaps punish the magistrate with a few lashes?

Isn't such a thought blasphemous? Well, a reprimand would suffice.

The glint of the gentleman's sword flashed, and the prince, dressed in a black robe, coldly declared, "Condemnation from scholars? I await the so-called elite's criticism! Your sins are countless. There's no need to wait for another day. Today, I execute you under the law of the land!"

The magistrate's eyes widened in horror, but before he could plead further, the sharp sword cleanly severed his head.

Blood sprayed, staining the ground at the entrance of the county office, mingling with the ancient bloodstains of the despised commoners he had once scorned.

He's dead...

The powerful lord, even more terrifying than a deity, was truly dead!

The surreal scene left everyone speechless, and after what felt like an eternity, the first exuberant cheer broke the silence.

"Well done!"

This seemed to be just the beginning.

There were cries, words of gratitude, and shouts of anger...

Only today did many realize that under the heavens, there indeed was justice.

Later, it was known that the prince, originally immersed in divine scriptures in the celestial palace, had descended the mountain after a peasant woman knocked on the palace doors. The locals spontaneously searched for her husband's body, eventually recovering it from a filthy ditch.

The peasant woman thanked the prince and, with the help of others, returned to her village. After burying her husband and child, she set out once again for the celestial palace.

By the time she reached the foot of the mountain, the once-deserted town was now bustling with life.

The town was originally built by wealthy families hoping to connect with the deities.

But after the god-slaying prince moved into the celestial palace, these people fled in haste. They took what they could and destroyed what they couldn't, leaving behind dilapidated houses.

As the peasant woman entered the town, she was warmly welcomed by its inhabitants.

They said His Highness has decreed that those without homes can choose a house here to settle in.

However, the houses here are in disrepair and require fixing; the lands are barren and need cultivation.

His Highness has provided a batch of grain. Those willing to cultivate the land can stay, and he will ensure food for a year.

But the supply isn't vast. It came from offerings previously made to the celestial palace. His Highness had the fine rice and exotic birds sold in exchange for coarse grain.

It might not be gourmet, but it ensures survival.

The woman nodded immediately.

Survival is enough. For many, that's their only wish.

The town's population began to swell.

The events in Ruei County rippled like a stone thrown in a pond, the waves spreading throughout the dormant Ru Kingdom.

—The Law of the Land.

It seemed only at this moment did the elite, still entranced by dreams of divinity, remember that this wasn't a realm of gods, but a nation.

During the three years when deities walked the earth, the common people were treated like livestock, like sacrifices. Every law and household rule was bent to pave the way for achieving divinity.

Were there any objections?

Yes.

Apart from the prince, there were elites who believed this path was misguided.

But when even the prince was reprimanded for this, who else dared to speak?

Gradually, these voices faded.

Either those who could protest had perished, or they no longer dared to speak. In any case, the elites of the Ru Kingdom were unified in their divine dream.

Every elite who had the chance to meet a deity believed they were on the brink of godhood. And once ascended, even earthly kings would be but dirt beneath their feet, let alone the lowly ants. Why would the suffering of the commoners matter to them?

But now, the deities were gone.

The Ru Kingdom, however, had a prince, almost divine in his powers. Yet, he didn't side with the elites but stood with the downtrodden.

After hearing about Ruei County, there seemed to be a shift in the kingdom's ethos.

Officials who oppressed the populace became cautious, and whispers among the fields began to say—

"Hey, did you hear? We're not defenseless anymore! Prince stands with us!"

The lame woman in the town remained oblivious to the outside world.

All she knew was that those who came to this town were souls burdened by hardships.

By day, they tilled the wastelands; by night, they gathered, kindling fires for warmth and reminiscing about the past.

Each bore their unique sufferings, some enduring even harsher realities than the woman's.

Families shattered, subjected to humiliation, yet the tormentors thrived. Despite their earnestness, they could only swallow their tears and blood, accepting their fate and trudging on.

Is life now still harsh?

Indeed, it is.

This isn't fertile farmland but wasteland, where even the hardest tool only scratches the surface.

Cultivating crops from barren soil would exhaust even oxen, let alone them. With few animals to aid, they had to rely on sheer human effort.

Yet, every night, as the flames danced, a newfound spark ignited in people's once-dull eyes.

The woman understood the reason.

Here, they were not treated as animals but as humans.

They experienced a humanity they had never known before.

Conversations would invariably end with a shared sentiment.

— "His Highness, the Prince, is truly kind."

Indeed, he is.

The woman's residence wasn't far from the mountain. Often, she'd see people knocking on the doors of the celestial palace. The prince never turned anyone away. He would help those kneeling in tears, guiding them into the palace.

Shortly after, he would leave the palace, sword in hand.

Before long, destitute souls, emaciated and ragged, would trek from distant places to the town.

The woman would warmly welcome them, sharing the prince's decrees and recounting his benevolence.

As days turned to weeks, when the barren fields finally sprouted fresh shoots, their burdens seemed to ebb away.

The town's population grew. When the existing houses could no longer accommodate them, they collaborated in building new ones.

Those who could read said, "This place is our utopia."

Utopia?

Such a fitting name, bringing forth a feeling of... What did the scholar say?

Ah, bliss.

They are truly blessed, the prince is remarkable. Surely, they can reside here for generations to come.

The peasant woman thought as much.

One day, she noticed the steps leading to the celestial palace seemed dirty. After finishing her chores in the day, she took a broom and began to sweep them in the evening.

Soon, a smear of red caught her eye on the steps – a fresh bloodstain that had not yet dried.

Could it be a despairing soul knocking on the doors of the celestial palace?

The thought made her heart race.

She lived at the base of the mountain, and if someone indeed approached the palace, she should've seen them.

However, the only recent visitor to these steps she had witnessed was the crown prince.

At the top of the steps, a vivid bloodstreak appeared on the doors of the palace.

Someone with blood on their hands had pushed the doors open.

The broom fell from the woman's grip.

The crown prince was powerful. Surely, he wasn't injured? Perhaps, it's someone else's blood?

But she couldn't quite believe that.

The crown prince was known to be meticulous. She had heard tales of how he dealt with villains.

With just a single swing of his sword!

Even if surrounded by dozens, with one swing, his adversaries would be sent flying.

After all, he was the prince capable of slaying gods!

She contemplated knocking on the door, offering help if he was hurt.

But if he needed assistance, he would've passed through the town when entering or leaving the palace.

Why wouldn't he seek help then?

Although illiterate, the peasant woman wasn't foolish; she sensed that the prince perhaps didn't want his injuries to be discovered.

So, she discreetly retreated from the palace entrance.

Though puzzled herself, she knew the town had wise and learned individuals.

She would seek their insights.

Those observing her memories, however, had a clearer understanding of what transpired.

It was a deity.

Just like the deity that appeared before, another had now descended.

And it's not as simple as just one or two.

This makes the fifth, doesn't it?

It's unclear what's happening, as deities, who rarely made appearances before, are now descending in great numbers.

It's not only in our kingdom; neighboring smaller realms also report the descent of deities.

However, only in our kingdom are these deities falling one after another.

The crown prince would immediately rush to the scene whenever he sensed the arrival of a deity in our lands, striking them down before they could wreak havoc.

Inside the celestial palace, the prince, having just faced a major battle, was panting heavily, tearing open his robe.

His preference for black garments wasn't out of fondness for the color but rather to conceal the continuous wounds on his body, which would be evident in any other hue.

This young prince, a warrior from youth, bore scars from years of battles, lingering wounds from three years of persuading the emperor, or experimenting with divine techniques, and new injuries from recent clashes with deities.

A gash that cut across half his chest was oozing blood, but unlike the blood of ordinary men, his seemed to have a black substance mixed in.

There was no choice.

He had refused godhood, making it challenging to harness the scattered divine energy of the world.

Although he had been compiling divine techniques, they were not for himself but for others.

He relied on what some called dark magic.

A cloud of black mist emanated from his palm, with faint screams echoing from within.

This was ghost energy, the most potent force he could harness against divine power.

The moment the ghost energy appeared, it seemed as though thunder rumbled in the sky.

The prince coughed twice, blood seeping from his nose and mouth.

"Enough with the cursing," he sighed, as if jesting with the enraged heavens, "Or do you plan to smite both me and all the deities? If so, I promise not to use this method."

The thunder grew louder.

"Sigh, you disagree and still won't aid me... huh."

The wound was consumed by the black mist, the flesh rolling and curling as if scorched, but the bleeding truly ceased.

It was an inevitable consequence; after all, how could a mortal body endure ghost energy without paying a price?

The prince leaned against the wall for a while before closing his robe, standing up, and moving back to his study.

Sitting at his desk, he thought deeply and wrote as much as he could, hoping to record all his knowledge before encountering a deity too powerful for him to combat.

But this injury was profoundly severe; his hand trembled too much to hold the pen. After penning only two characters, he had to put it down, sitting at his desk in a daze.

Back then, he was just a young man in his early twenties. Although renowned for his intellect and prowess in battle, he had ridden into warfare at fifteen, instantly gaining fame by reversing the kingdom's decline. In just two years, he had pushed the enemy to retreat to the walls of Shacheng, where they dared not to fight back.

Yet it seemed everyone forgot he was merely mortal.

His wound ached.

Even this battle-hardened young general, at this moment, couldn't maintain his posture and slouched onto his chair, considering the current situation.

He could only fight alone; seeking help wasn't an option.

For if he were ever defeated, the emperor of the kingdom might humbly kneel to the deities, reducing him to ashes in appeasement, saying, "It was this traitor's doing. Our kingdom has always awaited the deity's salvation!"

Under such circumstances, the deity might spare the kingdom.

But if he enlisted aid, it wouldn't just be one traitor then.

Furthermore, in this kingdom, the techniques he had compiled hadn't been widely spread. Everyone was still mere mortals; who could possibly help him?

At that moment, the prince's gaze landed on a bookshelf.

A well-worn book lay within his easy reach.

He hesitated for a moment, then picked it up.

Upon opening the first page, he was met with grotesque images of torture.

"To craft a ghost servant, subject it to thousands of cuts, the agony of being flayed..."

The usually stoic prince browsed the book, not even flinching at its macabre content.

He knew each step by heart.

This was a forbidden tome. The well-read prince, in his youth, had been so disturbed by the first page that he had cast it aside, vowing never to look at it again.

Now, he deeply understood the significance of the methods within.

If it ever came to the absolute worst, who could help him become this ghost servant?

A ghost servant is entirely obedient to its master. If the chosen person becomes a powerful ghost servant and turns out to be malicious, then that would be disastrous.

But the choice seemed rather clear.

He might have to impose on Zhuang Mingqi, a stable and kind-hearted individual. Would he be willing to be the executioner for such a task?

The booklet was thin, finishing within a few pages.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the entrance of the celestial palace.

The prince placed the book aside, finding himself momentarily unable to rise.

After trying two or three times, he finally managed to stand upright, first removing his blood-stained robe.

Regardless of who stood outside, he couldn't afford to appear defeated.

After all, his enemies weren't just the deities. If anyone, whether a noble from the court or the current emperor, knew he was at his wit's end, gravely wounded, they might decide to flatten the celestial palace.

He wondered who had come…

He opened the door.

The night was deep, and outside, Zhuang Mingqi, who had hurriedly ridden here, looked travel-worn. His armor was dirty, stained with blood, and dark circles marked his sleep-deprived eyes.

Upon seeing the prince, he wavered and fell to his knees, tears brimming in his eyes.

"Your Highness! Our forces have suffered a defeat at the border! A deity suddenly descended in the enemy kingdom! Our fifty thousand troops at the border have been annihilated! The Luoxia Pass… is breached!"