Chapter 149: The National Preceptor’s Little One is Super Cute (10)

Chapter 149: The National Preceptor's Little One is Super Cute (10)

After gulping down a few mouthfuls of water, Song Chuyi smacked his lips.

"What if it doesn't rain?"

"It will rain," Song Renshu said as he placed the teacup back down. "I've read the stars, and there will be rain in seven days."

Song Chuyi realized, "So you can read the stars as well?"

No wonder, he's the National Preceptor!

"What if it doesn't rain?" he pressed on.

Song Renshu's hand paused, and his eyes seemed to darken for a moment.

"The ten children will be seen as having angered the gods and will be executed to appease the gods' wrath."

Song Chuyi's grip on the osmanthus cake loosened.

"This... this is way too brutal!"

Song Renshu picked up the osmanthus cake that had fallen on the stone table and put it in his mouth.

A faint sweetness lingered in his mouth.

It was the natural sweetness of the osmanthus cake, but also...

Song Renshu's gaze fell on the little one, and a hint of doubt rose in his heart.

Was the little one really just a figment of his imagination?

Could his imagination... be so vivid?

Doubt rose in his heart, but he couldn’t find an answer.

Song Chuyi kept protesting the brutal system. "This isn't the wrath of the gods, it's just about the weather!"

"Even if you read the stars and predict that it will rain in seven days, you can't be 100% accurate, right?"

Modern weather forecasts aren't even 100% accurate, let alone in this ancient time.

The heavens decide when to rain, and it doesn't follow human desires.

"It can't be guaranteed," Song Renshu explained softly. "So every year during the ritual, the National Preceptor is under immense pressure."

"My master made mistakes a few times."

Each time he made a mistake, he had to watch as those innocent children were executed.

After each time, his master's hallucinations grew worse.

Perhaps because of this, no National Preceptor lived long.

The one who lived the longest was probably his master, who hanged himself at the age of thirty-five.

Previous National Preceptors rarely lived past thirty.

Hearing this, Song Chuyi asked, "Have you ever made a mistake?"

"No," Wenren Shu gently shook his head.

"Brother Wenren, you are amazing!" Song Chuyi gave him a thumbs up, "So impressive!"

Wenren Shu lightly curled his lips, "I hope this time it will also go as I wish."

Song Chuyi nodded firmly, "It definitely will!"

Over the next few days, besides preparing for the ritual, Wenren Shu spent his time in the courtyard with Song Chuyi.

Until the night before the ritual, Wenren Shu observed the night sky and a bad premonition rose in his heart.

That night, he didn’t go to the courtyard but locked himself in his room for the entire night.

In the courtyard, Song Chuyi was eagerly waiting for Wenren Shu to come and play with him.

But even as the morning sun rose, there was still no sign of him.

A distant bell tolled, signaling the start of the mysterious ritual.

A bad premonition rose in Song Chuyi's heart, and he quickly asked Xiaotong in his mind.

"Xiaotong, will it rain in the royal city today?"

Xiaotong: "No, Host."

Song Chuyi: "Oh no."

He flapped his tiny wings and flew out of the courtyard.

Xiaotong: "Host! You’ve left the courtyard? You’ll be discovered!"

Song Chuyi carefully dodged the passing eunuchs and maids, explaining, "I can’t worry about that right now."

"If it doesn’t rain during the ritual, those children will be put to death."

"Wenren Shu definitely wouldn’t want anyone to die because of him."

Xiaotong: "Host, be careful! Someone’s coming from the left!"

Song Chuyi dodged behind a pillar, "Thanks, Xiaotong, do you know where the ritual is being held?"

Xiaotong: "I know, host. I’ll guide you!"

Song Chuyi quickly responded and flew in the direction Xiaotong pointed.

——

At the grand ritual ceremony, Wenren Shu, dressed in the robes of the National Preceptor, stood in the center.

Within a 500-meter radius of the circular platform, no one else was present.

During the ritual, only the National Preceptor could commune with the divine will, and only the National Preceptor could glimpse the face of the gods.

Even the emperor had to wait on a platform 500 meters away.

The chosen children had been washed clean and dressed in special ceremonial robes.

They were to begin from one side as the sky darkened, circling the platform until the rain stopped or they reached its center.

It usually rains for about an hour, giving them enough time to reach the center of the round platform.

During this period, no one else is allowed to leave.

Even the emperor must stand in the rain.

Of course, in the eyes of the crowd, this is a gift from the gods, a divine favor.

And it must be during this sacrificial ceremony that the rain is considered divine favor; being rained on elsewhere or at other times doesn't count.

Therefore, every year, only members of the royal family and high-ranking officials are allowed to enter.

Ordinary people can only dream of being blessed by the rain.

Today's ceremony is led by Brother Wenren himself. Though they are too far to see what the National Preceptor is doing, everyone is waiting for the rain to fall.

Even though the sky is currently shining brightly with no sign of rain.

If it doesn't rain, it means that the children have failed to please the gods, and they will be subjected to extreme punishment, and even the entire dynasty will be punished.

The crowd's hearts are anxious and filled with anticipation, unwilling to consider any outcome other than rain.

At the center of the round platform, Brother Wenren lit three incense sticks and inserted them into the large incense burner.

A scorching wind blew through, hot and dry.

Brother Wenren stood quietly in place, his hands hanging at his sides.

He knew all too well that there would be no rain today.

In his fifth year as National Preceptor, he had finally walked the path of all his predecessors.

He had misread the will of the heavens.

The scene before him gradually distorted, and a heavy depression welled up in his heart.

What was the point of a dynasty built on such lies?

"Brother Wenren!"

A familiar voice snapped Brother Wenren out of his thoughts.

His gaze slowly focused on the little one.

He rushed forward, his forehead damp with sweat.

Brother Wenren's fingertips twitched slightly, not having expected the little one to appear outside the courtyard.

His delusions had indeed worsened, hadn't they?

"How's the rain-seeking going now?" Song Chuyi panted heavily.

Brother Wenren knew that the little one's arrival wouldn't change the outcome, but he still explained,

"There will be no rain today."

Song Chuyi: !!!

Just as he thought!

"Xiaotong, is there any way to make it rain?"

Xiaotong replied, "Host, there's no way."

Song Chuyi slowly clenched his fist. "No, it has to rain today."

He lifted his gaze to the sky, where the sun blazed down relentlessly.

The sun was scorching, the air dry and stifling.

He hovered in mid-air, his transparent wings fluttering softly.

In an instant, his light brown eyes darkened to a deep coffee hue.

The sky abruptly turned dark, as if a storm was brewing out of nowhere.

Wenren Shu stood there, frozen in shock, as he watched the scene unfold.

"Wenren, brother."

"There will be rain today."

A deafening crack of thunder echoed through the sky.