Chapter 170

Chapter 170

Shen Qichi was ultimately confined to a side hall of the Xuanzheng Hall, as if the emperor intended to keep him there until he came to his senses, or else he would not be allowed to leave the palace.

The emperor dispatched an imperial physician to treat the injuries on Shen Qichi’s face, shoulders, and knees. Shen Qichi asked for some extra medicine, and only after the physician left did he loosen his tightly tucked right sleeve, revealing the black snake that had been motionless all along.

The black snake was coiled stiffly around his wrist. Ignoring the purple-black bruising and swelling on his right hand, Shen Qichi silently untangled the demon snake, which had nearly tied itself into a knot, placed it on a soft mat, and wrung out a nearby cloth to wipe the mud and debris from its body.

He turned the snake over, gazing at a palm-length, raw scrape on its side, and said softly, “I’m very sorry.”

The black snake was silent, only tried to curl up and hide its head.

Shen Qichi gently pressed him down, not blaming him for his inexplicable foul mood, knowing he had neglected him lately. He said no more, applied medicinal powder to Su Ying’s wounds, wrapped him in gauze, carefully tended to the broken tailbone, then cradled him in his lap, slowly soothing him.

Sandalwood incense drifted through the quiet room. The noon sunlight crept silently up to the latticed windows, turning the translucent curtains gold. Shen Qichi shifted to block the overly bright light. After an unknown stretch of time, the black snake slowly stretched out, its tongue timidly licking the gruesome wound on the web of Shen Qichi’s thumb.

Shen Qichi smiled faintly, his fingertip gently stroking the snake’s head. “Don’t worry, your venom has no effect on me.”

The black snake silently rested his head against the web of Shen Qichi’s thumb, slowly closing his eyes, and recklessly began to channel what little magic he had left.

He needed to know—to know what Shen Qichi had been through in the past, why he had left the capital and gone far away, why he shared such a strange bond with the emperor, neither like ruler and minister nor ruler and subject; to know what right the emperor had to interfere in matters between Shen Qichi and him, and what right he had to kick and hit Shen Qichi like that.

His body gradually relaxed, and Shen Qichi, who had been watching him intently, drew him closer.

On the other side of the door, the emperor, his face dark, took it all in.

He knew that Shen Qichi was not bewitched by any demonic magic—perhaps he had once doubted it, but ever since Shen Qichi had made that undignified remark in the imperial garden, everything had become clear.

No one was more clear-headed than him.

He just couldn’t understand why.

The emperor pushed open the door and immediately noticed Shen Qichi raising his hand to cover the snake’s head, as if afraid to wake him. He said coldly, “Come out.”

Shen Qichi looked up, meeting his gaze calmly. After a moment, he rose, still holding the snake, and walked over.

“You insist on keeping this demonic creature by your side, never letting it go for even a moment, don’t you?” the emperor said, not without sarcasm. Shen Qichi remained silent, tacitly admitting to everything he said.

A surge of resentment rose in the emperor’s throat. He turned first and walked out with his hands behind his back. The two walked through the winding palace paths, ascending the Wangqiong Tower.

From the Wangqiong Tower, the entire capital spread out like a flowing painting—large and small wards laid out like a chessboard, ornate carriages and fine horses moving slowly along the long streets, fish-scale-like green tiles bathed in the warm, golden sunlight. The emperor gazed into the distance, quietly taking in the scene of peace and prosperity below.

Shen Qichi stood half a step behind, his gaze also fixed on the scene below.

“Time sure flies, doesn’t it,” the emperor broke the silence, speaking flatly. “Nine years have passed in the blink of an eye. The palace has changed its look, and this tower beneath our feet has also been transformed. I’m afraid no one in the world remembers that this tower was originally called the Tongtian Tower.”

Shen Qichi’s fingertips trembled, and he moved his lips. “I remember.”

“You remember?” The emperor turned to look at him, then at the long serpent sleeping in his arms, forcing a cryptic smile. “I thought you had forgotten. Otherwise, you would despise such demonic creatures as much as I do.”

“…I once did,” Shen Qichi said.

“Once did?” The emperor reached out toward Shen Qichi’s arm, but the latter took half a step back, avoiding his attempt to touch the snake. The emperor withdrew his hand indifferently, staring straight into Shen Qichi’s eyes. “So there really are demons in this world. I was shallow, unaware of the vastness of the universe. It seems the late emperor wasn’t entirely wrong after all, Yunzhuo, don’t you think?”

Shen Qichi’s face turned deathly pale. A twisted sense of satisfaction rose in the emperor’s heart as he slowly continued, “Back then, you ignored everyone’s advice and volunteered to go south to control the floods, achieving great merit. Because of this, the late emperor trusted the Shen family deeply and entrusted your father with the construction of the Tongtian Tower. And then what happened?” He kept his eyes fixed on Shen Qichi. “Yunzhuo, tell me, what happened next?”

What happened next?

The Tongtian Tower collapsed; the Shen family perished.

In the autumn of the thirty-ninth year of Yanwu, an imperial edict ordered Vice Minister of Works Shen to go south to control the floods. He built dikes and embankments, erected a temple to the flood dragon, and succeeded. The emperor deeply praised him and promoted him to a high position. The following year, he ordered Shen’s father, the Director of the Palace Construction, to build the Tongtian Tower, intending to reach the heavens. At that time, Daoist charlatans were corrupting the government, and the emperor was bewitched by shamans and alchemists, believing this tower could communicate with the gods and slay demons, forever securing the Great Xia’s mandate and seeking immortality for himself.

In the spring of the fortieth year, the tower was nearly complete but collapsed overnight, causing countless casualties. The emperor, enraged, exterminated the Shen family’s nine clans. In consideration of Shen’s merit in building the temple, he was specially pardoned.

In the first year of Changhe, the new emperor ascended the throne, banned Daoist and shamanic heresies, promoted Buddhism, and established the Guoqing Temple.

Even Shen Qichi, having lived two lives, felt a sudden dizziness when revisiting the past.

It was he who had insisted on achieving merit, knowing that going south to control the floods would bring trouble, knowing that building a temple would entangle him with the Daoist and shamanic arts that the late emperor was obsessed with, yet he stubbornly went his own way, ultimately placing the Shen family on a path to ruin.

He had been close friends with the then Fifth Prince. The Tongtian Tower disaster was merely a factional frame-up. The entire Shen family was executed, severely weakening the Fifth Prince’s faction, while Shen Qichi himself was imprisoned, only freed after the Fifth Prince’s extensive efforts.

Afterward, he went into hiding, serving as an anonymous strategist under the Fifth Prince. Through five years of blood and turmoil, he finally helped him ascend the throne and purge the court. The emperor changed the era name to Changhe, the Shen family was rehabilitated, Shen’s parents were posthumously honored, and Shen Qichi served as prime minister for a few months. After assisting in the initial establishment of the new policies, he resigned, hung up his official seal, and left for distant lands.

“…Demons are inherently blameless; it is human hearts that harbor desires, using demons as weapons to commit atrocities for personal gain,” Shen Qichi said after a long pause. “The fault lies with humans, not demons.”

“Oh? You are certainly broad-minded, walking the path of the sages, living up to your teacher’s teachings,” the emperor said with a half-smile. “But I wonder when you became so benevolent, imitating the Buddha who cut his flesh to feed the eagle, also offering yourself to feed a demon.”

Shen Qichi’s question was not whether the Changhe Emperor would kill him, but whether he, too, would kill the last member of the Shen family, just like the Yanwu Emperor. The Shen family, from their ancestors’ entry into officialdom, had generations of pure reputation, creating countless achievements for the Great Xia, yet the Great Xia had caused the Shen family to die unjustly, their name sullied in the grave.

And if it hadn’t been for his involvement in the succession struggle with other princes, the Shen family would not have suffered this undeserved calamity. The Shen family had merits to the imperial house, but the imperial house owed a debt to the Shen family. This was an indelible chasm between him and Shen Qichi. Precisely because of this, he could never bring himself to harshly blame Shen Qichi. And precisely because of this, when he realized that Shen Qichi was using this long-avoided thorn between them as a weapon, even attacking him, just to protect a demon, he was furious beyond measure.

Shen Qichi fell silent, looking down at the bustling capital scene below, and instead of answering, asked, “Your Majesty, what do you think of the world today?”

“The people are peaceful, goods are abundant, and the realm is prosperous,” the emperor said, a hint of pride flashing across his face, quite pleased with his governance of the Great Xia.

“Does Your Majesty believe in spirits?” Shen Qichi continued.

The emperor frowned.

The Master did not speak of strange forces and chaotic spirits—this was the teaching he had received since childhood. Moreover, during the Yanwu years, ghosts and gods had corrupted the government, and both he and Shen Qichi had suffered deeply from it. He did not wish for state affairs to be associated with ghosts and gods in any way. His Great Xia under the Changhe reign was to be governed by human policy, not divine policy. He did not believe, nor did he deign to believe. His so-called support for Buddhism was merely a measure to pacify the people.

He had thought Shen Qichi was the one in the world who understood him best, yet now Shen Qichi had become the only one in the world who dared to speak to him at length about ghosts and gods—too absurd and ridiculous.

The emperor felt a vague sense of betrayal. He suppressed the anger that was about to flare up again, not wanting this conversation to once again devolve into a quarrel and a scuffle.

“What are you trying to say?” he asked, restrained and calm.

Shen Qichi smiled. “If there really were spirits in the world, capable of protecting a region’s favorable weather and abundant harvests, bringing peace and prosperity to the people, it wouldn’t be a bad thing for the Great Xia, would it?”

“What do you mean?”

Shen Qichi turned to face the emperor. “Your Majesty, do you see that my body is much better now?”

The emperor studied his still youthful and beautiful face, slowly nodding. Shen Qichi had endured great sorrow and pain, suffered imprisonment, and had many hidden ailments. During those five years, his bones and sinews had been weak, and even lifting a sword was difficult. Now, seeing him standing before him safe and sound, even though he angered him, the emperor still felt a measure of comfort.

“You’ve taken good care of yourself.”

“That’s not the case, Your Majesty,” Shen Qichi said softly, seeing the emperor frown. “It’s because I have a demon core inside me.”

“What?” The emperor found it utterly absurd.

Shen Qichi folded up his right sleeve, revealing patches of cotton-like purple-black. But compared to a few incense sticks ago, these purple-black marks had begun to fade quietly, revealing the fair skin beneath. The emperor stared at this hand, as Shen Qichi’s clear, gentle voice slowly came through, as if narrating a farce.

“The venom of the demon snake is lethal upon contact with blood. This venom has no effect on me, all because of the protection of the demon snake’s inner core, and my healthy body is also due to the demon core.”

Where did the demon core come from? The emperor wanted to ask, but right now, a demon was lying in Shen Qichi’s arms, and the answer was self-evident.

He wanted to ask if this was Shen Qichi’s purpose—to seize a demon core to strengthen his body. If so, then he could forgive Shen Qichi. But this thought flickered and was immediately replaced by another, clamoring that it was absolutely not the case. He knew that no matter how much Shen Qichi changed, he would never become that kind of person.

Everything Shen Qichi said was already beyond his grasp. The emperor did not know how to respond and ultimately remained silent.

"Did Your Majesty see him in the imperial garden just now?" Shen Qichi continued softly. "He was completely defenseless, only able to flee everywhere like an ordinary snake. If I had been a step later, he would have met his end. He is a Great Demon who once ruled as a king in his domain, his cultivation so profound that mortals like us cannot fathom it. If I had not taken his Demon Core, how could he have fallen to the point of being bullied by mere humans?"

"Then you..." The emperor steadied himself. "Then why did you do it..."

"Because I am greedy." Shen Qichi finished his sentence for him, fell silent for a moment, then spoke calmly. "It is true, Your Majesty, that a snake nurtured by the people takes a hundred years to become a Jiao, and a Jiao a thousand years to become a dragon."

The emperor said nothing.

"If I had not taken his Demon Core... if I had not taken his Demon Core, forbidding him from practicing magic, and sought the Dragon Pearl from the Imperial Ancestral Temple to suppress him, he would have long since transformed through lightning and left the path of demons."

Unlike in his past life, Su Ying now had no karmic baggage, no desire for death. His cultivation had not regressed but advanced instead. Even if he only half-understood the tribulation ordeal, with proper guidance, achieving enlightenment and becoming a spirit would not be difficult. He would succeed—this was the fate of the serpent demon. And his own fate was to be the guide who led a demon to spirit.

This was something he had understood in the underworld. Yet human desires were like a gluttonous beast, and he was but a mortal of flesh and blood—how could he be an exception?

In the year since his rebirth, he hadn't dwelled on the past, not looked at karmic debts, not heeded the Ghost officials, all because his heart harbored fear.

Shen Qichi stared at his own hands. "Your Majesty, a human's hundred years pass in the blink of an eye. I am no longer a youth. In another ten years, my beauty will fade, my hair will turn white. By then, without me saying a word, he will leave on his own. Your Majesty, it is not he who clings to me—it is I who cannot bear to part with him. With him, every moment is precious; without him, every moment is lost. I cannot let go, not even for an instant."

The emperor remained silent for a long time.

He and Shen Qichi had weathered storms together. No one else in the world knew the compassion and madness beneath Shen Qichi's gentlemanly exterior. He closed his eyes. "Why do you torment yourself like this? Humans and demons walk different paths. Why force it?"

Shen Qichi smiled faintly. "If both are willing, it is not force. As long as he is still willing, I will clear every obstacle in our way, till death."