Chapter 76:
Jiang Henian (Part 6):
In the 28th Year of Jiang Wuwen’s Reign, the King Died…
Three days later, the Crown Prince returned to the capital.
The general saw him off from horseback, no words exchanged.
The prince’s visit had soothed the longing in his heart, their shared bed a dream fulfilled, unaware that this would be his last meeting with Jiang Henian in this life.
In the twenty-eighth year of Jiang Wuwen’s reign, the King fell gravely ill. The Crown Prince attended to him, and when news reached the border, Jiang Wan decided not to return to the capital.
With the King’s life in peril and the throne about to change hands, she told Yu Lin before his departure, “The Wang clan’s treachery hasn’t ceased. I fear they will rebel and harm my brother. Waiting for the imperial edict will be too late. With me there, he will be safe. Focus on winning this war, and when you return, we’ll celebrate in the palace!”
Jiang Wan returned to the capital with four thousand light cavalry. If a coup truly occurred, Yu Lin would lead the border army back to the capital to support her. Her journey was unimpeded. She entered the inner palace, her armor still on, her sword at her side, her aura so fierce that no one dared to stop her. As she reached the Meridian Gate, a bell tolled, the sound echoing through the palace, her armor clinking, her footsteps halting.
The mournful toll of the bell, the Emperor was dead.
She looked towards the golden roofs of the palace, a moment of disorientation, the palace staff prostrating themselves along the pathways, listening in fear.
She didn’t hesitate, breaking into a run, towards the East Palace, the golden ginkgo leaves falling like rain, a shower of sunlight.
Her father was gone.
Despite her preparations, the news still shocked her.
She felt no overwhelming grief, but neither the indifference she had expected.
She remembered the day her wet nurse had died, her sorrow profound, her brother comforting her, explaining that death left a void, a missing piece, however small.
Her desire to see Jiang Henian intensified. Before reaching the East Palace, she saw Zhao Yinyang, held captive by two guards.
“Princess? Princess—!” he exclaimed, his initial surprise turning to relief. “Princess, help me! Something has happened in the East Palace! The Crown Prince is in danger—!”
Hearing his words, she rushed towards them. As the guards drew their swords, her blade flashed, a swift and decisive strike, two bodies collapsing, their blood staining the ground, their last breaths choked with blood.
The palace guards dared to draw their swords against her. Something had indeed happened in the East Palace.
“The protective array I set up has been broken. An evil entity has invaded,” Zhao Yinyang said.
Jiang Wan frowned. An evil entity? She didn’t understand the intricacies of Daoist magic, but she knew this was serious. Without waiting for an explanation, she grabbed his arm, pulling him along, running towards the East Palace.
The attendants at the gate, seeing her, their faces a mixture of shock and fear, blocked her path. “His Highness has forbidden anyone from entering.”
“Whose side are you on?!” Jiang Wan’s voice was cold, her eyes fixed on their faces. “Jiang Li’s?”
Jiang Li’s men had infiltrated the East Palace?
Impossible!
“Get out of my way! Let’s see who dares to stop me today!” She swung her bloodstained sword, and the attendants collapsed, their fear paralyzing them.
She stormed into the East Palace, her sword at her side, Zhao Yinyang following, his voice filled with despair. “Too late…”
Fallen leaves covered the courtyard, the air cold and still, like a tomb. Zhao Yinyang’s voice was a strange mix of laughter and tears. “This is fate, destiny. Princess, run!”
“Bullshit!” She would have killed him too, if not for her worry for her brother. There was no blood, the courtyard as peaceful as she remembered, she refused to believe he was dead.
“Brother! Brother—!”
She called out repeatedly, stopping at the entrance to the inner chambers, looking up to see a figure kneeling inside, dressed in white, its long hair unbound, its face pale and gaunt, like a lifeless doll.
It was her brother, Jiang Henian.
“You’ve arrived just in time,” a voice, cold and mocking, and a figure emerged from the shadows.
“Jiang Li—!” she roared, drawing her sword, charging forward, her movements unrestricted, then stopping, her advance halted.
A pair of pale, decaying hands gripped Jiang Henian’s throat.
What was that?
She had seen countless corpses, their bodies mangled and broken, their flesh rotting, but never a living corpse, the evil entity Zhao Yinyang had spoken of. A wave of terror washed over her.
“One more step, and you’ll watch your dear brother die,” Jiang Li smiled.
Her brother’s eyes were closed, his body enveloped in a black mist, the creature’s touch defiling his robes, a sight that unsettled even her, a seasoned warrior, her composure shaken.
“The Crown Prince is dead,” Zhao Yinyang said, shaking his head, then pointing at Jiang Li, a strange smile on his lips. “But you’re not the chosen one, you can’t have the throne!”
Zhao Yinyang remembered the day of the prince’s coming-of-age ceremony, the King ordering him to divine his fate.
Two stars descended, two dragons vying for power, one headless, one hidden, only the hidden dragon destined to bring prosperity to the Jiang Dynasty.
His divination, his interpretation of the prophecy, had enraged the King, almost costing him his life. Only the King’s desire to protect the prince’s reputation had stayed his hand, the matter silenced, discussion of the prophecy forbidden. He had gone to the East Palace to speak to the prince privately.
Crown Prince Jiang Henian was the headless dragon, a truth undeniable, a celestial decree.
The decree was more important than his own life or career. He had served the true dragon, King Wu, aiding his rebellion, and he wouldn’t betray the heavens now.
“So… so be it,” Jiang Henian had said upon hearing the prophecy, his reaction surprisingly calm, his voice betraying no emotion.
Zhao Yinyang hadn’t understood his words. He had come to repay his debt to the prince, for his past kindness.
“If you want to change your fate, there are two methods,” he had said. “First, slay the hidden dragon!”
“The hidden dragon is the wild horse you brought from the slave quarters. A magnificent steed, transforming into a dragon. Kill him, and your fate will change.”
“I see,” Jiang Henian hadn’t been angered, but amused, a flicker of sadness in his eyes, a fleeting emotion.
“No wonder you looked at him differently,” he had said. “He will become king?”
“Yes,” Zhao Yinyang had replied. “I sensed the dragon’s aura within him, the same as His Majesty’s.”
Jiang Henian had smiled. “Then he’ll be a worthy emperor, like my father. Since fate has decreed it, there’s no need for concern. You didn’t tell Father, but you told me. Do you want me to kill him?”
Zhao Yinyang had shaken his head. “I wouldn’t dare gamble with the kingdom’s fate. The hidden dragon will bring prosperity to the Jiang Dynasty. That’s all I desire.”
“Indeed,” Jiang Henian had said. “A prosperous kingdom is a blessing.”
“Your Highness, I came here for you. I have one more question.” Zhao Yinyang had knelt before him, his robes spread around him. “Will you join the Dao? Only cultivation can save a Tai Yin body. I am willing to guide you, to change your fate.”
“I’m grateful for your offer, but I am the Crown Prince,” Jiang Henian had smiled faintly. “My fate is to rule. I won’t change it.”
“You know your fate. What is your desire?” Zhao Yinyang had asked.
“I believe life is short, there’s no time for regrets. To cherish the present moment is enough,” Jiang Henian had replied.
Zhao Yinyang had sighed, bowing three times. “The Jiang Dynasty is blessed to have you as its heir.”
“Rise, Zhao Yinyang,” Jiang Henian had said, his hand outstretched, then walked to the door, pushing it open, the eaves blocking the sunlight, only a few rays filtering through the branches of the tree in the courtyard, falling on the two figures standing there.
Yu Lin and Jiang Wan.
“Brother!” they had called out, their voices filled with warmth.
“Master.”
Their smiles, like crescent moons, a comforting presence, the scene etched in his memory.
This is good, he had thought.
But Yu Lin couldn’t remain just a warrior. Jiang Henian had lowered his guard, sharing his thoughts, reading aloud from memorials, discussing affairs of state, seeing Yu Lin’s awkwardness, the young man’s hidden depths, his pride and his stubbornness, a refreshing contrast to the prince’s usual composure.
He had taught him to read and write, and Yu Lin, a quick learner, had excelled, then gone to war.
The children of the East Palace had grown up, Yu Lin a celebrated general, his presence commanding respect, a fierce warrior, Jiang Wan leading her own cavalry unit, their victories countless.
Jiang Henian kept their letters, a stack of yellowed paper, a testament to their loyalty and courage.
His father’s health had declined, his body weakened by illness, and as Jiang Henian’s responsibilities increased, his power growing, the King had gradually relinquished his hold, like a father preparing his son to take his place.
Jiang Henian was grateful, sensing his father’s impending death, his own time also drawing near.
Jiang Wan and Yu Lin were at the border. He had visited them once, knowing it would be their last meeting, but seeing their happiness, their unwavering loyalty, he had no regrets.
Another year passed, and he sat in the East Palace, reading a military report.
The Beimu were retreating, the Jiang army pursuing them.
General Feiyu wrote: In every battle, victory is certain, every city will be conquered. If the barbarians advance, so shall we!
His bold words, followed by a reckless pursuit of the Beimu cavalry, five hundred miles into the grasslands, to the Huan River.
Jiang Henian had seen him leading the charge, his aura brighter than the sun, his courage unmatched, his youthful arrogance a beacon.
He wouldn’t live to see him become emperor, to witness his ascension, a lingering regret, his fingers tracing the characters on the letter, a sudden gust of wind snatching it from his grasp, carrying it out of the hall.
Dong—!
The mournful toll of the bell echoed through the palace.
Three chimes, and the air in the hall grew cold, his breath misting before him.
His time had come.
“I knew this day would come,” he said calmly, kneeling at his desk, his clothes and hair neatly arranged, a shadow falling on the screen beside him.
Jiang Li, a resentful prince, his ambitions thwarted, had conspired with the Wang clan, seizing control of the imperial guards while the King lay dying, replacing the East Palace staff, their actions unopposed.
Jiang Henian closed his eyes, a faint smile on his lips, his regrets few.
He remembered the kiss, a stolen moment, a shared secret, wondering if Yu Lin would grieve, the boy he had nurtured, taught, and loved, no longer able to weep in his arms.
Jiang Li sneered. “Zhao Yinyang, I offered you a place by my side, but you chose to betray me.”
“My master is dead, I no longer fear death,” Zhao Yinyang raised his hands to the sky, his laughter defiant. “The true dragon will rise, my path is clear!”
“You’re insane,” Jiang Li said coldly. “Guards! Princess Zhaoping and Zhao Yinyang have conspired to murder the Crown Prince! Take them to the dungeons!”
The imperial guards, who had surrounded the East Palace, emerged from the shadows, seizing Jiang Wan, her sword clattering to the floor, her body pinned to the ground.
Her head pressed against the cold stone, she yelled, her voice filled with rage and despair, “Brother—!”
But Jiang Henian was dead, her cries unanswered.
In the twenty-eighth year of Jiang Wuwen’s reign, the King died, followed by Crown Prince Jiang Henian, poisoned.
Zhao Yinyang, accused of treason, committed suicide in prison. Princess Zhaoping was executed in the East Palace courtyard.
Jiang Henian’s body lay in state in the main hall. As the executioner’s sword fell, she looked towards the hall, her eyes filled with regret, her blood staining the stone steps.
A single tear rolled down the prince’s lifeless cheek.
Her body was burned, the rebels still at large. Three days later, her cavalry unit sent an urgent message to the border.
The war wasn’t over. Yu Lin held the message in his trembling hand.
The message: The King is dead, a coup in the East Palace, Crown Prince Jiang Henian murdered, the Princess arrested and executed, Jiang Li has usurped the throne, the Jiang Dynasty will fall!
The lieutenant beside him watched as the general finished reading, his fingers clenching, his muscles tense, his eyes bloodshot, his rage a palpable force.
Yu Lin roared, his eyes wide with fury, his vision blurring, a mouthful of blood spraying from his lips.
