The next morning, the sky was overcast, dark clouds piling up like ink, and dim light filtering through the gaps. The air was damp, and a winter rain quietly gathered, pressing down on the heart with an unexplained weight. Early January, the cold in the south was like stealthy knives, always slipping in through the neck and ankles, delivering sharp, piercing blows. The common people on the streets wore thick cotton garments, their hands tucked into their sleeves, their backs bent, their expressions solemn as they streamed toward the Tianji Building. Today was the day of the imperial ceremony to honor Heaven—the three hundred young boys and girls selected from across the capital would be burned to ashes in the sacred fire, offered to the Heavenly Emperor. Perhaps even Heaven itself had grown weary, so the skies were choked with gloom. Wang Beiwang wore a simple, light outfit, his weapons wrapped in cloth and carried behind him. He followed the crowd to the Tianji Building to witness the ceremony. This was the court's intention: to invite both officials and commoners to attend, believing it a mark of deep respect and reverence for the Heavenly Emperor. "I heard Yang Er slipped out of the city yesterday and joined the northern dynasty's army," Wang Bei noticed, as two men near the front were chatting. The speaker was a tall, slim young man. The shorter one paused, murmuring, "If my son is chosen to be sacrificed to heaven and carried to the square to be burned alive, I'll also join the northern army." The tall, slim man growled, "Sacrificing children to heaven—this violates human dignity. The incompetent emperor will surely face retribution." The shorter man sneered, "We've already seen retribution. The southern dynasty will inevitably fall. The wealthy are fleeing southward. When Linxia falls, the capital will follow. Then we poor folk will just have to wait for the northern barbarians' swords." The tall, slim man bit his teeth again, "I won't willingly die for such an incompetent emperor and this corrupt court. I'm also planning to go to the front lines and join the northern army... Yes, just a few more days. I'll wait until I've witnessed this ceremony of burning the young boys and girls to heaven." It seemed to him that this very ceremony of burning the children would be the decisive moment that would solidify his resolve Ah, the great edifice is about to collapse... Wang Beiwang, walking behind the two, sighed inwardly. He remembered when, as a child, the people of the Southern Dynasty—especially those from the capital—had carried a deep sense of pride, a strong sense of belonging and national responsibility. Their greatest aspiration had always been to launch a northern campaign and reclaim their ancestral lands. "The royal army looks north, the royal army looks north..." In just a decade or so, the people's spirits had waned. The younger generation no longer possessed that sense of dignity or ambition. Their daily lives were now filled with toil, and they constantly cursed the court and the incompetent emperor. Once Línxià fell, the Northern Dynasty would no longer need to recruit fresh troops—merely by recruiting from the Southern Dynasty, refugees would pour in like a flood. The Southern Dynasty was now in a state of peril. He wondered if the emperor could still stem the tide of decline. He walked silently, watching as more and more people appeared ahead of him—common merchants in thick cotton garments, women in simple cotton skirts—coming from every street, like small streams flowing together, eventually converging into a surging tide at the Tianji Pavilion square. At last, Wang Beiwang saw the towering Tianji Building, hundreds of armored soldiers forming a barrier, blocking the common people outside the square. He saw the raised platform constructed, with dry branches piled beneath it, and on the platform, three hundred young children seated in a circle, expression blank, neither joyful nor sorrowful, motionless like statues. Below, two rows of civil and military officials stood upright in formal robes, holding jade tablets, their postures straight and composed, silently awaiting the moment. Two-thirds of the court officials had arrived; the remaining ones were staunch opponents of the ritual of offering sacrifices to Heaven, expressing their dissent by refusing to participate. Zheng Wenhan, the Grand Secretary of the Imperial Council, and Yang Zheng stood at the forefront of the two rows—one on the left, one on the right. Yang Zheng glanced around, and said calmly, "The Emperor has gone to great lengths to organize this ritual of sacrifice to Heaven—why has he taken ill and failed to attend? Does he not fear that the Heavenly Emperor might hold him accountable?" He didn't look at Zheng Wenhan, who was several meters away, yet the latter seemed to sense that he was being addressed, and responded with a calm, understated tone: "The Grand Tutor is well-versed in astronomy and geography, fully grasping the grand trends of the realm. He can communicate with heaven and earth—his presence alone is sufficient. The Emperor, deeply concerned about the frontlines and suffering from illness exacerbated by lingering worries, naturally requires rest and recuperation within the palace." Yang Zheng gave a sharp exhalation, clearly conveying scorn, but said nothing further. Zheng Wenhan likewise remained silent, turning his head and scanning the bustling crowd—not only searching for the possibly frail Emperor Zhao Shun, but also for the remnants of the Shen Rui Army. For this celestial ceremony, Zheng Wenhan and his close advisors had meticulously planned, rehearsed, and prepared, crafting a comprehensive strategy. As long as the Emperor dared to appear, the hidden remnants of the Shen Rui Army would launch assassinations, while the city's garrison forces would block the streets under the pretext of protecting the Emperor, thus obstructing the Yang family's entry. Further, he quietly supplied water, created chaos, and ensured the昏君 died from an assassination attempt. ——To guarantee absolute security, Zheng Wenhan also arranged numerous elite military officers to pose as assassins and remain concealed among the crowd. Should the昏君 fail to appear, that would be ideal—once the sacrificial ceremony concluded, the Zheng family would proceed with their plan to remove the king. Zheng Wenhan had also anticipated the worst: should the Zheng family's rebellion and attempt to overthrow the king be exposed, he would immediately execute Zhao Shun on the spot, halt the sacrificial ceremony, and then deliver a stirring speech before the public, gaining the backing of the state sage to launch his own rebellion. Unless absolutely compelled, Zheng Wenhan preferred not to take this path, as even though Zhao Shun were incompetent, the court and the people still held him in respectful regard. Throughout history, rebels have been seen as treacherous and disorderly; those loyal to the Zhao dynasty, or those harboring ambitions of their own, would seize the momentum when the rebellion gained strength. Once the Zheng family was severely weakened, Tuoba Guanghe might well take the opportunity to dissolve the agreement. A wine hall situated a hundred meters from the Tianji Building, on the third-floor pavilion, Du Master and Xu Elder stood by the window, gazing at the bustling square. Xu Elder smiled, "Master Du, you reserved a pavilion so early in the morning—clearly, you have high hopes for the current emperor." Du Master replied calmly, "I merely came to take a look." Looking to see if there was still hope for the Southern Dynasty! He thought to himself. ... Beyond the crowd on the square, a carriage stood by the roadside. Guan Ya stood at the driver's position, her gaze steady and focused on the throng. "Your Majesty, as a noble descendant, you should not stand so prominently—it's easy for assassins to target you," said Xie Lingxi, stepping out of the carriage and gently pulling at Guan Ya's sleeve with concern. "The guards are stationed all around the carriage," Guan Ya replied calmly. "What could possibly go wrong?" Xie Lingxi murmured softly, "But I'm afraid. I'm only a Level 1 Supernatural." Guan Ya simply ignored her. The languid voice of the Lady of the Killing Chamber came through the carriage, "How about it? Our great swordsman—has he spotted any enemies yet?" Guan Ya paid no attention, still scanning the crowd, searching for any possible assassins. Once Yuan Shi appeared, he would surely meet a fatal end. She needed to observe carefully for any hidden assassins among the crowd, just in case. Moreover, Yuan Shi had not provided them with detailed plans, fearing that the Abbot might perceive shifts in the flow of destiny through the actions of the supporting characters, thus uncovering their intentions. Therefore, Guan Ya and the others were uncertain whether Yuan Shi would succeed. Should he fail, they would immediately strike and eliminate Zheng Wenhan—capturing the king before the enemy. At that point, the Abbot would surely intervene, and without their own control, the situation would spiral out of hand. Time passed slowly, one moment after another. The common people and the court officials remained silent, their calm surfaces concealing a deep undercurrent of anticipation—everyone waiting for that decisive moment to arrive. At last, a middle-aged Taoist stepped forward from the towering Tianji Building, dressed in a Taoist robe, holding a fan, his gaze sweeping over the dense crowd as he declared in a resonant voice: "The auspicious hour has arrived—please, the State Preceptor!" The State Preceptor enjoyed considerable prestige among the common people, and both the citizens outside the square and the court officials within promptly bowed in respect. Zheng Wenhan called out, "Please, the State Preceptor!" The common folk behind echoed spontaneously, chanting, "Please, the State Preceptor!" As the anticipation built, a bright, gentle golden light rose from the highest observation platform within the Tianji Building, drifting slowly into the air and hovering above the square. The light was neither dazzling nor overwhelming; the people below clearly saw it as a luminous aura resting gently behind the head of an elderly Taoist, radiating an ethereal grace. The elder Taoist had flowing white hair, a flowing robe, a slender, refined face, and a fan in hand—his bearing that of a celestial immortal. The people fell to their knees in reverence, viewing him as a true heavenly sage. Two rows of civil and military officials also felt a deep sense of reverence. As senior court officials, they naturally knew that the State Master was no deity but a practitioner—yet, with his profound cultivation reaching the heavens and earth, he could indeed be called a terrestrial immortal. Inside the spacious carriage, Sun Miaomiao stuck her head out, stared intently at the State Master, then withdrew it in fear, saying, "The State Master is an 8th-level Day-Wandering Immortal—his spirit body has detached from his physical form and materialized into tangible reality." His main quest concluded this morning, as it was a large, story-driven instance. The spiritual realm offered two choices: either exit the instance and return to reality, or stay and complete the side quests. Gao Tang Lian Zhai, known for always prioritizing righteousness over personal safety, chose the latter. Now, he feels a strong urge to make a quick exit. The women in the carriage paid no attention to him, all focused intently on the divine sage, whose resonant voice echoed: "The emperor divided yin and yang, establishing the process of creation; the gods generated the seven celestial bodies, radiating their essence, encompassing all things with circular and square forms, bringing prosperity to all beings. I humbly present my tribute and offer this prayer to the emperor: 'The Zhao lineage is splendid and beyond counting. The heavenly sovereign has appointed them to serve as vassals under Shun.'" Gao Tang Lian Zhai listened, utterly bewildered, turning to the carriage and asking, "What does that mean? It sounds like human language, but I still don't understand a single coherent sentence." The women in the carriage continued to ignore him—indeed, they didn't understand either, and that only made them feel awkward Xie Lingxi whispered, "I only understood the last part—roughly meaning: Among the countless descendants of the Zhao family, heaven has uniquely bestowed the throne upon 'Shun,' referring to Zhao Shun." After all, she had just graduated from high school, a time of peak knowledge accumulation. The Grand Patriarch delivered a long discourse, and as he concluded with the phrase, "Present three hundred young boys to the Celestial Deity to protect the southern dynasty's sovereignty for five centuries," a sudden surge of voices erupted among the crowd: "Grand Patriarch, this must not happen! This violates human dignity and the laws of heaven—such a negligent ruler, acting contrary to righteousness, will surely face retribution. As the nation's foremost scholar, how can you serve as an accomplice to his misdeeds?" The speaker was a young scholar, deeply emotional, appearing utterly fearless of death. Inspired by his outburst, the citizens of the capital, long restrained, now joined in chorus. "No human sacrifice to heaven! The current ruler is acting contrary to human values—his actions will surely bring about retribution. Grand Patriarch, please stand up for us!" "Three hundred lives—three hundred children!" "Please, Grand Patriarch A steady stream of people began to kneel, their eyes no longer on the emperor, but fixed solely on the Grand Preceptor. The people's sentiments were clearly visible—so too was the will of the people. The Grand Preceptor stood high above, surveying the scene, and emitted a profound yet resigned sigh, then slowly said: "By the will of Heaven, the sovereign shall be seated as the one who serves Shun; Shun shall become the emperor, and his word shall carry the weight of nine drums." This meant that the emperor's intentions were beyond my influence—should anything go wrong, it must be his fault. The Grand Preceptor continued reciting the remaining, brief passages of the litany, then raised his voice: "The auspicious hour has arrived—let us begin the ceremony to honor Heaven!" With that, a golden beam shot forth and settled upon the dry wood stacked beneath the platform. The dry wood ignited instantly, blazing into a fierce flame. Suddenly, the crowd surged into motion—some cursed the incompetent emperor, others wailed in anguish, and many fiercely pushed against the city guards, striving to reach the plaza. Zheng Wenhan could no longer contain himself, turned around, and began searching through the "Found it..." At that very moment, Guan Ya finally spotted the hidden assassin among the faces, each one wracked with uncontrollable emotion. Suddenly, a sharp cry rang out: "Stop!" A figure surged toward the dais, waving his sleeves with powerful momentum, sweeping the blazing dry branches into disarray. Zheng Wenhan, who had been eagerly anticipating the arrival of the昏king, froze, his expression stunned as he turned to his side. It was Yang Zheng! Zheng Wenhan erupted in rage: "Yang Official, dare you defy the imperial decree and obstruct the celestial ritual? Attend! Seize him!"