Emperors Are Prisoners: Breaking Free of the Cage
He paused slightly, his tone tinged with a hint of melancholy and coldness. "But this time, he was assassinated, his life hanging by a thread, critically injured, and to this day, he still hasn't seen who the enemy who struck him in the shadows was."
Xuanwei put down his wine cup, raised his eyes and looked quietly at Chen Du opposite him. His gaze was deep, as if it contained half a lifetime of romance and also a myriad of helplessness.
Who do you think did it?
He did not expect an answer.
Chen Du remained silent, his lips not parted.
For decades, the master and disciple have been inseparable, their hearts in perfect harmony. Some answers need no words; they are already in each other's eyes and hearts.
Xuanwei didn't wait, and continued in a low voice, each word revealing a penetrating insight into the power struggles of the court:
"People change. Emperors, generals, and officials are no exception. People believe that the emperor on the dragon throne, ruling over the vast land, is the sole ruler of the world."
"But he's just the biggest piece in this grand scheme."
"He was caught in the crossfire of factions among the officials below, and pulled along by the power dynamics of the court; above him, ancient undercurrents held him back, and a powerful hand manipulated things from behind the scenes. Sitting in that supreme position, he was not in control of his own destiny, nor could he act according to his own will. He had no say in his own future or his own decisions."
"The King of Nanli was his own brother, born of the same mother, a blood relative, bound by blood. But in the face of the grand scheme of things, kinship was worthless. If someone wanted him dead, he dared to assassinate him in court, daring to harm members of the royal family and princes without any scruples."
As he finished speaking, he lowered his voice and added a heavy admonition, a sigh that had been hidden in his heart for sixteen years.
In this world, fathers and sons are not necessarily deeply affectionate, and relatives are not always truly sincere.
Often, the person closest to you, hiding beside you, is the one who most desires your demise.
The night wind rustled through the bamboo, carrying this chilling truth gently into the darkness.
Chen Du raised his hand and picked up the wine cup. The clear wine went down his throat, warm yet slightly cool.
His master's words were cryptic and only touched upon the surface, yet he fully understood their deeper meaning.
The secrets within the Ling Dynasty's inner palace are far more complex than simply a matter of switching the crown prince with a cat.
The earth-shattering exchange decades ago replaced an infant, but the forces involved, the deep-rooted conspiracies, and the Lie Dormant undercurrents of ages behind it were layered upon layered and boundless. Even Master Xuanwei probably couldn't see through the whole picture.
After a moment of silence, Xuanwei suddenly raised his eyes, his gaze intense, and asked a question that had been weighing on his heart for many years.
"You were the rightful heir apparent, the crown prince ordained by Heaven, destined to ascend the throne and rule the world. Now you live in seclusion in the mountains, hidden away in a Daoist temple. Have you... ever felt even a trace of regret?"
Upon hearing this, Chen Du smiled calmly, a smile that was gentle and devoid of regret, resentment, sorrow, or joy.
He gently shook his head. "I have never regretted it. I have never had the slightest desire for the throne and imperial power."
Xuanwei raised an eyebrow slightly. "Are you truly without any lingering thoughts?"
"Of course it's true."
Chen Du put down his wine cup, his tone calm and composed, yet every word was clear and insightful, revealing the most illusory supreme power in the world.
"Master just said that the emperor is the greatest pawn in the world. In my opinion, the emperors of the Ling Dynasty have always been prisoners trapped in the Golden Chime Hall."
People envy him for possessing a vast empire, being the supreme ruler, and having thousands worship him. But the highest place is never the Peak Stage; it is the smallest Prison Cage.
"The higher one sits, the heavier the constraints become, and the smaller the world becomes. What kind of ruler of the world can be if he cannot even follow his own heart, cannot even protect his own friends and family, and is subject to the constraints of others in every word and deed, and is manipulated by others in every action?"
"If I were to truly enter the palace and ascend the throne, sitting on that dragon throne, I would be a prisoner confined to the deep palace for the rest of my life. The palace gates stretch for thousands of miles, seemingly vast, but in reality, every step is a shackle. Every word and action must be carefully considered, and every move must be made while watching the expressions of others."
"This kind of illusory honor, where one is not in control of one's own destiny and is subject to constant restraint, is not as free as the place where I sweep the bamboo courtyard, cultivate the Dao, and guard my true self at Qingfeng Temple."
His words were frank, clear, insightful, and unconventional.
Xuanwei stared intently at the young man before him, remaining silent for a long time.
After a long while, he suddenly threw his head back and burst into laughter!
The laughter was open and unrestrained, louder and clearer than ever before, causing the green bamboo in the courtyard to rustle and the leaves to flutter. The wine on the stone table rippled and spilled out of the cup.
"Well said! What a fine example of an emperor in a cage!"
He laughed heartily, and most of the melancholy, worry, and anxiety that had accumulated in his eyes for sixteen years dissipated. He almost laughed until he cried.
After a while, the laughter gradually subsided.
Xuanwei's smile faded, and gazing at the bright moon in the mountains, he sighed softly, filled with emotion:
"You are far more insightful than your father."
"If your father had been able to see through this illusory cage of power, and understand this intricate palace game, he wouldn't have ended up like this..."
The conversation abruptly ended.
He didn't finish the second half of his tragic fate; he simply shook his head slightly, his eyes filled with endless sighs. He raised his hand, picked up his wine cup, and drank the full cup of turbid wine in one gulp.
The moonlight is gentle, and the bamboo breeze is serene.
The master and disciple sat quietly in the courtyard, silently gazing at the moon.
After decades of living in constant fear while protecting the Dao, Xuanwei finally felt completely at ease at this moment.
The children he raised were never caged birds trapped by fate, imperial power, or destiny.
He is a celestial being who has broken free from the game of chess, escaped the cage, and walked the path of solitude.
Time passed slowly, and in just a few days, a prolonged drought suddenly struck the area within a radius of tens of thousands of miles around Qingfeng Mountain.
At first, the rainfall decreased sharply, the mountain streams gradually dried up, revealing sand at the bottom, and the seedlings in the fertile fields below withered and curled leaves, losing their vitality.
But the changes in nature and the world intensified.
The blazing sun hung high in the sky, its intense heat baking the earth relentlessly all day.
The cracked soil was riddled with crisscrossing furrows, densely packed like the withered wounds of the earth. Patches of crops were scorched and dead, the fields were barren and devoid of any vegetation.
In just ten days, the drought spread to its extreme.
The ancient well had completely dried up, and the riverbed was exposed, revealing the pale, jagged rocks that had accumulated over the years. The entire area was hot and desolate, devoid of any trace of moisture.
Chen Du's Divine Thought spread across thousands of miles, sweeping over countless towns and villages in the surrounding area.
Everywhere you look, there is a scene of human misery.
Fertile fields were abandoned, granaries were empty, and water was scarce. Countless people, with their families in tow, left their homes and trudged to distant places where water was still available.
The elderly, the weak, women and children staggered along, exhausted, and people kept collapsing to the ground along the way, unable to get up again.
Wailing cries filled the fields, and the people suffered terribly.
Across the vast land, all living beings are trapped in this intractable drought.
Qingfeng Temple, nestled atop the mountain, is the only tranquil place within a hundred miles that still retains a clear spring and offers a place to stay.
With nowhere else to go, the disaster victims surged up the mountain like a tide, kneeling densely beneath the mountain gate, kowtowing and weeping, pleading with the Daoist priests to have mercy and begging Heaven to send down rain.
Chen Du on the stone steps of the mountain gate, quietly looking down.
The disaster victims were all emaciated, with cracked lips and withered skin, their faces filled with despair and longing.
Many women held their young children tightly in their arms. The children were dehydrated and starving, and were so weak that they no longer had the strength to cry, only able to breathe weakly.
The scene was one of devastation, and my heart was heavy with sorrow.
He silently turned around, returned to the bamboo courtyard, and immediately activated the Calamity Warning.