In a restaurant in the capital, Wenren Sheng sat by the window. Below, team after team passed through the street.
They held wooden placards aloft, jubilant and delighted.
"The Empress Dowager has allowed us to join the Light Division!"
"Long live the Empress Dowager! Long live, long live!"
"The Empress Dowager truly is wise—a saint born once every five hundred years!"
The crowd was thrilled.
They seemed to see the coming of light.
Yet Wenren Sheng knew that a tragedy would soon unfold.
But he would not stop it.
Only by passing through blood and fire themselves could they be reborn.
Just as when children were unwilling to study, before they found their own motivation, no amount of force would improve matters. It would only make things worse.
Some found the motivation to learn and strove ahead. Others never found it in their entire lives, muddling through in a daze.
That was the foundation of civilization.
Some civilizations had known glory and refused to fall, so they possessed an inner drive.
Other civilizations had known glory, then later declined, and simply ceased to care, lying at the bottom of the valley forever.
Civilizations were like people.
As he pondered this, a group of Brocade-Clad Soldiers carrying rifled guns rushed out from the end of the street and moved to seize the crowd.
"By order of the Grand Secretariat, arrest these rebel bandits!"
"Bastards, the Empress Dowager permitted us!"
"The Empress Dowager outranks the Grand Secretariat!"
"We aren't rebel bandits! We only want to make this world fairer!"
Yet all that greeted them were ruthless bullets.
Blood, wails, and wooden placards covered the ground.
Wenren Sheng watched the bloodshed below and silently drained a cup of wine.
"Old Wen, why are you so cold-blooded? I can't stand watching this. I'm going