When more than half the sun had climbed into the vault of heaven, under the gaze of countless people, the imperial carriage finally reached the mountaintop.
Upon the Heavenly Altar, flames blazed fiercely within an enormous bronze cauldron.
Cauldrons were weighty sacred vessels. In ancient times, the Holy Emperor had cast cauldrons to suppress the mountains and rivers of the Divine Land, praying for a realm that would endure forever.
Though that beautiful hope had not come to pass—though even cauldrons were used to hold it down, when institutions decayed and people's hearts changed, dynasties still rose and fell in endless cycles—the tradition of using cauldrons as sacrificial vessels had endured.
At the foot of the mountain stood two hundred thousand troops; atop it stood the civil and military officials. Zhao Sheng, Zhao Xiang, Zhang Huang'er, and the others occupied the central positions. At this moment, everyone watched Zhao Cheng ascend the steps one by one, making his way toward the highest point.
Though he was now only king of the Southern Wasteland rather than king of all under heaven, once he established a regime and proclaimed himself king, he would no longer be a stray soldier or wandering bandit, but a sovereign acknowledged by Heaven and Earth. No matter what happened afterward, even if his royal enterprise suddenly came to nothing tomorrow, this would still be a stroke that history could never erase.
He had entered the ranks a little past the age of ten, been trapped amid the mountain forests at sixteen, and now, only a few years later and not yet twenty, had established a regime and proclaimed himself king. This was undoubtedly a legendary achievement without equal in all ages.
Wei Ye, mingling among the military officers, was more stirred than he had ever been. He