Immortal Travel of Longevity

Chapter 482: The Greatest Emperor, Founding Emperor of Xiang

The Imperial Court was filled with officials, all looking forward.“Congratulations, Your Majesty! This great victory has achieved monumental deeds! The world is now united under Your Majesty, who shall be remembered for eternity!”

“Congratulations, Your Majesty!”

“The Greatest Emperor in history!”

Prime Minister Wen stepped forward, cupping his hands respectfully. “Your Majesty, in my opinion, we should hold a grand ceremony to honor our ancestors and spread Your Majesty’s holy name!”

Zhao Zhen raised his hand. “Holy name?”

Zhao Zhen found it rather laughable. How could someone like him deserve the word “holy”?

“Your Majesty swept away all rivals to unify the world. Such a great achievement deserves a place in the Ancestral Temple! Alongside Grand Ancestor’s hall!”

Zhao Zhen paused slightly before asking, “Does any minister here object?”

“Your Majesty is the very Founder himself.”

“This humble minister seconds the motion!”

Not a single official below dared to oppose.

Zhao Zhen glanced at Prime Minister Wen. While Wen held sway over the court, he was never careless in matters like this.

Entering the Ancestral Temple…

Truth be told, it was long overdue.

Zhao Zhen had simply waited all these years, anticipating this very day.

“The matter is approved! Proceed immediately!”

“Long live our King!”

“Long live our King!”

The Imperial Court buzzed with excitement for a long while before gradually settling down.

Yet Prime Minister Wen stepped forward again. “Your Majesty, word has it the army captured Prince Xiao. Why is he not here?”

Zhao Zhen replied, “Prince Xiao Shang Lu took his own life on the journey back to the capital.”

“Your Majesty, why was there no report?” Prime Minister Wen inquired.

Zhao Zhen said, “He traveled back to the capital alongside me. What need was there to report?”

Seeing this, Prime Minister Wen asked no further and returned to his place.

Zhao Zhen swept his gaze across the assembled officials before discussing arrangements for the Ancestral Temple.

…

Somewhere, an unnamed mountain, an unknown path.

A man in simple short robes mounted a white horse rode southward.

He looked around, occasionally recalling fragments of memories. He remembered traveling this very road many years ago.

The white horse walked slowly, climbing over mountains and wading through rivers.

After trekking a thousand miles, he finally reached the Flowing Cloud Temple mountain.

He dismounted from the white horse and looked up at the stone steps leading up the mountain. Moss covered many steps, as if they hadn’t been swept in a long time.

He rode his horse into the nearby market.

After selling the white horse, he bought a broom, two jars of good wine, some spirit money, and a few incense sticks and candles.

He returned to the temple mountain.

Step by step, he swept away weeds, moss, mud, and dust until all was clean.

He began at noon and worked until nightfall, finally seeing the main gate of the temple.

Shang Lu approached the gate, carrying the wine. He glanced at the closed temple doors.

The doors were not rotten, and the lock was not rusty.

But at first glance, it felt like no one had been present for a long time. There was no sign of human habitation inside.

He reached for the lock, gently tugging it. The lock fell to the ground with a clink.

“Creak…”

The temple doors swung open.

He looked into a courtyard littered with fallen leaves, overrun with weeds.

He walked to the back courtyard and found two gravestones. He poured wine for each of the departed elders and kowtowed before them.

After long musings, he returned to the main hall.

He lit incense and candles, placing them as offerings to the immortals and deities.

Kneeling, he prostrated himself, silently reciting passages from the Taoist Scriptures.

When he opened his eyes again, the moon hung high in the sky, casting the temple in its silvery light.

A soft murmur escaped his lips.

“My entire life, passed cloud-like and ephemeral… my Taoist name shall be Floating Cloud.”

“Henceforth, there shall be no name Shang Lu left in this world.”

From that time onward, life returned to the Flowing Cloud Temple. Weeds no longer sprouted nearby, and moss vanished from the stone steps.

Much later, the people of Autumn Moon Market slowly learned of this Floating Cloud Daoist Priest.

Visitors came to the temple to pay respects and offer incense. When asked his name,

The Daoist Priest would only reply, “My Taoist name is Floating Cloud. I have no name, no family name.”

…

Xinglong Year 18, Winter Solstice.

Heavy snow fell ceaselessly, inside and outside the temple. Both were cloaked in pristine white, the ground transformed into a vast blanket of snow.

The open spaces of the temple, even the tree branches, bore thick layers of snow, as if dipped in pure white. Snowflakes rustled softly as they touched the ground, bringing profound peace and stillness.

“Dongg!”

A bell tolled – distant and serene.

As the reverberations shook his heart, the meditating priest inside the temple opened his eyes.

He turned and saw standing outside the temple gate, a man and a woman – seeming old acquaintances.

Tong Zhihuan surveyed the tranquil temple. The woman beside him gently brushed snow from his robes.

“Greetings, Daoist Priest.”

Tong Zhihuan stepped forward. As his eyes met the Priest’s face, he froze for a moment.

“Daoist Priest, have we possibly met somewhere?”

The Floating Cloud Daoist Priest paused, then broke into a gentle smile.

Tao’er looked at him. She had always wondered who was returning. But now, seeing him, she understood everything.

Snowflakes landed on her hair.

Tao’er couldn’t help but say, “So, the master foresaw all of this long ago…”

All these shifts and changes in the world – all anticipated by her master.

Tao’er sighed softly. She increasingly felt she would never find her master.

…

Xinglong Year 19, Spring.

A grand ceremony to honor ancestors was held. Officials lined the street as the imperial procession left the palace for the Ancestral Temple.

Incense smoke rose from the bronze cauldron, twisting skyward toward the nine heavens.

An imperial decree was read aloud by the Minister of Rites. Music swirled around them, punctuated by thunderous drumbeats proclaiming the nation’s majestic power.

Zhao Zhen, holding three incense sticks, entered the Ancestral Temple.

After three ceremonial bows, he softly uttered, “The world is One, and I, I am henceforth the Grand Ancestor! I shall be the Grand Ancestor!”

In that instant, the very heavens and earth seemed changed.

Officials lifted their gazes, witnessing behind the Ancestral Temple – the east glowing purple, an auspicious radiance descending.

“Auspicious portents descend! Hail our Grand Ancestor!” cried the Minister of Rites.

“All hail the Grand Ancestor!”

Seeing this heavenly sign, every official knelt instantly, awestruck and reverent.

Zhao Zhen breathed a long sigh. He marveled at his unified realm, at the mountains and rivers, at over seventy years of life…

The realm would prosper! The Human Dao would thrive!

…

After the world’s unification, a long time of peace followed. The heavens blessed the land with favorable weather year after year; wars ceased entirely.

Decades of strife gave way to serenity. Da Xiang embraced true prosperity: its people lived peacefully, the elements cooperated, and national power grew exponentially.

Shangjing flourished with ever-increasing vibrancy. Signs of vigorous development emerged everywhere across the land.

Zhao Zhen broke no promise. Within the next half year, he began accepting Jing people as officials. Soon, Jing faces began appearing in the Imperial Court benches.

But at the Summer Solstice of that year, Zhao Zhen suddenly felt unwell. One night later, he lay sick in his bed, too weak to rise.

Court affairs were temporarily entrusted to the Crown Prince.

Lying in bed, his face chalk white, Zhao Zhen knew death should have probably claimed him months ago. He had merely clung fiercely to life until now.

At seventy-two years old, he sighed deeply. Life seemed fleeting, yet within its brevity, he had truly forged monumental achievements.

History, ask: Which Emperor before him had crushed Jing, swept aside the Mang tribes, absorbed Xiao, and forged the realm into One?

His ambition was vast, yet he had truly seized it.

Generations hence, standing before his ancestral tablet, would all honor him as the Founding Emperor of Xiang.

That Founding Emperor of Xiang who spent his life battle-ready, galloping across blood-stained battlefields.