Book 7: Ode to the Son of Heaven
Chapter 157: Outside the Imperial City, a Rainy Day
The late autumn rain grew heavier.
Under the curious gazes of passersby on the street, Wu Zhu walked through the rain, exiting the alley and arriving at a small fork in the road beside Tianhe Street. Dripping rainwater trickled slowly down his clothes and the black cloth covering his face. He stopped there, then slightly raised his head to gaze at the distant imperial palace, shrouded in the misty rain.
Yesterday afternoon, Wu Zhu had also spent a long time here looking at the imperial palace. Though he was a traveler from the Divine Temple, instinctively following Fan Xian to observe the human world, and the imperial palace was indeed the most magnificent and grand structure in the capital, worthy of a visit, Wu Zhu’s decision to return here for two consecutive days was likely influenced by some other reason.
Under the eaves of the street, a few mischievous children of the capital, clad in small cotton-padded jackets and carrying square backpacks, rubbed their hands to ward off the cold. Their little faces were pale from the chill. These children attended the state-run school every day and carried umbrellas with them, but they hadn’t expected the rain to suddenly intensify as they reached the alley entrance.
“Look, it’s that fool from yesterday!” one of the children exclaimed. Bored by the rain—though it might delay their classes, no one wanted to linger under someone else’s eaves—he spotted Wu Zhu standing motionless in the rain like an idiot. Recognizing him as the fool they had tormented the day before, the child was as thrilled as if he had discovered a new continent.
There were no stones under the eaves, but the children’s eyes darted around until they found some half-burnt coal cinders beside a coal stove. With shrill laughter and shouts, they began throwing the cinders at Wu Zhu.
For some reason, it seems that from a very young age, humans excel at bullying those weaker than themselves to prove their own strength and gain a sense of satisfaction. It seems almost innate. Otherwise, why would those children feel joy at the sound of coal cinders hitting Wu Zhu? Why would they delight in seeing him covered in filth?
There weren’t many people sheltering from the rain on the street. To the few capital residents present, the blind man standing dazedly in the rain was clearly an idiot and a disabled person, evoking some sympathy. Yet, alongside that sympathy, the sight of the stains on his clothes also stirred an instinctive disgust.
Apart from a woman who looked like an auntie and fiercely scolded the little brats, no one else took any action. They simply watched indifferently as the unrepentant children vented their innate violent desires in their own way.
Thwack! A wet lump of coal struck Wu Zhu’s motionless, expressionless face with a crisp sound, like a slap.
The coal cinder knocked the black cloth on Wu Zhu’s face slightly askew. His pale face tilted a little, as if he didn’t quite understand what was happening. Then, he straightened the black cloth on his face and slowly turned to look at the children under the eaves, their hands now dirty.
The mischievous children weren’t afraid. After all, the blind fool had shown no signs of resistance the entire afternoon the day before. On the contrary, seeing Wu Zhu react today only excited them more. The barrage of coal cinders aimed at him in the street and rain immediately intensified.
Thwack, thwack, thwack! Finally, someone found stones and, mixing them with coal cinders, hurled them all at Wu Zhu’s head and face, leaving dirty marks and faint traces of blood. Washed by the rain, the stains streamed down his pale face like floodwaters after a drought, carrying eons of debris and carving heart-wrenching marks on the weathered face of the earth.
Wu Zhu still didn’t dodge. So, Wu Zhu could be injured too. Through the black cloth, he stared blankly at the children, who were laughing shrilly and waving their little hands, unable to comprehend why they were attacking him. Even more baffling was why their innocent faces contorted into such ferocious glee. He couldn’t understand why the stones—whether sharp or round—hitting his head and face made his heart feel strange.
What kind of emotion was this? Sadness? Disappointment? Anger? Resentment? Or was it simply… emotion? Wu Zhu watched the children, allowing them to pelt him, when suddenly, something seemed to stir in his muddled mind.
The rain suddenly grew torrential. The late autumn sky over the capital seemed as if someone had pierced a large hole, from which countless rivers, lakes, and seas poured down, transforming into a sudden, violent downpour that scattered over the streets, alleys, and houses.
It was as if a great hole had also opened in Wu Zhu’s mind. A clear, diffuse light shone down, enveloping him in a peculiar emotion.
Emotion—what did this prove? Was it the same proof as the curiosity that young man named Fan Xian had spoken of? Wu Zhu began to ponder again, silently, in the pouring rain.
That young man named Fan Xian had said many things to him, but he hadn’t understood, hadn’t grasped them. He had merely memorized them.
Where had that young man named Fan Xian gone? It seemed he had gone to the imperial palace, seemingly for revenge. Why seek revenge? For whom? It seemed someone had died, and that young man named Fan Xian was unwilling, unhappy. Was it for a woman named Ye Qingmei and an old cripple named Chen Pingping?
Those two unfamiliar names seemed to grow clearer and more familiar in Wu Zhu’s mind, carried by the漫天雨水 and the light from the great hole. Yet, what troubled him was that he still couldn’t remember who they were. Hadn’t he always been in the Divine Temple?
Wu Zhu still remembered nothing, but he now possessed something he shouldn’t have: emotion. In fact, since yesterday afternoon, that emotion had already filled his heart, compelling him to gaze quietly at the imperial palace through the black cloth.
That emotion was called disgust. For some reason, even Wu Zhu himself couldn’t explain it. He detested the tallest building in the capital, perhaps simply because he instinctively loathed the people inside it?
When leaving the Snow Temple, that young man named Fan Xian, coughing up blood, had told him to follow his heart. But… what was the heart? Was it this vivid, unfamiliar… emotion he was feeling now?
Wu Zhu decided to go to the imperial palace to find the true source of his emotion, to see if there was someone he wanted to meet, someone destined to be met. So, he steadily placed his hand on the iron pick at his waist, slightly lowered his head, and put on the bamboo hat on his back, shielding himself from the rain and covering the black cloth over his eyes.
But the children were still happily throwing stones and coal cinders. After a moment of silence, Wu Zhu released the iron pick, crouched down, and swept his hand through the filthy water flowing on the ground, picking up a handful of soft coal cinders.
Do not harm humans, unless it is for the overall benefit of humanity. However, the biggest difference between Wu Zhu and the old man in the Divine Temple was that he didn’t understand what this so-called “overall benefit” was or how it related to him.
These young humans might just be playing a game. That’s what Wu Zhu thought, and that’s how he reacted. At least toward these young humans bullying him, he felt neither disgust nor anger.
If it was a game, he would play along once, and perhaps they would stop pestering him. Wu Zhu directly threw the handful of coal cinders mixed with rainwater toward the children under the eaves.
A wave of terrified screams, panicked footsteps, countless cries, the sound of someone fainting and collapsing in the rain—a chaotic cacophony erupted following Wu Zhu’s action.
A handful of coal cinders mixed with filthy water, precisely divided into four portions, accurately struck the bodies of the mischievous children. One of the children, who had laughed the loudest, was hit directly on the head, bleeding profusely, and collapsed silently in the rain.
After a deathly silence, the street erupted in angry shouts: “The fool has killed someone!”
The previously indifferent capital residents suddenly transformed into upstanding citizens eager for justice. Some reported to the authorities, others notified the children’s parents, and a few middle-aged men fetched wooden sticks and mops, ready to beat the senseless fool to the ground.
They were all neighbors, after all. They couldn’t just stand by and watch the children suffer so much. The mother of the unconscious child threw herself over him, weeping loudly and cursing Wu Zhu with venomous hatred.
Wu Zhu gazed coldly at all of this, still unable to comprehend. If it was a game, why was that woman crying? If it wasn’t a game, why hadn’t they stopped the children earlier? He knew he wouldn’t truly get hurt, but did these humans also know he wasn’t normal? When the children were hitting him earlier, weren’t they worried about his safety?
In the rain, the silent Wu Zhu vaguely learned something. He began to understand, however faintly, that human emotions and choices had little to do with logic—they were instead divided by closeness and personal likes or dislikes.
In this world now, Wu Zhu believed the person most closely connected to him was likely that young man named Fan Xian. He detested that imperial palace the most, so he paid no further mind to these frenzied people. With great care, he smoothed out the wrinkles on the black cloth covering his face, placed his hand on the iron spike at his waist, and strode toward the distant imperial palace.
Someone tried to beat this idiot, this blind man, this madman to death, only to collapse onto the ground, their wooden staff snapping in two. In the heavy rain, Wu Zhu, clad in simple cloth robes and a bamboo hat, effortlessly walked out of the encirclement of the furious citizens of the capital, leaving behind only a crowd of moaning people in his wake.
Wu Zhu did not kill anyone. It wasn’t that he didn’t dare to kill; rather, the habits cultivated over hundreds of thousands of years made the thought of killing not occur to him. When the time came to kill, he would kill.
By the time the constables of the Capital Prefecture arrived at the fork near Tianhe Road, the madman who had laid low a crowd of commoners was long gone. Seeing the groaning figures in the rainwater, the constable captain, after a brief inspection, sucked in a cold breath, thinking to himself, Which expert could have done this? Their moves are so clean and precise. Why would a powerful expert bother with these unarmed commoners? The constable captain felt a chill run down his spine—not because of the injuries of the commoners, but because of that blind man who had vanished without a trace. If, as these commoners claimed, that man was a fool, then without a doubt, this fool was the most powerful martial madman in history.
The thought of such a martial madman roaming freely in the capital terrified the constable captain. He immediately ordered his subordinates to notify the Capital Prefecture office, then anxiously asked someone nearby, “Where did that madman go?”
“He seemed to be heading toward the square,” the person replied, voice trembling, gritting his teeth as he added, “That person has been staring at the imperial palace for two days. There must be something wrong with him.”
The constable captain didn’t need to ask more to understand that this person wanted the madman dead. Once something involved the imperial palace, there was no way out. However, hearing that the martial madman was heading straight for the imperial palace, the constable captain felt somewhat relieved. After all, the imperial palace was filled with experts and guarded by strict imperial troops. Even the most formidable martial madman would only be subdued. Even if the legendary Young Master Fan had returned, could he possibly break into the imperial palace?
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…
The rain continued to fall. Wu Zhu had no idea how desperately the people at the distant street corner behind him wished for his death, nor did he know that the constable captain had already sentenced him to death. He simply wore his bamboo hat, gripped his iron spike, and walked step by step, with exceptional stability and resolve, toward the imperial palace square.
The new cloth shoes Fan Xian had bought for him in Langya County of Northern Qi were already soaked through, splashing in the puddles with each step. With every stride, a drum seemed to beat in Wu Zhu’s mind, striking his heart and his soul. Names like Ye Qingmei, Chen Pingping, and Fan Xian—seemingly distant yet intimately close—echoed incessantly.
With each step, he vaguely recalled something, though not clearly, it felt exceptionally familiar. For instance, this imperial city in the cold rain, this capital filled with familiar scents and glass he had made himself—it all felt so known to him.
Similarly, with every step closer to the imperial palace square, Wu Zhu’s disgust for this palace grew deeper. This majestic imperial city, standing imposingly in the storm, was so unshakable, so stern, and… so repulsive.
The capital was an old haunt, and the imperial palace was also an old haunt, Wu Zhu thought to himself.
Walking alone through this familiar place in the rain, he encountered only the rain blocking his path, drenching the ground. The road was quiet, and loneliness prevailed. In this bewildering rainy journey, he was too indifferent to avoid it.
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…
What blocked Wu Zhu’s path was not the rain, but a squad of fully armored imperial guards, exuding a stern and deadly aura in the rain. The raindrops pattered against the gray armor of these elite soldiers of the Qing military, splashing on their solemn faces without eliciting the slightest change in emotion.
The expression on Wu Zhu’s face showed no change either. His body remained slightly inclined forward, letting the bamboo hat on his head shield him from the pouring rain. His footsteps neither slowed nor quickened, maintaining the steady pace he was accustomed to as he walked toward the center of the square.
Wu Zhu wanted to enter the imperial palace to take a look, so he had to pass through the main gate, which meant crossing this rain-drenched square. To him, this was an exceptionally simple logic. He didn’t care whether anyone would try to stop him. Yet, this exceptionally simple logic of his seemed exceptionally cold and audacious to the imperial guards responsible for the palace’s security.
News of Fan Xian’s return to the capital had spread from the Ye residence the previous night. By today, all upper-echelon figures in Qing knew of this shocking news. The imperial palace had been on high alert since last night, with entry inspections extremely stringent and security measures elevated to an unprecedented level of tension.
Even on the day when the Capital Garrison escorted the former Director of the Overwatch Council, Chen, back to the capital, the entire imperial city’s戒备 wasn’t as tight as it was today. Because everyone knew why Fan Xian had returned to the capital—he would surely attempt to assassinate the Emperor again. And the Southern Qing court would absolutely not give this rebel a second chance.
The imperial guards’ patrols had expanded their coverage by an additional third compared to usual. The morning’s heavy rain and the chilly dampness put everyone on high alert, filling them with a sense of trepidation, for they didn’t know where Fan Xian was now or when he would strike the palace.
The minor incident at the fork in Tianhe Road had also been observed by the imperial guards. However, the soldiers responsible for monitoring the outer perimeter did not consider the sudden appearance of a martial madman to be of great importance.
But when this blind martial madman wearing a bamboo hat suddenly displayed astonishing strength and began walking silently toward the imperial palace, the imperial guards finally sensed something peculiar.
When the blind man in the bamboo hat stepped onto the waterlogged bluestone pavement of the imperial palace square with his cloth-shoed right foot, the imperial guards issued their first warning and began assembling their forces, preparing to capture him in one move.
Yet Wu Zhu acted as if he hadn’t heard the warning—a warning that would strike fear into the hearts of most people in the world. He continued walking steadily and silently, step by step, under the vigilant gaze of the imperial guard officers on the palace walls and the cold, stern stares of the soldiers on the square.
After three such warnings, the blind man in simple cloth robes, amidst the pouring rain, still seemed not to hear or see, step by step making his way toward the center of the square, toward the main gate of the imperial palace.
Even at this point, the imperial guards still believed this strange figure was a madman and did not associate him with an assassin. Because in the eyes of ordinary people, no assassin, no matter how powerful—not even the Sword Sage of a generation—would choose such an open and direct method of assassination. Amidst the encirclement of over ten thousand imperial guards and beneath the towering walls of the imperial palace, no one could break through so many obstacles, enter the palace, and challenge the Emperor with a sword.
Unless there truly was a god in this world.
Thus, the imperial guards believed this strange blind man was merely an extremely unlucky madman who had stumbled into the forbidden area in front of the palace at such a tense time. What awaited him could only be death.
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Wu Zhu continued walking, as if he didn’t see the row of imperial guards blocking his path. The wind and rain still raged endlessly in the sky, the endless rain like giant waves from the Eastern Sea, threatening to engulf his solitary figure. Yet they never truly could engulf him, for he always emerged from the rain.
“Kill.” An imperial guard officer narrowed his eyes, sensing a piercing chill emanating from the blind man not far away. The blind man had already stepped into the forbidden area, and a sense of danger made the officer act without further hesitation, issuing the command.
With a sharp shhh sound, the imperial guards blocking Wu Zhu’s path drew their blades in unison. The glint of steel instantly illuminated the palace’s rain-drenched, waterfall-like sky.
There was no fierce hiss of sword energy. Wu Zhu simply steadily drew the iron rod from his waist and thrust it forward. His speed did not seem particularly fast amidst the violent wind and rain, and the motion of his thrust was not exceptionally exquisite. Yet… every time the iron rod shot out, its tip would accurately pierce the throat of an imperial guard.
Accurate, clean, and steady—that was the feeling Wu Zhu’s movements conveyed. Extremely simple, yet so simple it reached a certain realm of perfection.
From the moment that lieutenant shouted “Kill!” to the moment Wu Zhu had stabbed all the imperial guards before him to death, only a few breaths had passed. Amidst the pouring rain, a field of corpses lay behind Wu Zhu. Blood had only just begun to gush from the throats of those bodies before it was diluted and washed away by the rain.
Throughout the killing process, Wu Zhu’s speed did not change in the slightest. His footsteps, advancing through the rain, remained just as steady, as if he encountered no obstruction at all, moving through the rain, killing as he went.
This was not the elegance of a peerless master, nor did it give the surrounding imperial guards the feeling of a powerful expert strolling through a garden. They only felt cold, very cold, because that blind man’s movements were so steady, so steady it felt utterly indifferent.
The imperial guards didn’t even understand how their comrades had died under that iron rod. Because that blind man wearing a bamboo hat carried no aura powerful enough to shake heaven and earth, and his attacks were not particularly cunning or vicious.
It was just that the iron rod seemed coated with a heavenly coldness, effortlessly calculating all angles and possibilities within the rain, then selecting the most reasonable gap in space to strike forth.
It seemed simple, yet it was truly earth-shattering and soul-stirring, enough to make any who witnessed it completely lose all confidence in opposing him!
That lieutenant watched his subordinates die under the hands of this blind man wearing a bamboo hat without even a grunt. A chill seeped through his entire body, colder than the autumn rain continuously falling around him.
Wu Zhu walked up to him. The lieutenant suddenly felt that the other’s rain-soaked cloth garment, now darkened in color, was no ordinary piece of clothing. The iron rod in his hand was no ordinary weapon. The other was not… a person, but a monster condensed from all the mysteries between heaven and earth, breathing in all the coldness of the world.
The lieutenant trembled all over, bravely drew his blade, and then saw an iron rod pierce in below his jaw and withdraw like lightning.
Too fast. Why had it seemed so slow before? Why couldn’t he dodge it no matter what? With these questions, the lieutenant heavily collapsed into the rainwater. His terror-filled pupils were gradually submerged by the accumulating water, and then he saw a pair of soaked cloth shoes walk past his head.
Even at this moment, those feet clad in cloth shoes remained just as steady.
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The rain continued to fall. The imperial guards kept dying. The unknown fear brought by that bamboo-hat-wearing god of death made the soldiers responsible for the palace’s safety extremely furious and brave, charging forward one after another.
Yet these imperial guards couldn’t hinder Wu Zhu’s steady footsteps in the slightest.
Wu Zhu lowered his head, turned, bent his knees, and with a calmness and calculative ability utterly beyond mortal imagination, peacefully evaded all weapons that could harm his body, then straightforwardly thrust out his iron rod, tearing through the curtain of autumn rain before him, tearing through the layers of siege around him.
He merely wanted to enter the palace and have a look. Just because of this reason, people continuously fell beside him, blood continuously dyed the rain curtains red, people continuously died, collapsing into the rain, gasps, screams, and muffled grunts rising incessantly.
Like a celestial messenger who had fallen to the mortal world for some unknown reason, he reaped the lives of the emperor’s guards, reaped the lowly lives of mortals, in the calmest manner—and also the most terrifying manner.
The people before Wu Zhu grew fewer and fewer. The dead bodies on the ground grew more and more.
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…
Suddenly, Wu Zhu stopped in the center of the square directly in front of the imperial city. There was no longer a single standing person beside him. Around him, hundreds of imperial guards lay fallen in pools of blood. No matter how torrential the autumn rain, it could not wash away all this blood in an instant. He slowly raised his head and looked up at the imperial city walls.
The imperial guards on the walls had long bent their bows and nocked arrows. Dense clusters of arrows were aimed at Wu Zhu before the palace gates, ready to let loose a volley at any moment.
Wu Zhu stood amidst the bloodied water, raised his head, and through that black cloth, looked at the familiar yet unfamiliar imperial city, looked at those terrifying arrows. The part of his face visible outside the cloth remained perfectly calm, without any trace of fear. He merely slowly raised his right arm, extending the iron rod in his hand into the storm, letting the rain wash away the bloodstains upon it.
Raindrops pattered against the iron rod.
The imperial guards, utterly terrified by that iron rod, had already withdrawn into the palace gates under orders. Now, the vermilion palace gates were tightly shut. On the vast square, aside from those bloodied corpses lying on the ground, there was only the overwhelming wind and rain like raging waves and… that blind man standing alone, wearing a bamboo hat.
Countless people atop and below the imperial city walls witnessed this scene and felt a chill emanating from the deepest depths of their hearts. Just who was this blind man, powerful beyond imagination?
Palace Commander Gong Dian, his face pale, stood on the city wall staring at the blind man standing alone in the rain, his body trembling slightly. He thought of that woman from many years ago and her young servant, a wave of unprecedented fear surging from the depths of his heart. He knew who the other was. He had already notified His Majesty inside the palace the moment he appeared. Yet he had no idea whether his ten thousand imperial guards could stop him.
Wu Zhu had come. Wu Zhu had finally come. He had come to avenge his young lady!
These words, which terrified him, incessantly echoed in Gong Dian’s heart.
Wu Zhu, standing alone in the wind and rain, challenging the entire powerful Qing court with a single iron rod, held none of these thoughts. He merely suddenly muttered to himself, "The one living inside seems to be... Little Li Zi."
Amidst the sweeping wind and rain, he stood alone. Though ten thousand stand against me, I shall go.