Yellow sand soaked in blood turns to purple soil…
Fusang vanished from the Celestial Screen.
In its place were scattered bones and fresh blood across the ground.
Wind whipped the sand into swirling circles; blood spilled onto the desert, congealed into clumps, and then rolled with the wind, forming ever-larger balls of sand.
Blood reached the Nine Springs, turning Hexi into a true River of Oblivion Hell.
Chanyu Lie Ri conspired with the various Western Regions kingdoms. The kingdoms claimed they would present the genuine Buddha’s Relics and, together with the State-Protecting Masters within the Chang’an court, deceived Emperor Ling of the North into opening the gates of Yumen Pass to welcome the Buddha’s Bone.
Thus, Chanyu Lie Ri led the charge under the Wolf King Howling at the Moon Banner. The army became a winding arrow on the map, like a pack of wolves on the move, advancing unimpeded into Yumen, sweeping through Hexi, their iron cavalry and blades aimed straight at the Guanzhong Plain along the river valley.
The arrowhead pressed forward relentlessly, marking the route of the march and pointing toward the panicked fleeing nobles and officials.
Run, they must run.
Everyone was running. The camera flashed across one panicked face after another—whether princes, generals, ministers, or commoners, all statuses became equal before the iron hooves of the wolf pack. What followed was an unprecedented, truly mass exodus where everyone had to “cross the sea like the Eight Immortals, each showing their divine powers.””
Chanyu Lie Ri’s Shuo Army followed closely behind. Their Armor-Piercing Arrows could pierce through several fleeing officials in succession. Chanyu Lie Ri’s tactics were clear—target the ornate canopies and carriages, causing the Qian Army, stripped of its command structure, to trample each other like headless flies.
His tactics were executed flawlessly by his subordinates.
Ten thousand arrows flew at once, instantly shattering the long-neglected border defense’s barely held formation. The cowardly nobles and officials, fearing for their lives, ignored the border troops’ pleas and focused solely on fleeing, leaving the heavy responsibility of covering the retreat to the frontier soldiers.
They even hammered silver ingots into thin sheets and scattered them into the air, mockingly calling them “Life-Buying Coins,” hoping the pursuers would slow down to pick them up. Unbeknownst to them, the Shuo Army cavalry trampled over the silver pieces buried in the yellow sand. Compared to the more enticing prey ahead, they disdained to bend down, leaving the spoils to the infantry chasing behind.
A minister tore off his purple robe to wrap his wounded leg, gripping the saddle as he tried to mount a panicked packhorse, only to be knocked over by an ox-cart charging from behind—the cart laden with gilded Buddha statues brought by Emperor Ling of the North to reverently welcome the Buddha’s Bone.
Sand grains stuck to the congealed pools of blood, forming eerie agate-like patterns. At the end of one such pattern lay a princess in deep, ornate robes, fallen upon a Buddha statue discarded by a cart driver, her chest pierced by a Flying Arrow.
A hand adorned with red nail polish scooped up blood-soaked sand and stuffed it into a brocade pouch. The camera zoomed in abruptly—it was the princess’s maid, hiding the sand mixed with royal blood in her bosom. Thereafter, during her southward flight, whenever stopped for inspection, she would raise the pouch and weep, shouting, “I carry the Great Qian Dragon Blood! Make way quickly!” carving out a path to survival for herself.
Under the night sky, all the panicked fugitives used scriptures written in gold powder to kindle fires for warmth. Wispy smoke rose, and the century-old Da Qian, along with the Buddhist sutras Emperor Ling of the North believed would protect the nation, transformed into blue smoke illuminating the night sky.
Finally, the video’s lens settled on one place.
It was a Gilt Crown with Twin Dragons Contending for a Pearl, half-buried in quicksand, its pearls and jades all pried away, already half-covered by yellow sand.
Subtitles slowly appeared:
In the autumn of Hongyun Eighth Year, Emperor Ling of the North’s westward journey to welcome the Buddha’s Bone became the beginning of the Qian-Severing Rebellion. Historical records state: “The Shuo Cavalry devoured thousands like wolves, pursuing and attacking day and night for three hundred miles.” Yellow sand soaked in blood turned into purple soil, and the scent of rust mixed with the stench of decay would linger in Hexi for three generations, ceasing only with death.
This is what is called… Hongyun Without Fortune.
After the short film ended, no one knew who started it first, but the entire Jinling City echoed with muffled sobs.
It had only been seven years since Hongyun Eighth Year. Emperor Yunqi had just ascended the throne for seven years, and most of the people of Jinling—commoners, civil officials, and military officers alike—had personally experienced the northern calamity, forced to flee south in haste.
But though the people moved south, their souls remained tied to their homeland.
“Mom… I want to eat the shepherd’s purse buns from home…”
A young child’s voice rang out from the residence of an official in the streets and alleys. The mother hugged her young child, tears streaming down her own face.
Shepherd’s purse grows every year, picked one or two to leave behind…
But where can shepherd’s purse be found now? Even if found, it would be an evil thing grown by absorbing human blood.
On the Celestial Screen, Fusang closed his fan again, effortlessly capturing the attention of the entire Jinling City from thousands of years ago with a single swish.
He cleared his throat and continued his explanation: [Emperor Ling of the North eagerly rushed to Hexi, ready to welcome the Buddha’s Bone and witness divine miracles, when suddenly, amidst the swirling yellow sand, elite troops charged out, instantly stunning him.
Emperor Ling of the North reacted quickly. He fled immediately, running through the night. Unfortunately, his luck was truly terrible—after running over a hundred miles overnight, he should have been safe, but he encountered a sandstorm.]
[A sandstorm—even with today’s technological advancements, encountering one suddenly is almost certainly fatal, let alone Emperor Ling of the North back then, who didn’t even have a carriage. The scene was too chaotic for anyone to care about anyone else. Emperor Ling of the North only had a small team of personal guards on horseback to protect him. When the sandstorm blew, even the experienced old horses lost their way. After the yellow sand settled, what appeared before Emperor Ling of the North and his scattered few guards was only…]
[The camp of the Shuo Army.]
Even Fusang, the one recounting this history, nearly let out a bitter laugh.
[Thus, Emperor Ling of the North was captured by the Shuo. According to Qian History, Volume Four: “The Emperor’s westward procession numbered tens of thousands, yet fewer than a hundred riders returned to the western capital. The blood-soaked sands of Yumen Pass did not congeal for three days, and the cries of the nobility could still be heard at night.”]
(Folks, I’m almost crying. I’m a Qian Fan, and I’ve never dared to read this part of history in my life, truly.)
(How can someone be so unlucky? Emperor Ling of the North ran a hundred kilometers, encountered a sandstorm, didn’t dare to stop, and continued running through the night, only to end up worse off than if he had stood still—he ran back to where he started because he couldn’t see the direction. What does “a lamb walking into the wolf’s den” mean…)
(Emperor Ling of the North’s capture was quite unjust, at least he managed to escape. P.S.: This only refers to the capture itself, no intention of whitewashing him.)
(Emperor Ling of the North: Didn’t I escape? Where did this take me! The Shuo Army definitely had something up their sleeves.)
(Ah, the situation back then was truly tragic. Once Yumen Pass was lost, and with the unpreparedness inside the pass, the Shuo Army, known for their rapid marches, swept through as if entering unopposed territory…)
(The nobles and royals were chased into disarray, fleeing once, twice, thrice—from Xi’an to Yanjing, then from Yanjing to Nanjing. The Qian dynasty was directly split in two.)
(I only dare to read the history from when Qianwu Emperor became active. As soon as the Emperor appears, even as a young child, I feel incredibly reliable and at ease.)
(Our Zhang Qiling of Qian is like this, no matter how terrifying the situation, as long as the Emperor appears, Qian is sure to win, sob sob my invincible Emperor—but why do you love Qian Taizu so much! You don’t have to copy every habit of your ancestor exactly!)
(Let the kid cosplay if he wants, it doesn’t change the fact that he’s an emperor for the ages:)
(It’s fine, everyone, the sorrow now is for the triumphant pride later! Cheer up!)
…
Imperial bedchamber, Yunsu Hall.
Emperor Yunqi tapped his teacup.
His gaze was fixed on those bullet comments, especially the ones mentioning “Qianwu Emperor.”
“Who do you think this deeply beloved Qianwu Emperor… might be among the princes or imperial clan members?”
Emperor Yunqi suddenly spoke out of the blue, startling Eunuch Lu, who was attending beside him, nearly causing him to miss a beat.
Seriously, if you want to kill someone, just do it directly. Eunuch Lu thought to himself. Can such a question even be asked of him? Is His Majesty really not just tired of him and wanting to replace the chief eunuch in attendance?
So Eunuch Lu clattered to his knees: “Your Majesty! This is karma only known to the Fusang Envoy and people of later generations, how could this humble servant possibly know!”
Emperor Yunqi was also getting a headache. His Madness Disorder not only affected himself but also those around him, making it impossible to get any straightforward answers even from casual questions.
“I was simply asking for your opinion, no need for such a strong reaction.”
His gaze lingered on the three tea leaves floating in his cup.
He had six children, but only three survived to this day: the Crown Prince, the Third Prince, and that useless fool.
The Qianwu Emperor was from the Yunqi Reign, and judging by the so-called Fusang Envoy’s words, he was likely the next emperor. So, which one could it be… the Crown Prince or the Third Prince?
Emperor Yunqi narrowed his eyes. He had a feeling neither of them could reach the heights spoken of by the people of later generations.
But if it wasn’t them, but an imperial clan member…
Then he needed to start paying attention now. If they were still young, changing the ancestral line would be as simple as a decree. He had to strike first and make the Qianwu Emperor his legitimate bloodline.
Jinling City, capital of Nan Qian, in an Imperial Prison.
Now the situation had reversed. Before, it was Taizu alone who was angry, with the other three trying to calm him. Now, the oppressive atmosphere came from the other three, while Taizu himself seemed to have seen through the mortal world, carelessly stroking his straw pillow.
It was more like he’d gone mad.
Even Dian Cui, who was usually best at changing the subject, couldn’t muster any lighthearted words now: “…I think we should just take out Emperor Ling of the North. Rather than letting him continue to embarrass us outside, we should strike first.”
Xiao Jingchuan was the first to raise his hand: “Seconded, I support it!”
Honestly, he didn’t even want to admit this guy shared the surname Xiao.
Gu Yue muttered to himself: “I died too early… If I’d known the Northern Barbarians would cause such a major incident, I shouldn’t have just chased them back then. I should have spared no effort to eradicate them completely.”
As he said this, his beautiful features twisted, like a wrathful deity, and an icy aura—the kind only bred from slaughtering countless on the battlefield—began to swirl around him.
Jun Youcheng wasn’t faring much better, continuously murmuring: “…Such a national calamity… such a national calamity…”
A scholar’s integrity ran deep in him, and he trembled so violently with anger that his voice shook.
“Uh… my dear ministers, please calm down, don’t let anger harm your health.”
The oppressive atmosphere between the two was truly terrifying, forcing Qian Taizu to step in personally to soothe them: “We will avenge this humiliation later. Judging by the Celestial Screen’s meaning, Qianwu Emperor will strike back later. To be honest, I think I am Qianwu Emperor.”
The other three: “??? So confident?”
Xiao Jingchuan winked at the three of them. Although he had been the one most aggrieved at first, he was still the quickest to adjust his emotions. He rubbed the back of his head: “Haha, the comments made it so clear—both the Yunqi Reign showing its edge and how much I resemble this Taizu…”
Could it be that he is Qian Taizu, and after rebirth, he also became Qianwu Emperor? So from later generations’ perspective, Qianwu Emperor became Qian Taizu’s cosplayer.
The more he thought about it, the more he felt this must be the truth.
Destiny called upon him to save his Da Qian, to support the collapsing edifice.
Xiao Jingchuan grew happier the more he pondered, beginning to chuckle foolishly. Jun Youcheng couldn’t bear to watch any longer and rapped on the iron bars: “You should first think about how to get out of here!”
A Taizu Emperor imprisoned in his own dynasty’s Imperial Prison!
Author’s note:
Updating early tonight too…
Shepherd’s purse, year after year it grows, pick one or two and leave the rest.—”Wild Vegetable Recipes”