On the last day of the first lunar month in the sixteenth year of the Lingwei era, the Emperor performed a sacrifice to the gods at Changmi Terrace. The three Imperial Seals were brought forth together, their radiance rivaling the sun and moon at the height of their splendor.
Legend has it that the celestial deity Daiteng, who oversees the five vital souls and the five malevolent ghosts, accidentally dozed off on the final day of the first month after a long year of labor. Taking advantage of the deity’s slumber, the five ghosts escaped to wreak havoc upon the mortal realm. To mend the situation and repair the waning moon, the five vital souls fashioned a precious pearl. Attracted by its brilliance, the five ghosts swallowed the moon, finally startling the deity into waking and subduing them once more.
Since then, the final day of the first month has been moonless and is known as the Day of Obscurity.
According to the traditions of Tiancheng, the Emperor was required to conduct a three-day sacrificial ritual within the Yuanqiong Hall of the palace walls to ensure the prosperity of the mountains and rivers and the safety of the people in the coming year.
However, this year’s sacrifice was vastly different from those of the past.
With the great victory in the Green Frontier, it was only right to open the altars to honor the heroic souls of the fallen. Furthermore, this was the first grand ceremony since the three national seals of Tiancheng had been reunited.
The recovery of the Secret Seal, lost for many years, was an event of such magnitude that the court historians—eager to leave a significant mark in the annals of history—felt no ceremony could be too grand. The officials of the Ministry of Rites had collectively petitioned the Emperor to hold the ceremony at Changmi Terrace outside the palace to demonstrate its solemnity.
Changmi Terrace was located in Jiaosong County, not far to the west of the capital, Quecheng. Surrounded by mountains on three sides and water on the fourth, it had been regarded since ancient times as a place where the spirits gathered and the heavens could be reached, a site much revered by diviners and shamans.
The previous Niexuan Dynasty had a long history of serving the gods, and the Baizang and Xuanying sacrifices were once closely guarded royal secrets. After the fall of the Niexuan, the traditions of the old imperial sacrifices vanished into the river of history along with the dynasty itself. The details and locations of the Xuanying sacrifice were no longer traceable, and only the site of the Baizang sacrifice remained—the highest platform in Chi Province, known as Changmi Terrace.
In truth, despite the shifting tides of court politics and the changing of powers, the rulers of the land since ancient times could never truly distance themselves from talk of ghosts and gods. At the very least, medicine and shamanism were mentioned in the same breath, and shrines to gods and spirits stood as thick as forests. Whether it was the sacrifice of oxen to repay the gods or rituals to dispel curses and avert disaster, all rulers placed great importance on such matters.
The arts of sorcery and the vast struggles for power had become intertwined like vines around roots, inseparable from one another. Thus, even with the change of dynasties, the current Tiancheng Empire still appointed ritual officials to manage these grand ceremonies year after year, never allowing them to fall into neglect.
The reopening of Changmi Terrace was a momentous event. Once the news spread within and without the palace, the officials discussed it fervently for a time. Villagers and commoners from all directions within ten miles of Jiaosong County flocked to the area, nearly collapsing the stone bridges the county magistrate had worked so hard to repair.
Although Changmi Terrace was imposing and lofty, and it was impossible for the common folk to draw near to witness the ritual, this did not dampen the enthusiasm of the Tiancheng people, who loved a good spectacle.
The white mist exhaled from countless eager faces shrouded all of Jiaosong in a hazy cloud. Figures of all shapes and sizes braved the bitter midwinter cold, standing for an entire day without fear. They huddled together, whispering, dreaming, and recording in their hearts this moment that would be worth savoring for a lifetime.
Imperial sacrifices had always been private and distant legends. The incantations, prayers, and solemn rites conducted behind high palace walls all exuded an aura of sacred inviolability.
Furthermore, the Emperor of Tiancheng was famously reclusive. In his earlier years, it seemed his health was poor, and he rarely left the palace. Now, not only had he personally led a military campaign, but he had also come to a mere county to show his face. To the people, it was no different from a god descending to the mortal realm. If they missed such a "grand spectacle," would they not regret it for the rest of their lives?
According to the real-time accounts of those squeezed into the front rows that day: the Emperor’s stature was exceptionally upright, and his countenance was strikingly handsome. Some said he had grown thinner after his long expedition and looked somewhat frail, but more people simply complained that they were too far away and had seen nothing at all.
Among those people, Xiao Nanhui was naturally not included.
At the conclusion of the ceremony, the Emperor would personally bestow lacquered cases containing ceremonial ban-swords upon the soldiers who had performed meritorious service. A total of seventeen generals, ranked by their contributions and official positions, stood ready to receive this honor.
As one of the leading generals, she now stood less than ten paces away from him.
Today, he was dressed more formally than she had ever seen him. His dark hair was gathered into a red-gold imperial crown, and his layered robes were intricate and heavy. He wore a black ceremonial gown embroidered with the Twelve Ornaments, featuring wide sleeves, a gathered collar, and a narrow waist. An outer layer of extremely thin silk gauze was draped over it, yet it did not make him look bloated; instead, it outlined a silhouette that appeared firmer than usual.
Xiao Nanhui felt that she wasn't intentionally stealing glances at the Emperor; it was simply that he was exceptionally good-looking today. Everyone possesses a love for beauty, and she had long since forgotten that a year ago, she had been determined to look down upon such sickly, handsome men.
Aside from the Emperor, the most eye-catching figure at the center of the ritual was the High Priest leading the ceremony.
He was an old man with long eyebrows, dressed just as grandly, holding a gold staff entwined with flowers. At this moment, he sat cross-legged in the very center of the altar, the focal point of the entire proceedings.
This man was the legendary Celestial Master Fuqiu, who had come from the north and established the North Hongji Sect.
The North Hongji Sect sounded even more mystical and eccentric than Buxu Valley, and in truth, it was indeed a sect that made its living through ghosts and gods. Their leader, Fuqiu, claimed descent from the shamanic tribes on one hand, while practicing natural laws that followed the Way of Heaven on the other. In the early years after the Su clan had stabilized the empire, he had assisted them, and later became the central figure in the annual grand sacrifices. Now, he commanded a vast following in both Huo and Chi Provinces.
A few hours ago, Xiao Nanhui, in her capacity as a guarding general of the Guangyao Battalion, had escorted the ritual officials into Changmi Terrace and had taken the opportunity to observe this distinguished guest from afar.
The entire North Hongji Sect put on a massive display. Aside from Fuqiu himself, who was a wizened old man, the accompanying attendants and servants were all handsome men and beautiful women. In the bitter cold of the first month, they were each dressed in flamboyant, colorful attire, looking less like celestial beings and more like spirits cultivated in some hidden cave or grotto.
Celestial Master Fuqiu himself possessed a somewhat transcendent, immortal air, but the green ox he rode was armed with gold and silver even to the tips of its horns. On the exquisitely carved saddle, white clam shells served as ornaments and purple gold formed decorative flowers. Nine-colored silk ribbons embroidered with silver thread hung all over the ox's body.
*Is this display truly not for a stage play?* Xiao Nanhui was full of skepticism toward this ritual she had never witnessed before.
An hour later, her skepticism had turned into a firm certainty.
The ritual was not even half-finished. Dozens of ritual officials, holding various sacrificial vessels and dharma treasures, led by Fuqiu, had surrounded the Emperor in a tight circle. They looked like a group of Taoist priests performing an exorcism, trying to chant the person in the center of the "array" to death.
Whether this sacrifice could truly communicate with ghosts and gods, she did not know, but she knew a person could be worked to death.
Even she was finding it hard to keep standing, let alone the Emperor, who had to continuously perform bows and cooperate with the rites.
Based on her understanding of that slight frame of his, she was deeply worried that he wouldn't be able to withstand the dozens of pounds of clothing and headgear and would eventually faint on the altar.
*Was it truly like this every year in the past? Is this a ritual or a tribulation?*
She shifted her eyes to look left and right, but no one around her seemed to care what the Emperor was doing.
The ministers were either lost in thought or dozing off, seemingly long accustomed to this annual "execution scene." Their indifference made her look like someone who had never seen the world.
The sun moved from high in the sky to the western horizon. The crowds of commoners watching the spectacle outside Changmi Terrace had cycled through five or six groups, and the ritual finally neared its end.
Xiao Nanhui’s waist was sore, her legs ached, her throat was parched, and her stomach was empty. She had already "reviewed" the taste of the Cloud-Leaf Delicacies from Xiaofuju and the crystal roasted duck made by Dujuan three or four times in her mind.
Yet, looking at the dozens of ritual officials, each one seemed refreshed and more vigorous as the ritual progressed. She almost suspected they had taken some secret medicine before stepping onto the stage; otherwise, she truly couldn't understand how a group of elderly ministers, who usually needed help getting in and out of carriages, could be so energetic today.
After another interval of time, Fuqiu, who had been sitting upright in the center, finally changed his posture. He picked up a sheng pipe that had been lying beside him and began to play a wailing, sobbing melody.
Hearing this sound, Xiao Nanhui finally pulled herself together.
This was the segment the ritual officials had repeatedly emphasized and instructed her on before the ceremony began. It was also the only part of the entire sacrifice that required her participation.
In truth, it could hardly be called participation; she merely had to cooperate with the Emperor as he completed the process of bestowing the swords. From beginning to end, it would take no longer than the time it took to drink a cup of tea.
On the sacrificial altar, no one except the Emperor was permitted to wear a weapon. This was out of respect for the gods and a long-established rule for security. According to the original ancestral rites, no court officials were allowed on the altar besides the Emperor and the ritual officials. This year, because of the sacrifice for the heroic spirits of the war, this sword-bestowing segment had been added.
Tiancheng held the left in high esteem. The highest-ranking civil and military officials stood on the left, while she stood on the far right. There were several people between her and Su Pingchuan, let alone Xiao Zhun, who stood at the far left.
But even so, to be able to stand on the same platform as the sovereign to participate in a ritual for gods and Buddhas was a supreme honor. At the very least, at this moment, she was one step closer to Xiao Zhun.
Half a year ago, it was for the sake of this day that she had ventured alone into the heart of the Green Frontier.
But now that she had achieved her wish and was truly standing upon this platform of honor, what she felt in her heart was different from what she had originally anticipated.
She thought of the Southern Qiang boy she had met on her return journey, and of the village where she had lived for months, which had ultimately turned to ash in a great fire.
She had paid many incalculable prices for this day.
And the things she once thought she craved were, perhaps most of the time, merely the things Xiao Zhun wanted.
The crisp sound of jade being struck by the ritual official rang in her ears. Xiao Nanhui raised her eyes slightly and found that the Emperor had finished bestowing the swords to her left and was now walking toward her.
After a long, convoluted chant whose meaning was unclear, the official opened the final lacquered case, revealing the exquisitely decorated ban-sword within.
The Emperor slowly lifted the sword from the case, holding it level with both hands, and offered it to her.
His hands were hidden within his sleeves, and she could see nothing. When she reached out to take the sword, her fingers brushed against his palms, only to find that his hands were as cold as ice.
For some reason, her hand suddenly twitched, and her heart seemed to tremble along with it.
As if possessed, she looked up and found the Emperor’s dark eyes were also looking at her.
Those eyes remained as calm and featureless as still water, as if he had lost all sensation of heat, cold, sorrow, or joy. Even if someone were to stab him at this moment, he likely wouldn't have much of a reaction.
For a fleeting moment, Xiao Nanhui felt that on this vast Changmi Terrace, there had only ever been him alone.
She finally understood where that aura of ancient loneliness and withered companionship with temple lamps, which he had carried since their first meeting, came from.
What did silken robes, ten thousand followers, and supreme power matter? At this moment, there wasn't even a single person by his side who could warm his hands. He could only stand alone in the center of the high platform, playing the role of a "god," accepting the worship and prayers of his subjects.
But deep within this shell, she firmly believed that what was curled up there was not a god, but a human.
A human who could feel cold, heat, pain, and laughter.
The cold wind blew through the gold and jade tassels of his imperial crown, making a fine, clinking metallic sound.
He looked at her, appearing as if he were about to say something in the next moment.
She quickly lowered her gaze, as if she had never met his eyes, and knelt on one knee to receive the sword, then raised it above her head.
"Your servant, Xiao Nanhui, thanks Your Majesty for this grace."
After a long while, she saw the hem of the black embroidered robe move away, and the breath she had been holding in her chest was quietly exhaled.
The accompanying ritual official lightly tapped the ban-sword in her hand with a long-handled mallet made of Suiyang jade, signaling the completion of the rite. Only then did she stand up.
At that moment, a faint sound carried on the wind, but it quickly weakened and vanished.
Xiao Nanhui suddenly felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.
She turned her head alertly, looking toward the crowd of commoners watching from below the high platform. There was a dense, moving sea of heads, and nothing unusual could be seen.
No, this feeling was something she was all too familiar with.
At some point in the past, she had heard this long, resonant vibration.
Shrill, approaching from afar, carrying a deadly intent...
Her pupils contracted sharply. She looked up toward the highest point of Changmi Terrace.
Atop the Intertwined Dragon Banner that towered toward the sky in the center of the altar, a purple figure stood.
***
**Glossary**
Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation
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晦日 | Day of Obscurity | The last day of a lunar month; specifically the moonless final day of the first month.
长宓台 | Changmi Terrace | An ancient sacrificial platform in Jiaosong County, Chi Province.
元穹殿 | Yuanqiong Hall | A hall within the palace used for imperial sacrifices.
秘玺 | Secret Seal | One of the three national seals of Tiancheng, recently recovered.
焦松县 | Jiaosong County | A county near the capital, Quecheng.
涅泫 | Niexuan | The previous dynasty before Tiancheng.
白藏 | Baizang | An ancient sacrificial rite associated with the Niexuan Dynasty.
玄英 | Xuanying | An ancient sacrificial rite associated with the Niexuan Dynasty.
北弘济门 | North Hongji Sect | A religious/shamanic sect led by Celestial Master Fuqiu.
扶丘天师 | Celestial Master Fuqiu | The leader of the North Hongji Sect.
班剑 | Ban-sword | A ceremonial, often lacquered, sword bestowed by the Emperor.
衮服 | Ceremonial Robes | Specifically the "Gunfu," the highest level of formal dress for an Emperor.
十二章纹 | Twelve Ornaments | Traditional decorative symbols used on imperial robes.
交龙旂 | Intertwined Dragon Banner | A high-ranking imperial banner featuring two dragons.
燧阳玉 | Suiyang Jade | A specific type of jade used for ritual implements.
