CDJMM – Volume 3 – Side Story 500 Years Later

After that, a very, very long time passed.

Long enough for the Chu Dynasty to grow into a colossal giant; long enough for history to fade into legend; long enough for memories and emotions to be washed colorless by the passage of time; long enough that the spiritual-energy technology once only conceptualized had already left the halls of the elite and entered the homes of common folk.

But no matter how much time passed, some things remained eternal—like the blazing sun in the sky, and like the ideals people held in their hearts.

This is a story that happened on a certain morning after Great Chu adopted constitutional monarchy.

Dawn had just broken at the horizon, and the grand, majestic imperial palace of Chu was already bustling with activity. Eunuchs and maids hurried about; the laundry maids tossed clothing into cleansing machines; eunuchs in the imperial kitchen took spirit rice out of their storage rings and simmered congee with alchemical fire; palace maids at the Palace of Gathered Elegance happily watched “Great Chu’s Voice” on their Cloud Mirrors; carpenters of the Woodworking Bureau rose straight from the floor, sneezed as they sat on their household flying artifacts…

It was the most ordinary of mornings in the imperial palace.

But within Qianqing Palace—the emperor’s residence—there was an odd, eerie silence.

Chief Eunuch Wang Defu stood staring at the already-empty dragon bed. His heart felt exhausted. He sighed heavily and asked the young eunuch on duty, face dark: “Where is His Majesty?”

The little eunuch didn’t fear that dark face at all. Grinning, he said, “His Majesty went out of the palace.”

“And where did he go?”

“To see Immortal Master Su.”

“…Tell the imperial kitchen not to prepare lunch for His Majesty,” Wang Defu said with a headache. “He won’t be back before sundown.”

…

“Good news, good news! A storage space—ten whole mu in size—now only ten taels of silver!”

“Massive clearance sale! Buy one Cloud Mirror now and get a bag of spirit rice free!”

“Come look, come see—pure-blooded steppe horses from the northern frontier!”

Emperor Han Que of Lingwu walked through the lively streets dressed in plain clothes, blending in naturally with the common folk.

Ever since he had mastered the art of shrinking distance, he would frequently sneak out of the palace like this for fun. Later, he had the good fortune of meeting Immortal Master Su—who happened to be telling fortunes on the street—and from then on he slipped out every few days to hear more stories.

Speaking of Su Jian—Immortal Master Su—he was a famous figure of Great Chu. Even children on the street knew by heart the legend of how two prodigies—one from the Buddhist sect and one from the Daoist sect—had assisted the founding emperor in establishing the country amid chaotic turmoil five hundred years ago.

Five hundred years later, this history had become a myth passed down orally, and the two transcendent immortals—just like the legend itself—were worshipped generation after generation in their dedicated ancestral shrines.

The tale featured the handsome, elegant blue-robed immortal and the compassionate yellow-robed Buddhist master; grand battles and haunting wine; vicious enemies; and a devastated, fractured realm.

In the end, the immortal and the monk repelled the invaders, helped the founding emperor Pingkang establish the nation of Chu, and then quietly disappeared, never to be seen again.

The common folk said that the immortals, having served the country, were enfeoffed by the Heavenly Emperor to divine positions above and would forever bless Chu, ensuring favorable weather and lasting prosperity.

Of course, that was simply the good-hearted wish of the people. As a descendant of the founding emperor, Han Que knew the truth—those two immortals had never ascended to heaven. They had been living among mortals the whole time. Which was why he could occasionally bother Immortal Su. The only regret was that Reverend Le Jing had passed away two hundred years ago, and Han Que could only piece together the monk’s remembered visage from Immortal Su’s scattered words.

Still, it was understandable that the people thought as they did. Chu had been developing too smoothly. Even when crises arose, they quickly turned to fortune. Ever since the new continent had been annexed two hundred years ago, not a single war had occurred in the past century.

For five hundred years, the national strength of Chu had risen steadily. The populace lived in wealth and peace. That ancient saying—“the elderly have care, adults have employment, children have guidance, and even the widowed, orphaned, lonely, and disabled are cared for”—had become reality.

The once-predatory grassland tribes had long become part of Chu. Two hundred years ago, Emperor Xuan designated the northern grasslands as an autonomous region, appointing a Han official and a tribal chief as the primary and deputy administrators to jointly govern the tribes.

A hundred years ago, Emperor Ming signed a non-aggression pact with the demon race and designated a special administrative region for them, operating under a two-systems policy to ease conflicts between humans and demons. After generations of rulers working tirelessly, the demon race gradually came to identify themselves as “Chu demons,” feeling a sense of belonging.

By the time Han Que was emperor, one-tenth of imperial officials were demons. Just a few days ago, several demon ministers were loudly demanding the abolition of demon-exam bonus points: they felt such “special treatment” was blatant discrimination—“Do you even understand what ‘born gifted’ means? We demons are naturally brilliant! We don’t need your human pity or charity!” said a certain leopard-spirit Minister of War who refused to give his name.

In recent years, ever more human cultivators had appeared among the populace—taking disciples, teaching, healing, providing relief, summoning rain… which sparked a nationwide cultivation craze. Not only did imperial descendants begin training from childhood—ordinary families, if they had spare money, would send their children to learn a few techniques for health.

Thanks to hybrid spirit rice and spirit fertilizer, Chu could support such a huge population and maintain its five-hundred-year reign, with no end in sight.

But the royal family’s power would inevitably grow weaker, eventually becoming merely symbolic.

Since the constitutional reforms a hundred years ago, the emperor of Chu had little authority left. Most of the time, Han Que acted as a mascot or a human repeater. Faced with the chaos of the court, all he could do was smile and say: “Beloved minister, your words are reasonable.” “And this minister’s words are also very reasonable.” “Me? I have no opinion; I’ll follow yours.” “Why don’t we vote on it?”

Suffice it to say, being emperor was extremely stifling.

So no one could blame him for sneaking out so often.

As for kidnapping or assassination…

A joke, surely?

Never mind that Han Que was a Golden Core cultivator laden with magical artifacts—he simply wasn’t worth kidnapping (seriously!).

He dared say that if he were kidnapped today, by tomorrow the Grand Chancellor would both publicly condemn the culprits and simultaneously enthrone a new emperor to demonstrate the empire’s refusal to bow to threats. It had happened before. In fact, assassinating the Grand Chancellor made more sense than kidnapping him.

But Han Que bore no resentment—this arrangement was better for the nation and its people. Besides, he lacked for nothing and had no duties. His days were filled with leisure, which was wonderfully comfortable.

Last time, Immortal Su told him about Emperor Xuan’s northern expedition. This time he would probably hear about Emperor Ming’s great age of exploration. The thought excited him.

As Han Que browsed the stalls, his mind filled with wandering thoughts, and he overheard: “Come look, come see—authentic mercloth! Thin as cicada wings! Doesn’t get wet! Pure natural, no pollution!”

Ever since the merfolk kingdom had sunk three hundred years ago, merfolk had disappeared from the realm, and mercloth had become legend. And now someone dared to scam people with that name?

Han Que casually turned his head—and froze. He stared in shock at the stall selling mercloth. The enthusiastic vendor was a carefree young man, maybe twenty, dyed fashionable blond, looking no different from any street ruffian.

Han Que stammered, “Y-y-you… w-why are you here?”

The young man rolled his eyes. “First of all, I’m not called ‘you you you.’ Second, why shouldn’t I be here? I’ve abdicated—can’t I find re-employment after stepping down?”

Han Que silently clicked his tongue. Even if you abdicated, you’re still the demon race’s retired emperor. What re-employment? But he didn’t dare show disrespect. Though young-looking, this man was from the same era as the founding emperor. Han Que forced a laugh, gave a thumbs-up, and praised, “Your Majesty the Demon Emperor, so dedicated and hardworking—truly a role model for all emperors!”

The youth eyed the plainly dressed Han Que and teased, “Sneaked out again?”

Han Que nodded, unbothered. “I came to find Immortal Su and hear him tell stories.”

The youth smiled. “You’re in luck. Su Jian isn’t here—he went to the moat to fish.”

He glanced at his pitifully empty stall, sighed, and muttered, “No taste at all… I’m the only one selling real goods on this whole street.” He looked at the emperor still hovering awkwardly nearby, grinned, and said, “Come on, I’m free anyway. I’ll go with you.”

When they reached the riverbank, a group of children surrounded Immortal Su.

“Big brother, where did the Venerable Le Jing go at the end?”

“His Dharma name is Yongming—don’t call him by name!”

“Did he go to Heaven to become a high god?”

“He’s a Buddha-child! He must’ve gone to the Western Pure Land to accompany the Buddha!”

Su Jian had a headache from their chatter. He looked up—just in time to see two people laughing at him from afar. He waved irritably. “Kunhuo! Why are you standing there? Get over here and help!”

The young man—Kunhuo—after enjoying the scene, finally walked over, scaring the noisy children away with a fierce expression. He didn’t forget to mock Su Jian: “Serves you right for talking too much.”

Su Jian rubbed his temples, then suddenly asked, “Do you regret it?”

Kunhuo shrugged. “What’s there to regret? My life now is happier than when I was the demon emperor.”

Su Jian looked at the youth’s indifferent expression and suppressed a sigh.

His friend’s past was stranger than he had imagined.

Born of the noblest blood as the demon emperor, betrayed by his subordinates, gravely injured, forced to reincarnate as a dog. Later, after regaining his past memories, he endured hundreds of years before reclaiming his throne—only to abdicate again a couple of years ago and roam the world freely.

Such open-mindedness was not something ordinary beings possessed.

Su Jian chuckled softly, his eyes suddenly growing calm. “I kind of miss him.”

Kunhuo yawned. “Relax. Even if he went to another world, with his personality he’s definitely living well.”

Su Jian laughed. “True.” Staring at the serene lake, he murmured with longing, “Another world… I wonder what it’s like?” He stretched lazily. “I’m suddenly jealous of that kid.”

Listening to their cryptic exchange, Han Que suddenly formed a faint suspicion.

They were likely talking about Venerable Yongming.

Although Yongming had supposedly passed away two hundred years ago, Han Que felt certain it was faked. Someone so brilliant couldn’t die so easily.

Now it seemed Yongming had gone to another world?

Thinking of the country’s booming population, Han Que had a bold idea. He asked eagerly, “Immortal Master, how does one travel to another world?”

If they could exchange resources with another world (and if not—rob them!), then Chu would never face a food crisis and might even spark another spirit-energy revolution. If he could lead the exploration—colonization—of another world, he would be immortalized in history!

…And the Grand Chancellor would never control him again. He could abdicate and play in another world!

Su Jian met the emperor’s suddenly sparkling eyes and answered honestly: “First, you need to die once.”

Han Que: “???”

Su Jian and Kunhuo exchanged mischievous glances.

They weren’t lying.

Their friend had said exactly that before committing suicide. Truly a cold-blooded man—so willing to abandon their great cause and leave alone.

But Su Jian still envied Le Jing’s freedom. Though the land was peaceful now, life was very dull. His cultivation had stagnated due to state affairs. It was time to train diligently again. If he advanced enough to ascend in broad daylight and join the immortal ranks—could he then pierce space-time and visit another world? Would he meet Le Jing again?

The sunlight made Kunhuo drowsy. He yawned, recalling the bloody years of war—steel, fire, destruction, rebirth, cavalry racing over frozen rivers.

Now, peace had arrived.

The world was calm, the years gentle. He was no longer a demon emperor—just a traveler.