Chapter 702: Longevity

Chapter 702: Longevity

““The dream that Master Zhang pursues is to shatter the barriers forged by the ranks, to draw the chasm between mortals and divinities back to the mere differences among people. Such a grand vision inspires the heart and stirs the soul, worthy to stand shoulder‑to‑shoulder with any sage of the Confucian tradition.””

Shī Qīng spoke at length: “Never mind whether that dream can be realized; it runs contrary to your ‘position and undertaking.’”

Zhāng Sìyuán snorted: “What ‘position and undertaking’ do I have? Even I don’t know it—do you?”

“Of course I know.”

Shī Qīng straightened his broken frame; the damaged prosthesis made his voice turn shrill.

“If a child is destined for the agrarian rank, let him help his parents tend this year’s fields. If for the legal rank, let him uphold justice among neighbours. If for the martial rank, unafraid of toil, let him stride forth to behold distant lands. If for the miscellaneous rank, fond of talk, let him take up brush and pen to record tales, the mountains and blossoms of his homeland.”

“Should they prove unpromising and insist on becoming priests or monks, let them chant sutras earnestly, praying for favourable weather and peace for their hometown.”

“If they are bold and combative, with blood that runs hot, then…”

Shī Qīng suddenly pointed toward the door; Lǐ Jūn had appeared there unnoticed, staring at him with an impassive face!

“Then become a martial rank, defend home and country, guard the frontiers! That is the true purpose of the ranks, the very meaning of those who belong to them!”

Shī Qīng’s voice grew wistful: “These are your very own words, spoken before. To abandon such a ‘position and undertaking’ so lightly would be a cause for deep sigh, even a lifelong regret.”

“There are already too many regrets in this world; I need not add one more.”

Zhāng Sìyuán seemed stirred by old memories; the killing intent that had emanated from him began to fade slowly.

“You could certainly force yourself to ignore regret, but Master Zhang cannot.”

Shī Qīng spoke softly: “To his elder self, you represent another possible path in life. He can no longer turn back, and he does not wish you to follow his footsteps. Even if you remain in the you stay, you would not aid Master Zhang; you might even become his burden.”

“What do you mean?”

“When Master Zhang once lectured His Majesty on how to dissolve the barriers and injustices wrought by the ranks, he offered two remedies: first, to let everyone become a rank‑holder; second, to let no one become one. The former is hard, the latter easy.”

Shī Qīng continued: “Given the present circumstances, Master Zhang has clearly chosen the latter, which is why he spares no effort in pushing the new policies, gradually abolishing the old Buddhism, overturning the new Daoism, scattering the aristocratic clans, and setting the realm ablaze with war.”

“Yet this blueprint cannot be realised overnight; flesh can be slain, but the intangible heart is stubborn. In this‑unknown‑duration game of all‑under‑heaven, to speak bluntly, a mere Confucian third‑rank has become insignificant.”

Although Shī Qīng’s remarks were somewhat broad, Zhāng Sìyuán—who had served under both Liú Jìxūn and Yú Xínggěan—could still grasp the meaning, even if he were blunt and headstrong.

For Zhāng Fēngyuè to sever the ranks, he must not only eradicate the core forces and sources of each rank, but more crucially, he must change the world’s yearning for rank‑power.

Otherwise, within fifty years a new generation of rank‑seekers will arise, another Zhang Jíjí eager to found a state upon the ranks.

Since the Yìzōng Emperor first ‘opened the ranks,’ the twelve ranks of the three teachings and nine streams have endured an exceedingly long span; the nobility of rank‑holders has sunk deep into the populace, their dominion unshakable.

Thus, to enact a change worthy of ‘a single step across a millennium,’ to return the world to an ‘unordered’ age in a short time, the prospect is vanishingly slight.

In such circumstances, a Confucian third‑rank—especially one like Zhāng Sìyuán, whose specialty is archery—has indeed little effect.

“I am not skilled at molding hearts; even those few brats at the border give me a headache.”

Zhāng Sìyuán gave a self‑deprecating chuckle, then his tone darkened: “But as for killing, I can still manage that.”

“I said it before: only those with form can be slain easily. When we were once despised and ganged up on, the wandering swans of the Zongheng could still scatter to the four corners, waiting for spring winds to make them flourish. Now, under the favour of the Yellow Millet, whom could you possibly kill?”

Shī Qīng paused, then continued: “In other words, if you could now pinpoint our exact whereabouts, do you think that reforming lord would still have leisure to sit here and listen to us? Given his temperament, beheading would be the most effective way to settle the trouble.”

Lǐ Jūn spoke coldly: “The Zhu surname may evade for a moment, but not for a lifetime.”

“A dragon lurking in the depths will surely rise one day; I just wonder whether, when that time comes, you, Lord Lǐ Géjūn, alone can withstand ten thousand troops.”

Shī Qīng burst into laughter: “Actually, for us servants, in this life‑or‑death juncture, we ought not, and cannot, spare Master Zhāng; we must leave no stone unturned. Whether we seize or slay him, it would deal a heavy blow to Master Zhang—but His Majesty does not permit us to do so.”

Shī Qīng spoke softly: “From the Emperor’s perspective, this is not merely a struggle to revive the Great Ming; it is also a dialogue between a renowned master and his disciple, and it bears on the rites of the Emperor’s advancement. If your actions were to wound Master Zhang’s ambition and disrupt that rite, it would profit the Emperor nothing, so he chooses, knowingly, the rash act of letting the tiger return to the mountain.”

“Your staying is now meaningless; your departure would put Master Zhang’s father’s heart at ease.”

“I”

Zhāng Sìyuán’s gaze grew distant, as if he were wandering in hesitation.

Shī Qīng, unhurried and calm, continued his gentle persuasion: “Since you are a filial son, why not withdraw from this dispute, relieve Master Zhang of his rear‑guard worries, and preserve a thread of incense for the Zhang lineage.”

“Having left the Great Ming, where could I go?” Zhāng Sìyuán murmured.

“The world holds more than just the Great Ming Empire; beyond the convict lands lie kingdoms founded by barbarians. As long as you do not abandon your heart’s ‘position and undertaking,’ wherever you go there are green mountains.”

“Green mountains.”

Zhāng Sìyuán repeated those two words softly, then his lip twitched and he tilted his head toward Shī Qīng, asking: “Isn’t that what her mother uses to bury bones?”

Hearing the mocking laughter at his ear and seeing that face full of ridicule, Shī Qīng instantly realized he had been played.

“It seems your resistance to us is still too strong.”

Shī Qīng gave a bitter smile, shook his head, and was about to go on when Zhāng Sìyuán cut him off.

“Enough; spare us the old ‘lure‑and‑release’ trick.”

Zhāng Sìyuán sneered: “I must admit, your Zongheng rank does have some talent; across a sea of dim Yellow Millet, with just a wag of your tongue you nearly rendered my words worthless.”

“Could what I have said contain even a grain of falsehood or error?”

“Quite the opposite. If I were truly the sort who would abandon everything for some petty ideal, I would have fallen out with Old Master Zhang long ago, and there would be no room for you to sow discord.”

Zhāng Sìyuán waved a hand: “If the Confucian rank truly had such a notion of ‘position and undertaking,’ then mine would at most be to play the bona‑fide rake—sipping from a jade cup, rouge‑stained hands, a lovely maiden behind me, a foolish woman upon my chest, indulging in licentious absurdity as I please.”

Shī Qīng spoke with conviction: “You are deceiving yourself. Zhāng Sìyuán, we know you better than you know yourself.”

“One vertical, one horizontal, like a net woven—hearts fall in with no escape. That line looks imposing, yet it amounts to nothing more than intimidation. I have toyed with you for so long merely to draw words from your lips; alas, you are not dull, and your talk has yielded little of use.”

Zhāng Sìyuán sighed with a hint of regret, his face showing disdain: “It looks like Zhū Yíyān has resolved to be a shrinking turtle.”

Seeing the attempt at persuasion fail, Shī Qīng did not grow angry; he remained calm: “As long as the turmoil persists for a single day, the Zongheng rank will grow stronger day by day—why not?”

“It is not only you who are skilled at manipulating the masses.”

“Even the aristocratic clans have largely turned coat; Zhāng Fēngyuè, even as a Confucian second‑rank, cannot turn the tide. ‘Severing Heaven and Earth’? Mere fantasy.”

“You can say that now only because Zhān Shùn is aiding you. That Yellow Millet specter, wild and untamable, could stab Zhāng Jíjí just as easily as it could stab you.”

“Zhān Shùn still lacks the ability.”

Shī Qīng’s words were cut short; the lone red light in his remaining mechanical eye flickered.

“Zhāng Sìyuán, you are not of the Zongheng, yet you dare to try to seize my consciousness?”

“I have no interest in that; I merely watch you feed yourselves to tigers in hopes of a moment’s peace—truly pitiful.”

Zhāng Sìyuán shrugged his shoulders: “If your eyes were not blind, you would see that Zhū is no reliable patron; serving him brings a dim future, and you may be cast aside like the Spring‑Autumn Society.”

“Although I do not think highly of you, if you were to defect, I could grant you a chance to live. At the very least, the Zhang clan never betrays its own; even if you find yourself trapped by ill fortune, I could, as today, ride alone to bring you back.”

Shī Qīng gave a cold snort: “No wonder you are the sole son of Zhāng Fēngyuè—sharp‑tongued indeed!”

“You flare up over this? You lack even the modest skill of nurturing qi, yet you pretend to be a Zongheng spokesman? Go tell Zhū Yíyān: next time you send someone to play with words, make sure they can withstand a shot from me.”

The gun barrel rose, flame-light gathering.

“Lǐ Jūn!”

Shī Qīng suddenly shouted in rage, turned his head and fixed his stare on Lǐ Jūn.

“Do you know why the world is divided into martial factions? Is it truly because the martial sects have become so tyrannical that gods and men alike despise them? Why was the old Daoist order wiped out—could it be merely because of the so‑called new‑old Daoist dispute?”

“What you now see and know are merely surface excuses laid out in the open. The true cause of their downfall is the lifelong, unyielding yearning of all the Ming people: immortality!”

Zhang Siyuan's gaze flickered as he turned his head toward Li Jun, the muzzle of his gun drooping slightly, showing no sign of moving to stop Shi Qing.

Have you never wondered why, though the Sequencers wield power beyond mortal men, even someone like Zhang Fengyue can be counted among the exceedingly rare long‑lived?

Shi Qing shouted shrilly, her voice piercing: "All of this is a scheme laid down by the Zhu Ming imperial house from the very moment they established the order a thousand years ago—a vast net cast both lengthwise and crosswise, its intricacy beyond your imagination. I can tell you, even the 'Two Capitals and Thirteen Provinces' are nothing but the foundation they have secretly marked out long ago; the purpose of all this is to prevent any accident that might threaten the Ming realm from ever occurring."

With Zhang Fengyue's deep scheming, a century would reduce him to dry bones all the same. Even if your physique now towers over the age, how much longer could you possibly live? Without true immortality, everything is ultimately illusion; the heavens of this empire will never change.

Shi Qing's voice rose high, as if proud to have unveiled such a staggering secret.

Even the Zhu emperors themselves have not died few.

Li Jun's tone was unusually flat, lacking the excitement Shi Qing had anticipated.

Only by achieving the First Order can one qualify to pursue immortality, and in this world the First Order can come only from the Zhu bloodline.

Shi Qing said in a low voice: "Li Jun, if you are willing to turn from darkness to light, His Majesty has said he can share with you the secret of longevity."

Merely longevity, not invincibility.

Li Jun replied calmly: "As long as I refuse, he will not live long."

'Arrogant!' Shi Qing shouted angrily.

'Noisy.'

Bang!

Gunfire erupted, instantly shattering Shi Qing's mechanical body.

Zhang Siyuan took off his outer coat, wrapped Li Bu Feng's remains carefully, strapped them tightly to his back, and having done so, he looked at Li Jun with cautious concern and said: "First, let me be clear—I truly had no idea about immortality or its lack; had I known, given my temperament, I would have already told you, Brother Jun."

Li Jun's face remained pallid, and he retorted testily: "What, are you afraid I won't be able to resist the temptation and defect?"

"Of course I am," he said. "If even you were to side with the Zhu, I would have nothing left but to put a bullet through my own head for a quick end."

Zhang Siyuan spoke frankly: "That said, given the present situation, you wouldn't even need to rebel; if the Zhu are determined to hide like turtles withdrawing into their shells, I'm not even sure the old man can still prevail."

Owing to the inherent concealment of the Vertical and Horizontal Order, now bolstered by Huang Liang's cover, the Zhu have shifted from open to covert, dragging the conflict from the order's surface down into its depths, thereby successfully diluting the threat posed by Li Jun, Chen Qisheng, and others.

Zhu Yiyeh's move, though it cost the dignity of the Ming emperor, laid bare the sinister nature of the Vertical and Horizontal Order in full measure.

"If what Shi Qing said is true, then I at last understand why Old Zhang's thoughts have shifted throughout his life."

Zhang Siyuan sighed: "In his youth he was merely a conscientious schoolteacher, then, fired with ambition, he vowed to establish a 'Great Scholarly Order,' rolled up his sleeves and fought until his face was smeared with blood. Later he left the academy, decisively entered officialdom, and rose to the post of premier. Now, however, he has turned against the Zhu and seeks to sever all orders."

The two walked side by side out of the ruined magistrate's office, moonlight spilling over them from above.

"I used to suspect he was secretly calculating something, but now it seems the old man has simply been forced step by step onto this path."

In the void ripples appeared, and Zou Jiujiu's figure emerged at Zhang Siyuan's left, his hand resting on the latter's shoulder.

"The old fellow has had a hard life, so don't spend all your time scheming to become a rebellious son."

Zou Jiujiu peered toward the other side, while Chen Qisheng had his hands tucked into his sleeves, standing to Li Jun's right.

"You Daoist, your name is Chen Qisheng. With immortality now within reach, aren't you moved at all?"

"Cultivating immortality is defying heaven, not begging for favor."

Chen Qisheng spoke briefly, his killing intent fully revealed.

"Two killing embryos, a fool. Still, my line under Elder Zou is the best—when we grow old we'll simply bury our heads in dreams, and eternal life will be as easy as a spit."

As the crowd drifted farther away, unaware, amidst the scattered wreckage behind the magistrate's office, a faint red light flickered deep within a shattered mechanical eye.

It seemed someone was laughing in the darkness.