Chapter 780: Bloodline (14)

“The one who exists above the people?”

Mm, so I’m supposed to stand above the people?

To Qing, that voice did not land at all.

The fact that in the Central Plains the Son of Heaven was the absolutely supreme, peerless sovereign—whether Qing agreed with that or not—was right now an unmistakable truth.

Even if he made a point of emphasizing it.

It wasn’t anything more than I’m the highest person, so I get to do whatever I want, that kind of stubborn insistence.

But it seemed the Son of Heaven wasn’t finished.

“Every man under Heaven has, at least once, dared to dream the delusion of rising above the Son of Heaven. The desire to sit upon the seat above the people, to stand atop all beneath Heaven, and command the world.”

He continued.

“But Heaven chose me as the Son of Heaven, and the reason they never became Son of Heaven lies precisely there. The people dream of the throne only because the Son of Heaven stands above them, because it is the most noble seat that receives the greatest deference. Tell me—am I wrong?”

“I shall listen with full attention.”

“That damned ‘I shall listen.’ The Son of Heaven is the one who exists above the people. But is the Son of Heaven the only one above them? Even the obscure county magistrate of some nameless village stands above the people within his jurisdiction. And is the martial world not the same?”

Indeed, the martial world was the same.

A Daoist master from one of the old orthodox sects was treated with higher honor than other Daoists; the common people revered and respected them.

And the local great clans represented by the Five Great Families—what about them?

Even the local officials bowed their heads to those clan lords who had acted as the true local rulers for generations. They, too, stood above the people.

“Well, then. Do I look to you like the master who possesses greater power than all of them? Like the owner of the world and all the people, ruling that ownership as I please?”

“Uh. Mm.”

Qing’s mouth opened and closed uselessly.

Saying yes felt wrong.

Saying no felt treasonous.

“Exactly. That the Martial Celestial rejected the authority of the Son of Heaven is only natural.”

The Son of Heaven bared his teeth in a fierce smile.

“When has a person ever abandoned a greater benefit just to seize a smaller one? Would someone sitting in the highest ministerial seat abandon it to take the position of a eunuch? Why would someone move from a place of greater power to lesser?”

Anyone else hearing this would have been shocked.

Because he was saying the Martial Celestial’s “power” was higher than that of the Son of Heaven.

Of course, Qing—whose psychological foundation was not that of a Central Plains native—just thought, Mm, really? He’s still the Son of Heaven though?

“The Martial Celestial was free. He could wield the world as he pleased. Being the strongest, those who revered him would have obeyed like loyal dogs, and if they did not, he could draw his sword, rob and threaten them, and if they still refused, take their lives. To someone who could bend all of Heaven to his will—why would the throne of the Son of Heaven matter at all?”

The Son of Heaven shook his head.

“Look at me. I could not even arrange my Crown Prince’s marriage according to my will. Outsiders—those not even family—opposed it, so I could not do it. That is not all. I lost my own child and did not know it until now. The Great Learning says: cultivate yourself, regulate your family, govern your state, pacify all under Heaven. Yet I cannot even govern the realm, nor hold together my own household as its head, and before that—I do not even have mastery over myself.”

Suddenly, the conversation had turned into a list of grievances.

And the evidence for those grievances was, quite literally, Qing herself.

If the Son of Heaven truly possessed godlike authority, the political marriage should have already been held.

But in reality he’d suffered desperate opposition at every turn, until he had been forced to expose his true intentions and beg concession.

Yet the expression and tone of the Son of Heaven were calm—neither complaining nor sorrowful.

He spoke with the dry voice of someone stating plain fact.

“So what is the so-called power of the Son of Heaven that people speak of? It is merely the fantasy of those who dream of it. And that is precisely why they were never chosen by Heaven.”

Hadn’t he just said earlier that the Son of Heaven stood above the people?

It did sound like the throne had its own difficulties.

Still—Qing had lived as the lowest of the low, a plague-ridden beggar even other beggars recoiled from. She’d survived by chewing rotten scraps and maggoty leftovers.

Wasn’t being born into a good house and living well already miraculous?

“The Son of Heaven is the one who exists above the people—because he must exist above them. The people revere the Son of Heaven as dwelling in Heaven, but the Son of Heaven is the one who maintains the existence, the continuation, of the Heavenly Dynasty.”

The Son of Heaven gave Qing a wry smile.

Her face very clearly said she had no idea what he meant.

“Have you read the histories?”

He spoke again.

If the authority of the Son of Heaven were truly absolute—if he could swing the world however he pleased—then the realm would fall into misery.

As in the time of the First Emperor of Qin, or the usurper Wang Mang.

People would hate one another, fight one another, and starve until they exchanged their own children with others and ate them.

The world was far too vast for a single man to know its principles.

A single man’s thoughts could not simply reshape the world to match them.

The world was too heavy for one person to wield.

So it would stagger beneath his grip, shake, and pound the land to pieces.

“And if the Son of Heaven’s power is too weak, the realm also falls into chaos.”

When the imperial Liu house fell into decline, the Son of Heaven was powerless, and what had the treacherous ministers below done then?

Those who cared nothing for the state debased the authority of the throne to fill their own bellies.

People were creatures that wished to survive.

Under such rulers, even the gentlest people would take up spears and become bandits.

Above, monsters feasting on the people’s flesh; below, mobs of bandits.

How then would the world differ from Hell?

“And if there is no Son of Heaven—if the Son of Heaven cannot exist—then the Central Plains drown in blood.”

Without a Son of Heaven, war began.

Heaven and earth tore themselves apart, everyone killing and killing until the world ran red.

How had the final days of the Liu dynasty been?

Even the leader of a gang that merely wove bamboo mats had risen up claiming he would seize the world, hiding slaughter behind “righteous cause.”

“Do you see? This is the duty of our Heavenly Dynasty. We must remain alive. We must endure. But we must not covet power, nor abandon it. We must not lose what we have, and we must not seize more than is ours.”

The Son of Heaven gave a bitter smile.

“Simply breathing and living, sitting firmly upon the highest seat of the Forbidden City—that is the duty of the Son of Heaven. That is what the Son of Heaven does. That is how the Son of Heaven governs the world.”

Only then did Qing understand his words.

The Son of Heaven is the one who exists above the people.

Not someone who “stands above” the people, but someone whose existence above them is what matters.

“Now you understand why the martial world is a harm to this world.”

“Your Majesty, b-but the orthodox knights of the martial world labor day and night for—”

“Is it that you do not understand, or that you do not wish to understand? Then let me ask not Princess Yeonsul, but you—the martial artist Heavenly Flower Sword. In the martial world, is there national law?”

“Well...”

Qing dared trail off.

But what else could she do?

There was no answer.

Martial artists had no law.

And using “weapons-user logic,” swordsmen claimed to speak by the sword and sabermen by the saber.

To martial artists, resolving matters through discussion was the act of cowardly weaklings. Drawing blades, facing each other openly, betting their lives—that was honor.

And government-noninterference with martial world affairs—and vice versa—meant both sides simply let things go.

The whole principle existed on the argument that the law of the realm and the law of the martial world were different.

“The Martial Celestial should never have committed such lawless acts.”

Even if the government had been tyrannical, the Martial Celestial had done wrong.

Even if it meant shattering the Forbidden City and slaughtering palace staff, he should at least have observed proper courtesy toward the Son of Heaven and submitted his remonstration.

No matter how overwhelmingly strong he was—no matter if his martial cultivation had reached the divine such that no army could stop him—he should have shown the world that he was still a subject beneath the Son of Heaven, a citizen bound by national law.

“Or he should have accepted the authority of the Son of Heaven and ascended to the highest ministry. How could he, so irresponsibly, destroy the core that bound the nation and held back the chaos of the realm, then wander away for his own convenience?”

The Martial Celestial should have taken the throne.

Then the strongest person under Heaven would have risen to the seat of the Son of Heaven, and the natural principle of “following the strong” would have become national law.

But that was now impossible.

If another supreme master were to threaten the Son of Heaven and seize the throne, the martial world would never acknowledge him.

Because the Martial Celestial had refused the throne.

Because abandoning the imperial seat and walking away had become, ironically, “a righteous act” of correcting government abuses.

If some future supreme master were to usurp the Son of Heaven by force, that would merely be an evil act done for personal gain.

It would be no different from the war-mad tyrants of old who burned the world for the power of the Zhao, Liu, or Sun families.

When the Martial Celestial grabbed the Son of Heaven by the collar and dragged him up to the roof of Hwanggeuk Hall, the foundations of the realm cracked and began to collapse.

And by refusing the throne, he ensured that when the realm eventually fell, there would be no solution but war.

That was what the Martial Celestial had done.

“If you speak of the decent ones in the martial world, then I shall speak of the evil ones. And tell me—how long will that decency last? All it takes is a single new Martial Celestial to plunge the world into chaos. Is there any guarantee that someone who worships power will not arise? Shall the survival of the world depend on personal goodness and mere hope?”

The countless atrocities the imperial government had committed flickered through Qing’s mind.

For the Son of Heaven, this had been the best move.

To seize any justification, however pitiful, he had resorted to petty political schemes. Because if he raised an army and openly demanded to “settle it like men” with the martial world, the Central Plains would fracture into many factions and start killing one another.

A world war in Central Plains terms—since to the Central Plains, the Central Plains was the world.

Even Qing had tattled about this to the Martial Alliance.

And what had the Martial Alliance said?

If the government interfered, they would not stand idle.

They had begun preparing for war.

Ah. So this was... damn it, that old Martial Celestial.

Qing’s gaze drifted to the number floating over the emperor’s head—his karmic debt, neither evil nor good.

Ah. So that might be it.

Because simply existing firmly had prevented catastrophe.

Because the blood shed by the Son of Heaven’s past deeds—and the immense blood that would be shed in the future—was being offset by his mere existence holding the realm together.

But wrongdoing was still wrongdoing.

Yet because it prevented chaos, it could not be called wrongdoing either.

In a sense, it was benevolent.

But it was also a hideous series of acts that could never be called benevolent.

So it was... nothing.

Neither good nor evil.

Of course, Qing did not truly understand what the karmic numbers represented.

Or perhaps, as the “owner of all under Heaven” and the one responsible for everyone, the emperor’s minor evils and minor goods canceled each other at the root.

But his attitude—his flat tone when saying the martial world must be erased—

If there had been even a hint of hatred, she might have understood it.

But he said it with the same expression he used for official business, stating fact without regret.

“So you understand now.”

Even though Qing was trying hard to manage her expression under tension, he read her face instantly.

How? Because he was Yeonsul’s father?

But was she really making the same expressions as the princess? Her Majesty had also said all her behavior matched Yeonsul’s ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) exactly.

How could that be—did habits follow the body and not the memory—?

Qing drifted into a brief tangent.

Then came the bolt of lightning that snapped her back.

“Therefore, as a member of the Heavenly Dynasty, you will fulfill your duty. If the denunciation comes from the foremost young master of the martial world herself, then there is no need to involve the Martial Alliance. Begin with the demonic side first. Once the demonic side collapses, the rest will be easy to tidy up.”