He doesn't have to be the King of the South

In October of the 28th year of Chengyuan, the royal flags were changed on the city walls of Jiuzhou in the southern region.

At the banquet to confer the title of king, the emperor claimed to be ill and could not attend, so he sent the King of the North to host the banquet on his behalf.

During the banquet, there were hundreds of cases of wine, delicacies from land and sea, rewards and cups, and the banquet was extremely grand.

The person sitting in the main seat was wearing a royal robe and a jade seal, and his expression was normal.

Fang Weian accepted all the greetings without refusing or rejecting them. He stood up and offered a toast to everyone who came, and responded politely to everyone who spoke.

As the emperor's envoy, Ren Xuan was visited by many people who came to toast him. Fang Weian accepted everyone who came, so Ren Xuan could only politely follow the host's wishes.

That night, we drank until dawn.

The next day, Fang Weian went in person to express his gratitude, and all the officials presented congratulatory messages. The emperor held the king's hand and said, "Having Weian is like having a good advisor."

The government and the people were delighted, believing that great order was about to come.

History books do not mention that day in the prison camp, Fang Weian knelt before his former master, his words choked with sobs.

The volumes do not record it, but on the city wall where the king's flag was changed, Qin Chengxu threw fire to burn the edict, his brows lowered, and he said nothing.

Nothing other than family and country is included in history.

From then on, fame and fortune were recorded in names, but love and hatred were not recorded in books.

····

A round of banquet, drinking until late at night.

When the banquet was over, Fang Cun appeared from nowhere and stood beside the wine table with a smile: "Shall I take Han Shuai back?"

Ren Xuan remained calm and said, "Thank you."

Walking at night, the moon is as cold as water.

Fang Cun spoke in a calm tone, as if he was talking about a trivial matter: "General Ren, something went wrong."

Ren Xuan's brow twitched, and he was a little convinced: "Is there ever a time when you don't have problems?! Didn't you say that everything will be over once you deal with Fang Weian?"

Fang Cun, however, was not annoyed, and his tone was still a bit casual: "Everything in the world is interconnected and closely related. The unexpected is the norm."

You're the boss of a gang, what's the point of talking about philosophy?! Ren Xuan was truly convinced: "Don't be so witty. What's the accident? Just tell me."

Fang Cun tilted his head: "I can't persuade Fang Weian as I said before."

Fang Cun paused. "At first, I thought this was a technique of the Xiao family. But from the memories of this body, the surviving Xiao family members are basically useless and can't possibly have such an accomplishment. Later, I thought it was Fang Weian who created this technique. Looking around the camp, Fang Weian is the only one with this ability. Also, you should have noticed that the relationship between Xiao Dingyuan and Fang Weian is very different from what is written in the history books.

Ren Xuan nodded: "Yes."

If people like Fang Weian cannot be considered loyal ministers, then there have been no loyal ministers in the past five hundred years.

Fang Cun raised his eyebrows slightly, spread out his palms, and spoke in a calm, almost innocent tone: "General, you also think my reasoning makes sense, right? But Fang Weian has no intention of studying life tracing. He doesn't touch numerology, soul maps, or divination."

Fang Cun began to doubt his previous inference: "Maybe I was wrong, it wasn't Fang Weian who created Retrospermia."

He seemed quite annoyed: "But Qin Chengxiu, we are no match for him."

Ren Xuan frowned and said nothing. "That's still not right. Fang Weian's soul arts have always been restrained. He has kept them so well that outsiders can't even tell they are soul arts. I've read the recent military reports. In the last three battles with the barbarians, the Hundred-foot Shura Dharma Image appeared."

Fang Cun put away his amusement and finally looked serious for a while: "You mean-"

Ren Xuan's voice sank. "Fang Weian is showing signs of self-destruction. He won't live long if this level of soul-scorching heat continues."

Ren Xuan frowned - all this was slowly aligning with the situation when he came.

Ren Xuan said nothing. He thought he was preventing the situation from happening.

But in the end, he still followed the rules in this invisible script.

Ren Xuan was silent for a long time, then suddenly spoke: "Fang Weian cannot die. The Fang Weian in this timeline died. In our timeline, the thousand-mile martial arts ban in southern Xinjiang has been completely broken, the ferocious beasts have broken free, and the barbarians are marching straight in."

In response, Fang Cun only raised his eyebrows slightly: "So what?"

Fang Cun never cared about the thousands of miles of war in southern Xinjiang. Fang Weian had nothing to do with Su Sheng, so why should he care about his life or death?

Ren Xuan wasn't annoyed; he was used to Fang Cun's temper. With someone like him, he could only negotiate a deal: "Give me your formation diagram, and I can keep an eye on Qin Chengxiu. If he uses Su Sheng, I'll stop him. You keep an eye on Fang Weian. How about we work together?"

Fang Cun narrowed his eyes as if evaluating something. After a moment, he nodded: "Deal."

Ren Xuan said nothing more: "I will take your formation diagram back to Qin Chengxu. Fang Weian has been drinking all night, and as far as I know, he doesn't have the habit of drinking. You keep an eye on him tonight."

···

Fang Weian never drinks at banquets.

Banquets are the hottest areas for assassinations. The more lively the occasion, the more a sober person is needed.

And he has always been that person.

But tonight, for once, he was the one sitting in the main seat.

Fang Weian was not used to it. At the banquet, the room was full of civil and military officials, and there were endless congratulatory speeches. He accepted all of them, but he didn't listen to any of the empty compliments.

He only subconsciously looked at the height of the roof beams, the speed of the servants' movements, and the hidden items on the wrists of the musicians.

He sat in the main seat, but habitually looked at the layout of the venue - full of loopholes.

Fang Weian was very dissatisfied.

So, now, drunk, he was looking for trouble with the captain of the guard on duty tonight: "With a defense like yours, who can you protect?!"

The young guard captain didn't dare to say a word. The most capable fighter in all of Southern Xinjiang was Fang Weian himself. As Fang Weian's guard captain, he had been taking advantage of the situation for so many years, but this was the first time he was reprimanded for "poor protection."

What's more, Fang Weian was born into the guard business, and his immediate superior was even more professional and tougher than himself. The young guard leader himself collapsed: "Your Highness, I promise to go down and reflect on it carefully. I won't do it again next time!"

The young captain of the guards felt sad. He had originally held onto some hope, thinking that his prince had drunk a lot today and might have been emotional, so a few words would get over it. But the next moment, someone grabbed him by the collar.

Fang Weian's face was terribly gloomy: "What do you think you are doing? If you can't do it well, just get out. Who will give you a next time?"

The young guard had never seen Fang Weian so serious before. He quickly stood at attention and said in a voice that almost broke: "Your Highness! I was wrong! I will learn from you in the future! Please don't abandon me!"

Fang Wei paused, his eyes fixed on his face, but not focusing. Finally, he said, "Why are you imitating me—"

After a long moment, he whispered, "I...have failed in this duty...and I...can't do it well..."

He spoke these words with an immense effort, as if pulling out a thorn from deep within his chest, stained with blood.

He loosened his hands and slowly collapsed against the wall, as if all his strength had been drained away.

The voice was hoarse and almost inaudible:

"Don't imitate me...get away..."

The moment he confirmed that His Highness had not used the Qi-splitting technique, Fang Weian was at a loss.

That person rescued him from prison that year, and with more than ten years of patience and hard work, carved him into what he is today inch by inch; but in the end, he abandoned him with his own hands.

His prince was truly dead.

Fang Weian thought about that day in prison, before Lu Bingzhao brought people in.

His Highness said to him, "The Guangdong worker no longer needs to be named Xiao. This child is innocent. I beg you to do this."

Fang Weian did not respond.

He knelt there, not daring to look up, and said, "... Your Highness, please bear with the humiliation for a moment."

Fang Weian wanted Qin Chengxu to believe all this.

He had to let Qin Chengxu's men do it themselves. Even then, he might not be able to hide it from Qin Chengxu.

Qin Chengxiu is also proficient in magic. Qin Chengxiu is so powerful that all his opponents feel powerless, including Fang Weian.

They fought three times, and Fang Weian let Qin Chengxiu put the sword to his neck three times, but he never defeated Qin Chengxiu.

He heard His Highness sigh, "You can't hide it from him."

But he stubbornly buried his head deeper in the dust: "If Qin Chengxu continues to pursue us, I will take Your Highness to find a place to hide. The world is so big, there will always be a place where Qin Chengxu can't find us."

He was betting his life, and his heart. He could not be the King of the South, but Qin Chengxu could not be the emperor.

He Fang Weian has always been able to protect His Highness.

So, he allowed the court officials to pin Xiao Dingyuan to the ground.

He watched helplessly as Lu Bingzhao chopped off His Highness's head.

From beginning to end, he knelt there without moving.

He thought...it was him who gave up protecting His Highness first.

So... His Highness gave up on him...

Fang Weian felt bewildered. He stretched out his hand to pull out the sword at his waist, but the blade was broken into pieces and the edge of the sword was destroyed.

This sword was given to him by Xiao Dingyuan. It had no gold inlay and no decorative patterns, and even the scabbard was the plainest dark gray.

He had not changed this sword for a long time. On the day he left the palace, he took it from the other party and had never left it for more than ten years.

At the farewell banquet that day, the prince personally poured wine for him, but his words were sharp: "If you don't cherish the sword I forged, don't return to the palace."

Given the prince's impressive level of swordsmithing skills, the requirement of making at most one sword a year might even be considered excessive for an ordinary warrior.

But Fang Weian wanted to do better, he never changed his sword again.

Over the years, he walked among the flashes of swords and rains of arrows, always restraining himself from gathering his soul power. Even the forbidden technique of burning the soul and burning the life was used with caution, for fear that the sharp blade would be damaged.

But a few days ago, in front of the army, Fang Weian indulged himself and ignited a hundred-foot Dharma image.

The old sword made a short, crisp sound and broke into two pieces, just like when it was first seen that spring.

After that, no one prepared a new one for him.

More than ten years later, Fang Weian once again felt confused when facing the sword.

He is His Highness's bodyguard, an identity he earned with his blood, his sword, and everything else.

That was Fang Weian’s first level of self-awareness. He was not the King of the South, not a general, and not even Fang Weian.

His Highness had abandoned him. His prince no longer needed his sword by his side, no longer needed him to protect him with his life.

Fang Weian's self-awareness fell apart bit by bit.

The beam that had supported him for more than ten years collapsed and broke silently, like a mountain collapsing, pressing him to the point of suffocation.

Finally, he turned the broken blade towards himself.

A hand reached out from the dark and firmly held Fang Weian's wrist.

The visitor's voice was not loud, but it carried a deep meaning that penetrated the mind:

"The peace and prosperity of a country and its people is not the safety of one person."

Fang Weian was stunned. He looked up and murmured, "Your Highness..."

He paused for a long moment before reacting, as if belatedly. His gaze gradually clouded, as if the belated reality had finally crushed the lingering thoughts in his dream. "You're not."

Fang Cun didn't argue. He simply said calmly, "I'm not. But he said that to you in prison, didn't he?"

Fang Cun's eyes became complicated. Ren Xuan was right. Fang Weian began to show serious self-destructive tendencies.

If this continues, the art of life-shaping will no longer exist in this world.

——None of them match.

Fang Cun lowered his eyes, and his peripheral vision accidentally passed over the inscription pattern on the sword in Fang Weian's hand.

The five dragons were entangled, cloud patterns were overlapping, and the misty mountains were ethereal, with no end in sight.

Fang Cun's breathing suddenly stopped.

This pattern is almost exactly the same as the mark on the knife given to him by his junior uncle.

But the junior master uncle cannot be Xiao Dingyuan.

Fang Cun suddenly reacted.

——His uncle-master was most likely Xiao Dingyuan’s soul consciousness, an independent personality fragment formed through the repeated tearing of countless “life tracing” techniques.

In other words, only if Xiao Dingyuan's "forced rebirth" is established can the junior master uncle exist.

But Fang Weian before him… showed no signs of "creating" any magic at all. He was even collapsing, sliding towards death.

Fang Weian is not the inventor of the technique.

An almost horrifying thought suddenly emerged in Fang Cun's mind.

Horrifying, yet reasonable. With this thought, everything—closed.

The cycle of time closes silently like a chain.

Fang Cun's eyes had calmed down, and he said, "You can still save him."

Fang Cun said: "I know a technique that can bring the dead back to life and even reanimate bones."

He slowly approached, his expression clear as water, and said, "I'll teach you."

This life-tracing technique was not created by Fang Weian. It was he, Fang Cun, who taught it to Fang Weian.

He went back a hundred years not to stop the rebirth technique.

He is the starting point of retrogenesis itself.

Everything was destined to become a fate from the moment he stepped back a hundred years ago.

The starting point is him.

The end point will also be him.