Old-fashioned mahogany window
Before she could think it through, she opened the dark lacquer box, which was about a foot long. The box had been sealed intact for so many years, clearly indicating that no one had ever touched it, except that a thin layer of dust had settled on it.
As soon as the box was opened, her eyes lit up and she was momentarily lost in thought.
Then, with trembling fingers, she stroked the contents of the box, and tears blurred her vision without her even realizing it.
Those were not pens for writing, but a pair of judge's pens made of fine steel, shimmering with silver light, and decorated with exquisite and ancient patterns, engraved with soaring blue phoenixes and fairy mountains amidst clouds and seas.
The Judge's Pen is a rare and unusual weapon, seldom seen even in the martial arts world.
Only in Jiangnan did a lineage of this tradition exist, but it has long since been lost to time.
The iron pen produces beautiful flowers, Du Jiuniang.
Yanxiu said she saw this item in the study of her uncle, Shangguan Jin, the Grand Secretary. Perhaps it is true. Shangguan Jin was a man of both literary and martial talents, and only with his reputation and status could he have collected the long-lost weapon of Du Jiuniang in Suzhou.
Zhao Lingying almost bewilderedly recalled that the reason she dared to volunteer alone to represent her family in the capital as the daughter of the Zhao family was not only because she was a well-known talented woman from a prominent family who was proficient in music, chess, calligraphy and painting, but also because of her other identity.
Her mother, who married into the Zhao family and died young, was originally the daughter of a famous swordsmith in the Wu region. Her surname was Du, her given name was Hengruo, and her nickname was Jiuniang.
She had never seen her mother use the Judge's Pen. In her memory, her mother, amidst the hustle and bustle and glory of the Zhao family, was always a thin, small, silent figure, emaciated and pale, silently using a brush to draw embroidery patterns of gardenias, magnolias, or paulownia flowers under the gauze window bathed in the twilight light.
They, and the women, secretly mocked her, calling her "the daughter of a merchant" and "from a family of artisans."
But in those countless days and nights that no one knew about, her mother, who never uttered a word in front of others, would take her to the house and the yard, break off branches to use as pens, and teach her to crawl on the sand to practice her body movements, footwork, and penmanship.
At that young age, she didn't know what use it was, but day after day, she grew into a confident, bright, and generous woman, firmly believing that she could overcome any difficulties and obstacles she encountered.
It wasn't until those judge's pens landed effortlessly in her hands that she felt as if she were waking from a dream, remembering herself as she used to learn martial arts under the fence.
So, she was never a weak woman who needed someone to protect her. Yanxiu, she must have realized it long ago, right?
Even earlier, Yanxiu had recognized her, even before she herself.
It is time to use my mother's pen to create a new era for myself and for the departed Yanxiu.
In that era, women were no longer bound by men and could freely pursue whatever men sought, whether it was love, power, or a deep and lasting bond.
A smile played on Zhao Lingying's lips, and the last glimmer of light in her pupils was about to fade.
Xie Lang suddenly remembered something and shouted, "Lingmei! About Lanling Hall..."
Mu Huaying once accused Zhao Lingying of being an undercover agent for Lanling Hall, and Zhao Lingying never denied it.
So, when did she become a member of Lanling, who ordered her to do so, what intelligence did she send out while lurking by Xie Lang's side for so long, and did she have any helpers? These have all become unsolved mysteries that urgently need to be solved.
Zhao Ling smiled, and unable to speak, she mouthed, "That's mine, another promise."
She closed her eyes, breathed her last, and the judge's pen she held drooped limply.
The pen was already pressed against Xie Lang's vest.
A very familiar feeling is gradually fading away.
It was a call as intimate as blood ties, even closer than blood ties.
Suddenly, tears streamed down A Qiu's face, and he could no longer utter a single word.
Xie Lang stood up, not glancing at Zhao Lingying's peaceful, closed-eye body on the ground again, and said in a deep voice: "The Imperial Secretary has been loyal to the country for more than ten years, handling countless affairs from dawn till dusk. He worked tirelessly until his lamp ran out of oil and he died. He was buried next to the tomb of Empress Xining in Wuyang Mausoleum, and had a grand funeral."
He then left the prison without looking back.
After glancing back once, A Qiu immediately followed, still remembering Zhao Lingying's dying strategy of "using Jiangdong to control Jiangdong," and said, "Zhaorong's meaning is to..."
Her body was torn apart by chariots in the city to deter the Zhao family from their rebellion.
Xie Lang paused for a moment, then said in a hoarse voice, "I, Xie Lang, am now the emperor. If I cannot even protect her after death, why should I remain emperor?"
Yes. He was the emperor, yet he never realized what he wanted, never saw what he longed for.
The world is now at peace, but the friendship between those people and that time has long been buried in the dust of history and vanished with the wind.
As A Qiu followed Xie Lang out of the prison, she suddenly sensed something amiss behind her.
A chill ran through her, and she immediately turned around, drew her sword, and held it horizontally in front of her.
But the dark prison door opened by itself without wind, and a white figure stood inside, ethereal and otherworldly, as if it had come from nothingness.
Upon closer inspection, A Qiu felt that the figure was somewhat familiar, as if she had seen it somewhere before.
But it doesn't resemble a human.
Xie Lang turned around, his eyes flashing with brilliance, and shouted, "What are you doing, playing tricks on me?"
A voice, seemingly both chanting and weeping, rang out, saying, "Your Majesty, I beg you for a favor."
A Qiu suddenly realized whose voice it was.
It was the voice of the witch Qiluo, who was also imprisoned in the Heavenly Prison at that moment.
I don't know what method she used to create a clone to guard this door.
The supernatural powers of a shaman are truly capable of moving the heavens and changing the sun, reaching a level of divine skill.
Xie Lang recognized the voice and said loudly, "If you are begging for your lives, you can be spared. Consort Zhao has already pleaded for you, and I have granted you and your brother permission to return to your hometown to live out your days. There is no need to ask again."
Qi Luo calmly replied, “I have offended Your Majesty and dare not ask for life, but only for death. I beg Your Majesty to allow me to set up an array in this prison to summon spirits and burn away the restless souls in Jianzhang Palace with spiritual fire, so as to repay the karma I owed when I entered the palace. I wish to restore a peaceful and gloom-free future to the Great Yan Kingdom.”
Xie Lang hesitated, then said, "But I have already promised Lingying, and I cannot break my promise to a dead man!"
Qi Luo, distracted, said, "And my brother. If His Majesty lets my brother go back, then he has not broken his promise. As for the afterlife, if I see Zhaorong, I will give an explanation."
He added, “This is for the sake of the nation, not for one person. If Your Majesty wishes to completely eradicate your heart ailment, this sacrifice is necessary.”
A Qiu had already heard Bai Shi explain that Xie Lang's heart ailment was difficult to cure because he refused to acknowledge or confront his guilt. However, upon hearing Qi Luo's explanation that if she offered herself as a sacrifice to draw upon the past souls of all those in Jianzhang Palace, Xie Lang's heart ailment could be cured, she couldn't help but ask, "Your Majesty is a living person, not a soul. How can you cure and deliver it?"
Qi Luo replied, “There are two ways to cure a heart ailment. One is to go inside and remove the internal cause, and the other is to sever the cause and effect of the past in external circumstances. Your Majesty’s heart ailment originated in the old palace and is tied to old friends. If you burn all the past events, the causes and conditions will be dispersed, and there will be no disturbance inside, and the heart ailment will not recur.”
A-Qiu asked again, "If a person dies in the underworld, does he or she truly have a soul? And what exactly is this so-called soul?"
The reason she asked this question was because of the profound pain she felt from Zhao Lingying's death, which touched her deeply. She couldn't help but hope that if there really was another world, Zhao Lingying, Ah Xiu, and the child they longed for could be reunited, and then she would have no regrets.
Her question seemed rather superfluous at this moment. Wasn't Qi Luo's soul right before her, alive and well?
When A-Qiu saw the ghostly entertainer disguised as Sun Neiren in the Tangli Water Pavilion corridor years ago, she was terrified because she had never seen such a strange being that could float on the water. But now, when she truly faced the so-called "soul," she did not instinctively feel afraid.
Firstly, it's possible that Qi Luo's soul lacked any sinister aura and was gentle and mild, just like her. Secondly, intuitively, A Qiu felt that if the other party wanted to harm him, then whether it was the sword energy of "Louyue" or the weapon energy of "Ci Qin," they could easily destroy this soul.
Therefore, true martial arts cultivation is not afraid of any worldly techniques; it can even kill gods and Buddhas if they are in the way. This is not just a legend.
Qi Luo pondered for a moment before finally replying, "What I call the soul is attachment. This attachment can take the form of a person, or it may just be a lingering thought, or even a hidden thought buried deep in the heart. If there is no attachment to confuse one, one enters the cycle of rise and fall of all things upon death, and there will be no confusion, delusion, madness, or other such phenomena."
A Qiu then said to Xie Lang, "Your Majesty, let us follow the Great Shaman's advice. Settling the past karma will only benefit us, not harm us."
At this moment, Xie Lang, now lucid, didn't quite understand what Qi Luo and A Qiu were exchanging. He was always rational and pragmatic, and with Zhao Lingying's recent passing and the presence of this elusive white figure at the prison gate, he found it hard to comprehend. But perhaps out of trust in Gu Yi, he instinctively believed A Qiu, Gu Yi's successor, and nodded, saying, "Very well. I grant your request."
Upon hearing Xie Lang's word "approved," it was as if a gust of wind had swept through, and the figures at the door vanished without a trace.
The entire prison seemed to shake in that instant, the earth trembled and mountains trembled, and countless figures seemed to emerge from the ground, some like one person and some like countless people, with mournful songs and cries filling the air.
A Qiu's first reaction was to reach out and press his palm against Xie Lang's back to protect his heart.
She knew perfectly well that the situation before her was either an illusion or reality, but it would greatly disturb one's spirit. She was resolute and unmoved, but Xie Lang had just recovered from a serious illness, and she was afraid of disturbing him and hurting his spirit.
She had mixed feelings about Xie Lang at this moment.
His cold and selfish side in the forbidden chamber of Qiwu is still vivid in my mind. But his desolate and frantic wandering in the Jixian Palace late at night is just as pitiful and terrifying.
Most importantly, Xie Lang's primary identity at this moment was still that of the person Gu Yi had entrusted to her. Instinctively, she couldn't stand by and watch him suffer any harm.
Unexpectedly, she heard Xie Lang say calmly, "Do you know who these people are?"
As she channeled her inner energy into him, she guessed, "Someone who died in this Heavenly Prison?"
Xie Lang calmly replied, "When this dynasty was founded, it was managed by Sister Hua Ying. In this Imperial Prison, tens of thousands of aristocratic clansmen and scholars were arrested, implicated, and executed."
Ah Qiu was extremely shocked and could no longer remain unmoved.
Xie Lang said with a self-deprecating tone, "Fortunately, this sorcerer did not perform any rituals in the Golden Palace. There was a rebellion in Hengzhou, and nearly 30,000 palace servants, eunuchs, and imperial guards were killed by the rebels there. Later, when the Junior Tutor quelled the rebellion, no fewer than 10,000 rebels were killed in the palace."
A Qiu couldn't help but shudder and said, "Then wouldn't we be sitting on mountains of corpses every day?"
Xie Lang smiled and said, "Who can say otherwise?"
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