Chapter 91: Guardianship

Received a notice: The title "Above Chang'an" might cause some trouble, so it's likely to be changed. I've prepared a new title: "Subjugating Rebellion." If you see "Subjugating Rebellion" on your bookshelf, don't think it's a forced addition—that's the original "Above Chang'an."

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The third afternoon.

In the camp, the commander Hotte instructed, "Make some jerky into soup and send it to the gentlemen."

"Yes, sir," his subordinates replied.

Yang Xuan and his three companions had been given two tents, and at this moment, they had just finished tidying up inside and stepped out.

The commander smiled and offered a respectful salute.

Yang Xuan smiled and returned the gesture.

The old thief, by force of habit, almost saluted as well.

"Old thief!"

His hand, raised halfway, changed to scratching his head.

"You almost got us killed," Yang Xuan said with a smile.

The old thief rolled his eyes, his back soaked with sweat.

After the fear had finally settled, he voiced the question that had been troubling him for days, "How did you know Hotte had issues with his offspring?"

Yi Niang was curious too.

Yang Xuan replied, "When a man seeks fortune-telling for his woman, there are only two possibilities. One, he fears his wife is unfaithful. But from what I've heard, the Vashe tribe isn't strict about such matters, so why would Hotte need to ask about this?"

The old thief was intrigued, "What's the second?"

Yang Xuan said calmly, "Children."

The old thief thought it over—it made perfect sense. "Back then, you said you would enlighten him. I was worried, but it turns out you're a step ahead of me."

"A man only cares about two things regarding his woman: whether she's put horns on him, and why she's not laying eggs," Green Lantern flickered, as if amused.

On the fifth day, they saw the royal court.

The Vashe chief Huazhuo called himself khan, and his residence had become the so-called royal court.

You could see wooden houses, but there were more tents.

A troop of cavalry rode up.

Hotte introduced, "These are bone readers."

And so they were allowed in.

The khan's tent was enormous; even Hotte could only request an audience.

"We only seek a place where spirits dwell, and dare not disturb the khan," Yang Xuan said humbly.

Hotte smiled, "Don't worry. The khan loves all kinds of talents. I'll arrange it; you should be able to see him tomorrow."

The four were settled about a hundred paces from the khan's tent.

Still two tents.

"Are you confident?" The old thief was clearly uneasy.

"No need to worry about that, you should worry about whether you'll slip," Yang Xuan replied coolly.

Yi Niang whispered, "If you slip, you should run, and leave the old thief behind."

The old thief forced a smile.

Ahead, some were conducting a ritual.

Three sticks of incense were placed, a man in a blue robe kowtowed towards the south, again and again, with deep sincerity.

"What's he worshipping?" The old thief was curious.

A man passing by sneered, kicking and breaking one of the incense sticks.

The blue-robed man looked up, furious, "You vile dog slave!"

He leapt up, his eyes blood-red.

The other man turned and ran; the blue-robed man couldn't catch him, returned in resentment, and lit three new incense sticks.

Yang Xuan walked over, waited until he finished his bows, and asked, "Are you a man of the Great Tang?"

The blue-robed man turned, covering his face with his sleeve, "Shamefully, yes."

"Where is your ancestral tablet?"

If you have no tablet, whom are you honoring?

The blue-robed man whispered, "A man of the Great Tang serving barbarians—I have no face to meet my ancestors, so I can only bow towards the direction of the Great Tang."

"I've brought shame upon my ancestors." He knelt and bowed again, choking, "I'll earn money this year and go home next year."

Ever since the Chen Kingdom, the Central Plains has been renowned for its brilliant culture; every person of the Central Plains considers serving barbarians a disgrace.

"Ancestors…"

Yang Xuan recalled how every year, each household in the village would honor their ancestors; it was the grandest day of the year. Even the poorest families would find ways to procure good offerings to comfort their ancestors.

No one could precisely describe this feeling. To call it longing wasn't quite right—the ancestors had passed away long ago.

To say there was no feeling was impossible, but this emotion was indescribable, ineffable…

The blue-robed man clasped his hands and whispered towards the south.

"… Spirits of ancestors in heaven…"

Boom!

Yang Xuan seemed to hear a thunderclap on a clear day.

Suddenly, he understood.

"So that's it."

The old thief asked, "What have you realized?"

"Meat!" Wang Lao'er had behaved these past few days, but with no one around, he couldn't help himself.

Yang Xuan shook his head.

He understood now.

In the heart of every person from the Central Plains, their ancestors, after passing, are always watching them. The ancestors dwell above the blue sky, in the ancestral halls, upon the graves, in every corner of the home…

"So, our ancestors are our gods."

Under their ancestors' gaze, every generation of people from the Central Plains strives; when they slacken, if they look up, they seem to see their ancestors' kindly faces turning to anger.

After the fall of the Chen Kingdom, Beiliao once invaded the Central Plains.

Those fleeing would rather leave behind some wealth than one thing.

The ancestral tablet.

The common folk guard their ancestral tablets; what, then, should those in power guard?

Yang Xuan seemed to see countless ancestral tablets soaring, forming lines of words in the sky…

—Do not do unto others what you would not have done unto yourself.

—Care for the old as you would for your own; care for the young as you would for your own.

—As heaven moves strongly, the gentleman strives unceasingly. As earth is vast, the gentleman bears virtue.

"What are you thinking?" Yi Niang asked.

Yang Xuan replied, "Thinking about what I should protect."

"What?"

"Protect that culture."

The culture passed down through generations forms the soul of the Central Plains. If the soul endures, the Central Plains endures!

Yang Xuan recalled the history he saw on the scrolls of another world. That Central Plains was trampled many times by foreign tribes, brought to the brink of extinction again and again. Yet each time, they rose anew, standing proud among nations.

What did they rely on?

Yang Xuan looked at the sky, "The soul of the nation!"

Hotte hurried over, delighted, "Tomorrow you'll see the khan."

That night, everyone went to bed early.

The next day, Yang Xuan and the old thief prepared to meet Khan Huazhuo.

As he stepped out of the tent, he turned back, "Be at ease."

Yi Niang smiled, "I'm perfectly at ease!"

Watching Yang Xuan and the old thief being led away, Yi Niang entered the tent.

She knelt on the bedding, praying devoutly.

Wang Lao'er asked curiously, "Yi Niang, what are you praying for?"

Yi Niang pressed her hands together, "I'm praying for the gods to protect the young master."

Wang Lao'er scratched his head, "Does it work?"

"Sincerity makes it work."

Wang Lao'er knelt, "Then I'll pray too."

The tent grew quiet, with only soft prayers remaining.

Huazhuo was eating breakfast in his tent.

As khan, his breakfast was sumptuous.

Two slabs of the fattest roast lamb, milk wine, cheese…

He sliced a piece of lamb with a knife and popped it into his mouth, took a sip of milk wine, stroked his beard, his slightly oily, plump face now bearing a hint of resolve.

"Who is outside?"

A guard stepped out to look.

"Khan, it's the bone readers from yesterday."

Huazhuo nodded noncommittally. Several guards entered, followed by Yang Xuan and the old thief.

"Greetings, Khan."

Huazhuo glanced at them, set down his knife, his narrow eyes filled with mockery. "I've lived many years and seen countless swindlers. Once, someone said he'd learned how to read the omens from the Central Plains. He looked at me and declared that in twenty years, I'd die with no grave. My men trampled him to death with warhorses. And you two?"

He picked up his knife. "How do you want to die?"

Indeed, those who survive to the top are never kind!

The old thief had always thought himself worldly, but only now he realized he'd only met those in tombs.

The guards drew their swords, merely waiting for Huazhuo's command.

Murderous intent filled the air.

"May I ask, Khan…" The old thief's back burned, but he appeared calm. "How many years remain?"

"Less than two," Huazhuo replied calmly. "But my Vashe tribe is stronger than ever. What fortune-telling? My fate cannot be seen by anyone!"

The old thief almost rolled his eyes, then suddenly smiled.

"Khan, we're bone readers, enemies of the omen watchers."

Enemies, indeed!

Yang Xuan almost wanted to roll his eyes.

But he spoke up, "We did not come to read bones, but to seek the dwelling place of the spirits and offer prayers."

Huazhuo wondered if he'd been overthinking it. He glanced at his guard, who nodded—this was indeed their purpose.

"The more aloof you are, the more women cling to you," Vermilion Bird, who hadn't spoken in days, seemed eager.

Yang Xuan saluted, "We take our leave."

Huazhuo coughed, "Wait."

Yang Xuan was astonished, "Does Khan have instructions?"

Huazhuo rolled up his sleeve, exposing a muscular arm. "Nothing to do today—read my bones."

"Khan, the Nayin people attacked ours," someone shouted from outside.

Huazhuo's face darkened, "Get lost!"

Yang Xuan helped the old thief forward.

The old thief felt around, found Huazhuo's hand.

He rubbed it for a moment.

Then he began the bone reading.

The old thief was very serious.

Huazhuo had never been touched so by another man, and felt uneasy. When the old thief reached his chest, he retreated, "Why here?"

The old thief was simply thorough, and explained, "A noble's bones must be examined fully."

He withdrew his hand and began calculating.

After a while, he stepped back.

"Khan's bones are of the highest grade."

Yang Xuan calculated, "What fate?"

"Riding the wind and waves… a leaking fate."

Yang Xuan frowned, "There will be a time to ride the wind and waves, and you’ll set your cloud sails straight to cross the vast sea!"

"Eh!" Huazhuo was about to curse, but upon hearing these verses, he asked, "Whose poetry is this?"

Yang Xuan replied calmly, "It's the oracle of the spirits."

He calculated, then looked up solemnly, "Spring is here, flowers are in full bloom. With a little borrowed strength, fortune flows…"

"Khan’s enterprise will face many turns; you must be resolute. But next year, there may be a calamity—if not resolved… Well, I speak carelessly. Just beware the disaster of fire. In the past, ignorance was forgivable… Today, my tongue slipped. Please be cautious."

"What disaster of fire?"

"Fire."

Yang Xuan saluted, "Farewell."

He helped the old thief as they left. Huazhuo asked, "No payment?"

Yang Xuan smiled, "We only seek forgiveness from the spirits, and dare not accept any reward."

The four departed.

That night, fire broke out in the royal court, burning dozens of tents.

"Who did this?" Huazhuo's face was cold.

"Khan, we are still investigating."

Huazhuo suddenly felt a stir in his heart. "Have my men follow those four… Bring them back for questioning."

At midnight, the guards who followed Yang Xuan and his companions returned.

"They stayed together all night, came out to pray to the gods, very devout."

Huazhuo’s expression shifted. "Are you certain?"

The guard nodded, "I watched them—praying, all four, not one missing."

Huazhuo took a deep breath, his face pale, "Bring them back… No, invite them back, immediately!"

In a certain tent in the royal court, the blue-robed man held a piece of gold, happily saying, "Once the trouble blows over, I can go home."

……

Early update, nothing tonight.