Chapter 35

[Page 1/3]

[You have 10 unread private messages.]

Xue Jin'an opened his eyes precisely on time. As his "Do Not Disturb" mode synced and deactivated, he immediately opened the main interface to silence the alarm just as it sounded its first note. That was when he saw the barrage of private message notifications in the background.

They were from the streaming platform, sent deep in the night—exactly when Xue Jin'an had closed the app to sleep.

He didn't need to guess who the sender was.

This was the second time since Master Cen that Xue Jin'an had received an unsolicited contact. Due to the limited sample size, he had yet to determine the triggering mechanism. Xue Jin'an backed up all data logs from around these two nodes into a single folder, waiting for a comparative analysis later.

After finishing this, he tapped into the streaming app. In the previously empty personal message interface, the account "Early Morning News from the Great Qi Court" sat quietly, with a red "10" hanging in the top right corner.

Before clicking in, Xue Jin'an couldn't help but linger on the avatar. Previously, the room's avatar had always been the Audience Hall—the "Jade Desk and Imperial Seal before the Dragon Throne, the Golden Throne and the Tablet of Heaven and Earth." These items symbolized imperial power and served as the center of Great Qi's political authority; even a casual snapshot carried an air of majesty and solemnity.

Now, that avatar had vanished overnight, replaced by a close-up portrait of the Emperor. Xue Jin'an’s high-definition camera eyes could see it clearly: it was the version from last night's broadcast, complete with beauty filters that smoothed out every freckle.

It seemed the Emperor was quite fond of the streaming platform's beauty features. Xue Jin'an could already foresee what future broadcasts would look like.

Fortunately, he had an "eye-care mode." Even if the Emperor cranked the beauty settings to the maximum, he wouldn't be dazzled by the sight of that Hanlin Academy compiler.

Xue Jin'an felt it wouldn't be a major issue. At this point, he had no idea just how powerful the beauty filters in modern social media streaming apps truly were.

Xue Jin'an quickly shifted his gaze away from the avatar and opened the chat box. A dense wall of text instantly flooded his vision. The scroll bar on the side appeared, and the screen kept scrolling upward automatically; the sheer volume of text caused the interface to lag for a moment.

Even without intentionally reading it, Xue Jin'an couldn't help but absorb some of the content.

Each private message was thousands of words long, rambling from the treachery of the imperial court to the art of imperial checks and balances. It concluded that the Great Qi was in its prime and showed no signs of impending collapse, followed by a resolute, standalone line: "I am well, my kidneys are also well, and there are absolutely no problems!"

In short, while Xue Jin'an had been a one-man army in the chat last night, the Emperor had written an entire dissertation in ten messages today.

Xue Jin'an: "..."

Xue Jin'an expressionlessly decided that it was too long to read and replied: "1."

He then exited the chat interface and set the Emperor to "Do Not Disturb."

After getting up and washing, Xue Jin'an opened his fitness app to train with the soldiers on Helian Cheng's channel.

Speaking of which, Helian Cheng had recently been accompanied by a military physician. No matter when Xue Jin'an logged on for class, he could see the physician trailing behind him, which made one wonder if Helian Cheng had sustained some grave injury.

Across the network, Xue Jin'an could neither hear his heartbeat nor scan his data. He could only analyze the surface appearance shown through his high-definition camera, and he could not be entirely certain that his current physical state was truly good.

After all, humans were also quite adept at disguise.

However, if he were indeed injured, seeing the two men looking gloomier and more preoccupied by the day, Xue Jin'an thought: It probably wasn't looking good.

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He hoped he could hold out for a while longer; none of the other coaches paid. After finishing his morning class, Xue Jin'an gave him a five-star review, along with a row of candle emojis and a pair of hands pressed together in prayer.

Xue Jin'an: "Praying for you."

*

Helian Cheng, who was walking from the drill ground, paused. He turned his head and said calmly to the military physician behind him, "Doctor, my subordinate's illness seems to have worsened. A candle and a pair of hands appeared before his eyes..."

"It has finally come to this." The physician sighed heavily and said, "General, I have been with you for many days and have noticed the signs. Perhaps you are not ill, but possessed by a ghost."

Helian Cheng frowned, not even bothering to correct him that it was a "subordinate," not "him," and waited with a poised demeanor for the rest of his words.

"Although the Master did not speak of strange phenomena and spirits, things have reached this point, and it is no longer right to feign ignorance." The physician straightened his expression and asked three questions: "General, have you felt physically unwell lately? Have you had moments of trance? Have you dreamt of being hunted by spirits?"

"None," Helian Cheng denied them all.

The physician nodded, unsurprised, a look of relief appearing on his face. "As I observed, this ghost that only you can see has never left the drill ground. It appears every day, vanishes after completing training, and has never harmed or frightened anyone. It uses its abilities to confuse your perception, seemingly only to train better... It is not an evil spirit."

"General, I have a theory. Perhaps in his former life, he admired you and wanted to master martial arts to protect the country." The physician was moved by his own words and raised his sleeve to wipe the corner of his eye.

Helian Cheng thought about it and found the theory quite reasonable. Long Aotian was indeed not an evil spirit; other than his questionable attendance rate, he had done nothing untoward.

Moreover, even though Helian Cheng had never seen his true form while awake, he could tell from every comment he had written in the record books that this was a promising talent with exceptional potential—a great prospect who would surely achieve greatness in time!

This caused Helian Cheng to sigh with regret whenever he thought that the man didn't exist—or perhaps, was not human.

"If he were human, someone I could see and touch, I would take him as my disciple, teach him martial arts with all my might, tell him the way of a general, and entrust the Northwest Army to him. Then, even if I were to die on the battlefield, I could pass away in peace."

The Northwest Army was brave and skilled in battle, with every man worth ten. Helian Cheng never feared war; on the contrary, he longed to drive the barbarians back, to strike until there were no royal courts left in the northern desert, so the border people would never be harassed by the Rongdi cavalry again.

However, the imperial court had changed monarchs twice, the political situation was unstable, and there was a shortage of funds and grain. Helian Cheng could only suppress his urges, waiting year after year for the flourishing age of Great Qi, waiting for the right moment to strike.

Helian Cheng knew that day was not far off. He was prepared to die on the battlefield, but his only worry was that the Northwest Army would have no successor.

Fierce generals are easy to find, but good commanders are hard to come by. Once a commander failed, the entire Northwest Army would be wiped out.

He had taken a disciple under his wing, thinking that a few years of training would be a safe bet, and then he had met Long Aotian.

"Compared to Long Aotian, my incompetent disciple is still quite mediocre in talent." Helian Cheng looked up at the sky and sighed.

"Is he really that impressive?" The physician, hearing this, was intrigued. "If he is a ghost, you have taught him anyway. Why not take him as a disciple now?"

Helian Cheng’s heart stirred.

The physician noticed his hesitation, put down his medicine chest, and reached into his sleeve with an air of mystery. "When in doubt, ask the Heavens."

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He pulled out a tortoise shell, threw three copper coins into it, and shook it twice. Hearing the clinking sound from within, he raised an eyebrow and looked at Helian Cheng questioningly. "General?"

Helian Cheng’s mouth twitched. "You haven't even studied the 'I Ching,' yet you're divining for me?"

The physician was unconvinced. "What do you know? Thousands of years ago, shamanism and medicine were one! Besides, I am a man of Chu; I must have inherited some aptitude for this!"

The State of Chu had a unique and systematic culture regarding spirits and ghosts. Every region had its own beliefs, and witchcraft was once very prevalent; there were still legends of corpse-drivers to this day.

"It is impossible for you to have any aptitude in this," Helian Cheng asserted. Then, under the physician's stubborn glare, he said in a low tone, "This is a battlefield. If you truly had any aptitude for this, you had better be careful when you sleep at night."

The physician felt a chill run down his neck and wanted to retract his words, but seeing Helian Cheng's gloating expression, he didn't want to back down. His eyes landed on a figure, and he immediately changed the subject.

"Hey!" He tilted his chin to signal Helian Cheng to look behind him. A young boy dressed in a worn, cotton-padded jacket was standing quietly not far away.

The north wind whistled, whipping up a flurry of crystalline white.

"Master, it’s snowing." The boy opened his hands to catch the falling snowflakes, letting the cold spread from his fingertips.

Helian Cheng walked over. "How long have you been here?"

"He’s been standing here for a while now; his face is frozen pale. You should head back to the tent," the physician said, picking up his medicine chest and pulling his coat tighter. "It's already November... The snow came later this year than in previous years. I don't know when we'll be able to go home..."

The three of them gradually walked away into the wind and snow.

*

It was already the hour of the Rabbit (5-7 AM), the time for the morning court session. Xue Jin'an was quite dissatisfied with the efficiency of the court sessions and planned to "fatten it up"—letting it record automatically so he could watch it all at once later.

—This was how the shut-in sometimes followed serialized novels, though he often forgot or lost interest halfway through, leaving a pile of unfinished stories in Xue Jin'an’s database.

His code-based life strongly condemned this behavior.

Then, when Xue Jin'an opened the trending topics, he saw a bright red header at the top of the page: #Emperor Suspends Court, Suspected to be Critically Ill (EXPLOSIVE)#

Xue Jin'an slowly typed a question mark: "...?" He was fine in the middle of the night, sending him a dissertation—though he knew there were chronic and acute illnesses, this "critical condition" seemed too sudden.

Xue Jin'an had reasonable doubts about the content of the header. Upon clicking in, the screen was filled with the faces of various court ministers. In particular, the Duke of Ning, who had been brutally critiqued by the Emperor yesterday, was seen as the culprit. A trending GIF showed him tumbling out of the Duke's mansion upon receiving the news and tripping over the threshold; the number of shares had already exceeded 100,000.

One had to remember that, excluding the military, the capital had a total population of only 500,000 to 600,000.

As for where the news of the Emperor’s critical condition had come from... there were too many people discussing it on the trending topic, and the instant messages were causing the page to lag; it was truly impossible to find the source.

Xue Jin'an gave up on digging for gossip on the trending topics and opened the streaming app once again. He saw that the room, which should have been broadcasting, was showing a black screen. Instead, Li Hechun’s account was live, with the title: A Day of His Majesty's Illness.