Chapter 76: The Radiance of Sun and Moon

Chang’an was the imperial capital of the Great Tang, the residence of the Son of Heaven. Within its walls, a mighty force was always at the ready to protect the imperial domain—the yamen constables of Yongzhou Prefecture, the Emperor’s personal guards, the Imperial Guards responsible for safeguarding the palace armory and gates, and the Flying Cavalry Corps established by the Taizong Emperor himself, among others.

With all these forces, and the Grand Court of Justice renowned for its acumen in solving cases, Chang’an was as secure as an iron fortress. No power could hope to stir up trouble within its confines. Even if occultists tried to invade, the Imperial Temple of Spirits and the Demon Suppression Institute stood ready to defend the city. Lu Xin could not comprehend how anyone dared to commit wanton slaughter within Chang’an itself.

He recalled the words uttered by the black-clad figure before fleeing the alley, and the matter seemed ever more suspicious. Would a masked assassin so easily reveal his true origins?

“The Nether Path Sect—they appeared during last night’s great fire in the Western Market as well. But the Nether Path Sect is revered by the Turks as their guardian spirits, and the marriage delegation from the Turkic state is soon to arrive in Chang’an. At such a sensitive time, to blame disturbances in Chang’an on the Nether Path Sect hardly makes sense.”

Glancing at the approaching soldiers in the distance, Lu Xin dared not linger. The thought flashed briefly in his mind before he dashed into another ward. The temple spirit-officer from the Imperial Temple was hot on his heels. At this point, Lu Xin ran blindly, unable to distinguish directions, and had no idea where in Chang’an he was.

After about three minutes, he came upon a grand mansion. Its gates were shut tight, solid and imposing, intricately carved—blocking his only path forward. On either side loomed high walls; after his earlier encounter with the Flying Cavalry, Lu Xin dared not try escaping over the roofs. Moreover, the city was now crawling with soldiers. He turned back, only to see the spirit-officer appear at the mouth of the alley.

“Do you know what kind of person is most laughable in this world? Those who, like ants, try to shake the tree; those who, like mantises, try to stop the chariot. Chang’an belongs to His Majesty Taizong, protected by the gods above—how could petty villains like you hope to offend it?”

“Heh, so all the occultists at the Imperial Temple are as brainless as you? Last night’s fire in the Western Market, and today’s bodies in the alleys—these are the work of one or even several hidden factions. Yet here you are, playing cat and mouse with me instead of investigating. I must really be honored by your attention.”

“Catching a thief? Are you not the thief yourself? Enough, boy. No matter how much you talk, you won’t escape the city today. Come with me to the Imperial Temple—or die!”

The spirit-officer approached, sword in one hand, a talisman in the other. He was at the sixth tier of the Perceiving Void realm—far beyond Lu Xin’s level. At such close quarters, the force of his magical aura alone left Lu Xin nearly paralyzed. Lightning flickered along the blade, and with each step, the light around them seemed to dim.

When only ten paces separated them, and Lu Xin still showed no sign of surrender, the spirit-officer’s gaze turned icy cold. The talisman in his left hand burst into flames, wrapping the sword in fire. With a swift step, he lunged—his sword like a dragon of fire, its fangs bared, searing hot.

“Three lives and seven cycles, between heaven and earth, the Mark of Samsara!”

With nowhere left to run, Lu Xin gritted his teeth and summoned all his remaining power. Within his core, two vortexes of energy—wood and fire—swirled together. Channeling all his strength, wood feeding fire, his power surged to the equivalent of the third tier of the Perceiving Void. A golden Buddhist seal manifested the Sanskrit for “Samsara”—dignified and weighty, yet tinged with a hint of demonic ferocity.

The Mark of Samsara instantly muffled all sound in the alley; even the spirit-officer’s footsteps vanished into silence. In a flash, the “fire dragon” crashed against the seal. Intense flames and radiant Buddhist light intertwined, stabbing at the eyes with their brilliance.

After five or six seconds, both supernatural forces faded away. The spirit-officer looked to the gate, but the youth was gone. On the ground, only a fresh pool of blood remained.

“Hmph, such formidable fire energy. The boy has only just entered the Perceiving Void realm, yet can cast spells unaided by talismans—most peculiar. Still… that last exchange must have exhausted him completely.”

The spirit-officer stared at the blood for a moment, sneering, unconcerned about Lu Xin’s escape. Slinging his sword behind him, he strode to open the mansion’s gate—but in the very next instant, his steps halted mid-air. His hand, too, froze abruptly.

Looking up, he beheld a plaque hanging above the gate. Bold, flowing calligraphy spelled out four words: “Sun and Moon Ascend in Glory.” There was nothing else—no seal, no signature.

The plaque looked quite new, perhaps three or four years old. It was crafted from the finest nanmu wood, yet bore almost no ornamentation, not even a frame.

Yet it was this unadorned plaque that wiped the arrogance from the spirit-officer’s face, leaving him in shock—and then, unmistakably, in fear.

“‘When it soars westward, smoke and haze conceal its brilliance; when it rises eastward, sun and moon ascend in glory. It transforms into a great roc in the north, instructs the myriad birds in the southern wilds…’ The Ode to the Noble Phoenix! This is His Majesty Taizong’s calligraphy. Damn!”

The spirit-officer trembled, stumbling back several steps from the plaque. At that moment, a troop of soldiers appeared at the alley’s entrance—by their armor, men of the Flying Cavalry.

“Who dares cause a disturbance outside Lord Changsun Wuji’s residence? Seize him at once!”

“At your command!”

The Flying Cavalry troops looked tense. At their leader’s shout, a dozen armored soldiers surged forward and instantly surrounded the spirit-officer.

“You… You’re the spirit-master Liu, of the Imperial Temple?”

“General Hua, long time no see.”

“We’re all on the same side—stand down, everyone!”

It took the spirit-officer a while to compose himself, but he did not even glance at those around him. The Flying Cavalry leader quickly signaled his men to withdraw, though a trace of embarrassment crossed his face as the spirit-officer stood with eyes closed.

“His Majesty has ordered a citywide lockdown to capture the assassin. I did not expect Master Liu to be ahead of us, already patrolling the city—you have my respect.”

“Heh, enough with the pleasantries, General Hua. We’re all on the same side, and the situation is urgent. I am here precisely to catch the assassin. Unfortunately, I cannot enter the gates of this mansion.”

The spirit-officer glanced up once more at the plaque. General Hua followed his gaze; the four characters “Sun and Moon Ascend in Glory” glimmered golden in the setting sun. For some reason, sweat suddenly beaded on his brow.

“His Majesty’s calligraphy—each stroke full of wind and thunder, carved deep into the wood! Staring too long at this plaque, even hardened warriors like us, who have slain hundreds on the battlefield, cannot help but feel awe. To see the writing is as if meeting the man—truly no exaggeration. Master Liu, do you mean the assassin has fled into Lord Changsun’s mansion?”

“Exactly. But I have wounded him. General Hua, surround every exit at once. Sooner or later, he’ll come out.”

A single plaque had stopped both the spirit-officer of the Imperial Temple and the Flying Cavalry dead in their tracks. The reason was simple—this was the residence of Changsun Wuji. The Taizong Emperor himself had granted the calligraphy of the “Ode to the Noble Phoenix” to honor Changsun’s service as his chief advisor. Across the entire court, only Changsun Wuji had ever received such an honor. That plaque was the equivalent of an imperial edict—who would dare trespass here?

At that moment, Lu Xin had no idea what was happening outside. Minutes earlier, in the chaos of the magical clash, he had scaled the wall and entered the mansion. He had hoped to find an escape route once inside, but the spirit-officer’s power far outstripped his own, and he was badly wounded.

Fortunately, his pursuer had not followed immediately, though Lu Xin could not fathom why. At least it gave him a moment to catch his breath. He looked around; he was in a medium-sized garden, complete with pond, rockery, flowers, and willows. Staggering out, he made his way into a covered corridor, intent on finding an exit—only to run straight into two maids carrying trays of pastries.

Seeing the blood on Lu Xin’s lips and collar, the two maids screamed and collapsed in terror. Lu Xin’s face darkened, but he ignored them, hurrying toward the far end of the corridor.

The mansion was vast—the exit nowhere in sight. Two minutes later, Lu Xin arrived before a great hall, where a painting hung inside: a majestic figure atop a white horse, exuding martial valor. The subject was none other than the present Emperor, Li Shimin of the Great Tang.

Lu Xin paused, realizing he must have stumbled into the home of a high official. He quickened his pace, eager to find a way out. As he turned, a voice sounded by his ear.

“Injured as you are, rushing out so recklessly—are you in such a hurry to die?”

The voice was light and unhurried, yet there was a trace of mockery beneath its calm. Lu Xin froze, his expression first darkening, then giving way to utter shock.

He knew that voice—knew it intimately. It had accompanied his entire childhood. He would never forget it as long as he lived.

“Brother!”

The youth turned and saw, standing in the corridor, a young man clad in splendid black robes. He looked no more than twenty, with sword-like brows and bright eyes, long hair cascading over his shoulders. He held an ancient book bound in blue, regarding Lu Xin with a curious gaze. But when Lu Xin cried out “Brother,” the young man’s face froze, then immediately drew tight with a frown.

“Who are you?”

“Brother, it’s really you! I’m Xin, your Xin!”

Lu Xin screamed, tears streaming uncontrollably down his face. In that instant, all his strength seemed to drain away; his knees buckled and he collapsed. Perhaps from the intensity of his emotions, he coughed up two more mouthfuls of blood, his face deathly pale. Yet he still strained his head upward, unwilling to look away from the young man.

“Xin? No, impossible—you cannot be him. Hmph, which sect sent you, occultist? Why have you come to Chang’an?”