52: Chapter 52 The Crisis of the Great Xia Dynasty and the Discussion of the Secret Realm

For a long time, he slowly raised his hand.

His fingertips pressed against the cold window lattice. In that instant, a bone-chilling cold like thousands of steel needles drilled madly into his bone joints along his fingertips—it was chilling to the core, as if even his soul were frozen.

A heavy sigh rolled out from his throat.

This sigh, wrapped in stagnant cold, slowly dissipated in the vast Golden Throne Hall, turning into a desolate echo, as if countless such late nights over the past thousand years were pressing down at this very moment:

"So it is as expected... a Mahayana Cultivator... hehe."

He chuckled twice.

The laughter contained an inescapable self-mockery and powerlessness, like broken withered leaves, fiercely crushed deep in his throat, hoarse enough to make one's heart tremble.

"My Great Xia Dynasty has been established for a thousand years—" His voice suddenly rose, then abruptly dropped, "The successive kings have worked diligently from dawn to dusk, exhausting the resources of the entire nation, yet until now, they have only managed to nurture three Nascent Soul True Monarchs to hold the fort."

He turned abruptly, his robe sleeves stirring up a cold wind, his gaze piercing the heavy night outside the hall like a knife:

"Xuantian Sect... to think they were hiding so deep!"

The old eunuch lowered his head further, almost pressing it against the cold golden bricks.

His voice was as thin as a gossamer thread, yet like an ice needle tempered in frost, it accurately and fiercely pierced into the heart of Emperor Xia Quan, which was already strained to the breaking point:

"Your Majesty, this matter... has not yet concluded."

"According to secret reports from spies, that newly advanced Mahayana Cultivator is extremely young, with the Daoist name Changsheng, and the secular name Chu Changsheng."

He paused, his Adam's apple rolling slightly:

"His first Disciple, Xuanyuan Zhanxian, although only at the Late Stage Core Formation Realm, was able to directly crush... crush the Saint of Zixiao Holy Land—Saint Son Xiao Tiance."

As the three words "Saint Son Xiao Tiance" fell, the air in the hall seemed to freeze for an instant.

"Chu Changsheng... Xuanyuan Zhanxian..."

Emperor Xia Quan repeated these two names in a low voice, over and over again.

His knuckles turned white from the force, his fingernails unconsciously picking at the peeling vermilion lacquer on the window lattice—fine wood shavings fell rustling down, just like the confidence slipping from his heart, bit by bit, unable to grasp, unable to keep.

"Such a Prodigy..." His voice suddenly choked, as if something was stuck in his throat, and it took a long while before he squeezed out the second half of the sentence, hoarse and almost broken, "Why were they not born into my Great Xia Dynasty royal family!"

He paused suddenly, a sharp light flashing in his eyes, like a blade appearing in the darkness:

"Could this Xuanyuan Zhanxian have... some connection with the Xuanyuan clan of the Great Wu Dynasty?"

"Your Majesty is wise."

The old eunuch's voice remained low, yet added a touch of unquestionable certainty.

He lifted his eyes slightly, his cloudy old eyes reflecting the candlelight, and also reflecting the Emperor's anxiety:

"Spies have confirmed that this child is indeed the legitimate eldest prince... abandoned by the Great Wu Dynasty many years ago."

The two words "abandoned" echoed softly in the vast hall.

Upon hearing this, Emperor Xia Quan closed his eyes tightly. He raised his hand and rubbed his aching brow forcefully, his fingertips icy cold while his brow was burning hot, the force of the rubbing so great it seemed as if he wanted to wrinkle his entire face:

"Sigh—these are all irrelevant!"

His voice suddenly rose, exploding with long-suppressed irritability, then dropped in an instant, turning into a weary murmur:

"The Great Wu Dynasty is a top-tier power... why would they care about us small dynasties struggling in the cracks..."

He opened his eyes suddenly.

His eyes were bloodshot, the red seemingly ready to spill from his sockets, burning enough to startle the heart.

His voice rose abruptly, wrapped in anxiety on the verge of eruption, exploding in the vast palace:

"Now, the only thing I am worried about is the Hundred Dynasties War!"

He slammed his palm heavily onto the window lattice—

"Bang!"

It shook the window paper, making it hum, and cracks spread wildly like a spiderweb; the torn window paper shivered in the night wind, looking just like the precarious national fate of the Great Xia Dynasty at this moment.

"This war was supposed to be the key for my Great Xia Dynasty to display its might, make a name for itself, and compete for resources from the upper sects! But now? Who can my Great Xia Dynasty send? And who can actually be sent!"

His voice echoed in the hall, one cry higher than the last, and one more desperate than the last:

"Other dynasties have at least one or two "Prodigies" who can be presented—what about my Great Xia Dynasty? We have been at the bottom for four consecutive Hundred Dynasties Wars! Going there is just asking for humiliation!"

His voice suddenly dropped, so low it was almost inaudible:

"But if we don't go... my Great Xia Dynasty will become the laughingstock of all dynasties, and our thousand-year national prestige... will be lost in an instant..."

The hall fell into instant silence.

Only Emperor Xia Quan's heavy breathing echoed in the vast palace.

Each rise and fall was wrapped in bone-deep despair—like a trapped beast in a cage, struggling, yet with nowhere to escape.

The sound of breathing became heavier and faster, as if trying to grasp something in this dead silence, yet grasping nothing.

After a long time.

Emperor Xia Quan seemed to have been drained of all strength. He wearily rubbed his throbbing forehead, the movement slow and heavy, each rub seeming to use up all his strength. Finally, he said in a deep voice:

"Issue an imperial decree... summon the Crown Prince and the Eldest Princess to see me immediately."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

The old eunuch bowed and acknowledged.

His figure moved along the wall like a ghost, his toes touching the ground, silent and soundless.

In the blink of an eye, he retreated from the Golden Throne Hall, leaving only the slight sound of the palace doors closing—

"Creak—"

like a sigh, dissipating into the boundless silence.

The hall returned to silence.

Emperor Xia Quan stood with his hands behind his back, his gaze looking out the window.

The sunset had long since sunk behind the western mountains, and the heavy night was like a giant curtain of ink, tightly shrouding the entire capital.

The night wind rolled the fallen leaves outside the hall, rustling, rustling, the light sound never ceasing.

But the anxiety in his heart was like this darkness that could not be dissolved—layered upon layer, pressing on his heart.

It was almost enough to suffocate him.

Crown Prince Xia Hong had mediocre Aptitude. Although he had been diligent since childhood, rising at the crow of the rooster to Cultivate, without a single day of slack, he remained trapped by a Bottleneck, unable to make any progress.

His personality lacked the decisiveness a ruler should have, and he was hesitant in the face of matters—truly unable to shoulder a heavy burden.

Eldest Princess Xia Zhiqing, on the other hand, was a naturally gifted genius at Cultivating.

At a young age, she had reached the Early Stage of Foundation Establishment and was even taken as a closed-door Disciple by the Xuantian Sect Master.

Unfortunately, being a woman, it was difficult to walk in this patriarchal court; and her personality was lively, her actions lacking a bit of stability, ultimately lacking some tempering.

To place the heavy burden of the Hundred Dynasties War, which concerned the national fate, on these two... was nothing more than—a last resort.

A last resort indeed.

Before long, slight footsteps came from outside the hall.

One heavy, one clear.

Gradually approaching.

The heavy one was the weight of the Crown Prince's court boots stepping on the golden bricks, each sound like stepping on his heart; the clear one was the crisp sound of the Eldest Princess's martial attire skirt rubbing, carrying the unique crispness of a youth.

"Your child Xia Hong (Zhiqing), pays respects to Royal Father!"

Two voices sounded at the same time.

Crown Prince Xia Hong's voice was steady, yet hid an unmaskable tension—the tail of his voice trembled slightly, like a tightened string, ready to snap with a light touch.

Eldest Princess Xia Zhiqing's voice was clear and crisp, full of heroic spirit. That voice was like an unsheathed short sword, carrying its own edge, cutting a bright streak through the heavy air.

Emperor Xia Quan turned slowly.

His gaze fell upon his two children below the steps.

Crown Prince Xia Hong was dressed in bright yellow court robes, with a jade belt around his waist, and a dignified face.

Yet, because of tension, he gripped his cuffs tightly, his knuckles turning white. His eyes hid unease, actually like a child who had done something wrong, not daring to look up directly.

Beside him, Eldest Princess Xia Zhiqing—in a fiery red martial outfit, outlining a slender yet upright figure. Her black hair was tied high into a ponytail, and the stray hair on her forehead trembled slightly with the wind.

Between her brows condensed an unyielding tenacity, her eyes bright and sharp, like a blade tempered by fire, revealing an unruly light.

This light made Emperor Xia Quan's heart tremble slightly.

"Rise."

Emperor Xia Quan waved his hand.

The fatigue in his voice was almost overflowing, and his tone softened a bit—softened as if he were afraid of startling something precious.

"The reason I summoned you... I presume you can guess."

Crown Prince Xia Hong immediately stepped forward and bowed. His tone was sonorous, yet it could not hide his lack of confidence:

"Royal Father! Your child knows you are worried about the Hundred Dynasties War!"

"Your child has been Cultivating day and night recently, without a single day of slack! If I can represent the Great Xia Dynasty in this expedition, I will definitely do my best to win glory for the Great Xia Dynasty—I will never fail the high expectations of Royal Father and the people of the whole country!"

Emperor Xia Quan looked at his tense side profile.

That side profile flickered in the candlelight, the young outline full of eagerness to prove himself.

He sighed inwardly—

This sincere intention was certainly valuable.

But the Hundred Dynasties War, a battlefield where Prodigies gathered... relying solely on determination was far from enough.

Far from enough.

He shifted his gaze and looked at Princess Xia Zhiqing. His tone softened slightly, soft as if he were afraid of startling a dancing flame:

"Zhiqing, what are your thoughts on the Hundred Dynasties War?"

Princess Xia Zhiqing raised her head and raised her eyebrows. The movement was crisp and neat, carrying the unique arrogance of a youth:

"Royal Father!"

Her voice was clear, echoing in the vast hall:

"Although the Hundred Dynasties War is a dragon's pool and a tiger's den, where one might die without a burial place if not careful—but for a Cultivator, it is also a once-in-a-millennium opportunity for tempering!"

She stepped forward, her sleeves flying like fire:

"How can the sons and daughters of my Great Xia Dynasty be afraid before the battle and let other dynasties look down on us!"

"Your daughter is willing to go with my Imperial Brother! Even if I cannot defeat the top Prodigies, I will show the backbone of the Great Xia Dynasty on the battlefield—I will never let anyone underestimate us!"

She paused.

A sly light suddenly flashed in her eyes. That light was blindingly bright, like a cluster of fire suddenly lit in the darkness.

She stepped forward, lowering her voice, but unable to hide the excitement and expectation in her tone:

"Furthermore, Royal Father—"

"My Great Xia Dynasty is not without trump cards."

"Isn't the Yanyang Secret Realm left by our Old Ancestor about to open?"

"Your child thinks it would be better to temporarily set aside the status restrictions of royal family members and give the Secret Realm spots to the truly talented and potential Cultivators in the country!"

"After they obtain the essence of the Earth Fire in the Secret Realm and make a Breakthrough in their Realm, then represent the Great Xia Dynasty in the war—"

"The chances of winning will definitely increase greatly!"

"Yanyang Secret Realm..."

Emperor Xia Quan's gaze suddenly tightened.

His fingertips unconsciously stroked the jade pendant at his waist—the warm jade texture could not suppress the shock in his heart.

This Yanyang Secret Realm was one of the greatest secrets of the Great Xia Dynasty royal family.

Deep in the Secret Realm lay the Origin of Earth Fire. The Spiritual Qi was so dense it was almost liquefied, capable of both refining the Physical Body and helping Cultivators break through a Bottleneck.

But in the Secret Realm—

not only was there high-temperature magma that could melt refined iron, but it was also occupied by countless fire-attribute Yao Beasts. A slight carelessness would result in turning into ashes, extremely dangerous.

Moreover, every time it opened, it required consuming a large amount of royal treasures. Successive kings would never use it easily unless the Dynasty was at a critical juncture of life and death.

He looked at the bright eyes before him.

In those eyes danced the youthful spirit, the unyielding stubbornness, and danced—

all the light he had lost.

Outside the window, the night was deeper.

In the hall, the candlelight flickered.

Emperor Xia Quan stood at the boundary between light and darkness, looking at his two children below the steps, silent for a long time.