77: Chapter 77 The Situation is Difficult

"It is no legend."

Xia Mingxiu's voice was very soft, yet like the lingering echo of an ancient bell, it reverberated leisurely throughout the silent hall.

His gaze was as deep as two ancient wells sunken in the darkness; the candlelight danced in his eyes, yet it could not illuminate the layer of deep-seated gravity—as if it could pierce through the swirling mist of candlelight before him, reaching the end of three hundred years of time, to see those figures sleeping deep within the Imperial Mausoleum.

"They have guarded the depths of the Imperial Mausoleum for generations. They do not involve themselves in court disputes, nor do they touch the worldly smoke and fire."

He paused, his voice sinking a few degrees, "Their Cultivate is unfathomable—so deep that even the royal records only dare to mention them in a few sparse strokes, not daring to elaborate, not daring to speak recklessly."

The candlelight flickered, casting flickering shadows across his aged face.

"Moreover, this group only recognizes this order, not the person."

He raised his eyes, his gaze like lightning: "Even if Emperor Xia Quan holds military power and possesses overwhelming influence—without this bronze token, he cannot move them in the slightest."

The subject shifted abruptly!

This transition came suddenly, like a thunderclap exploding on a calm lake, making even the air tremble.

His tone suddenly turned grave, his voice heavy and stifled, as if being crushed by invisible pressure, unable to breathe: "The forces behind Xuanyuan Zhanxian are indeed terrifying—a moment of carelessness would invite disaster, this is beyond doubt. But the most fatal thing right now is Crown Prince Xia Hong's stupidity in inviting a wolf into the house!"

He pressed a palm onto the desk!

With a muffled "bang", even the solid wood desk seemed as if it would bear the imprint of his hand.

His knuckles turned white from the force, a white tinged with blue, and blue tinged with trembling: "In order to seize power, he actually went so far as to let those sinister beings from the Dark Abyss into Great Xia! This is digging up the Foundation of Great Xia with his own hands, it is digging his own grave, it is—courting, certain, death!"

Those four words, enunciated one by one, were like four heavy hammers striking Princess Xia Zhiqing's heart.

Xia Mingxiu took a deep breath, suppressing the surging anger in his chest.

When he spoke again, his voice had returned to calm, but beneath this calm was a bottomless gravity, the final struggle after being driven into a corner: "After you obtain the token, you must immediately set out for the Imperial Mausoleum to contact the Dragon Cavalry."

He looked straight into Princess Xia Zhiqing's eyes, every word heavy with significance: "On one hand, have them secretly deploy defenses, building a line of defense at the border to block the infiltration of the Dark Abyss—never let those things that feed on human blood and Cultivate evil arts take root in the heartland of Great Xia and harm my Great Xia citizens."

He paused: "On the other hand, you must strictly follow the will of 'those people' and safely escort Xuanyuan Zhanxian and his companions to Great Wu."

His voice sank, heavy like a stone falling into an abyss: "Remember—never let the forces behind him vent their anger on Great Xia. Otherwise..."

He did not finish.

But the unsaid words were heavier than those spoken.

Princess Xia Zhiqing understood.

Otherwise, Great Xia's three-hundred-year Foundation would be reduced to ashes in an instant.

Otherwise, this precarious Dynasty would have no tomorrow.

She gripped the bronze token tighter.

The cold metal edge dug into her palm, causing pain—but the sensation was like a dose of sobriety, forcibly suppressing the panic in her heart, allowing her to regain some composure from the raging waves.

She took a deep breath.

Her chest felt as if it were stuffed with heavy lead, every breath carrying pressure, as if walking while carrying a heavy burden.

Although there was still a slight tremor in her voice, it was exceptionally firm, like an undercurrent beneath freezing ice, invisible yet surging: "Old Ancestor, I know what to do."

Xia Mingxiu gazed at her.

The dim candlelight fell on her slightly pale face, dispelling the lingering panic in her eyes little by little.

As the candlelight danced and light and shadow shifted, a look completely inconsistent with her age of seventeen or eighteen appeared on this young face—determination.

It was a kind of resilience, knowing the path ahead was full of thorns and traps, yet still gritting one's teeth to bear it, refusing to take a single step back.

It was the courage to keep moving forward despite knowing it might mean total destruction.

It was a fierce resolve, bursting forth after being pushed to the brink, to perish together with the enemy.

Looking at her like this, a trace of bitterness suddenly welled up in his heart.

That bitterness surged from the depths of his chest, choking his throat, unable to dissolve, unable to swallow.

He knew better than anyone—behind this determination that surpassed her age was the weight of a mountain that she had to bear.

It was the helplessness and tragedy of a princess who should have been enjoying protection, yet had to forcibly uphold the safety of the entire Dynasty.

It was a seventeen-year-old girl who had to bear the weight of a three-hundred-year Legacy.

"Good child."

He spoke, his voice so hoarse it didn't sound like his own.

This hoarseness held an imperceptible pity, as if polished by sandpaper, every word heavy and trembling: "But you must remember—this journey to the Imperial Mausoleum is a hundred times more dangerous than the open spears and hidden arrows in the court."

He paused, his gaze locking onto her tightly, as if he wanted to carve the following words into her heart and blood with his eyes: "Although the Dragon Cavalry recognizes the token, three hundred years have passed, and human hearts are no longer as pure as they were back then."

Every word was like iron: "They might still be loyal to Great Xia—or they might have already harbored ulterior motives in the shadows. They might even have been bought with heavy bribes by Emperor Xia Quan or people from the Dark Abyss, just waiting for you to walk into the trap, so they can take your head and trade it for their glory and wealth."

He saw Princess Xia Zhiqing's pupils slightly contract, but she did not flinch.

"And there is Xuanyuan Zhanxian—"

When he mentioned this name, his tone held an indescribable complexity.

There was apprehension, helplessness, and a trace of... anticipation?

"He is a massive variable. Dealing with him is like walking on thin ice, with a bottomless abyss beneath one's feet. A moment of carelessness, and it will be the end of everything."

"Then how should this Junior respond?" Princess Xia Zhiqing asked hurriedly.

She leaned forward, her eyes full of earnestness—that earnestness was like the gaze of a drowning person clutching the last straw, burning, anxious, with a desperate determination.

At this moment, she had shed the arrogance of a princess.

She was no longer the high-and-mighty royal noble, no longer the Eldest Princess who handled court affairs with ease.

She was just a Junior seeking guidance in a desperate situation, a child with nowhere to turn, a lost soul groping in the dark, longing to see a glimmer of light.

Xia Mingxiu looked at her.

Looking at the earnestness in her eyes, at her tightened jaw, at her hands gripping the token until her knuckles turned white.

Then, he spoke.

His voice was very soft—as light as a falling leaf, as light as a sigh, as light as if he were afraid of disturbing something.

But that voice landed on Princess Xia Zhiqing's heart like a giant stone hitting a deep pool, stirring up raging waves!

"When necessary, you may show weakness to the enemy. Put down your princess's status, there is no need to hold on stubbornly."

He paused— "Even... promise them heavy rewards."

Princess Xia Zhiqing shuddered!

The shock exploded from the bottom of her heart, spreading along her Bloodline, instantly permeating her entire body.

Her fingertips turned icy, as cold as gripping a piece of thousand-year ice, as cold as falling into the depths of an ice cellar.

How could she not understand?

Behind "promising heavy rewards"—it could mean the bowing of personal dignity, the head she had never lowered in seventeen years.

It could mean the massive sacrifice of the royal family's hundred-year accumulation of interests, handing over the precious treasures and grain resources of the Great Xia national treasury to others.

It could even mean using her own life as a gamble—risking being backlashed by the other party at any moment, ending up in a state of total destruction.

Xia Mingxiu's voice continued, as if coming from very, very far away, every word crystal clear, every word as if carved into her heart: "Whether it is the precious treasures treasured by the royal family, the high positions of power that can command a region, or the grain resources of the Great Xia national treasury—as long as it can stabilize him, as long as it can 'invite' him out of the borders of Great Xia, any price can be paid for the time being."

Any price.

These two words, heavy as a thousand jun.

Princess Xia Zhiqing did not flinch.

She just tightened her jaw further—the lines were sharp like a blade, as if wanting to cut through this heavy night.

Her lips were pressed into a firm arc, pressed until they turned white, pressed until not a trace of blood color could be seen.

The determination in her eyes deepened a few degrees, like cold stars quenched in ice, bursting with a cold, biting light in the darkness.

She nodded heavily.

The movement was slight, but as heavy as a mountain.

Her voice was clear and powerful, carrying unquestionable determination, carrying a sense of tragic heroism: "This Junior understands. Personal honor and disgrace, temporary gains and losses, are all insignificant in the face of Great Xia's safety."

She paused, enunciating every word: "Everything, prioritize preserving Great Xia."

Xia Mingxiu looked at her.

Looking at this girl of only seventeen, looking at the determination in her eyes, looking at her tensed shoulders and back, looking at her hands gripping the token until her knuckles turned white.

He wanted to say something.

His lips moved, but in the end, he said nothing.

He just waved his hand.

The movement was very slow, very light, but carried an endless weariness, an unspeakable vicissitudes of life.

He turned around and looked again at the ancient book opened on the desk—the book was yellowed, its edges worn, traces left by three hundred years of time.

His back was even more hunched than before.

His shoulders slightly collapsed, his spine no longer straight, as if something important had been drained from him.

It was as if in these few short moments, he had aged another ten years.

The candlelight shone on the white hair at his temples, casting fragmented shadows on the yellowed pages—the shadows swayed, like fragments of time, like sighs of the past.

"Go."

His voice came from behind, hoarse, deep, carrying the weight of the years: "The road to the Imperial Mausoleum is not just a path to contact the Dragon Cavalry, but the beginning of your trial. Whether you can protect Great Xia, whether you can survive this crisis—"

He paused: "It all depends on you."

Princess Xia Zhiqing said no more.

She carefully tucked the bronze token into her bosom—into the position closest to her heart.

There, she could clearly feel the coldness of the token, as cold as the ten-thousand-year cold jade in the depths of the Imperial Mausoleum; she could also feel her own scorching heartbeat, thumping, thumping, thumping, like war drums, like bugles, like an order to march.

Between the cold and the hot.

It was the responsibility and mission she, as the Eldest Princess of Great Xia, had to bear.

She bowed deeply to Xia Mingxiu's back.

The bow was deep, very deep—so deep that her waist bent to ninety degrees, so deep that the hem of her moon-white palace dress spread out on the floor like a white lotus on a pilgrimage.

So deep that she could see her falling tears, hitting the gold bricks, staining a small dark patch.

Then, she stood up.

She turned around and strode away.

The hem of her moon-white palace dress swept out a sharp arc as she turned—this arc was sharp as a blade, decisive as breaking one's wrist, like a piece of snow falling resolutely, white and firm, disappearing in an instant behind the heavy palace door.

Leaving only the "creak" of the palace door closing.

The sound echoed in the empty hall, one, two, three, with a touch of desolation, a touch of bleakness, like an unspeakable sigh, locked into this heavy night.

Only the flickering candlelight remained in the hall.

Shining on the old man's lonely back, it made the yellowed ancient book on the desk look even more profound.

The blurry totems on the pages, the faded characters, the secrets forgotten by time, all were quietly telling something in this dim light.

As if hiding countless unspoken worries.

As if hiding countless secrets of the past.

The night deepened.

A cool breeze blew past the ancient pagoda trees by the palace path, dropping a few withered yellow leaves that spun on the ground.

The spin was light, slow, like a vortex of time, swirling everything in, then spitting it out.

Unknowingly, Princess Xia Zhiqing had walked to the outside of the Bamboo Garden where Chu Changsheng resided.

She stopped.

Inside the Bamboo Garden, bamboo shadows danced—the moonlight filtered through the bamboo leaves, weaving mottled light and shadow on the ground, deep and shallow, bright and dark, like the tangled worries in her heart at this moment.

Through the gaps in the bamboo leaves, she could vaguely see the swaying silhouette on the window paper, that figure elegant and upright, appearing exceptionally calm in the candlelight.

She stood outside the garden gate.

Hesitating.

Pacing.

The moonlight fell on her, stretching her shadow very, very long, casting it on the bluestone slab, lonely.

Her fingertips unconsciously gripped the corner of her clothes, gripping and loosening, loosening and gripping, fine wrinkles already forming on the hem.

She did not know—seeing Chu Changsheng now, how should she speak of her predicament?

In what guise should she face this unfathomable Grand Elder of the Xuantian Sect?

How could she hide the panic and anxiety in her heart before those eyes that seemed capable of seeing through everything?

Just as she was hesitating—a voice suddenly sounded in her ear.

The voice was clear as a spring, gentle yet carrying an unquestionable penetrating power, like a clear spring flowing over a stone stream, dispelling some of the hesitation in her heart; like moonlight piercing through clouds, illuminating the small plot of land beneath her feet: "Come in!"

Princess Xia Zhiqing paused slightly.

The clear, moist bamboo fragrance in the Bamboo Garden came with the evening breeze—it was the coolness soaked by moonlight, mixed with the unique sweetness of bamboo leaves, and also carrying a hint of tea fragrance.

Like a pair of gentle hands, it lightly brushed away some of the heaviness accumulated in her heart; like a silent comfort, it smoothed out the panic in her eyes.

She took a deep breath.

She raised her hand, her fingertips gently pushing the half-open bamboo door.

"Creak—"

A light sound, exceptionally clear in the silent night.

The sound was very light, yet it was like pushing open the door to another world.

Looking up—Chu Changsheng was sitting by the stone table in the courtyard.

Moonlight like silver gauze spilled onto him, outlining his elegant and upright silhouette.

He was dressed in a white robe whiter than snow, his sleeves fluttering gently in the night breeze, like an Immortal under the moon, unstained by worldly dust.

In his hand, he held a plain white teapot, leisurely pouring tea into two white porcelain cups—the movement was calm and unhurried, like flowing clouds and water, as if all the disturbances in this world had nothing to do with him.

The tea soup poured into the cup, causing fine ripples.

The billowing hot steam rose, blurring his calm face, yet adding a touch of warmth and an indescribable warmth to that coldness.

"Grand Elder Chu."

Princess Xia Zhiqing bowed respectfully.

There was still a hint of urgency in her voice that had not been completely suppressed—the sense of urgency brought from the Old Ancestor's hall was like a thin string, still taut in her heart.

Chu Changsheng raised his hand to signal her to sit.

The movement was very light, very faint, yet carried an unrefusable composure.

His long, slender fingers pinched the edge of the cup, gently pushing the filled hot tea in front of her—the tea soup was clear and bright, reflecting the moonlight, reflecting her slightly pale face.

The tea soup rippled with fine ripples in the cup.

The hot steam carried the tea fragrance, it was the best Snow-Capped Hancui, with a hint of faint sweetness in its crispness.

"Disturbed mind, restless breath." Chu Changsheng spoke, his voice calm and waveless, his gaze falling on her face, "Even the fingertips hanging by your side are trembling."

He paused, his gaze deepening a few degrees, like a bright mirror that could see through the human heart, seeing through all the panic hidden in her eyes, illuminating it so it had nowhere to hide: "Have you encountered difficulties?"