Chapter 1 The Rising Tide

Above the Bohai Sea, the wind and clouds stirred, gradually gathering into a storm.

At this moment, Zhao Guan’jia, under the octagonal well pavilion of the Great Dragon Palace Temple, paused slightly. He continued to eat his milk cake while gazing out at the distant sea.

Soon, the wind whipped up waves, and the clouds lowered rain. A storm raged over the sea. Standing in the pavilion, Zhao Jiu could see the surrounding fishing boats hurrying back to the island. However, before they reached the shore, towering waves and torrential rain fell, causing concern.

Yet, anyone with a bit of sense knew that worry was just worry. No one could decide the safety or direction of the fishing boats. It was like the past, or rather, the soon-to-end great tide of the era, where countless people rose and fell with the times, unable to control their own fate.

However, the war was over, a new era was about to begin, and some things would finally settle.

The sea and mountains remained unchanged for thousands of years, the traces of Emperor Qin, Duke Wei, and Emperor Tang were still visible. But the rise and fall of nations, the changes of eras, some things seemed unchanged, yet were already completely different.

As he pondered, the great waves rose, looking like mountains... The island was naturally high above sea level, and although the Great Dragon Palace Temple was at the foot of the southeastern mountains, the famous octagonal well was in a lower position because it needed water. Therefore, this place did not seem safe, but rather exposed to the wind and waves.

Zhao Guan’jia stood by the octagonal well, and the speed at which he ate his milk cake gradually slowed until it stopped.

It was said that Zhao Jiu had the intention of visiting ‘Jieshi’ on the way to Chrysanthemum Island, thinking of the poem ‘A Changed World’. He felt that he had reversed the overall situation of the Song-Jin war, and after ten years of hard work, he had achieved some success, so he could not restrain himself.

However, he passed Jieshi Mountain, ascended Qin Huang Island, and observed the Jieshi in the sea, but he remained silent.

The reason was self-evident. It was early summer to midsummer, and the sun was shining brightly. The sea and mountains were calm and clear. Where could the ‘desolate autumn wind of today’ come from? Where could the ‘heavy rain falling on You and Yan’ come from?

Moreover, Zhao Jiu had not yet received the news of the deaths of Qin Hui and his wife, Wanyan Woben, Wanyan Hela, and Wanyan Xiyin. He was still somewhat unsure about completely ending the war, and he did have some timidity.

Adding the two together, he ultimately remained silent.

But then again, today, only ten days or so before autumn, the Jin Dynasty had been completely ‘destroyed’, the Jurchens subdued, Goryeo and Mongolia were in awe, the northern frontier was swept clean, and a new order had begun to fall. His mood and the situation were naturally different.

Even, as the wind and clouds rose just now, and the white waves roiled, he almost saw the exact same scene as in that poem, and was guided to some completely connected moods.

At this moment, in this scene, Zhao Jiu really wanted to hold up his milk cake and sigh, "A changed world!"

However, even though the words were about to burst out of his mouth, he still did not say them. It was as if there was still a film in his heart, lacking that little bit of peace and naturalness.

"Guan’jia."

Liu Yan certainly did not know about the storm in Zhao Guan’jia's heart. He only saw that the wind and waves were getting bigger and bigger, and the rain was getting heavier and heavier. According to his duty, he stepped forward to break the excitement. "The humidity here is too high. It's better to go back to the courtyard on the high ground to rest... Even for enjoying the scenery, the view is better there."

"No need," Zhao Jiu shook his head dismissively. He simply placed the plate on the stone tablet next to the octagonal well, dusted his hands, and turned to look at his two confidants. "Actually, I just got a wonderful poem."

Speaking of this, Liu Yan naturally stopped speaking. Lu Benzhong immediately cupped his hands in welcome... When it came to poetry, he was full of confidence... In the end, what was professionalism?

"Guan’jia's poems must be wonderful." No matter what, first offer a compliment.

"Just an occasional inspiration." Zhao Jiu shook his head with a smile, his hands clasped behind his back. In the distance, the wind and waves were already rolling, and the rain and fog were connected to the sky. "But today's occasional inspiration is indeed wonderful... Poetry is about three things: first, the person and the event. An emperor writing about great events has some advantage; second, rhetoric and allusions. If the writing is appropriate and can evoke memories, it's even better; third, whether predecessors have similar ideas or similar words. If it's original, that's another level."

"Guan’jia is absolutely right." Lu Benzhong himself was a master of poetry, and he understood immediately upon hearing this, even without being prompted, he had his own set of theories. "It's like that Zhao Liang Gongzi's poem this morning, revealing his ambition and reaching two levels, but because his identity was ridiculous and his purpose was ridiculous, the poem seemed shorter. But if Guan’jia recites it himself, at this time when Yan and Yun have returned and the Northern Expedition has been a great victory, it would be several levels higher. I think Guan’jia's 'wonderful' thoughts are timely, appropriate, and in line with the person and the situation, with literary talent and allusions, and a lofty intention."

"Not bad."

Zhao Jiu had no shame on his face.

Lu Benzhong thought for a moment, then became too lazy to continue building the atmosphere and directly cupped his hands, "I venture to hear Guan’jia's 'wonderful' poem."

"Ju Ren (Lu Benzhong's courtesy name)."

Zhao Jiu looked at the heavy rain and rushing waves outside the pavilion, but instead of reciting that poem, he suddenly returned to the original matter. "After this treaty, how long do you think the northern frontier will be at peace?"

"Naturally, for thousands of generations," Lu Benzhong replied casually, but soon, having been away from this Guan’jia for almost a year, he recalled the other's personality and then laughed self-deprecatingly. "I'm not joking... Three or five hundred years should be possible, right?"

"Still joking," Zhao Jiu replied with a smile. "At most two or three hundred years, actually one or two hundred years is difficult."

Lu Benzhong was not stupid and immediately realized what the other was referring to, but just as he was about to offer comfort, Liu Yan could not help but interject again, "If so, why doesn't Guan’jia pacify the northern frontier once and for all?"

"Where does one-and-done come from? If that were the case, I'm afraid there would only be fifty years of stability at most."

Lu Benzhong was not afraid of the King of Liaoyang, who had just been abolished with a word, but soon, as Zhao Jiu's gaze swept over, the young master Lu honestly smiled bitterly at Liu Yan. "This is not what I said, but what my father said when I passed through Tokyo on this trip... After my father received a letter from Xu Xiang Gong (Xu Jingheng) from the southeast, he discussed it with Zhao Xiang Gong in person. It seems that the three of them have the same meaning. If the northern frontier is forced, it will inevitably exhaust the country's energy, which is not worth it... Guan’jia's current restraint is the most appropriate."

Liu Yan immediately fell silent... Not to mention him, even if Han Shizhong and Yue Fei came together, they would not be qualified to criticize Zhao Guan’jia and several Xiang Gong's political consensus.

Moreover, they really couldn't say anything about money, food, and logistics.

On the other side, Zhao Jiu listened to the sound of rain that was almost integrated with the sound of the waves, and laughed again, "Actually, we can't underestimate ourselves like this... Having it is better than not having it, and doing it is more decent than talking... This move of mine is not just for the stability of one dynasty. If it is properly operated, and some things are deeply rooted in people's hearts, even if there is a change of dynasty in a hundred or two hundred years, I think the northern frontier will still have some restraint, right?"

Lu Benzhong wanted to flatter him on the topic of national fortune, but he already understood this Guan’jia's character and didn't know where to start, so he could only respond vaguely.

It was still Liu Yan, who was temporarily unable to accept it. "What Guan’jia and Lu Neizhi said before, is it referring to our dynasty's national fortune? So much hard work, only two or three hundred years?"

"That's already a lot," Zhao Jiu said frankly. "Now the court's tone is consistent. Before, they only compared me to Guangwu, but later they boasted a little more and compared me to Emperor Taizong of Tang... But even Guangwu's Later Han Dynasty lasted less than two hundred years, and Emperor Taizong's Tang Dynasty lasted only two hundred seventy or eighty years... Even if this dynasty is re-established, it is not qualified to surpass them, not to mention the hundred years of chronic illness in the south."

"But countries like Goryeo have been around for more than two hundred years..." Liu Yan was still somewhat unable to accept it. "And there is no sign of self-destruction."

"Goryeo may last another two hundred years," Zhao Jiu said dismissively. "Small country with few people, isolated in a corner, just serve the neighboring big countries well... Unlike the Great Song, it's too big."

Liu Yan had, after all, passed the Imperial Examination and understood in his heart. It was just that when everything was settled and he heard Zhao Guan’jia and those Xiang Gongs unanimously say these things, he couldn't help but feel a little sad and unable to accept it.

"Guan’jia."

Liu Yan looked bitter. "Is there really no universal rule or law in the world that can be continued forever?"

"Of course there is."

Zhao Jiu looked at this confidant, still not taking it to heart. "If we look at the continuity of China, from the Three Dynasties onwards, Xia, Shang, Zhou, Qin, Han, the Three Kingdoms, the Two Jins, the Northern and Southern Dynasties, Sui, Tang, the Five Dynasties to the present, it has been three or four thousand years... As for Zhao Song... who knows if another Feng Heng Yu Da son will come along as soon as I close my eyes?"

Liu Yan was speechless for a moment, and Lu Benzhong was even more preoccupied and dared not say much.

"As for a family, a dynasty, wanting to continue for a long time, it's not like there's no way to go," Zhao Jiu continued, seemingly to comfort the other party. "But first, it depends on whether the original learning can flourish, second, it depends on whether future generations can be pragmatic, and third, it also depends on some luck... But in the end, it has nothing to do with you and me. You and I have done such things, and although they will turn to dust in a few decades, they can then influence the rise and fall of the great trend for a hundred years. That's already worthy of this heaven and earth, mountains and seas, above, below, left, and right... Why think so much?"

"Guan’jia is absolutely right. I was being stubborn," Liu Yan quickly cupped his hands.

Zhao Jiu nodded slightly and looked at another silent close minister in the howling waves, "Ju Ren, what are you thinking about? Do you think I'm joking about the original learning?"

"No, no," Lu Benzhong quickly waved his hand. "If these principles of heaven and earth are useless, then what's the point of those ancient sages living? I was thinking about something else..."

"Thinking about Feng Heng Yu Da?"

Zhao Jiu sneered for a moment. "Or my poem?"

"Of course it's Guan’jia's poem," Lu Benzhong replied earnestly.

"That poem is indeed wonderful, but I'm still missing something, and I always feel guilty," Zhao Jiu didn't bother to argue, but clasped his hands behind his back and looked at the sea. "Therefore, even if it's just so that I can recite this poem with peace of mind, I have to do something..."

Lu Benzhong's face grew paler.

The northern frontier was cleared for thousands of miles, but the sea was stormy, forcing Zhao Guan’jia to stay at sea for a while. At the same time, the Central Plains region where Tokyo City was located had been clear and cloudless for several days.

The first day of the sixth lunar month was peaceful.

In the early morning, the gates of Tokyo City opened early. Livestock and vegetables still entered through the Nanxun Gate, and bulk goods still arrived along the Bian River early in the morning. The entire city gradually awakened in the water vapor and sunlight.

Obviously, while maintaining the usual stability and noise, the city faintly had a burgeoning attitude.

Undoubtedly, this was the result of the great victory in the north and the destruction of the Jin Dynasty. The country was stable, and people were looking forward to the future, which was natural.

In fact, it had been several months since they learned of the great victory in the north. Over the months, many details of the war had been transmitted. The people of Bianjing had gone from initial doubts to gradual acceptance and shock, and now, they had somewhat declined. Although the various bizarre details of the northern war continued, the content of the Dibao (official gazette) was also detailed, and the topics on the streets were always inseparable from the north, the heat had gradually subsided.

Officials were considering the political intentions of Guan’jia and the political threat of Yanjing, while ordinary people needed three meals a day and firewood, rice, oil, salt, sauce, vinegar, and tea.

However, at the same time, perhaps because they had not participated after all, had not witnessed it with their own eyes, and because the shadow of ten years ago was still there, the entire city still had a kind of unrestrained, thorough, and unburdened posture... Therefore, they couldn't help but talk and discuss.

This was a seemingly contradictory, but actually natural situation.

Xin Cao Gate was theoretically the eastern gate of Tokyo City. Entering from Xin Cao Gate and going west, one would pass along the southern wall of the palace city, next to XuanDe Tower, and finally leave from the Wansheng Gate in the west.

However, because bulk goods all went through the Bian River, officials and livestock generally went through the Nanxun Gate, and there was also Yichun Garden, which had been newly converted into a racetrack outside the Chaoyang Gate to the south. The palace's expenses also never increased, so Xin Cao Gate, or the Cao Gate of the inner city, was more like a vassal of the commercial district of Ma Xing Street in the inner city.

Nowadays, those who walked here every day were mostly ‘drivers’ from the villages east of the city. They had their own fields and were farmers, but they did not delay in pushing their carts into the city early every day during the slack season, receiving small flags, and then delivering takeaways in Ma Xing Street... This was one thing that the east of the city was better than the west.

"What happened ahead? Ma Pang, go and ask."

Fan Lou’s fourth shopkeeper, Zhao Luo Bu, was certainly not a takeaway delivery man, but his family also lived outside the east gate, so he routinely got up early every day to collect some fresh vegetables, fish, and eggs in the east of the city, specially for Fan Lou... There wasn't much stuff, but it was fresh. He used the drivers who delivered takeaways in Fan Lou to transport it on the way, which could save some spare money. Today was of course no exception, but at this time, he rode a mule to Xin Cao Gate, but was shocked to find that this road seemed to be blocked today.

Ma Pang was a Fan Lou takeaway driver and also a younger neighbor of Zhao Luo Bu. Hearing this, he naturally immediately stepped forward to inquire, and after a moment, he hurried back and told the reason:

"Zhao Shu... The gate is open, but there's a caltrop barricade, with a notice posted on it, and the gatekeepers are shouting that there are military affairs at Xin Cao Gate today, which will not be open before noon, and we have to detour..."

"Military affairs my ass!"

Zhao Luo Bu was exasperated. "Saying to detour when we get here... The world is at peace, and the Jurchen emperor has fled from Yanjing and died, so where did the military affairs come from? Could the Jurchens have come again from tens of thousands of miles away?"

Ma Pang and the Fan Lou drivers just didn't speak.

Zhao Luo Bu finished scolding, looked back at his own convoy behind him, and was also helpless. He carefully counted out a hundred coins from his arms and gave them to Ma Pang, "Isn't your family member a squad leader here? Go and ask... Just say that the restaurant is waiting to start cooking and also has to supply the Xiang Gongs. There are so many people. If we really detour to Chaoyang Gate, it will delay us for more than half an hour."

Ma Pang nodded repeatedly and immediately stepped forward to take the money, but when he turned around, he couldn't help but curl his lips, secretly feeling that this Uncle Luo Bu was too stingy... What use was a hundred coins for such a serious matter?

Still using that set from the Feng Heng Yu Da era?

Sure enough, Ma Pang took the hundred coins and went around the city, just asked his family member and then directly ran back with the coins in his arms without revealing a single one.

"Let Zhao Shu know... As soon as the money was taken out, the gatekeeper found out. He said that Fan Lou was nothing before the military affairs! The fourth shopkeeper was nothing! The money was directly gone, and I was kicked for nothing... Just let us enter from Chaoyang Gate to the south. One moment late is one moment delayed. It's just right that Fan Lou doesn't have any dishes at noon!"

Zhao Luo Bu, riding on the mule, had an uncertain expression on his face, obviously afraid of delaying things and unwilling to give up the hundred coins. After a long time, he gritted his teeth and said, "Couldn't you have pocketed the money? A hundred coins don't even allow acquaintances to enter the gate? There was no such thing during the Xuanhe years!"

Ma Pang just shook his head and smiled bitterly, causing the other drivers and coolies to laugh together.

The people from Fan Lou gave face, and the people from other restaurants didn't even bother to give face, directly mocking, "Uncle Luo Bu, it's the Jianyan Emperor in power now, who hates things from the Xuanhe years the most... Why don't you talk about when you were planting turnips in the east of the city twenty years ago? Back then, Grand Commandant Gao still bought your turnips!"

Zhao Luo Bu was even more embarrassed and even more distressed, but ultimately helpless, he ordered the convoy to turn to Chaoyang Gate.

But at this time, the Fan Lou shopkeeper sitting on the mule just turned around and was surprised to find that as the morning mist dissipated, a cloud of dust was already billowing on the road to the east, as if a large army was coming.

This made him panic, having experienced the Jingkang escape and then returning. He immediately made up his mind:

"Go, go, just go to Chaoyang Gate, don't clash with the army."

The crowd started, but after a few steps, someone in Xin Cao Gate suddenly shouted on the city gate tower, "People from Ma Xing Street, going to Chaoyang Gate at this time is really impossible... Zhang Shilang has ordered to open the caltrop barricade and let the drivers going to Ma Xing Street rush in first!"

Shopkeeper Zhao was confused and naturally didn't want to detour again, but the front was congested, and the army was approaching from behind, so he couldn't help but panic. He could only shout repeatedly, telling the Fan Lou carts to follow him closely and not to leave the team without authorization.

The distant army was approaching, and as it approached the solid avenue in front of the gate, the dust gradually became difficult to rise. One could see the size of the army and the strength of the army.

Shopkeeper Zhao, who was used to being afraid of the army, became more and more flustered. He just squeezed forward desperately, finally rushing into Xin Cao Gate before the army arrived. Then he breathed a sigh of relief and directly turned back to scold:

"Don't be greedy to look at the army, knock the eggs, drop the turnips, we'll walk along the street... walk slowly, look while walking... both..."

The coolies and drivers were about to respond when they found that Zhao Luo Bu had suddenly stopped in place and was staring at the archway of Xin Cao Gate with his mouth agape.

"It's, it's the Jurchens..."

Zhao Luo Bu stared at the archway of the city gate, his face pale, his teeth chattering, and he said an incredible sentence.

Ma Pang and the others looked back together and saw the appearance of the soldiers in the middle of the column coming from behind the archway of the city gate: some people were wearing leather hats in the middle of summer, some people didn't have hats but had typical pigtails with shaved heads like money and rat tails... either a single tail, or two tails on both sides... This was a typical Jurchen hairstyle.

In addition, many people were still wearing tattered leather armor, holding messy flags, carrying bows on their backs, and carrying empty quivers.

But no matter what, there was no doubt that these were Jurchens.

In fact, not only Zhao Luo Bu and Ma Pang, the entire Xin Cao Gate suddenly fell into a comprehensive, strange silence.

Most people didn't know what had happened, and a few smart people, including the insiders on the city gate tower, were also strangely silent with the people.

"It's the Jurchens! The Jurchens are attacking again!"

In the silence, Zhao Luo Bu suddenly shouted loudly, and then urged the mule under his crotch to run madly forward along the street.

It was just past morning, the street was wide, but there were not many people. The mule actually did not trample anyone as it carried its owner into the city.

A group of drivers and coolies were all young people, and they only looked at the direction in which Zhao Luo Bu fled madly, but more turned back to look behind them... There, more and more Jurchens were pouring out of the archway of the city gate, but on both sides of the Jurchens were several columns of Imperial Guard soldiers, all wearing armor and holding sharp weapons, seriously supervising and accompanying them.

The scene was unmistakable. These were prisoners of war - the Imperial Guard soldiers were escorting prisoners of war.

According to the Dibao, the number of prisoners of war accumulated in the Battle of Huolu was 70,000 to 80,000, including no less than 40,000 so-called genuine Tatars such as Jurchens, Bohai people, and Khitans. It was likely that tens of thousands of Jurchen genuine Tatar prisoners would be paraded through the streets.

"Shopkeeper Han."

Just when most people stopped to look at the archway, Ma Pang touched the string of one hundred coins in his arms, sighed on the spot, and turned to a familiar shopkeeper from another restaurant. "Please lend me a mule. I'll go after Uncle Luo Bu, so as to prevent something from happening... I'll feed it good fodder in the afternoon and send it to you."

"Okay..."

"Ride my mule, my mule is strong."

Just as Shopkeeper Han responded, a slightly fat shopkeeper took the lead in getting off the mule and handed the reins to Ma Pang. "Speak carefully... Don't laugh at him, he experienced the Jingkang escape, his family was destroyed... We older people are actually afraid in our hearts... I almost wanted to run just now too."

Ma Pang replied, got on the mule, and went to chase after him.

Starting from the morning, as always, throughout the morning, the noise in Tokyo City grew louder and louder. According to common sense, this noise would reach its peak before noon and then fluctuate. But today, the noise in the city seemed to have no end, but instead, it was surging and rising, like a huge wave, with no end in sight.

And everyone gradually knew - because of the siege ten years ago, Guan’jia had specially ordered the Prince of Jingsai, Yang Yizhong, to return south in advance, gather prisoners of war, and collect spoils to be paraded through the streets as a show of force.

It was just that it might rain tomorrow, so it was made in advance out of necessity.

Turning to the present, starting from Xin Cao Gate in the east of the city, tens of thousands of Jurchen, Khitan, and Bohai prisoners, under the close guard of no fewer than their numbers of Imperial Guard soldiers, holding their dilapidated flags, wearing leather armor still covered in mud, carrying bows without strings, and wearing scabbards without blades, and carrying quivers without arrows, then walked with their heads down through the most central east-west street in Tokyo City.

At first, the reaction of the people in the city to this team was no different from the scene inside the city gate. A few were panicked, hysterical, but more were silent, worried, and fearful.

But as more and more prisoners entered the city, and more and more information was clearly transmitted, the people along the way gradually began to cheer, began to shout, began to give up their daily work preparations, like their own children, climbing buildings, going to the streets, shouting loudly, and spreading the word everywhere.

Before reaching the inner city, some people had already begun to try to rush into the team, trying to tear and beat the prisoners, but they were stopped by the soldiers on both sides - Guan’jia had ordered that after today, these prisoners of war would be handed over to the Western Liao.

At the same time, the prisoners of war also went from being numb at first to becoming fearful, trembling, panicked, and terrified.

They never thought that one day, they would be afraid of these unarmed people.

When the prisoner team entered the inner city, more and more people rushed to Yujie (Imperial Street) upon hearing the news, and the scene became even more chaotic and agitated. The Imperial Guard soldiers could hardly stop them, and even conflicts occurred between the people and the soldiers in groups.

But soon, with a command from the Prince of Jingsai, who was in charge of the ceremony, the soldiers regained order and respect... They began to take out the gold, silver, bronze, and iron tokens that had been prepared, representing the enemy officers, and raised them high to both sides of the street every few people.

At the same time, the prisoners were required to throw down their flags, scabbards, quivers, and bow backs along the street, and even had to take off their ragged leather armor and suffocating leather hats, going out of the west gate naked.

This caused the entire scene to fall into a frenzied cheer.

On both sides of the street, all the building signs and corridor roofs were occupied. This was not only to occupy a good view of the prisoners, but also to facilitate throwing stones and sundries at the bare-chested Jurchen prisoners over the soldiers on both sides.

And when the team arrived at the Xuande Tower facing Yujie, the high ground on both sides of the street had been almost completely occupied. At this time, someone suddenly began to try to throw money... No one knew why, maybe there were no more sundries, so they threw money, or maybe it was just some wealthy people giving money to the soldiers holding the signs as a ‘reward’, according to the habit of the soldiers performing during the Feng Heng Yu Da years... But none of this mattered, because soon, things spiraled out of control with everyone scrambling to throw everything around them at the Imperial Guard soldiers.

Coins, hairpins, jewelry, silk, headscarves, and even radishes and live chickens, ducks, and livestock... Even the zhuangyuan (top scholar) outside Donghua Gate might not be so glamorous.

In the deafening tide, Ma Pang found Zhao Luo Bu. At that time, the latter had just thrown his saddle off his mule, and then, with nothing, he was sitting on the ground behind the crowd, full of messes, leaning on the mule without a saddle, crying and laughing like a madman.

But when Ma Pang slowly walked over and sat down with him, Zhao Luo Bu stopped laughing and just hugged this acquaintance and wept bitterly, crying earth-shatteringly, crying non-stop, crying as if heavy rain was falling, soaking the entire Central Plains.

In the late summer of Jianyan ten years, Zhao Jiu, who was completely unaware of these scenes in Tokyo, began to return south after personally sending off a group including Yue Fei, Zhao Liangbi, Jin Fushi, Heibule, Tuoli, Yeluyu Du, Minamoto no Yoshitomo, and Taira no Kiyomori.

Along the way, he passed through Yanjing, greeted Lu Yihao, who was completely unable to get out of bed, and then, at the other's request, appointed Hu Yin as the governor of Yanjing, and led Han Shizhong and other senior civil and military officials south on his own.

In late July, Zhao Guan’jia crossed the Yellow River and arrived in Shaoxing.

Immediately, before the Xiang Gongs in Tokyo could come to greet him, an edict was issued, requiring the civil and military officials in Tokyo, together with the civil and military officials in the Xingzai (temporary capital), and all the dignitaries in the surrounding area who could make it, to go with him to pay homage to the Taoist Ancestor's main court in Bozhou.

And finally, on another autumn day full of rustling autumn wind, under the warm setting sun, Zhao Jiu returned to the Mingdao Palace, which he had avoided for the past ten years.

ps: The next chapter will be posted on Thursday... Good night.