Guide to the Rebirth of the Evil Woman in the Immortal Realm - Chapter 37

Over thirty thousand years ago, Taiyin.

Li Kunling closed her eyes slightly, clearly feeling the momentary pressure as the imperial crown was placed upon her head. None of this felt real. Through the twelve swaying strings of jade beads, she gazed at her reflection in the bronze mirror. The imperial crown made her look even younger and more fragile, lacking all the gravity her Imperial Mother possessed when she wore it.

This was the Taiyin Women’s Altar, where the grand coronation ceremony was being prepared. Li Kunling stood up and paced through the empty hall. She had dismissed all her servants, trying to clear her mind, but fear still coiled around her heart.

When Imperial Mother ascended the throne, did her heart also flicker with such terror?

If the one living were my sister instead of me, would it be better for the Si Dynasty, for the people of Taiyin?

The bronze mirror reflected Li Kunling’s sad and bewildered face. The auspicious hour was approaching, yet she had never truly stood upon the highest point of the Women’s Altar.

In the past, her Imperial Mother had brought her and her sister here once. At that time, the Crown Prince had already been decided. Li Kunling never thought of competing with her sister; in her memories, she only remembered clutching her sister’s finger, letting her sister lift her up so that her five-year-old self could see the white jade steps and totems beneath the altar.

Back then, it was just an ordinary day.

Li Kunling thought of her sister’s flushed face just before she died. That time, it was her sister who gripped her hand tightly. Her sister had no strength left to speak and could only stare at her, as if trying to memorize her face forever.

When her Imperial Mother passed away, her face was pale, as if all the blood had been drained from her. Li Kunling had never seen a face as white as snow. She reached out, letting her mother seize her left hand, just as her sister had done. Her mother turned her head to gaze at her, her voice weak. She said, “Kunling, remember, you must be worthy of your ministers and your people.”

Kneeling by the bed, Li Kunling’s tears had run dry. She had not yet grown up enough to repay her mother’s kindness, nor had she become worthy of her mother, yet the heavy weight of the entire Taiyin Kingdom was already being pressed onto her shoulders.

As she stood dazed, the hall doors—which should have been heavily guarded by palace servants—were suddenly pushed open.

Into this palace beneath the Women’s Altar, someone stepped inside. Li Kunling saw the reflection in the mirror: a person wearing intricate, magnificent jade-colored robes with a sword at her waist. The soon-to-be Emperor thought it was an assassin and stood up hurriedly, only to see a face she had never met, yet with an aura that felt vaguely familiar.

She struggled to calm herself and asked coldly, “Who are you?”

The person being questioned was also momentarily stunned.

The brow that carried an air of slaughter suddenly relaxed. The visitor seemed finally to see her face clearly and offered a slight smile in her direction, like a spring breeze among willows. “My name is Wu Zhen, and yours?”

Li Kunling gazed at Wu Zhen, and Wu Zhen looked back. The two stood in the hall, and after Wu Zhen spoke, neither made a sound.

Having not returned to the mortal world for a long time, let alone Taiyin, everything here was both strange and familiar to her. The scene of her own ascension to immortality was still vivid in her mind; the Emperor of that time had been dead for ten million years, long since a handful of yellow dust. The sea comes and goes, the yellow sands shift, but the sea itself does not change. Taiyin remained just as harmonious and inclusive.

Wu Zhen saw the imperial crown on the head of the person before her and her youthful face; this was clearly a boyish young Emperor.

Li Kunling, having regained her senses, was utterly speechless. She stared at Wu Zhen in a daze, her legs nearly giving way as she almost sank back into her chair.

This stature, this aura, these robes, this sword…

Four words flashed through her mind: War God Wu Zhen.

In all of Taiyin, and indeed the whole world, who did not know the legend of the War God Wu Zhen? Legend said she was born a mortal of Taiyin, traveled abroad in her youth, possessed extraordinary talent, and ascended early as a Sword Immortal. During her time as an immortal, she saved the mortal world from much suffering. Later, she ascended again to become the number one War God of the Three Realms.

Almost all citizens of Taiyin took pride in Wu Zhen. When people spoke of the Taiyin Kingdom, they first knew of the surging Taiyin Daughter River, and then of the War God Wu Zhen who saved the world from fire and water.

Li Kunling saw her standing in the hall against the light, looking every bit as majestic as the statues in the shrines—even more beautiful than the finest works of any craftsman. Suddenly unsure what to say, she simply bowed to pay her respects.

Wu Zhen caught her and lifted her up, not making much of it. She had only come down today to clear her head and hadn’t expected to run into this Emperor. Outside, a large entourage of palace servants waited, likely for some sacrifice or ceremony. So she asked casually, “It is so lively today; what day is it?”

At the mention of this, Li Kunling felt a bit bashful.

“Today is my coronation ceremony,” Li Kunling said. “The auspicious hour is almost here. I—”

Wu Zhen stood quietly listening, only to hear Li Kunling’s voice suddenly drop. “I am sorry.”

What is there to be sorry for? Wu Zhen followed her gaze to her own shrine placed in the hall and raised an eyebrow in surprise.

Li Kunling only looked at the statue of the War God. On one side was the suddenly manifested War God; on the other was the weight of Taiyin she was about to take onto her shoulders. she lowered her hands and said softly, “I am afraid I will fail the expectations of my Imperial Mother and my sister. I am afraid I cannot carry the burden of Taiyin.”

Looking at her fearful eyes, Wu Zhen thought of her former self.

She unfastened the sword from her waist. This was not her natal sword, but a gift given collectively by the Great Gods of the Divine Realm for her birthday in the past. Wu Zhen tossed the sword casually to Li Kunling. Seeing her catch it with trembling hands, looking terrified of breaking it, Wu Zhen couldn’t help but laugh again.

“I’m giving it to you,” Wu Zhen said, her lips curving, her tone clear. “If you are truly afraid, then take this sword.”

Li Kunling was stunned. She still had the heart of a youth, and the War God’s sword made her chest feel burning hot. She struggled to control her excitement and asked tentatively, “…The War God gifting me a sword—does it mean that Heaven’s Mandate is with me?”

“No,” Wu Zhen ruthlessly shattered Li Kunling’s fantasy. “It’s just something I had on hand.”

The soon-to-be Emperor immediately fell silent, a bit embarrassed. She lowered her head, her fingers touching the legendary War God’s sword. While she was still dazed, she heard Wu Zhen continue, “Where the sword is, I am. Take this sword and go cut down all the injustices in Taiyin.”

She nodded blankly. Just then, a servant knocked on the door from outside, calling out, “Your Majesty, the auspicious hour has arrived.”

Those words were like a blade cutting through day and night, jolting Li Kunling awake. She looked up and around, but Wu Zhen’s shadow was gone. Only the long sword in her hand, still carrying the deity’s warmth, glowed with a faint light.

Wu Zhen had concealed her form. She rested her chin in her hand, watching the young Taiyin Emperor straighten her robes and push open the hall doors. She was still young, perhaps as fragile as a sapling, but at the moment she pushed open the doors, the Li Kunling who had been fearful and grieving just a moment ago suddenly steeled her gaze. Emulating her mother and sister, she took a step out of the hall.

She was the new sovereign of Taiyin.

It was not until the shouts of the officials kneeling outside the altar reached her that Wu Zhen finally walked out of the hall. Li Kunling, standing at the highest position, was indeed holding that sword. Seeing this, Wu Zhen smiled, feeling that the sword was a fitting gift. Beyond that, she didn’t feel much sentiment.

She had lived too many years and seen too many things; very few people could stir ripples in the heart of this long-reigning War God. She simply stood silently in a place where the people of Taiyin could not see her, looked up at the sky for a while, and turned to leave.

Perhaps we will meet again if fate allows, she thought.

But they never met again.

Mortals and gods are separated by an unbridgeable celestial rift.

Wu Zhen wandered through Taiyin for a while and then returned to the Divine Realm.

The moment she crossed that invisible line, everything behind her aged at a speed the eye could not catch. From the youthful Emperor to an old woman, then to withered bones and yellow dust—it all happened in the blink of Wu Zhen’s eye.

Because they would never meet again, Wu Zhen—who returned to the Divine Realm to handle the mountain of tasks that gave her a headache—would never know that in the mortal Taiyin, separated by layers of the Milky Way, there was once an Emperor she had met only once. An Emperor who had carried that sword and lain down lonely in the imperial tombs of the Si Dynasty.

In a place Wu Zhen could not see and did not remember, Li Kunling served as an excellent Emperor.

She certainly had no great faults, nor did she have great achievements, but during her twenty-six years on the throne, the people of Taiyin lived and worked in peace. There were no heavy taxes, and they did not need to work like slaves to build lavish palaces for her. Taiyin’s history was too long; Li Kunling was just one ordinary Emperor among countless others. Had she ever felt unwilling? Perhaps.

But the War God’s sword that accompanied her throughout her life until she entered the earth was Li Kunling’s greatest solace and her strongest pillar.

It was not romance, nor was it friendship.

At the end of the mural depicting the life of Emperor Piao Jing, the craftsmen wrote this according to her wishes:

“It was just that the sword was too heavy. I could not bear to fail their trust, so I had no choice but to carry the entire Taiyin on my shoulders with that sword. In my twenty-six years on the throne, I did not dare to relax or stop for a single moment.”

As Ji Ting finished reading the last line of the mural, the group fell into silence.

Chu Huaizhuang said she wanted to take rubbings of the text on the mural, and Chu Huailing and Shen Sha were helping her. Shen Fuxin was never a warm-hearted person, so she continued to focus on the murals on her own. After a while, she suddenly noticed that Ji Ting, who had been right beside her, was gone.

She initially wanted to go look for her but stopped herself, looking back at the three mortals she was left with.

Forget it, Shen Fuxin turned back. Ji Ting can go wherever she wants. What does it have to do with me?

I definitely won’t go looking for her.

Ji Ting stood in the dim silence, separated from them by a single wall.

She raised her hand, and a cluster of spiritual fire floated within this burial chamber where the coffin was placed, lighting up the ten thousand years of cold loneliness. The coffin was right in the center of the chamber. Several buckets filled with gold, silver, and jewels were also placed in the room; the spiritual fire made these items glitter, as if trying to distract grave robbers.

Ji Ting did not bother with those things. Instead, she pushed open the coffin containing the remains of Emperor Piao Jing.

The coffin was made a bit too large, or perhaps the remains had diminished so much over time that not many bones were left; the inside was somewhat empty. Ji Ting could only see a few scattered bones and a long sword beside them that still looked brand new.

She did not rush to take it. Instead, she softly said “I’m sorry” to the long-dead Li Kunling.

“The name I told you back then was actually not my real name,” Ji Ting said. “I should have told you. In the Divine Realm, I am Wu Zhen, but in Taiyin, my name is Ji Ting.”

The jade-clad immortal picked up the sword from beside Emperor Piao Jing.

In an instant, the remaining body of Emperor Piao Jing disintegrated into a handful of fine dust. Ji Ting turned to leave, sealing the door of the burial chamber completely.

“They were all wrong. You were a very good Emperor.”