Xia Wuyang gazed at the hazy silhouette of Qianqing Palace through the curtain of rain and whispered to himself, "Soon. It won’t be long now, Xia Shengming. Your good days are coming to an end!"
"And Prince Zhenbei’s Mansion, the Celestial Treasure Pavilion, and all you fiends lurking in the shadows... Once I have cleansed this palace of its filth, it will be time for your heads to roll. I hope you can withstand what’s coming."
He closed the window, shutting out the clamor of the thunderstorm.
The Practice Room returned to silence. Only the soft glow of a Luminous Pearl illuminated his back, which stood straight as a pine, no longer showing any hint of dejection or age.
Outside, the torrential rain seemed as if it would wash away all the world’s filth.
But the true cleansing, perhaps, had only just begun. It was far from over.
June. The peak of early summer had passed, but instead of diminishing, the heat in White Jade City intensified, growing even more scorching than before.
At noon, the bluestone slabs of the Palace Lanes were scorching hot, the rising heat warping one’s vision. Even the patrolling Imperial Guard stuck as close as they could to the thin slivers of shadow along the walls; otherwise, the heat would be unbearable.
Beneath their heavy armor, sweat had long since soaked through several layers of clothing, clinging saltily to their skin. It was a sticky, clammy feeling, and every breath they took was a gasp of hot air.
The surface of Taiye Pool reflected a blinding white light. The few remaining lotus leaves had completely curled up, blackened and scorched, sinking to the bottom of the murky water.
The cicadas still chirped themselves hoarse, as if using the last of their strength to curse the unbearable summer heat, praying for it to pass quickly.
「Qianqing Palace, within Yangxin Hall.」
The icebergs in the four corners of the hall were melting faster than usual. Palace Attendants constantly wiped away the puddles of melted water and brought in new blocks, terrified that something might go wrong.
But the oppressive heat and irritation within the hall were like a festering wound, impossible to get rid of, clinging to its master.
Emperor Xia was reclining on the Dragon Couch, which was covered with a jade mat. He wore only a single light silk robe of bright yellow, its collar half-open, revealing his faintly rising and falling chest.
His brows were tightly furrowed, his face an unhealthy shade of flushed red. Yet, there were few beads of sweat on his temples, which instead appeared somewhat dry. It was a strange sight.
He felt terrible. A bone-deep exhaustion, like an invisible spiderweb, had him firmly ensnared.
He was, after all, a Celestial Human at the peak of Super Grade Perfection. Under normal circumstances, he would never feel this way.
This exhaustion didn’t stem from physical exertion. It felt more as if some kind of energy and Vitality were silently draining away, a sensation that seemed to rise from the very depths of his soul.
When reviewing memorials, military matters that usually took him an hour to sort through now made him dizzy after just fifteen minutes, the characters blurring before his eyes.
When granting audiences to his ministers, he would listen to their long, complex reports, only for his attention to wander involuntarily. He even needed them to repeat key points just to process the information.
But what alarmed him most—and what he found most difficult to admit—was that even in the Harem, he was beginning to find himself... lacking.
The look-alikes of Consort Ji he had so carefully gathered were all young and stunningly beautiful, with seductive figures. They all bore a resemblance to Consort Ji, and some had even undergone special training, their skills and charms in bed surpassing even the late consort’s. They were enough to make any man forget his duties.
In the beginning, he could still rely on the thrill sparked by their resemblance and the faint sense of connection to forcibly regain his vigor. During their lovemaking, the slight resonance of Qi Blood—triggered by the Gu Insect and the doubles’ constitutions—had even given him the illusion that a breakthrough was within reach.
But recently, things had taken a sharp turn for the worse. It was all becoming very strange.
Faced with those enchanting, beautiful bodies, he often found himself completely devoid of interest, even feeling a sense of impatience.
Even when he forced himself, he would often go limp midway through, ending the affair hastily, unable to continue.
That familiar vigor and abundant energy, the kind belonging to a man in his prime, felt as if it had been secretly stolen by an invisible hand. All that remained was an inexpressible emptiness and a faint sense of panic. ’This shouldn’t be happening,’ he thought. ’I’m only just over a hundred years old.’
"What is wrong with me? Could it really be the toil of state affairs, an excessive drain on my Heart Spirit? Or is it the stress from all the things that have happened recently, one after another?" Emperor Xia raised a hand to rub his throbbing temples, his voice tinged with an almost imperceptible hoarseness and fatigue.
He had, of course, suspected a physical problem. But the top few Imperial Physicians from the Imperial Medical Bureau had taken his pulse in turns, and their conclusions were all largely the same: "Your Majesty is in robust health, with abundant Qi and Blood. You are merely somewhat agitated and your mind is troubled. You simply need to rest and recuperate. Be sure to avoid overexertion and excessive intimacy, and you will slowly recover."
’Rest and recuperate? Easier said than done!’
In the Northern Territory’s Iron Wall City, Zhao Rui remained as stubborn as a turtle, hiding in his shell, not moving an inch, and not daring to counterattack in the slightest.
No matter how the Northern Desert Riding Patrol cursed and provoked them outside the city walls, or how small units bypassed the defense lines to raid the rear, he simply refused to go out and fight, remaining holed up in Iron Wall City.
His reports were filled with nothing but requests for more grain and armaments, along with statements about the difficulties of defense. He never once mentioned a counterattack, nor showed any intention of launching one.
Several times, Emperor Xia had been so enraged he’d considered issuing a decree to replace him. But looking around the Imperial Court, the number of capable and daring generals could be counted on one hand. Those who could replace Zhao Rui, hold down a region, and command two hundred thousand Imperial Guards were even rarer.
No one even dared to volunteer for the position. Emperor Xia had dropped hints, but the ministers in the court all stared at their own noses, pretending they hadn’t heard a thing.
’If I dismiss Zhao Rui, who can take his place? What if his replacement is even worse?’
Down on the Southern Border, the Southern King had somewhat recovered from his injuries, but he was only maintaining the front line. He was no longer retreating, but he was also powerless to advance—or rather, unwilling to.
The miasma, venomous insects, and the elusive sneak attacks of the Barbarian Race made it nearly impossible for the army to advance. The price of every step forward was too high, and the Southern King was not willing to pay it.
To make matters worse, military supplies were still a bottomless pit. The Minister of Revenue came crying almost daily about the empty National Treasury. The special "barbarian-quelling tax" levied on Jiangnan had already stirred up considerable public resentment, yet it brought in very little.
Then there was the damnable Yixiang Building bloodbath. Prince Zhenbei’s Mansion sent people every day to press for progress, but the Divine Capture Sect and the Shadow Guard had investigated endlessly and still didn’t have a single clue. It was as if the god of slaughter had truly come from the Nine Netherworld, vanishing without a trace after the deed was done, no longer existing in the mortal realm.
The incident not only caused the Prince’s Mansion to lose all face but also made the undercurrents in the Capital City even more turbulent. Many factions were watching, waiting to see how Prince Zhenbei’s Mansion would react and whether the Imperial Court could control the situation and find the killer.
The case of the Third Prince, Xia Wuchen, being deposed was still unsolved, and now Prince Zhenbei’s Mansion had suffered this calamity. Emperor Xia was powerless to do anything about it.
One matter after another piled up like heavy boulders on Emperor Xia’s heart, leaving him breathless. He couldn’t sleep well, nor could he eat well.
’Could it really be that all these vexing matters have drained my Essence, Qi, and Spirit, leading to my current exhaustion?’
But Emperor Xia refused to believe it. He was a magnificent Celestial Human at Super Grade Perfection with a lifespan of five hundred years. He was in the prime of his life. How could he be dragged down by mere worldly affairs? ’There must be something wrong.’

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