118: Chapter 118 Forget the Dust, Forget the Time

The snow stopped, and the sky cleared.

Icicles had formed at some point on the magnificent eaves of the Imperial City.

The melting ice water fell drop by drop onto the swept bluestone ground.

Few people truly care about the joys and sorrows of others.

At most, they treat it as a piece of idle gossip.

The grief and chaos before the Prince Regent's Manor, which had shocked the entire capital, quietly settled as the snow melted away.

When Ye Jingjun reappeared in the Golden Luan Hall, she was as she always was, wearing her complex Prince Regent's court robes.

Her black hair was tied high, fastened with a single plain jade hairpin, with no other adornments.

Her face remained stunningly beautiful as her gaze swept across the civil and military officials standing solemnly with bowed heads below the vermilion steps.

There was no joy or sorrow, no ripples or waves in her expression.

"The Emperor has ascended to the heavens on a dragon; the mountains and rivers mourn together."

"However, a country cannot be without a ruler for a single day, and the people cannot be without support for a single day."

"From this day forward, the old system is abolished, and the 'Cabinet of Pivotal Secrets' is established."

"Government decrees shall be discussed collectively by the cabinet ministers and must be co-signed by officials of the fifth rank and above before they can be implemented."

"The military tally shall be divided into three, held separately by the three Pillar State Generals."

"Unless foreign enemies knock at the gates or internal rebellion breaks out, they shall not be unified."

She issued decree after decree, streamlining the bureaucracy, dividing powers and responsibilities, and establishing oversight.

She skillfully dismantled the supreme power of the Emperor, weaving it into a giant web that was both mutually balancing and highly efficient.

This system was complex and precise, clearly not the work of a single day.

Rather, it was the result of deep consideration and repeated simulations during her three years as Regent.

Or perhaps, in even earlier times.

During those nights on military campaigns.

When that man in the green robe explained it to her personally.

This series of blueprints had already been etched into her heart.

The court officials were either stunned, enlightened, or secretly calculating, but no one dared to speak up and question her.

Upon the high platform, the majesty radiating from that figure in black robes was more oppressive than any imperial authority.

It was the deterrent of the purest blood, fire, and power against them.

With all matters settled, Ye Jingjun slowly stood up.

"From now on, I shall enter secluded cultivation. Unless the state is on the verge of collapse, I am not to be disturbed."

She used the word 'Wu' for 'I' instead of 'Zhen' (the imperial 'We').

This already made it clear that she had no intention of ascending the throne as Empress.

Her gaze finally swept across the vast sky outside the hall.

There seemed to be a lingering shadow of someone in green robes departing on a sword.

"This vast land, I will look after it for you."

"The peaceful world you desired, I will guard it for you."

"Until... that 'reunion' you promised."

She turned, her black robes trailing on the floor.

She disappeared into the long shadows behind the hall.

She never looked back.

From then on, the Great Ning's new system operated smoothly, and all activities returned to the right track.

Because everyone knew.

That terrifying existence known as the 'Crimson Phoenix Sword Immortal' was still guarding the deep palace.

No one dared to act recklessly.

And the Prince Regent's Manor became a true forbidden zone.

Shrouded in layers of formations and mist year-round, ordinary people dared not approach.

Only occasionally, deep in the night when the moonlight was at its peak, could those who were observant catch a faint glimpse.

A faint red spectral figure sat quietly atop the palace.

Across her lap lay a longsword covered in cracks.

...

Meanwhile, thousands of miles away at the seaside.

The first snow of Donglai Prefecture fell gently and lingeringly.

Fine flakes of snow fluttered about.

Outlining the fishing port, the houses, and the distant mountains like a pale ink-wash scroll.

An azure figure appeared on the path leading out of the city.

It was Cang Mingyue.

She stopped and looked back at the prefecture city, where cooking smoke curled up and vitality had been restored.

Then, she raised her hand and slowly unfastened her hair.

She let her azure hair pour down.

The long dress she wore had already been taken off and folded neatly.

What she had shed was not just a piece of clothing.

But a past, an identity.

A mortal tie.

In its place was a moon-white Daoist robe without any patterns.

It had wide sleeves and was made of ordinary fabric.

She used an equally plain white wooden hairpin to loosely tie up her hair, no longer wearing any jewels.

Then, she turned to face the mist-shrouded Mount Penglai.

Ever since Su Chen had gone on a killing spree here, no one had set foot in this place again.

The mountain path was covered in snow, with no sign of human presence.

She lifted her bare feet.

Those feet she had once bitterly pleaded for just to see him.

She gently stepped onto the first snow-covered stone step.

Step by step.

She left a trail of shallow footprints in the snow.

Heading straight forward, deep into the mountain hills.

She did not use any spiritual power, walking only with her purest physical body.

The hem of her Daoist robe swept across the snow, becoming wet and heavy.

She seemed not to notice, only looking up toward the summit.

The snow fell silently, and the mountains and rivers were quiet.

That solitary moon-white figure on the vast snowy mountain path was as small as a mustard seed.

Later, news came from the mountain.

Cang Mingyue, who had ascended the mountain that day, had founded a sect on the original site of Penglai.

The new sect was named 'Forget Dust'.

Many speculated that it meant 'forgetting the mortal dust'.

But some elderly people living in Donglai Prefecture who were familiar with Cang Mingyue...

...only shook their heads.

Leaving only a sigh.

The sect was wide open, teaching all without discrimination.

Whether human or demon, as long as they had a heart for the Dao, they could enter the sect.

She personally preached the law, taught and resolved doubts, and enlightened living beings, passing down without reservation the divine techniques and cultivation methods she had gained from Su Chen's guidance and her own hard cultivation.

The number of disciples grew daily, and the name of 'Wangchen Temple' gradually rose.

It became a sacred land of Daoist methods in the hearts of cultivators in Donglai and even the entire eastern coastal region.

However, the position of her true legacy disciple always remained vacant.

No matter how extraordinary the aptitude or how resilient the character of the seekers who knelt before the hall and pleaded bitterly.

She only sat quietly with lowered eyes, gently shaking her head.

"My path is solitary and cold, untainted by mortal ties."

This was her only explanation, leaving no room for negotiation.

She seemed to pour all her passion and effort into inheriting the Daoist tradition and maintaining the new order of this world.

She was only stingy about forming any more connections with any individual.

Later, after the generation of commoners who had witnessed Su Chen's uprising gradually passed away.

Cang Mingyue herself handed over the management of the temple to the first generation of disciples she had trained.

As for herself.

She cast off her burdens and became a leisurely Grand Elder.

The disciples of Wangchen Temple announced to the outside world that Cang Mingyue had entered a death seclusion within the sect to break through to that ethereal realm.

Until more than ten years later.

In the dead of night, when the moonlight filled the sea.

Disciples on night patrol or fishermen returning late would occasionally catch a glimpse.

Atop the highest, most treacherous reef by the sea stood a blurred white figure.

She faced the northwest.

Which was the direction of the capital.

She was motionless.

As if she had already merged with the dark reef beneath her feet, the eternal chanting of the tides in her ears, and the ancient rotation of the stars and moon in the sky.

Into one.

The sea breeze howled, blowing her thin robes and making her long hair flutter.

She just watched.

Watching that azure blue that was even deeper than her eyes.

Letting the starlight illuminate her beautiful profile.

Spring went and autumn came; winter departed and summer arrived.

The figure on the reef was never absent.

Night after night.

Year after year.