My Journey to Immortality Begins with Hunting-Chapter 643- Sudden Upheaval, Upward Gaze, Golden Tents - Part 1

Chapter 643- Sudden Upheaval, Upward Gaze, Golden Tents - Part 1

"The empty soul remains undeluded; all principles reside within, and from them arise the myriad things. There is no principle beyond the mind, no matter outside the heart."

"Neither good nor evil lies in the heart’s essence; good and evil emerge with the stirring of intention. To recognize good and evil is innate knowledge. To act on that recognition is to refine the world."

"The body may emerge from darkness, but the heart shines with light. Only when knowledge and action are united can one live without regret."

The morning echoed with bright, harmonious voices of children reading aloud. Their recitations rang through the early hours with vitality and vigor.

This was the Myriad Lineages Academy, seated at the heart of Central Capital, the imperial capital.

The academy’s grand halls stood row upon row, a picture of order and purpose. Each palace contained numerous study rooms, packed close like cells in a hive.

Children clutching annotated handbooks roamed the courtyards between buildings, diligently reciting The Heart Chapter of the Ink School by Song Yehuang. They longed to one day reach the realm he spoke of, where one planted a jade seed in the heart.

It was December, yet strangely warm. The sun shone bright, the breeze was mild, and golden sunlight cast a radiant glow over the children’s eager faces.

Young men and women strode down the Divine Bird Avenue, which ran through the very center of the imperial capital. They carried themselves with poise and confidence.

The boys were proud and upright; the girls met their gazes without flinching. Now and then, they would pass one another in the street, exchanging bold glances, not shying away.

The bustling streets of the capital were decked in festive lanterns and ribbons.

Boats packed the river, ferrying merchants and revelers alike. Traders and travelers, freight and festivities. The scene played out like a celestial river woven into the fabric of the city.

The Eastern and Western marketplaces were just as lively.

Goods from the north and south flowed in from every direction. Suddenly, the sound of children laughing erupted from one corner of the square.

“Look! Barbarians! Barbarians from the West!”

“They have red eyes!”

“They don’t eat people...right?”

Their excited voices rippled outward in waves.

These were merchant caravans from the West. The so-called barbarians had crossed Sword Mountain Pass, bringing strange mountain goods no local had ever seen. Many nobles, who had heard whispers of the fabled Western Extremes and its arcane past, would casually hand over a few coins to buy these curiosities.

A new age had arrived. Even the air felt fresher.

And the flame and aqua of the Nine Flames Tribe? Gone without a trace.

Yet for ordinary people, or even common martial artists, it changed nothing.

Most had never even heard of the flame and aqua. And if they had, they likely dismissed it as some storyteller’s fanciful tale, cooked up to draw a crowd.

But as for the Son of Heaven, Ying An, he knew.

He understood the consequences of the Great Upheaval of Heaven and Earth that was to come. And so, he had done something brutal, yet undeniably farsighted.

Before the transformation unfolded, while he still had loyal and powerful retainers at his side, he lured the last generation of Nine Flames Tribe into the capital. And when the final ninth rank meat field vanished, he poisoned every last one of them, even the children.

Were those people of the Nine Flame Tribe guilty?

No. Not at all.

But within their bodies burned remnants of an apocalyptic flame.

And that was their original sin.

They were born as seeds of calamity.

Ying An was ruthless, unflinchingly so.

But because of his ruthless foresight, the tribesmen now arriving in the capital were merely strong men. No longer did they possess the innate power of a sixth rank that once made them so feared.

Ying An was no tyrant. But in an age when the old world was crumbling and the new had yet to rise, there were simply too many who had to die.

And so, he killed many, many people.

With so many deaths, it was inevitable that some would be mistakes.

Yet those who weren't mistakes, those who perhaps even deserved it, were now buried beneath the peace their deaths had helped build.

But for Ying An, those faces didn’t vanish with time. They lingered like wraiths, whispering curses in the silence, never letting him forget.

Overwhelmed by the weight of governance and burdened by unshakable guilt, Ying An fell ill with a chill that went bone-deep.

His head burned, his limbs were weak, and in a daze of fever, he urgently summoned aides to ask about the location of the Deathless Tomb.

But the only answer he received was a vague rumor. The Deathless Tomb had vanished.

The Emperor was stunned. Panicked, he ordered a search for his mother’s expedition, the one led by Sheng’er. That team had been handpicked to enter the tomb; if anyone could find it, it would be them. And if he could find them, he could find the tomb.

And if he could find the Deathless Tomb, he could live.

For all that Ying An was mortal, he was still Emperor. The thought of eternal life was not foreign to him. As long as he knew the tomb existed, he hadn’t worried much.

But now? The Deathless Tomb had disappeared?

He went mad with effort, sending agents in every direction to trace the trail of that expedition. Yet it was as if they had never existed. No trace remained, no message returned, as though they’d been swallowed by the world itself. 𝓯𝙧𝙚𝒆𝙬𝙚𝒃𝙣𝙤𝒗𝓮𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

In desperation, he turned his attention to his aunt.

She had always been kind to him, gentle and approachable. She’d talk with him, even let him unburden his heart when the weight of the throne grew too heavy.

And he had done right by her. He had backed her faction, allowed the Divine Crow to be venerated in many regions, and even named the main boulevard of the capital Divine Bird Avenue.

His hope was simple, that she might one day take him with her into the tomb.

And she had promised him. When his body began to fail, she said, she would come and lead him into the Deathless Tomb.

To him, that time had come.

But now she too had vanished. No matter how hard he searched, she was nowhere to be found. It was just like the report about the missing tomb, confusing, impossible.

How could the Deathless Tomb disappear?

Hadn’t they been worshiping it faithfully for years?

Weren’t there still people going in and out?

Hadn’t he sent chefs and dessert-makers to offer tribute?

Ying An’s panic gave way to fury. His fever worsened. Weighed down by exhaustion, he coughed violently. A surge of blood burst from his lips, splattering across the carved window lattice like a spray of blooming red plum blossoms.

His vision blurred, golden stars dancing before his eyes. A high-pitched ringing filled his ears. He collapsed onto the windowsill of the palace’s inner chamber, barely clinging to life.

Through the haze, the Emperor caught a glimpse of the outside world, clear skies blanketing the earth, every rooftop and treetop wrapped in a golden cloak of winter light.

Another wave of coughing wracked his body, as if his very organs might spill out. He forced his head up. And there, in the vast heavens above, the clouds churned like a rolling sea.

Among them drifted a lone, pale cloud, shaped like a distant sailboat.

It drifted farther and farther away, until it finally vanished into the ocean of clouds.

Darkness overtook the Emperor’s sight.

Moments later, far in the distance, a palace maid’s scream pierced the air: “Get the imperial physician! Hurry!”