Chapter 921: The Yan Emperor's Choice!

“A... tumor growing inside his brain?”

Zheng Fan raised a hand and pointed at his own forehead.

For a moment, even the Prince found that answer difficult to accept, much less digest.

“Yes, Master. There is absolutely no mistake.” The Blind Man sounded certain. “It was very clear. Very obvious. The Emperor also said he sometimes suffers unexplained nosebleeds. And while I was playing Go with him, I deliberately introduced a slight mental resonance. His mind immediately began to drift and blur. That means the Emperor himself very likely has a problem affecting his mind. Of course, I don’t mean ‘mental illness’ in the ordinary sense. But it is, in another sense, a mental disorder. All of these can be explained by a tumor forming inside the brain and putting pressure on it.”

“Can it be treated?” Zheng Fan asked.

“Master should first ask whether it’s benign or malignant.”

“Then which is it?”

“This subordinate does not know.”

“...”

“This subordinate is not a physician. And...” The Blind Man tapped his own temple. “Even in later generations, only a very small number of top specialists in the appropriate field would be qualified to determine exactly what is happening here.”

“If it’s malignant, does that mean his life has basically entered a countdown?”

“Yes, Master.”

Some illnesses had existed since ancient times.

The reason later generations often felt certain diseases had not existed in antiquity was simple: in later times, an old person who fell ill went to a hospital instead of wrapping himself in a quilt and enduring it at home. Even that habit had only become widespread within the past few decades.

Besides, average lifespans in the present age were not high. Many people died long before they had the privilege of developing certain so-called diseases of affluence.

“What if it’s benign?” Zheng Fan asked. “I vaguely remember that if you remove it early, the problem usually isn’t too serious, right?”

“Yes.”

The Blind Man gave a definite answer, then added:

“But Master... that means opening the skull.”

Zheng Fan narrowed his eyes.

Even in a later age with highly developed medicine, brain surgery was extraordinarily difficult.

Let alone now.

“Can it be done?” Zheng Fan asked tentatively.

“Yes.”

Once again, the Blind Man answered without hesitation.

“This subordinate can probe with mental power and establish a Mind Link with Third Master. Third Master can wield the knife. Siniang can handle suturing and reconstruction. Liang Cheng and A’Ming can create a sterile environment. So yes. It can be done.”

“If it can be done... good.”

Zheng Fan let out a breath.

“But Master, the success rate is probably only this high.”

The Blind Man raised one hand.

Five fingers.

“Fifty-fifty.”

Half chance of success.

Half chance of failure.

Then the Blind Man added:

“But in truth, it’s really just zero and one.”

Either it succeeds and he lives.

Or it fails and he dies.

There were, of course, other possible complications. But when something went wrong inside the brain... perhaps death would be cleaner than living in a state worse than death.

“Fifty percent.”

Zheng Fan fell into thought.

“There is another problem Master seems to have overlooked,” the Blind Man said.

“What problem?”

“The patient is the Emperor.”

The Blind Man drew in a breath.

“First, how do we persuade the Emperor to accept a craniotomy? To people of this age, opening someone’s skull is about as plausible as flying on a sword. And the even more important problem is...”

The Blind Man spread both hands helplessly.

“If the Emperor dies during surgery here in eastern Jin... what sort of consequences do you think that would create?”

...

“Come, let Us hold the Heir Prince of our Great Yan’s Prince Pingxi Residence.”

When guests visited a household, the children of the family were often the best “dish” for entertaining them.

Unfortunately, Zheng Lin’s temperament was nowhere near as lovable as Big Girl’s.

That was not merely what outsiders thought.

Even his biological father believed it.

So even while being held by the Emperor, Zheng Lin displayed enormous resistance. His legs began kicking instinctively as he tried to wriggle free.

He disliked the Emperor’s aura.

After sitting upon a throne for long enough, even the most easygoing person would naturally acquire the presence of someone who ruled over the Nine Provinces.

And Ji Old Sixth had never been a creature content to remain in a pond even when he was still merely an imperial Prince.

Zheng Lin disliked nothing more than this sort of “authority.”

“This child really is strong,” the Emperor said with a laugh.

Siniang and the Princess Consort of Prince Fu stood nearby.

Had Zheng Lin’s own mother not been present, there was no possibility the Emperor’s current physique could have held the boy still.

“Your Majesty,” Wei Zhonghe said, “there are fluctuations of blood qi coming from His Highness the Heir Prince.”

Wei Zhonghe had noticed the detail.

At first, he assumed the child carried some precious protective artifact and that the fluctuations came from the object.

But after examining him more closely, Wei Zhonghe was shocked to discover that the blood-qi response came from the child himself.

Eunuch Wei immediately lost his composure.

There was an old saying among the people: with your tiny bit of cultivation, unless you began training inside your mother’s womb, you’re hardly worth looking at.

Well.

Today he had actually met someone who truly had begun training inside the womb.

“Blood qi?” The Emperor did not immediately understand what Wei Zhonghe meant. He asked with a smile, “Could our Heir Prince be a spirit child as well?”

“Yes.”

Wei Zhonghe answered directly.

“Though I fear even an ordinary spirit child could not compare with His Highness the Heir Prince’s natural endowment.”

“Oh?”

This time, the Emperor was genuinely shocked.

He suddenly remembered how Zheng Fan had looked earlier when the Emperor asked why he had never mentioned his daughter was a spirit child.

That utterly calm, indifferent expression...

The Emperor had assumed the bastard surnamed Zheng was showing off.

Well.

He still believed Zheng was showing off.

But the man truly had the capital to do it.

One son.

One daughter.

Both spirit children.

The Zheng family’s ancestral graves were not giving off green smoke.

They were on fire.

“We must go ask that surnamed Zheng...” the Emperor began.

“Ask me what? I’m here.”

The Prince walked inside.

“I want to ask where your Zheng family’s ancestral graves are. I’m considering moving my Ji imperial mausoleums there.”

Whenever the Emperor spoke with Prince Pingxi, he was almost always this unrestrained.

“You’ve got me there. I genuinely don’t know.”

After entering, Zheng Fan deliberately let his gaze rest on the Emperor’s head a little longer.

Brain.

Tumor.

Inside there?

Ji Old Sixth... your life really hasn’t been easy.

You finally endured until your father died, finally got through the bitterness and reached the sweetness... and now this.

Wei Zhonghe had assumed the Emperor would ask Prince Pingxi about his dragon body.

But the Emperor merely chatted about household matters.

He did not ask.

Prince Pingxi did not mention it either.

As a servant, Wei Zhonghe dared not overstep his place.

He could only stand nearby in proper silence.

“That surnamed Zheng, you truly have successors now,” the Emperor said. Envy was obvious in his tone. “Once this son and daughter of yours grow up, they’ll be extraordinary.”

If a jianghu family produced one spirit child, that alone could guarantee hope for the sect’s next generation.

If a powerful noble household produced one, then so long as the child did not grow crooked, being made Marquis or Chancellor would almost become the baseline expectation, with room to hope for even more.

As for imperial houses... the Xiong Clan and Ji Clan had both produced spirit children in their histories.

The Xiong Clan had produced two.

Both had surpassed their brothers and inherited the throne.

The Ji Clan had produced one.

He had not inherited the throne, but had once commanded Great Yan’s armies in war against the Barbarians and ultimately died wrapped in horsehide.

People like that... were Heaven’s favored children from birth.

Born into an ordinary household, they might be buried by circumstance and waste part of their gifts.

Born into a great house... they were flawless uncut jade delivered directly into the hands of a master carver.

At that, the Prince merely smiled indifferently.

He said as though it were nothing:

“What’s so great about it? They eat too damned much.”

...

The Emperor had come to Prince Pingxi Residence as a guest.

But he had not come merely to stay for a few days.

After spending three days in the Residence, the Son of Heaven’s procession set out once more, departing through Fengxin City’s eastern gate and traveling northeast.

Its destination:

Snow Sea Pass.

Prince Pingxi accompanied the imperial carriage.

More than that, once the Eastern Inspection resumed, Fengxin City provided an extraordinarily complete set of imperial ceremonial equipment.

Everything required for the Son of Heaven’s travels had been arranged and implemented.

One could call it proof of the Residence’s respect for the Emperor.

Even so...

Wei Zhonghe, as Chief Eunuch of the inner palace, found the entire thing faintly uncomfortable.

Some things could not simply be produced in two or three days.

Many of the objects used by the Imperial Guards for ceremonial processions in Yanjing had been preserved and handed down through generations inside the palace.

They were practically ancestral treasures.

But here... everything was already prepared.

You are a princely Residence.

Why did you prepare imperial-use objects ahead of time?

Wei Zhonghe could guess the answer.

He could imagine the answer.

But the same old rule still applied.

He could only keep smiling.

The essence of the world had always been a warm-looking veil draped over something dripping with blood.

Throughout history, most men whose households were exterminated after forbidden treasonous objects were discovered had not genuinely intended to rebel.

The ones who truly intended rebellion—and possessed the ability to carry it out—were rarely exposed that way.

Back when Li Liangting helped the late Emperor put on the dragon robe, his movements had been remarkably practiced.

The late Emperor had laughed and asked why he was so familiar with the process.

Li Liangting answered:

“Our family made one before. I wore it around for fun.”

The late Emperor had roared with laughter.

Wei Zhonghe had witnessed that scene personally.

So if Prince Pingxi Residence had privately prepared a few imperial accoutrements... it was not high treason.

It was a hobby.

The Crown Prince remained in Prince Pingxi Residence to finish the final portion of his lessons.

The Empress was left there with him.

Only the Son of Heaven and Prince Pingxi continued east.

Along the road, Prince Pingxi fulfilled the duties of a host, explaining the local customs and the battles that had once been fought across these lands.

The Emperor listened seriously.

Whenever they passed an old battlefield, he stopped and erected an altar to pay respects.

Stopping and starting... the imperial procession finally reached Snow Sea Pass.

Prince Pingxi Residence’s influence had long since penetrated the snowfields, but nominally, this remained the northeasternmost edge of Great Yan’s territory.

On the afternoon of the second day after entering Snow Sea Pass... the Emperor and Prince Pingxi climbed together onto the northern wall.

Two chairs.

One tea table.

The Emperor and Prince both reclined lazily, their postures matching with remarkable harmony.

This time... even Wei Zhonghe stood far away.

No one could approach the two men.

“Damn, surnamed Zheng. I’m tired. This whole journey has made me feel like an old male dog. Every place I reach, I lift one leg, spray out a little piss, and mark the territory so the whole world knows this is Great Yan land.”

The Prince bit into a peach pastry.

Then nodded.

“Crude words. Accurate principle.”

The Emperor rolled his eyes.

“Thinking back to how you fought those cornered Savages right here all those years ago... I can’t help feeling emotional. Same place, different people.”

“Your Majesty overstates it. No need to become too sentimental.”

“As sovereign of a state, surely I’m still capable of feeling some empathy.”

The Prince shook his head.

“It wasn’t this northern wall. It was the southern wall. When I defended Snow Sea Pass, the First Prince had taken a seal carved from a radish into the snowfields and gone around making promises to the tribes left behind there. That was why I didn’t get attacked from front and rear. If you want to reminisce properly... we can move over to the southern wall right now.”

“...” the Emperor.

“You’re already a Prince. You still can’t humor me when you speak?”

“You’re already Emperor. You’re still bothered by this?”

“I am the Son of Heaven.”

“Oh.”

“Surnamed Zheng.”

“Speak.”

“Do I really have some illness?”

“There are imperial physicians in the palace. If you were sick, would they truly fail to detect it?”

The Emperor’s health was monitored by imperial physicians.

It was an extraordinarily mature medical system.

So most of the time, when a proper Emperor suddenly became gravely ill and died, a history book might record it that way... but one should never naively believe the matter had truly been so sudden.

The Emperor’s daily meals were recorded.

His nights with the imperial harem were recorded.

Even his excrement was examined by designated palace servants and entered into records.

Together, those observations formed an extremely detailed account of the dragon body’s condition.

“You like joking,” the Emperor said. “But you do not make jokes this pointless. You sent that blind gentleman beneath you to examine my body. That means you noticed something.”

“Hey. I’m not a physician. Am I really that miraculous?”

“When you were still nothing more than an escort lieutenant, you somehow got the Left Guli King of the Barbarians to die in a way that handed you a wedding garment. Isn’t that miraculous enough? Zheng Fan. Tell me. An Emperor fears many things. But what he fears most is being kept in the dark. All through this journey, I kept waiting for you to tell me yourself. You didn’t. That proves the problem is serious, doesn’t it?”

Ji Chengjue looked at Zheng Fan.

And watched him nod.

“What illness?” Ji Chengjue asked.

“One you will find difficult to understand. You can think of it as a disease of the brain.”

“A disease of the brain?” The Emperor’s eyes widened. “You mean We might go mad in the future? Become a mad Emperor?”

“People can grow lumps elsewhere on the body. The brain can grow them too.”

“There’s a lump inside We’s brain?”

Zheng Fan turned his gaze ahead.

He did not explain further.

The Emperor reached out and lightly nudged Zheng Fan’s arm.

“If someone else told me this, I wouldn’t believe them. But if you say it, I believe you. Tell me. This illness... how serious is it?”

Once the issue of his brain was raised, it immediately felt disturbingly plausible to the Emperor.

Inside the side hall of the imperial study, he often “saw” his Imperial Father.

There was no concept of schizophrenia in this age.

But the Emperor had still sensed... a faint unease.

A fear he could not explain.

“Serious,” Zheng Fan answered.

“How many years do I have left?”

“Not sure. The best case might be ten years. The bad case... perhaps only these next few.”

That estimate came from the Blind Man’s calculations based on the scenes Tian Tian remembered from his dream.

There was another factor.

The situation Ji Chengjue inherited in the original trajectory should have been far worse than the one he possessed now.

The pressure crushing him every day should have been far heavier.

But Great Yan had been changed too much by Zheng Fan and the others.

Prince Jingnan had not died at Zhennan Pass.

The Jin lands had not fallen into chaos.

The Ji Old Sixth of the original path would have suffered the consequences of being worked into illness.

That part no longer applied.

Unfortunately... the tumor already objectively existed.

Now that it was there... subjective changes could no longer erase it.

Ten years truly was the most optimistic estimate.

And even that might need to be cut in half.

“That sounds even more mystical than the words of a Qi Refiner,” the Emperor said with a laugh. “At this exact moment, I truly wish you, surnamed Zheng, were not some Prince but a Qi Refiner instead. Then I could dismiss everything you just said with contempt.”

Zheng Fan silently drank some tea.

“Can it be treated?”

“Yes.”

“What are the odds?”

“Fifty percent.”

“How?”

“Open the skull.”

“Even if We are no physician, We understand that if such a treatment fails, then We...”

“The whole state enters mourning.”

“Could you possibly say it with less casualness?”

“Because I’ve been weighing this matter in my mind for days. I’ve already chewed every last bit of sweetness out of the cane.”

“Zheng Fan, do you know something? Not long after Father died and I first ascended the throne, the former old Director of the Directorate of Astronomy voluntarily entered the palace and requested an audience. He told me something. He said that after investigating the traces left when Master Cang entered the capital and slashed at Great Yan’s dragon vein, he had reached a conclusion. Master Cang might not actually have cut at my father. Instead... he may have used the act of severing the dragon vein to place a curse upon Great Yan’s imperial throne. Whoever sits upon the throne inherits the curse. He even said... the curse might continue for three generations. That is one reason I sent Chuanye to you. I do not believe in such things. But I hoped my son might live a little better. A little healthier. Because I, his father, owe him. After the old Director reported these matters to me, he burned himself to death in his own home that very night. Oh, right. He also said the Old Master may have been deceived. The fortune from Mount Tianhu poured back in... but replenished the wrong place. Heh-heh. These Qi Refiners are always full of mysteries and riddles. Give them the slightest connection and they can force an entire story out of it to prove themselves right.”

The Emperor had begun speaking too much.

The Prince watched him in silence.

Then asked simply and directly:

“Do you want treatment?”

The Emperor fell silent.

And remained silent... for two full hours.

To outsiders, it looked as though the Emperor and Prince Pingxi had taken an afternoon nap together.

But only someone standing close enough could understand how oppressive the atmosphere around those two men had become.

The climate of the snowfields changed quickly.

During spring and summer, winds could rise easily and form great spiraling columns.

Nothing as extreme as a tornado.

But still broad enough and majestic enough to create a spectacular sight.

At this moment... looking north from Snow Sea Pass’s northern wall... a black vortex had begun gathering on the edge of the endless horizon.

Twisting.

Churning.

The wind itself was not especially strong.

But the sight deserved to be called magnificent.

After remaining silent for two full hours... the Emperor suddenly complained in a voice carrying an almost tearful edge:

“Why did it have to be you, surnamed Zheng, who told me this?”

Because Zheng Fan lived too truly.

Too freely.

So when he said something... especially something like this... it did not carry conspiracies, political codes, hidden layouts, secret knives, or any of those things.

He disdained them.

And because of that... the cruelty was even greater.

You could not escape.

You could only accept the fact... that what he had told you was fact.

“If you hadn’t asked, I originally planned not to say anything,” Zheng Fan answered. “Since you did ask, I could only tell you.”

The Emperor took a deep breath.

“Ten years is too much to hope for. Five years. Five years is enough.”

“You’re not treating it?” Zheng Fan asked.

“I’m afraid of death.”

The Emperor gave the answer very directly.

“I’m afraid of dying.”

“All right.”

Zheng Fan nodded.

He understood.

In this world, fear of death would always be an extremely persuasive reason.

“Five years. According to the agreement between us, that should be enough, right?”

“Maybe.”

“At a time like this, can’t you give me even a little confidence?”

“If the treatment succeeds, you could live much, much longer. Truly.”

Zheng Fan trusted the Demon Kings’ hands.

He trusted their abilities.

They could create miracles.

“I believe you,” the Emperor said. “Surnamed Zheng, my Empress, Wei Zhonghe behind us, even my son... these family members of mine all understand perfectly well how much I, Ji Chengjue, trust you, Zheng Fan.”

“Mm.”

“But I am the Son of Heaven.”

“Huh?”

The Prince looked at Ji Chengjue in confusion.

“From the moment I first asked about my body until now, everything has felt like a dream. But I cannot avoid it. I am the Son of Heaven. Do you know why you, surnamed Zheng, have always been too lazy to rebel? Because you only want to enjoy yourself. You don’t want to shoulder responsibility. You are exactly like those men who love visiting red-curtained establishments. You damned bastard only want to whore around. Once you’re done, you tie your belt back up. Either you start persuading the girl to leave the trade... or you buy a jar of wine on the way home and get drunk until morning. You’ve never been Emperor. But I know... you’ve always possessed an extremely clear and profound understanding of what the concept of ‘Emperor’ actually means.”

“Aren’t we getting off topic?” Zheng Fan asked.

“No. You might think I’m simply afraid of death and therefore don’t want treatment. Let us not even discuss what would happen if Prince Pingxi tried to cure me and instead killed me—or left me insane. Forget all of that. I am saying something else. I am different from you. I sat in this position. I became the Son of Heaven. I took on the responsibility. Do you understand?”

“I do.”

“Father actually had more than one method available to prolong his life. He refused every one.”

During the late Emperor’s final days, the Pixiu in the palace had once manifested and offered a method resembling that of the Regent of Great Chu: draw the spirit of the Fire Phoenix into the body and forcibly stimulate and extend his remaining lifespan.

The Little Eunuch in Red Robes had also suggested borrowing the fortune of someone blessed by fate—someone like He Chu—and using it to replenish His Majesty.

Every method... had been refused by the late Emperor.

“Zheng Fan. Once you become Emperor, your life is no longer merely your own. I won’t tell you I live for every commoner beneath Heaven. That would sound fake and you wouldn’t believe me anyway. But there are too many burdens. Too many responsibilities. You say if the treatment succeeds, I can live for a long time. I’m afraid that if it fails... I die. I’m afraid I’ll die before the work is finished. If I truly finish it... finish it properly... leave descendants a good situation... then death is just death. Officials grow old and seek a good name after death. They hope to leave fragrance in the histories. But an Emperor... from the instant he sits on the dragon throne... whether he was a three-year-old child, a vigorous young man, or an old Crown Prince who endured decades before finally inheriting... the instant his ass touches that chair... he has already died in the mortal world. He lives inside the history books.”

“If you ever change your mind, come find me whenever you want,” Zheng Fan said.

“Change my mind? We are the Son of Heaven. Our mouth holds Heaven’s law. A ruler does not jest!”

Then... the Emperor climbed down from his chair.

He stood.

Pointed at the dark vortex in the distance.

And rebuked it:

“By mandate of Heaven, the Emperor decrees: We command you... disperse!”

Perhaps coincidence truly chose that moment to happen.

The vortex that had only just formed suddenly seemed to lose its force.

Gradually... it began to dissolve.

Ji Old Sixth was no great expert.

He had nothing to do with Qi Refiners either.

Naturally, he did not possess any power capable of moving mountains and overturning seas.

He had simply gotten lucky.

But Ji Old Sixth immediately became wildly excited.

A blind cat had stumbled onto a dead rat, yet for one glorious moment he had truly experienced the pleasure of a peerless expert making Heaven and Earth change color.

He slapped the battlement hard with one palm.

Ignored the pain.

And shouted:

“Ha! It gave me face!”

[End of Chapter 921]