Mu Qing hung his head. “When His Highness left, he told me to pass on the message not to worry and that everything can proceed as planned. He will return promptly.”
The State Preceptor was in hysterics from anxiety. “How can I not worry? What do you mean, ‘promptly’？ When is ‘promptly’？ What if he doesn’t make it?!”
Outside the palace gates, the citizens who had been waiting since early morning were losing patience and were noisily demanding for the event to start. A cultivator came rushing forward.
“My Lord State Preceptor, the queen sent a messenger inquiring why the parade hasn’t started! The fortuitous hour is fast approaching! If we don’t leave now, we’ll miss it!”
At those words, the State Preceptor desperately prayed that a rebel army would suddenly invade and disrupt the Shangyuan Parade completely. Why did this headache have to happen right at the most crucial moment?!
If the troublemaker were anyone else, he would’ve flown into a rage already; no one would consider it a strange urge if he brandished a sword with intent to kill. But this troublemaker just happened to be his very, very favorite, most precious disciple, and the very, very distinguished, most precious son of another. He couldn’t beat him, he couldn’t yell at him, and he most definitely couldn’t kill him. Rather than kill him, he’d more likely kill himself!
Just then, someone ran across the palace’s black path and rushed inside, shouting, “Lord State Preceptor, why hasn’t the parade started? The hour is about to pass; everyone outside is on edge!”
The one who’d arrived was also a young man of sixteen or seventeen. His build was upright and tall, his skin the color of wheat, and on his back, he carried a long black bow and snow-white quiver. His lips were pressed tight, his brows knit. Even at such a young age, his eyes were determined. The moment the State Preceptor saw him, he grabbed him.
“Feng Xin! Where’s That Highness of yours?”
Feng Xin was taken aback, but understanding instantly dawned, and anger filled his eyes as he turned his gaze to Mu Qing. As for Mu Qing, he had already put his demon mask back on without a word, his expression now unseen.
Feng Xin said gravely, “There’s no time to explain! Please start the parade immediately, His Highness the Crown Prince will not disappoint you, sir!”
There was no other way. Bringing out a grand stage without the God-Pleasing Martial Warrior was death; delaying the procession and missing the fortuitous hour was also death. Despairingly, the State Preceptor waved his hand.
“Start the music! Depart!”
Upon receiving the command, the flutes and strings started to play, and the hundreds of royal warriors at the front of the procession roared in chorus to begin their march and lead the massive, impressive parade. They had departed!
The warriors at the front symbolized the thorny paths of the mortal world. Immediately following were the virgin girls meticulously selected from thousands of applicants, demure and beautiful. With baskets in their hands, they scattered flowers in the air like the celestial maidens they played, paving the path with blossoms and filling it with fragrance to signify enduring and unsullied virtue.14 The musicians rode in carriages of gold. The moment the procession left the palace gates, the crowds were amazed and astonished, fighting to catch the flowers. However, no matter how magnificent, how extravagant, how grand, this was only the warm-up act. The grand float, a glorious stage, was about to emerge.
Sixteen white stallions adorned with gold pulled the grand stage from behind the palace gates, slowly bringing it before the eyes of millions. On the stage was a black-clad demon with a monstrous mask on his face and a nine-foot-long saber in his hand. Gravely, he shifted to a fighting stance.
The State Preceptor was tense like a taut string, hoping for a miracle. Yet no miracles occurred. The crowd broke into chatter. Above, on the high platform, the royals and nobles frowned, exchanging wondering looks with each other.
“What’s going on? Why is the God-Pleasing Martial Warrior not on stage?”
“Has His Highness the Crown Prince not arrived yet?”
“Where’s Lian-gege?”
At the center of the tall platform sat a dignified, handsome man and a fair-skinned, amiable, gracious noblewoman. They were the king and queen of the Kingdom of Xianle. Not seeing the one who should be there, the queen gave the king a worried look. The king took hold of her hand and used his gaze to comfort, telling her not to worry and to watch and see what would happen. The crowds below, however, had no one to comfort them, and their cries grew louder, so much so that the noise could almost raise the rooftops. The State Preceptor could only blame himself for not having the courage to kill himself right then and there. Yet, on stage, Mu Qing was quite calm. Even without his opponent he remained meticulous, taking care of his own stage directions. CLANG, he hurled his heavy saber down into the stage, standing it upright before him.