“Your Highness, what are you doing bringing that child in too?”
The young child was lying on Xie Lian’s chest, his small body frozen and unmoving, afraid to even breathe loudly. Xie Lian sat up.
“What was I to do, throw him back out on the streets? It’s a mess out there, and he’s such a tiny creature. He’d get trampled to death.”
He held up the small child and stroked his head, asking casually, “How old are you, little one?”
The child didn’t blink, and his lips uttered no sounds.
Xie Lian continued his query, coaxing, “How did you come to fall earlier?”
“Your Highness, the child probably doesn’t dare to speak. He’s obviously scared witless,” Mu Qing said.
Xie Lian stroked the head of the child again, but his unresponsiveness was making him lose interest, so he eventually stopped.
“What a silly child,” Xie Lian commented. “Feng Xin, go find someone to take him out through the side doors when you get a chance. And check if he’s injured—his head is wrapped in bandages.”
“All right.” Feng Xin extended his hand. “Give him here.”
Xie Lian held the young child up to pass him over, but when he tried, Feng Xin said, “Your Highness, why haven’t you let go?”
“I did let go…？”
Xie Lian was puzzled, but when he looked down, he laughed in exasperation. It turned out it was the child, who was still clutching tightly onto his clothes, refusing to let go.
A few were taken aback and started laughing out loud. While training at the Royal Holy Temple, so many devotees, men and women alike, tried their hardest to get a glimpse of Xie Lian, whether out of curiosity or devotion. But as soon they’d seen him once, they would want to see him again; if they could train next to him, even better. They couldn’t believe that a child of such a young age would be the same. Guarding the grand stage were many young trainees from the Royal Holy Temple, and they all laughed.
“Your Highness, this child doesn’t want to leave!”
Xie Lian also laughed. “Is that right? That won’t do. I’ve got my own things to take care of. Go home, little guy.”
At his words, the child finally, slowly loosened his grip, letting go of his clothes, and Feng Xin picked him up. Even when Feng Xin was the one holding him, the child still stared fixedly at Xie Lian with his big, bright black eye, almost as if he’d been possessed. At this sight, many started grumbling under their breaths. Xie Lian himself, however, wasn’t even looking at the child anymore, and only spoke to Feng Xin directly.
“Don’t dangle him like you’re picking up trash. You’re scaring him.”
Feng Xin put the child back down on the ground. “Enough joking around. The State Preceptor is freaking out. Your Highness better think about how you’re going to face him later.”
Hearing this, everyone stopped laughing.
***
An hour later, at the Royal Holy Temple, on the Divine Might Summit, inside the Palace of Divine Might…
Clouds of incense wafted in the air, and the sound of chanting came in waves. The Chief State Preceptor and three other Deputy State Preceptors sat in a line by the side wall within the great hall, their faces clouded. Mu Qing was kneeling before them. Xie Lian was also kneeling, but before him was no one but the golden statue of the Heavenly Emperor. Feng Xin followed his master and knelt behind him.
The State Preceptor picked up that exquisitely crafted golden mask, and after a moment, he heaved a heavy sigh. “Your Highness, Your Highness.”
Even when kneeling, Xie Lian’s back was straight, his posture perfect and his head held high. “Present.”
The State Preceptor looked pained. “Do you know that, in the history of Xianle, and the countless Shangyuan Heavenly Ceremonial Processions we have held, never once has the grand stage only circled the capital thrice. Thrice!”
In the Shangyuan Heavenly Ceremonial Procession, every ritual, every decoration, every place had a meaning behind it. To have the grand stage circle the capital once symbolized the kingdom’s prayer for the peace and prosperity of the people for one year; thus, however many rounds the grand stage made meant that many years before another such grand ceremony would need to take place. Not only did this signify good fortune, it also saved money. Having only made three rounds, didn’t that mean the kingdom would only be protected for three years?!
The worst thing on top of that was that the golden mask on the face of the God-Pleasing Martial Warrior had fallen mid-ritual.