Chapter Forty-One: The Grand Ceremony of the Five-Nation Alliance (Part Twenty-One)

The grand assembly of the five nations had already been underway for four or five days, and the storyteller’s scroll was densely packed with lines of black script.

The morning light shimmered in splendid hues, a gentle breeze stirring; a new day’s competition was about to begin. Today, a table of golden-threaded nanmu wood stood atop the stage, upon which rested a dark incense burner, wisps of fragrant smoke drifting upward to soothe the mind. Breathing in its aroma, one immediately felt clear-headed and invigorated.

Once all had gathered in the drill grounds, the Minister of War faced the Emperor of Baixi below the dais and addressed the crowd, explaining the day’s contest: “After the rites and music, comes the archery. Of the Six Arts, the fifth is archery, which includes five forms: first, the White Arrow; second, Sequential Link; third, Swift Shot; fourth, Xiang's Span; and fifth, Well Formation.”

Considering that not all present were versed in archery, the Minister patiently elaborated: “The White Arrow refers to an arrow piercing the target so accurately and forcefully that the tip turns white; Sequential Link means loosing one arrow, followed by three in rapid succession, each nocking as if pearls strung together; Swift Shot refers to the speed of the arrow’s flight; Xiang’s Span is when the minister and monarch shoot side by side, the minister giving the monarch a one-foot lead and stepping back; Well Formation is four consecutive arrows, each striking the mark. By agreement, today’s tests will include the White Arrow, Sequential Link, Swift Shot, and Well Formation.”

Finishing his explanation, the Minister of War took up a gleaming golden document and read aloud: “Will the Second Prince of Baixi, the Eighth Prince of Dongling, the Fourth Prince of Xize, the Fifth Prince of Nansheng, and the Second Prince of Beixiao take their places in the arena.”

The five princes moved swiftly, falling into neat formation in moments.

“Isn’t the Fifth Prince of Nansheng incapable of smiling? He always looks like he has a face of stone,” someone whispered.

“Who can say?” another replied.

“But I must admit, the five of them standing together are quite a sight for sore eyes.”

“Oh, listen to yourself,” came the retort.

Clusters of onlookers gathered below, whispering in voices as faint as mosquitoes.

At that moment, the Minister of War’s brows knit into a stern line. He barked sharply, “No idle chatter!”

Startled, the crowd fell silent, scarcely daring to breathe. Who would dare provoke such an intimidating official, whose very appearance warned against insolence?

Five targets stood set upon the field, with a dedicated attendant for each prince, holding a quiver of arrows.

Suddenly, five sharp arrows whistled through the air, passing just to the right of the princes’ heads—a sharp “whoosh,” and all five arrows struck dead center in their targets, each without the slightest deviation.

“Yuan’er!” the Empress cried out in alarm.

The sight left everyone dumbfounded—even the Emperor of Baixi, seated on the dais, sprang to his feet. The arrows had flown mere inches from the princes’ faces. Had the aim been even slightly off, with such lethal force, the five might have been killed or at least left permanently disfigured.

Fuhua and the others were entirely unaware beforehand; a sudden, piercing sound had sliced past their ears, making their scalps tingle. It had happened so quickly that not a soul had time to react.

Seeing Gu Nanyuan unharmed, the Empress’s heart, which had been suspended with worry, gradually eased.

At that moment, a man emerged from the left side of the arena. He was holding a silver recurve bow, appearing around thirty or forty years of age, with sharply defined features and a robust frame.

He was taller than anyone else present. The keen glimmer in his eyes warned others not to underestimate him. His high, straight nose, lips of moderate fullness, and sword-like brows slanted into locks of dark hair at his temples. Jet-black strands were tied back with a scarlet brocade ribbon. He wore a robe of pale mauve patterned silk, a long tassel of purple silk at his waist, from which hung a piece of mutton-fat white jade. Over this he draped a gauzy veil of soft smoke-colored fabric.

“Has his archery truly reached such a level?” Changsun Chengmin muttered anxiously to himself, rubbing his hands together.

Beside him, Su Qingfeng stared in astonishment, eyes wide with disbelief. Such arrows left no chance for anyone to retaliate. Who was this man?

“Who is he?” Su Qingfeng bent down low, whispering to Changsun Chengmin.

“He is a master of archery—the only one among the five nations who can shoot through a willow leaf at a hundred paces and loose five arrows at once—Linghu Geng.” Changsun Chengmin’s voice trembled with unease; he could not fathom why, after vanishing for over twenty years, this man would suddenly reappear.

His origins were no secret to the world.

In the early winter of the twenty-fourth year of the Zhaoyue era, Linghu Changgeng of Xize was born.

A year later, in early winter of the twenty-fifth year, fine rain like silvery threads veiled the world in a gauzy mist, a green river winding through the forest like a jade belt, distant mountains shrouded in indigo, their forms indistinct.

At the first birthday banquet that day, the newly one-year-old child crawled towards a silver bow before dozens of onlookers.

When Linghu Changgeng gazed at the bow and arrows, it was as if sparks flashed in his eyes, and he scrambled quickly toward them.

As soon as he gripped the bow, he burst out laughing, refusing to let go no matter what—eating, sleeping, always clutching it close.

By the twenty-seventh year of Zhaoyue, still toddling but already able to pull a bow and shoot arrows, Linghu Changgeng was deemed a prodigy.

The reigning emperor of Xize, delighted by the news, selected the finest archery masters in the capital to instruct him. As Linghu Changgeng’s fame spread, Xize’s economy flourished, reaching unprecedented heights—a land of prosperity.

But in the thirty-ninth year of Zhaoyue, just as everyone believed he would lead the Linghu clan to the pinnacle of power, elevating Xize to dominance, tragedy struck. At fifteen, he suddenly went mad, loosing an arrow that pierced his parents’ throats.

All seventy-one souls in the Gongsun estate perished, the flagstones outside the house stained crimson with blood.

Even now, the place remained marred by bloodstains.

With bloodshot eyes, gripping his silver bow and quiver, he stormed toward the palace, killing all in his path, sparing neither the old, weak, women, nor children.

Palace guards dared not intercept him, knowing that once Linghu Changgeng’s arrow was released, none survived.

Some guards, terrified for their lives, discarded their weapons, only to fall dead before they could flee fifty steps. The rest, enraged, rushed to fight him.

Within less than half an hour, the palace gate was heaped with corpses, while he himself bore only a few minor wounds. He licked the blood from his left arm with a wicked grin, the fire in his eyes growing ever fiercer, sending chills down all who saw it.

Just then, the palace gates opened from within. The former Emperor of Xize sat in his carriage, gazing at him—not with sorrow for the fallen guards, but with pity for Linghu Changgeng’s inexplicable loss of control.

Linghu Changgeng did not relent. Smiling, he set an arrow to the string, his fingers gripping the nock, drawing back with force, aiming at the Emperor.

The palace servants and guards rushed to shield the Emperor, forming a living barrier. Yet Linghu Changgeng did not release the arrow. Suddenly, a whip cracked like thunder, and his expression gradually returned to normal. Slowly, he lowered his bow, threw back his head with a wild howl, spat blood, and collapsed unconscious...

From that day on, he was never seen in any of the five nations. Some said he died of remorse when he regained his senses; others whispered that the Emperor of Xize secretly executed him to quell public outrage. Still others believed he had changed his name and gone into hiding...