Volume Six: The God-King Returns to the Shattered Continent Chapter One: The Journey Home

The convoy proceeded eastward at a measured, unhurried pace. Along the way, countless refugees, supporting the old and carrying the young, fled from east to west. Upon encountering the Su family’s convoy, the crowd automatically parted to either side of the road. The convoy moved slowly through the people; conversation was rare, and the occasional cries of children were swiftly silenced by fathers carrying baskets or accompanying mothers.

In early spring, the earth—frozen by winter’s ice and snow—began to thaw under the gentle warmth of the sun. The roads were muddy and treacherous. As a carriage wheel splashed into a puddle, mud and water sprayed onto a passing family, rousing the infant cradled in their arms from slumber.

The baby’s cries shattered the tranquil morning, waking Su Mengling, who had been sleeping inside the carriage.

“Big brother! What’s happening outside?” Su Mengling, still drowsy, slowly rose and climbed to the carriage window, opening it to look out.

Zhuo Hua slid aside the partition inside and leaned out to peer as well, casually remarking, “Seems like a child is crying.”

“Stop the carriage!” Su Mengling’s clear voice rang out, and the convoy gradually came to a halt.

“Miss, what are your orders?” Su Bo hurried over to her carriage, bowing respectfully through the door.

With a creak, Su Mengling wrapped herself in a thick white fox fur and pushed open the door. Seeing the muddy ground, she hesitated, retracting her foot.

Understanding immediately, Su Bo beckoned, and three or four servants brought bundles of straw, laying them on the mud.

Su Mengling leapt down from the carriage, with Zhuo Hua close behind. The two followed the sound of the crying and soon found the infant’s parents.

Startled by the arrival of Su Mengling and Zhuo Hua, accompanied by servants and guards, the family believed their child had disturbed these nobles. Hastily, they covered the baby’s mouth and knelt en masse, pleading for forgiveness.

Su Mengling was taken aback by the sudden mass prostration, standing there bewildered.

Zhuo Hua glanced at her, then strode over to the infant’s father, bending down to help him up. But the farmer stubbornly refused, muttering, “The child is young and foolish; noble lady, please forgive us.”

Zhuo Hua straightened and looked at Su Mengling, then pointed to the muddy stains on the family’s clothes.

Suddenly, Su Mengling understood and promptly asked Su Bo to bring fresh water and clean clothes.

Once everything was prepared, Su Bo followed Su Mengling to the family. Su Mengling knelt and spoke sweetly, “Uncle, please stand up! It was our fault first. The carriage splashed mud and woke your child. Here is clean water; please wash him and change into these clothes.”

The man kept his head bowed, replying, “It’s nothing! Being splashed with mud is our misfortune, not the noble’s fault.”

Zhuo Hua interjected, “Brother, please rise. My younger sister is different from the other noble families; she sincerely apologizes.” Then he bent down to help them.

The refugees seemed from the same village. When the carriage splashed mud on this family, some impatient neighbors had wanted to stop the convoy to argue with the Su family. But seeing the numerous servants and the well-dressed, elite guards of the Yan clan, they dared only to fume silently.

Now, with people around urging calm, the men, women, old and young who had knelt on the ground slowly rose. Gratefully, they accepted the replacement clothes brought by the Su family’s servants.

Seeing everyone up, Su Mengling quickly took a silk handkerchief and carefully wiped the mud from the baby’s face in the mother’s arms. The woman smiled at her awkward movements and teased, “Little sister, you haven’t married yet, have you? Looks like you’ve never cared for a child before.”

Su Mengling looked up, stunned. The woman glanced at her and then at Zhuo Hua with a smile. Suddenly, she grasped the woman’s meaning and hurriedly explained, “No, big sister! We... we’re siblings!” Her delicate face flushed deeply.

The woman quietly dipped her cotton cloth in clean water and resumed wiping the child’s face, lifting her brow as she said, “A big sister who’s been through it all can tell whether you two are siblings with just a glance. To me, you both are talented and beautiful, with good families. A married couple like you would surely have a happy life.”

Su Mengling lowered her head, blushing, taking the cloth and scrubbing it hard in the water, muttering, “I’d like to marry, but only if he agrees to take me.”

Zhuo Hua, a bit embarrassed, cleared his throat and turned to ask the man now dressed in clean clothes, “Brother, where are you from?”

The man was still adjusting to the better garments. Though they belonged to Su family servants, they were far more comfortable than the rough linen clothes the refugees typically wore. He carefully folded the linen clothes and placed them in a carrying basket. Then he smiled simply at Zhuo Hua: “After washing, they’re still wearable.”

Zhuo Hua nodded with a smile, then asked where they had come from.

Realizing he had not answered the question directly, the man hurriedly replied, “Honored sir, we came from the Tianshui City area.”

“Tianshui City?” A troubling premonition rose in Zhuo Hua’s heart. “Has something happened there?”

“No, nothing particular happened in Tianshui City. The gates are tightly shut, no one is allowed in or out,” the man shrugged helplessly.

“Is it because those Sun Worship cult scoundrels have become rampant and started violating Tianshui City?” Zhuo Hua pressed.

“That’s right! Those filthy bastards burn, loot, and pillage everywhere. I heard many eastern countries are now deserted. The armies of the Immortal Descendant royal families were utterly defeated three months ago and now hide in large cities to preserve their strength.”

“So they won’t let you into the city?” Zhuo Hua’s anger flared. These bastards, always told to strengthen their defenses, yet all they did was indulge and enrich themselves, neglecting their duties. When the moment came, they abandoned the people without a thought. Thinking this, his heart sank. How different was he? For the sake of love, he too had neglected the realm and its people. How absurd.

The man nodded solemnly. “They won’t let us in. No carriages or carts are allowed entry. They say it’s wartime and to prevent spies from infiltrating and causing harm, no one is permitted inside except supply convoys. Others are driven away.”

“Is the wartime situation in the east so dire it’s beyond salvation?” Zhuo Hua regretted the question as soon as it left his lips; what would a simple villager know of the war?

“Exactly! Nine out of ten homes are empty; cannibalism is widespread. The army is disobedient; commanders incompetent; they collapse at the slightest encounter. It’s utter decay—but not beyond salvage.”

Zhuo Hua glanced toward the voice and saw a young man in a scholar’s robe seated on a roadside stone, holding a book. He was reading as he spoke.

Impressed by the youth’s demeanor, Zhuo Hua stepped forward respectfully. “I am Zhuo Hua, eager to hear your learned opinion.”

The youth closed his book, glanced at Zhuo Hua, then reopened it and continued reading, saying only, “Those in the noble houses only ask why the poor do not eat fine meat; why would they care about the suffering of the common folk? What a joke!”

Zhuo Hua recognized the sarcasm aimed at himself and smiled bitterly. He bowed again. “Young sir, not all nobles are ignorant. Among the Immortal Descendants, many strive to uphold the realm and save the people. The Lords of the Cloud Palace are turning the tide and supporting the faltering.”

The scholar snorted coldly, snapping his book shut with a bang. Pointing to the long line of refugees, he asked Zhuo Hua, “May I ask, young sir, where are the brave sons of the Immortal Descendants now? Where are the Lords of the Cloud Palace?”

Zhuo Hua was momentarily speechless. Ever since his capture during the battle of the Dragon Palace, the world had fallen into chaos. He had heard from Yan Mufeng that shortly after his disappearance, the Sun Worship cult sprang up across the continents, burning, looting, attacking government offices, and occupying towns—all seemingly premeditated. Moreover, communication between the seven Immortal Descendant tribes and the Lords of the Cloud Palace was severed overnight; urgent dispatches sent out never received replies.

The entire void now resembled a many-legged creature without head or limbs—flexible, but helpless, at the mercy of others.

Filled with guilt, Zhuo Hua bowed deeply and apologized, “I, Zhuo Hua, failed in my duties and was captured through negligence. I cannot escape blame. Now, dark forces and the Sun Worship cult ravage the people, corruption runs rampant, and the populace suffers. I accept responsibility and will strive to make amends to comfort the hearts of the world.”

“Are you Zhuo Hua? The Lord of the Cloud Palace?” The scholar’s expression shifted slightly as he spoke.

Zhuo Hua nodded. “That is I.”

The young man’s initial shock faded into cold detachment. “I, Yu Changsheng, cannot represent all the people of the world. You... explain to them yourself.”

“Yu Changsheng? You are also of the Immortal Descendant Yu clan?” Zhuo Hua asked, surprised to meet a scion of the Immortal Descendant race among the refugees. A complex mix of warmth and heartache filled him.

Yu Changsheng nodded, rising from his stone seat. He cupped his hands and said, “Yu Changsheng, heir of the Yu clan in Jingchu Kingdom, pays respects to the Lord of the Cloud Palace.”

“You don’t treat me as an impostor like Yan Muyun,” Zhuo Hua said with a self-deprecating smile.

“I saw your portrait in my father’s study; it left a deep impression. There’s no mistake, especially in your commanding, transcendent gaze,” Yu Changsheng replied.

“It is a grave sin not to kneel before the Lord!” Zhuo Hua smiled at the handsome, refined young scholar before him.

“To be executed along with my family? I know,” Yu Changsheng answered frankly.

“Oh? Since you know, why not kneel? Are you afraid of implicating your family?” Zhuo Hua teased.

“There is no need. The Dark Clan and the Sun Worship cult demons have already slaughtered all my clan. Now, I alone represent the Jingchu royal family. You only need to kill me,” Yu Changsheng said stubbornly, raising his head to gaze toward the southeast. Tears brimmed in his eyes, swirling endlessly.