Chapter 167: The Cataclysm at the Xue Family’s Ancestral Tomb
This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslation.
The ancestral tomb of the once-great Xue family had been left untended for many years, now a desolate sight to behold. A group of older ministers, remnants of a fallen dynasty, stood by the tomb, their hearts heavy with nostalgia. As they discreetly wiped away tears, it wasn’t a displeasure towards King Xuan Ping that moved them, but rather a deep sense of loss—the kingdom they once served had crumbled, and their loyalties were forced to shift. Despite their positions in the new regime, they hadn’t visited this sacred site in decades. Today, as they knelt to honor a long-gone lord, a profound sadness overwhelmed them.
King Xuan Ping, with motives unclear—perhaps suspicion, perhaps trust—had permitted them this rare moment of homage.
Amidst the ceremony, one elder murmured to another, “The handkerchiefs they’re burning… they look familiar,” though he couldn’t quite place where he had seen them before.
“It appears to be some sort of ritual,” another whispered back, a shade of suspicion in his tone, yet the full truth eluded him.
At the center of the ceremony, Xue Huang, a direct descendant, drew a deep breath, sliced his finger, and let his blood drip into a bronze basin set before a flame.
Whoosh!
Instantly, a great flame surged skyward, startling Xue Huang, who nearly singed his hair in his haste to step back.
“The ritual has begun,” a nearby Taoist muttered, his eyes wide with unease. Though the day was sunny, dark clouds swiftly gathered above, ominously blotting out the sun. The air thickened with a foreboding energy.
Gritting his teeth against the metallic taste of his own blood, Xue Huang understood the stakes. This life-extending ritual was his last hope to survive beyond six months. As his family knelt in unison, they dared only to pray for prosperity and longevity, though thoughts of restoring their dynasty lingered unspoken.
“Xue Huang, born on…” he announced his birth details aloud. “Today, I seek to borrow fifty years of life from Lu Chao Chao. May the heavens witness this act.”
No sooner had he spoken than the wind howled, whipping the ceremonial fire toward the heavens, scattering the sacrificial offerings. Thunder boomed and lightning cleaved the daylight sky, while the gale made it hard for the Xue family to maintain their stance. The air was charged with a mighty, terrifying energy.
“What’s happening? Why has the weather turned so suddenly?” the crowd murmured in panic.
Sand and wind lashed around them, hair whipping wildly, as continuous thunder sent chills down their spines. The Taoist’s face drained of color. “What have I done? This was only a life-extension ritual!” Despite his many questionable deeds, he had never witnessed such a celestial uproar.
“Whose life are you borrowing? This person… must be divinely blessed.” Fear gripped him as he realized the gravity of their error. “We’re in deep trouble!” He turned to flee, sensing an imminent threat.
But the storm was faster. A bolt of lightning, with a terrifying roar, pursued him. He screamed, but the sound was lost in the thunderous chaos. Struck down, he fell, bleeding heavily on the ground. [Why has this happened? We only wished to borrow a child’s lifespan. Why would that provoke such wrath from the heavens?]
With his dying breath, he pointed at Xue Huang and gasped, “Borrow… cannot borrow…” And then he was gone.
The atmosphere was fraught with fear and confusion. “What is going on??” Xue Huang stammered, feeling a dreadful premonition as he gazed skyward. More lightning gathered, ominous and relentless.
“No, no, don’t!” he screamed in despair.
This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslation
The heavens seemed merciless as multiple bolts struck the Xue royal tomb. The impact was cataclysmic—the last hope of the Xue family, their ancient burial site, obliterated in an instant.
“No, don’t, no!!” Xue Huang’s cries were lost in the tumult. The tomb exploded, rocks and relics scattering in the blast, the jade coffins shattered.
The elders of the Xue family were inconsolable, some collapsing in their grief. [Oh, heavens. What have we done to deserve this?] They staggered to their feet, fleeing the cursed site.
Xue Huang, staggering amidst the ruins, coughed up blood. “Why? Why would the heavens strike down our family tomb? It was our last hope…” His voice broke as he succumbed to despair.
A woman clutched at his trembling form. “Huang’er, what did we do to lose everything?”
His life rapidly ebbing away, Xue Huang faced the bleak truth: their family’s dreams of restoration were dashed. The elders exchanged looks of horror. [This is a divine rebuke. No chance of redemption. The Xue family is doomed.]
As the Xue family mourned, the old ministers hurriedly returned to their king, shaken and eager to distance themselves from the cursed lineage.
“The Taoist warned us… Could the mistake have been in the birth details?” a woman speculated bitterly.
“We must seek refuge with the Marquis Zhongyong!” came the desperate consensus.
Meanwhile, King Xuan Ping reveled in the news. The destruction of the Xue royal tomb, a sign of divine favor towards his reign, spread quickly. [Ah, those nostalgic ministers must be quaking now. They wouldn’t dare dream of the past any longer.]
The king chuckled to himself, pleased. “Chao Chao, you truly are my treasure,” he said, gazing at the young child with newfound awe. “Now, just make sure you don’t destroy my tomb, okay?” he added playfully, kissing her little cheek.
As the Xue family’s desolation became complete, they directed their fury towards the unsuspecting Marquis Zhongyong’s mansion, seeking a place to cast their despair.