Published: March 7, 2025
Chapter 186: A Toast for the Ruler
On this night, within the Xiang Residence of Great Zhao, Diwu Qingrou sent away all the servants, standing alone in a pavilion, donned in a white linen robe, with hands clasped behind his back, gazing absentmindedly at the night sky, silent for a long time.
The chill of autumn was deep, and the autumn wind gently whistled, reminiscent of parting sorrows, hard to bear and difficult to let go.
Diwu Qingrou stood there, motionless.
After a long while, in the quiet deep of night, a long sigh escaped his lips, and he quietly murmured, “Brother, have you really left?”
The long wind wailed, without words.
Diwu Qingrou slowly turned around; behind him was a small table, its corners worn, crafted from ordinary wood, evidently decades old. On the table were six small dishes, a jug of wine, and four cups placed at the four cardinal points.
Diwu Qingrou slowly took a seat at the head of the table, picked up the wine jug, and filled a cup for himself; he lifted it, gazed into it for a long time, but then set it down.
“I never believed you were gone,” Diwu Qingrou murmured, “Your status, the resources you command, whether against me or for me, are a tremendous asset. Any heroic overlord aspiring for world dominance would never easily slay you.”
“So I have always stubbornly believed you were imprisoned.” Diwu Qingrou shook his head, bitterly smiling, lifted the cup without hesitation, and drank it all at once. At the moment of lifting the cup, a drop of tear fell from the corner of his eye, plopping into the wine glass.
Diwu Qingrou drank this wine, mixed with his sorrowful tears, with his eyes closed; his pale face flushed slightly from the intense alcohol, yet he kept his eyes closed, bowing his head slightly, whispering, “But I never expected that the one I would contend against for the world would turn out to be a hero!”
When he spoke the word ‘hero,’ Diwu Qingrou’s voice was heavy, laced with sarcasm.
“Who claims the world? In Nine Heavens, I am the mighty! Slaughter tens of millions, turning the Sea of Blood into soldiers of bone!” Diwu Qingrou murmured softly, reciting, “Second brother, this is the poem I wrote back then; I remember you once composed a verse to accompany it.”
“Millions of corpses remain unformed, clad in armor amidst yellow sand, lamenting the scholar; one glance at the sky unifies all, in this life, my ambitions align with yours!” Diwu Qingrou sighed softly, “At that time, you said that the world could only be attained by a heroic overlord; a heroic overlord directs heroes; heroes command millions of troops; in countless battles, the heavenly gate becomes mere bones, sweeping the heavens and earth into the king's heart!”
“You meant that a hero can be a general, can be a commander, but cannot be a king! A king must be a heroic overlord; a heroic overlord strategizes with heroes, plans above and schemes below; only then can they wage countless battles at the heavenly gate, turning the entire world into a landscape in the heart of the king! Did you ever think that the one who spoke these words would die at the hands of a ‘hero’?”
Diwu Qingrou chuckled lightly, but his smile trembled, his laughter quavered. He lifted his wine cup and drank it in one go; then he quickly refilled his cup, his voice trembling, “Second brother, you once said that when you achieved great success, you would share a drunken moment with me! Because in your lifetime, you have never seen me truly drunk! Today, I shall fulfill your wish!”
He raised his wine cup, toasting to the stars in the sky, then turned back and drank it all.
“You always said I lived too hard, too hypocritically; that I couldn’t indulge and enjoy life... Today, I will put everything down and drink with you!”
The wind whispered, as if weeping and lamenting, the surrounding flowers and trees swayed gently, and leaves fell in a rustle; it seemed that the little brother from years ago was conversing with him about the world, pointing out the vastness of the martial arts world.