Record of Mortals Slaying Heaven

Chapter 6: The Golden Palace Decision

Before dawn, Shen Moqi was taken into the palace.

The man who came to meet him was a pale-faced, beardless middle-aged eunuch, whose respect was almost cold. He didn't speak a word the whole way, but simply led the way, his steps quick and steady, his boots barely making a sound on the bluestone slabs. Shen Moqi followed behind, passing through one palace gate after another. At each gate stood guards with halberds, their gazes sweeping over him as if he were a roadside stone.

He looked down at himself—it was a blue long gown that Zhang Cheng had sent over last night. The material wasn't expensive, but it was still a hundred times better than his tattered school uniform. Now, while he didn't look dashing, he was still quite handsome.

But this outfit still looked so out of place in the palace.

The flagstones beneath his feet were damp with morning dew, making them a little slippery. In the distance, the faint sound of bells drifted, distant and serene. He took a deep breath; the morning breeze carried the fragrance of unknown flowers, a stark contrast to the pervasive stench of burning that had filled the air earlier.

"We've arrived." The eunuch stopped.

Shen Moqi looked up and saw a grand hall before her. The hall doors were open, and the interior was brightly lit, with figures moving about indistinctly. Two rows of armored soldiers stood outside the hall, their armor gleaming coldly in the morning light, and their halberds remaining motionless in the gentle morning breeze.

"Go in, His Majesty is waiting." The eunuch stepped aside, his gaze sweeping across the man's face without revealing any emotion.

Shen Moqi took a deep breath and stepped across the threshold.

The hall was more spacious than he had imagined. Tall, vermilion pillars supported the dome, carved with auspicious cloud patterns he couldn't recognize, and gilded decorations shimmered in the candlelight. Civil and military officials stood on both sides, dressed in robes of various colors, each with their eyes fixed straight ahead, but Shen Moqi could feel their gazes piercing him like needles—some curious, some scrutinizing, and some with a hint of disdain.

Directly in front of you, on the high steps, sits a person.

The man appeared to be in his early forties, with a thin face, dressed in a bright yellow robe and wearing a jade crown. He leaned back in his chair, his posture casual, but when his eyes fell upon her, Shen Moqi inexplicably felt her knees go weak.

It was pressure. Not a deliberately released pressure, but something that... naturally emanated from people who had been in high positions for many years. Shen Moqi had only seen this kind of scene on TV; only when she was actually in it did she realize that those TV dramas had exaggerated it too much.

He recalled Zhang Cheng's repeated instructions on etiquette from the previous night, took a deep breath, knelt down, and kowtowed.

"This humble subject, Shen Moqi, pays his respects to Your Majesty."

His voice echoed in the empty hall, and he himself felt a slight tremor.

"Rise," the emperor's voice was calmer than expected, even gentler. "Come closer, let me see you."

Shen Moqi stood up, took a few steps forward, and stopped at the bottom of the steps. He could hear his own heartbeat, thumping as if it were about to jump out of his chest.

The emperor sized him up for a moment, then suddenly smiled: "So small?"

No one in the court responded, but Shen Moqi felt those gazes were even more piercing.

The emperor then asked, "Did you come up with the plan to use fire?"

"Yes."

"Did you arrange for those fire-cloud banners, plaster water, and catapult modifications?"

"Yes."

The emperor nodded, a hint of amusement in his eyes: "Zhang Cheng said you have great talent and told me to reward you handsomely. I've also seen the battle report—the burning of the enemy camps, tens of thousands of enemy soldiers reduced to ashes. That's a great achievement. Tell me, what do you want?"

Shen Moqi was stunned.

He had thought a lot these past few days, about how to survive, how to complete his mission, and how to avoid being beheaded, but he hadn't thought about this one question—what reward he would want after the war.

Do you want gold and silver? Do you want official titles? Do you want houses and land?

He opened his mouth, but couldn't say a word for a moment. The faces of Stone and the other children flashed through his mind, as did the drafty roof of the dilapidated temple, and his three days and nights of running around—but none of that was for the sake of asking for a reward.

Just then, a voice came from the side of the hall, clear and soft, yet it instantly silenced the noise throughout the hall.

"Your Majesty, please allow me to say a word."

Shen Moqi looked in the direction of the sound and saw a Taoist priest in a green robe slowly walking out from behind a pillar. The man looked to be about twenty-seven or twenty-eight years old, with jet-black hair and beard, a gaunt face, and eyes as deep as bottomless pools. He walked very slowly, and each step he took, though clearly landing on the stone slabs, made no sound, as if he were floating in the air.

Hearing someone interrupt his conversation with Shen Moqi, the emperor was not annoyed. Instead, he nodded slightly and said, "Please speak, Grand Preceptor."

The Imperial Advisor? Shen Moqi's heart skipped a beat. The one who could accurately predict the wind direction three days from now?

The Imperial Advisor walked to Shen Moqi's side, no more than three feet away. He didn't speak, but simply glanced at Shen Moqi. That gaze wasn't intense, yet it gave Shen Moqi the feeling that all her secrets had been seen through—from the inside out, completely transparent.

After a moment, the Imperial Advisor turned to the Emperor, his voice calm and unhurried:

"This young man, at such a young age, has helped Yanjing turn the tide and save the city; he has indeed rendered great service. It is only right that His Majesty rewards him with gold, silver, and official titles. However, perhaps the imperial court is not the best choice for this young man."

Shen Moqi was astonished upon hearing this. The Imperial Advisor's tone towards the Emperor lacked the usual reverence of a subject; it was more like an equal dialogue, even carrying a hint of... the casualness of a superior towards a subordinate?

The emperor raised an eyebrow: "What does the Imperial Advisor mean?"

"I observe that this child's character is quite good," the Imperial Preceptor said calmly. "If he can be guided into the Daoist path, it would not be a bad thing."

The hall fell eerily quiet. Shen Moqi could even hear herself swallowing.

The Daoist sect? Shen Moqi's mind went blank for a moment, as if she had realized something.

The emperor pondered for a moment, his gaze shifting between Shen Moqi and the Imperial Advisor, before finally nodding: "Since the Imperial Advisor has spoken, then you can speak to him yourself."

He paused, then looked at Shen Moqi, his tone carrying a deeper meaning: "Shen Moqi, no matter what choice you make, you will always be a member of my Great Yan. Don't forget that."

Shen Moqi was taken aback, unsure of the deeper meaning behind those words, but instinctively replied, "This humble subject will remember."

He suddenly remembered something and mustered his courage to speak: "Your Majesty, I have a request."

A smile appeared on the emperor's face, seemingly somewhat surprised by his initiative: "Tell me about it!"

Shen Moqi gripped her sleeve tightly, her voice strained, but she still tried to speak clearly: "This humble citizen hopes that the imperial court can allocate funds to resettle orphans who lost their parents in the war, so that they can have food to eat, clothes to wear, and the ability to survive."

After he finished speaking, he felt a little uneasy. Was this too presumptuous? To make a request to the emperor in front of the entire court?

To everyone's surprise, the emperor burst into laughter upon hearing this, the sound echoing through the empty hall. He looked at an elderly man in a purple official robe standing at the front and said, "Prime Minister Yin, you explain this."

The old man in purple robes turned around, cupped his hands in greeting to Shen Moqi, and smiled kindly: "Before you entered the Golden Palace, His Majesty had already made arrangements for this matter, allocating special funds to establish Anji Hall to take in the orphans in the city. It is rare for someone so young to have such a kind heart."

Shen Moqi felt a surge of warmth in his chest, and his eyes stung with tears. He lowered his head and bowed deeply, saying, "Thank you for your great kindness, Your Majesty."

The emperor waved his hand and stood up: "That's it, you may leave!"

Surrounded by a group of eunuchs, he left through a side door. His bright yellow figure disappeared behind the screen, and all the civil and military officials in the hall bowed in unison: "Respectfully seeing off Your Majesty!"

Then, they all left one after another. The sounds of footsteps and robes gradually faded away, and in the blink of an eye, only Shen Moqi and the Imperial Preceptor remained in the vast golden hall.

Sunlight streamed through the carved windowpanes, casting dappled shadows on the floor. Shen Moqi stood there, suddenly feeling a little dazed—the scenes just now seemed like a dream.

"Come with me," the Grand Preceptor's voice rang in my ears.

Shen Moqi snapped out of his daze and saw that the man in the green robe was already walking towards the side of the hall. He quickly followed.

The two passed through a side door and entered a long corridor. Neatly trimmed flowers and trees lined both sides of the corridor, the morning light falling on the leaves and shimmering with delicate light. A faint fragrance of flowers filled the air, mingling with the distant, faint sound of bells.

The Imperial Advisor walked slowly, but Shen Moqi struggled to keep up—every step he took was incredibly steady, yet it felt like he was floating on clouds. He tried to speak several times, but didn't know where to begin.

Passing through the corridor, I arrived at a secluded courtyard. Above the entrance, a plaque bore the three powerful characters "National Preceptor's Residence." The courtyard was small, with an old locust tree in the center. Beneath the tree, there was a stone table and two stone benches. Low walls covered with ivy surrounded the courtyard, isolating it from the outside noise.

The Imperial Advisor sat down on the stone bench and pointed to the person opposite him: "Sit."

Shen Moqi sat down as instructed, but felt extremely uncomfortable. The person in front of her looked only a few years older than her, but those eyes... were so deep, as if they could see through everything.

"Just now in the Golden Hall, you requested that the orphans be placed in care," the Grand Preceptor said calmly. "You didn't want gold or silver, you didn't want official titles?"

Shen Moqi nodded.

Why?

Shen Moqi thought for a moment and said, "Those things... it might not be a good thing for me to take them. I have no relatives or friends now, and no foundation. Taking these things would be like a child carrying gold through a bustling market, and it might even cost me my life. But Shi Tou and the others saved me, and I can't abandon them."

The Imperial Advisor glanced at him, and something seemed to flash across his eyes.

"You've thought things through quite well. The reason I interrupted him before His Majesty could bestow his reward was precisely because of this consideration."

The Imperial Preceptor paused for a moment, then asked, "Do you know what I meant by 'Taoist sect' just now?"

Shen Moqi's heart skipped a beat, and she asked cautiously, "I have some ideas, but I'm not sure. Is it... cultivating immortality?"

The Imperial Advisor nodded slightly.

Shen Moqi felt a sudden rush of light in her head. This world allowed cultivation, but she didn't know if it was what she thought!

He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but didn't know what to ask. A thousand thoughts rushed to his mind—how powerful could one become an immortal? How long could one live? Could…could it allow him to return to his original world?

But the Imperial Preceptor didn't give him a chance to ask further questions. He simply sat quietly, his gaze fixed on the old locust tree, as if waiting for something.

Sunlight filters through the branches and leaves, casting dappled patterns on the bluestone slabs.

Shen Moqi took a deep breath, suppressed her shock, and carefully considered the path she would take next.