The Eternal Way-Chapter 179: Concealing One’s Identity and Name

At the other end of this small world, in the capital city of this realm.

It was already nightfall, yet within the imperial palace,

The vermilion rooftops glowed even more brilliantly under the last rays of the sunset, as if real flames were burning or bright blood was flowing down.

The palace was magnificent with its golden splendor, purple doors, yellow pavilions, jade steps, and carved balustrades.

But it was cold.

The day's heat quickly dissipated, replaced by a chilly night wind that made hands and feet stiff.

Servants hurried about, cautiously and swiftly, each carrying out their duties without uttering a word beyond what was necessary.

Cold, restrained, suffocating—a painful atmosphere permeated the palace.

Tall and robust guards patrolled, ensuring silence among the servants who dared not speak.

However, in a hidden corner, two servants carrying hot water whispered to each other.

"Did you hear? General Yang is dead."

"What? How could that be? Didn't he just return victorious from quelling the northern barbarians?"

"It seems he was ordered to commit suicide by the Emperor."

"Why? And I remember he fought Balahan for three hours, both his hands were crippled. How could he commit suicide?"

"He was ordered to hold a sword in his mouth and dash against a pillar."

Silence fell between them as they walked through the brightly lit corridors.

Suddenly, a tall guard approached and kicked one of the servants violently, causing him to spit blood and faint instantly.

"Military man, why?" the remaining servant trembled, falling to the ground.

"Talking about the Emperor is treason." The guard spoke emotionlessly, then drew his waist knife and executed both men efficiently.

He signaled, and soon others came to remove the bodies.

This scene had occurred many times before; other servants merely lowered their heads further and continued their tasks.

Yet, the entire palace felt even more oppressive.

Among these servants, one young man with a pale face and no facial hair shook so badly he could barely hold his tray.

He looked around twenty years old, his lips slightly blue, standing unnoticed among the crowd.

An old eunuch nearby scolded sharply, "Stop shaking! Hold your trays steady!"

"These trays don't carry handkerchiefs but your heads! Drop a tray, lose your head!"

"Hold your tongues and hands, and you'll stand firm here. Understand?"

The eunuch instructed the trembling servants sternly.

Each servant carried a redwood tray filled with toiletries—soap, hot water, towels, perfume, etc., all in extravagant quantities.

For instance, there were four stacks of towels, each containing twenty-five pieces, making a total of one hundred intricately embroidered towels featuring different postures of a dragon playing with a pearl.

After ensuring everyone held their trays securely, the eunuch continued, "Remember, use each towel only once on the Emperor. Dirty towels must be handed over immediately. Four of you will wipe his limbs slowly, opening every pore."

The designated servants responded respectfully.

"Then, when signaled, you'll enter to change the bathwater. Remember to add hot water quietly and swiftly."

The eunuch checked everything meticulously, reminding them about cleanliness, how to carry basins, and even that socks should never be reused.

Finally, he waved them off, "Go in. Remember, any mistake means death!"

They entered in an orderly line, each carrying luxurious items meant for single use.

Such extravagance, such brutality.

These servants moved silently, perfectly measured, pleasing the leading eunuch.

Among them, the pale-faced young man proceeded carefully into the palace.

Inside,

Everything proceeded as usual.

Four servants stood in uniform attire, led by the chief eunuch to pay respects.

After kneeling, trays were taken, oilcloth laid out, and a bathtub brought in with warm water, ready for the Emperor to undress.

The weary Emperor allowed the servants and maids to undress him.

Strict protocols governed the use of basins and towels, each servant knowing their role precisely.

Only the Emperor appeared relaxed, using servants as naturally as modern people use appliances.

As for what the servants thought—no one cared.

Failure meant death.

Since the establishment of the Great Xin Dynasty, countless servants had died for mistakes.

Under such pressure, servants were rigorously trained, some even developing pride in their roles, like the old eunuch who monitored those lacking pride.

When it was the turn of the pale-faced servant, he stepped forward holding a tray of towels.

Fifty towels had been used; he was part of the third batch, responsible for exchanging towels and removing dirty water.

Suddenly, he dropped the tray.

The constantly chattering eunuch's face turned to horror.

Disaster!

But before he could react, a thin blade was revealed among the towels.

In a flash, the pale-faced servant grabbed the blade and threw it.

A loud noise erupted, water splashed everywhere, shattering glass windows, and servants covered their ears as chaos ensued.

Yet, the pale-faced servant focused solely on the Emperor, who alone reacted swiftly.

Using a tray, the Emperor deflected the blade with several towels, slowing its speed significantly.

Before the eunuch could shout "Assassin!" the servant swung his sleeves, releasing wooden spikes that killed surrounding servants and targeted the Emperor.

Again, the Emperor deflected the spikes with towels.

The servant attacked again, dislodging two blades from his clothes, but the Emperor countered with glass beads from the bathtub, breaking the blades mid-air.

The servant pulled out a flexible sword-like blade, attacking fiercely.

The Emperor recognized him, "Your technique resembles 'Listening Wind Blade' Xiao Ming. Surprising to see a top martial artist attempt assassination. Unfortunately, your skills are inadequate."

While conversing, the Emperor dressed calmly.

Xiao Ming struck thrice, all dodged skillfully, allowing the Emperor to finish dressing.

His fourth strike was swift and silent, cutting the Emperor's robe.

Enraged, the Emperor used a dragon-claw gesture, sucking Xiao Ming towards him and striking him forcefully, shattering ribs.

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Xiao Ming spat blood, crashing into a wall, incapacitated.

The Emperor tidied up, "Weakness, this is the strength of a top martial artist? Truly disappointing."

Mockingly, he added, "You self-castrated and infiltrated the palace, only to find yourself outmatched. Frustrating, isn't it?"

Xiao Ming spat, "Damn tyrant!"

"You call me a tyrant? Yet I unified the realm," the Emperor replied nonchalantly.

"You may have united the land, but hatred follows. Killing me won't end it," Xiao Ming gasped weakly, dying with hate-filled eyes.

"Hate is futile. Killing your generation will suffice. Future children will serve me faithfully," the Emperor boasted.

"And since you're curious, my unparalleled martial arts come from another world where I arrived by accident. Your world is weak."

Just as he prepared to kill Xiao Ming, a golden thread descended from above, decapitating the Emperor instantly.

Historical records later described:

"The Tyrannical Emperor of the New Dynasty, cruel and despotic, committed unspeakable atrocities. No ruler in history has been as brutal."

"Yet, the righteous hero Xiao Ming, responding to the heavens, infiltrated the palace and sacrificed himself to eliminate the Tyrannical Emperor, saving the realm from suffering."