novelraw Chapter 86 : Spring of Anxi (10/9, Tenth Update)
Chapter 86 : Spring of Anxi (10/9, Tenth Update)
Chapter 86: Spring of Anxi (10/9, Tenth Update)
March Third, the season of spring plowing.
In the skies above Yili County, a nourishing drizzle like fine cow’s hair rain was gently falling.
The farmers working in the fields looked up at the heavens, their faces unable to hide the heartfelt smiles that bloomed from deep within.
Once upon a time, irrigating this land had relied solely on manpower — diverting rivers, digging wells — laborious and exhausting work.
Now, everything was different.
The Burial Dragon Mountain Range’s heavenly gate had opened wide, bringing not only a passageway, but also divine rain descending from the heavens.
Moist air from the east had turned into this continuous spring drizzle, silently nourishing the once-thirsty land.
The eastern counties of Anxi Prefecture were all bathed in its grace.
The once dry and cracked earth now shimmered with moisture; rivers within the prefecture that had nearly dried up were again rippling with clear waves, murmuring as they flowed.
A single feat of “opening the mountains and drawing the clouds” had quietly changed the very heavens and earth of Anxi, completely rewriting the fate of its commoners who once relied on the whims of nature to eat.
This fine rain was the most moving testimony.
Prince of Anxi’s Mansion.
Jiang Zhaoming closed the final document in his hands, his gaze falling upon the figure seated behind the desk before him.
That figure was deeply focused, just as he had been when Jiang Zhaoming first arrived in Anxi.
Only now, his body was unsteady, and his hands often trembled slightly.
A surge of indescribable emotion welled up within Jiang Zhaoming’s heart, eventually turning into a long, quiet sigh.
In ten years, the Anxi Prefecture had undergone countless transformations.
Talented generals and capable officers had risen in abundance; not a few had broken through to the Divine Power Realm, and several had even stepped into the Myriad Phenomena Realm.
All of Anxi brimmed with vigorous vitality.
Only one man, amidst this flourishing scene, was silently fighting against the erosion of time, growing ever older.
When Jiang Zhaoming had first arrived in Anxi, Fan Kang had already been fifty-six years old.
Now, twelve more springs and autumns had passed under the rule of the Prince of Anxi; this old minister was nearing seventy.
The once diligent and energetic Prefectural Lord of Anxi, though weary, had still possessed a glimmer of vigor and sharpness. Now, his figure was slightly hunched.
Deep wrinkles covered his face — marks of decades of toil, worry, and weathering.
Most striking of all was his head of silver hair.
Jiang Zhaoming still remembered that when they had first met, his hair had been as black as ink; now it had been entirely bleached white by the passage of years, glinting faintly under the lamplight.
Jiang Zhaoming had often thought about helping him.
He knew well that Fan Kang’s contributions were immense, and he had more than once proposed to use his own means to assist the old minister in breaking through to the Divine Power Realm, extending his life and strengthening his body.
However, Fan Kang’s resolve had exceeded his expectations.
That conversation remained vivid as if it had happened only yesterday.
Fan Kang’s voice had been calm yet resolute. “Your Majesty, I am well aware of your divine methods. If you say you can help me break through to the Divine Power Realm, I would not doubt you for even half a moment.”
“If so, then do as I say. I will ensure that you step into Divine Power.”
Fan Kang had slowly shaken his head, his clouded eyes filled with the clarity of one who had seen through the world.
“Your Majesty, I know that to perform such a miraculous act cannot come without a price.
Anxi now stands at a time when talent is needed most. Your energy and resources should be spent on the edge of the blade — on those who can expand Your Majesty’s territories and protect the lives of the commoners.
Why waste them on an old bag of bones like me?”
“Lord Fan, you are the Prefectural Lord under my command. Helping you break through to Divine Power is, to me, spending my strength on the edge of the blade.”
Jiang Zhaoming’s expression had been solemn as he tried to persuade Fan Kang.
Fan Kang had lifted his head, his gaze drifting past Jiang Zhaoming as if looking toward the distant Jiangnan, his voice carrying both gentleness and regret.
“Your Majesty, to tell you the truth, my wife was born into a noble family of Jiangnan — a sheltered young lady.
Since she married me, she has followed me through countless hardships, from the prosperous Imperial Capital to this remote border of Anxi.
The wind and sand have eroded her beauty; toil has drained her spirit. For most of her life, she has known little comfort, following me only through bitterness and suffering.”
He had paused, his eyes filled with deep affection and resolve.
“Longevity is not what I desire. I cannot abandon her; I wish only to accompany her to the very end of this life.”
“I can aid her as well—”
“Your Majesty’s kindness, this old minister accepts in his heart.”
Fan Kang had interrupted Jiang Zhaoming, his smile bitter yet serene.
“My wife and I are even more reluctant to part from our children and grandchildren. They are of ordinary talent, with no gift for cultivation — merely common folk among the multitude.
If the two of us were to gain longevity, yet have to watch our descendants grow old and wither one by one before our eyes — such heart-piercing pain, neither I nor my wife could bear.”
Jiang Zhaoming had fallen silent.
He had looked at the old minister before him, who had devoted over thirty years of his life and energy to Anxi, his hair now like frost, and his heart had been filled with inexpressible sorrow.
Fan Kang’s refusal had not come from fear of death, but from a profound sense of duty and love.
Sensing the sadness in Jiang Zhaoming’s eyes, Fan Kang had smiled — a rare, open smile tinged with self-deprecation.
“Your Majesty need not worry for this old minister. Before Your Majesty’s arrival, what was Anxi like?
Internal strife, external threats, the people suffering and destitute.
Even though I had reached the Blood Refining Realm, in those years, I was nearly spent, my flame almost extinguished.”
His tone had grown lighter. “But now, how wonderful things are! Above us, there is Your Majesty’s brilliance and wisdom; below, countless young talents full of ambition and vigor. Anxi flourishes with life — its future boundless!
This old body of mine has aged; it is time to make room for the young and let them fully display their talents.”
He had paused, recalling the busy figures of the young officials, his voice soft with the expectation of an elder.
“Besides, seeing these juniors grow and take charge gives me more comfort than anything else.
All these years of striving — wasn’t it for Anxi to have this very vitality, to ensure its legacy would endure?
Having been a ‘beast of burden’ for Anxi half my life, now seeing the vast fertile fields and galloping steeds, I am content.”
Warm memories flowed through Jiang Zhaoming’s heart, and a gentle smile appeared unconsciously at the corner of his lips.
He again turned his gaze toward the familiar figure behind the desk.
At that moment, within his sea of consciousness, the wood-element “Azure Deer Spirit” Dao Foundation shimmered faintly.
Gathering his thoughts, Jiang Zhaoming said softly,
“Lord Fan, the spring is in full bloom today. Why not take your wife, children, and grandchildren to stroll in the gardens and admire the flowers? See for yourself the beauty of this March world.”
At those words, Fan Kang’s pen, poised over the document he was reviewing, came to a stop.
He slowly raised his head, following Jiang Zhaoming’s gaze toward the flourishing spring beyond the hall.
A gentle breeze happened to sweep past the doors, carrying the fresh scent of soil and the faintly sweet fragrance of peach and plum blossoms from afar.
He drew back his gaze, bowed deeply — a gesture of utmost respect.
When he straightened, meeting Jiang Zhaoming’s deep eyes, he seemed to understand something.
A knowing, peaceful smile rippled across his timeworn face like waves spreading across still water, reaching his eyes.
With serenity on his lips, he said, “Your Majesty, then this old minister shall take his leave first.”
Jiang Zhaoming rose and, facing this loyal old minister who had given his all, returned the salute with equal solemnity.
“Lord Fan, enjoy yourself to the fullest today.”
By the Yili River, the spring waters murmured gently.
At noon, the lingering drizzle finally ceased, and the sky became clear and blue.
Fan Kang had changed out of his official robes into a comfortable casual tunic.
Surrounded by his family, he came to a shallow riverbank outside the city, where the water ran clear and the willows swayed gracefully.
Somehow, word had spread, and the nearby commoners recognized this old Prefectural Lord who had spent his life for Anxi.
They did not disturb him with noise, only watched from afar with simple reverence.
They brought freshly steamed pastries and just-picked fruits, placing them quietly beside the Fan family’s resting mat.
Fan Kang accepted them all with a warm smile, his eyes filled with gentle gratitude.
He reclined on a wide bamboo chair cushioned with soft padding.
He watched his grandchildren laughing and playing in the water, splashing waves that reflected their carefree smiles.
He watched his children under the distant willows, spreading mats, reciting poems, or sketching the spring scenery before them.
As he watched, the smile on his face deepened, his chest filling with a profound sense of peace and satisfaction.
At that moment, a hand — weathered by years yet still warm — gently covered his on the armrest.
She sat beside him, silent, simply holding his hand tightly in her own.
Two rough, timeworn hands intertwined under the gentle spring sunlight, fingers tightly clasped.
Just as they had done back when they were still young students.
Sunlight wrapped around them; the murmur of the river, the laughter of children and grandchildren, and the rustle of the willows in the breeze wove together into a song of serene harmony.
Fan Kang felt an unprecedented, bone-deep weariness.
His eyelids grew heavy, and the faces of his children, grandchildren, and the distant commoners began to blur, as though seen through drifting mist.
He faintly saw the children stop playing, gathering around in alarm.
He felt his wife tighten her grip on his hand, sensed the warmth of her tears falling upon his skin.
Those cries and soft sobs seemed to come from far, far away — fading into the distance.