Chapter Sixty-Eight: The Azure Heaven Dies, the Yellow Heaven Rises?

Li Zisheng and his companion continued onward toward the third pavilion.

At first glance, the third pavilion appeared quite ordinary, but its exterior was almost entirely covered in white ash—a sight Li Zisheng had never encountered before, as it was used to prevent corpses from decaying. Upon entering, contrary to his expectations, the air inside seemed locked in, as if the scent were trapped within the pavilion itself.

Inside stood a tall wooden barrel filled with a bright red liquid. However, this vivid red was not blood but an unknown fuel that dyed the liquid its crimson hue. The pungent smell of blood was entirely absent.

Li Zisheng examined the setting carefully: the barrel brimming with the red liquid, the ground around it blanketed in white ash, and at the center of the pavilion, a wooden plaque inscribed in bold red characters with the phrase "Heaven is Dead." The words immediately captured his attention.

Everyone knew the profound implication of "Heaven is Dead." In the era of the Tang dynasty, Heaven symbolized the celestial authority, and the emperor was considered the Son of Heaven, the ordained ruler. To display such a phrase was tantamount to treason, evoking the spirit of Zhang Jiao’s rebellion—an outright challenge to the established order.

This was a crime of insurrection, unforgivable and punishable by the extermination of one’s entire family.

Li Zisheng was deeply startled. Who could be behind such a drastic provocation? Whatever the forces at play, they threatened a monumental upheaval. He approached this matter with extreme caution; the charge of rebellion was the gravest offense, and even the slightest association could mean death without mercy.

Outside the pavilion, Ba Liang stood at a distance, unwilling to approach, fearful of witnessing something unsettling.

Li Zisheng left the third pavilion, with Ba Liang following closely behind, both wary of what might lie ahead.

---

Without paying much attention to Ba Liang behind him, Li Zisheng hastened toward the fourth pavilion.

Soon, he arrived. This pavilion was markedly different from the previous ones in style—more akin to the architecture of the Hu people, rough and towering, starkly contrasting with its surroundings, lending it an odd, almost alien air.

Inside, no tables were present. Instead, a massive stone sat at the center, harmonizing with the pavilion’s foreign architectural style.

Carved onto the stone were four characters, seemingly printed with gold powder: "The Yellow Heaven Shall Rise."

Li Zisheng’s expression shifted. The slogans "Heaven is Dead" and "The Yellow Heaven Shall Rise" were no casual proclamations. He was well-acquainted with the uprising of the Yellow Turban Army from historical records, especially their remarkable ability to rally the masses—a tactic he admired for its effectiveness in recruitment. Yet Zhang Jiao’s critical flaw had been the lack of capable leaders beneath him, which ultimately led to the rebellion’s downfall. After Zhang Jiao’s defeat, it was rumored he was executed, but his followers vanished mysteriously, as chronicled in unofficial histories.

Could the slogans here be the work of Zhang Jiao’s descendants, or some faction claiming his legacy? Though Li Zisheng could not be certain, he understood the underlying message: whoever orchestrated this harbored treasonous intent. He would never believe otherwise.

---

The phrase continued: "In the year of Jiazi, all under heaven will be at peace," likely inscribed in the pavilion beyond.

Yet, within this fourth pavilion, Li Zisheng had yet to find the usual tokens—skulls, blood, corpses—that might clarify the meaning. Whatever the case, it was clear a grand conspiracy was afoot.

Sure enough, behind the massive stone, he spotted a severed hand, charred and placed deliberately beneath the heavy boulder. Only a small portion was visible. The finger bore a silver ring, unmistakably the kind worn by the elder Ashina Zanghe.

Li Zisheng’s shock deepened. Aside from the imposing stone, the presence of Ashina Zanghe’s hand here was baffling. Why would his hand lie beneath this massive stone, which no ordinary person could lift? The deliberate placement was perplexing.

He recalled that in Deng Qing’s tent, Ashina Zanghe’s body was nailed to a screen, and he had not noticed any missing hand.

Could it be that his cover was blown, and someone else was already in Ling City, even ahead of him? After all, upon arriving at the military camp, Li Zisheng had remained hidden for some time before venturing to the Lingzhou Academy to investigate.

A chill ran down his spine. If this were true, his situation was precarious. He had been unaware that others were concealed here, lurking in the shadows.

Or perhaps this was a trap, purposely arranged for him to find. If so, he would need to exercise extreme caution.