Bitter Realm: Have the Four Realms been united today?

Chapter 2 The Awakening of a Young Man

Night had fallen, and all was quiet except for a study deep within the imperial palace, where a dim, flickering candlelight still shone.

The candlelight burned quietly on the exquisite bronze candlesticks, occasionally bursting into tiny sparks that cast a soft glow throughout the room.

The fragrance of sandalwood wafted through the air, lingering and persistent. Behind the desk sat the strategist in white robes.

The dim light softened his usually aloof features, making his handsome face even more striking, and his calm and serene demeanor even more captivating.

He lowered his head slightly, his long, jade-like fingers holding a purple-tipped brush, the tip of which was fully dipped in thick ink, and he calmly wrote on the unfolded bamboo slips.

The ink flowed under the candlelight, the characters clear and sharp, penetrating the bamboo back, as if containing silent wisdom and power.

The wide white robe sleeves fluttered gently with the movement of the wrist, like flowing clouds reflecting the moon.

The whole scene is serene and profound, exquisitely beautiful, and exudes a sense of composure in control of the whole situation.

Thump, thump, thump.

A soft, restrained knock sounded on the door.

"Sir." A gentle and calm male voice sounded from outside the door.

The man in white did not look up. He smoothly completed the final stroke with his brush before gently placing the purple brush on the jade brush holder. His voice was steady: "Come in."

The door opened silently.

A young man dressed in an elegant blue scholar's robe strode in, his steps light yet respectful.

He stopped three steps in front of the desk, bowed, and said in a slightly unnoticed tone, "Sir, the boy has woken up."

Upon hearing this, the man in white's eyes flashed with a sharp light. He deftly rolled up the bamboo slip he had written on, stood up, walked around the desk, and strode out with the speed of the wind. His white robes drew a cool arc in the candlelight.

"Zhishu, is the Soul Emperor in the Imperial Palace?" he asked as he walked, speaking slightly quickly.

Mu Yunzhi followed closely behind and immediately replied, "The Soul Emperor is out on an inspection tour and is not in the palace at the moment. You need not worry, sir. I have already sent someone to inform the Soul Emperor."

The man in white nodded slightly, his steps continuing.

"Did the boy exhibit any unusual behavior after waking up?"

"After he woke up, he did not say a word. I remembered the teacher's previous instructions and dared not act on my own. I immediately came to inform the teacher that General Ling is currently taking care of him in a side room."

In the south, the land is shrouded in darkness and blood.

The mountains here are precipitous, with ancient trees reaching for the sky and blocking out the sun. All year round, a persistent crimson miasma hangs in the air, like a churning sea of ​​blood.

The terrain is even more bizarre and complex; those who are not familiar with the paths will get lost and face certain death.

However, at some unknown time, a magnificent palace quietly rose up deep within this awe-inspiring and desolate place.

Deep within the main hall, a side room lay quietly in the shadows.

The candlelight shone through the carved lampshade, casting flickering, dappled shadows on the walls and floor, barely pushing the darkness back into a corner.

On the bed, a boy dressed in blue hung his head, his body taut like a fully drawn bow.

Beneath the brocade quilt, his hands were clenched tightly, his knuckles turning white from the force.

The fear in his eyes was like a pebble thrown into a deep pool, the ripples spreading outwards until they almost overflowed, and cold sweat slowly seeped from his forehead, as if he was enduring some great pain or torment.

"Are you... alright?" Ling Shuangjie, standing a few steps away from the bed, finally couldn't help but ask, her cool voice carrying a hint of barely perceptible concern.

She was just passing through on her way back to her residence when Mu Yunzhi suddenly conscripted her into this room to look after the silent boy.

"..."

"Are you feeling unwell?" Ling Shuangjie asked again patiently, her voice even softer.

"..."

However, all that responded to her was a deathly silence.

Since she stepped into the room, the boy has remained in this posture, ignoring all words, like a frozen stone statue.

Only the fine beads of sweat that kept seeping from his forehead shimmered with an uneasy luster in the dim candlelight, gathering more and more before winding their way down.

A sense of helplessness swept through Ling Shuangjie's heart.

Mu Yunzhi left in a hurry, without mentioning a word about the boy's condition.

But the current situation doesn't seem like "everything is fine".

Just as Ling Shuangjie decided to stop asking in vain and was about to go forward to investigate, the "stone statue" on the bed finally loosened slightly.

"I...I'm fine...I'm...I'm sorry..." The boy's voice was as weak as a mosquito's buzz, trembling noticeably, and the last few words were almost a breathy sound stuck in his throat, "Can...can you..."

If Ling Shuangjie hadn't possessed true energy and had senses far exceeding those of ordinary people, she would have almost missed that faint request.

Her delicate brows furrowed almost imperceptibly, her gaze lingering for a moment on the boy's pale face, before she made up her mind.

She didn't press further, but calmly turned around and walked silently toward the door, leaving behind a reply devoid of emotion: "Alright. But it's getting late, and the kitchen may have already closed. Please wait a moment."

The footsteps faded into the distance, eventually disappearing outside the door. Silence returned to the side room, save for the flickering candlelight that cast distorted, swaying shadows on the walls.

The taut string suddenly relaxed, and the boy on the bed bent his back sharply, leaning heavily against the headboard, letting out a long and suppressed gasp, as if he had just struggled ashore from the brink of drowning.

The overwhelming fear in his eyes receded slowly like the tide, replaced by an almost icy calm. But beneath this calm, an even deeper and more intense confusion quickly surged.

"What... is going on?" Fragments of memories collided in the boy's chaotic mind.

He remembered that before he closed his eyes, he was still lying on his familiar yet cramped dormitory bed at the No. 2 Middle School. But when he opened his eyes again, what he saw was a strangely dressed figure in blue clothes that looked like an ancient person.

The man had asked him his name and background, but his mind was in a whirl, as if it were filled with scalding hot cotton, and he could only remain silent.

Later, the man in blue left, and then came the woman in red...

In the deep shadows of the pillars outside the courtyard, out of the boy's sight, a striking red stood silently.

"Someone come here!"

A soldier clad in black armor emerged from the shadows like a ghost, kneeling on one knee: "General!"

"Go to the kitchen and fetch some easily digestible hot congee. Go quickly and return immediately," Ling Shuangjie commanded.

"Yes, sir!" The soldier accepted the order and quickly disappeared into the night.

Seeing the soldiers disappear, Ling Shuangjie formed a hand seal with her right hand, and soon a strange light screen, as thin as a cicada's wing and as red as blood, silently floated in front of her.

In the center of the light screen, the blue-clad boy's every move in the side room was clearly displayed—from him relaxing and collapsing on the headboard, to him lifting the quilt and getting out of bed to look around the room, and finally sitting at the table with his head down, seemingly lost in thought.

Ling Shuangjie looked at the scene on the light screen, her cold and beautiful face remaining unchanged. When the young man asked for food earlier, his excessive silence and slight trembling made her feel that his behavior was rather abnormal.

She pretended to agree and left, not entirely believing his words, but also testing him to see if the boy would give himself away when he was alone.