Dawn broke over the capital of Tianshan with a light that felt different—not because the sun had changed, but because the world it shone upon had fundamentally changed in a single night.
Li Yuan stood on the palace balcony, looking out at the tiered city below. Through his Wenjing Realm, he heard thousands of intentions still churning like an ocean after a storm: relief, fear of an uncertain future, sadness for their losses, and here and there, a fragile spark of hope.
Behind him, the throne room was still full of people—hundreds of them, sitting or standing in a heavy silence. They had done what they never imagined was possible: they had passed judgment on their own rulers.
King Tianlong and Prince Tianwei no longer sat on the throne. Their bodies had been carried out of the palace by the people themselves, to be buried without ceremony—no final respects for those who had shown so little respect for the lives of others.
Li Yuan did not witness the details of what happened in the throne room after the crowd moved forward. He had stepped outside, granting the people privacy to complete the justice they had chosen for themselves. He heard, of course—through his Wenjing Realm nothing could be hidden—but he did not watch. Some things are better left between the people and their fallen rulers.
What he did know was this: it did not last long. And in the end, there was no unnecessary cruelty. The people did not torture or play games—they simply completed what they saw as a long-overdue justice. It was swift, final, and done with a full awareness of the weight of their actions.
They will carry this burden for the rest of their lives, Li Yuan mused with deep sadness. Taking a life—even the life of one who has caused so much suffering—is not an act that can be done without leaving a mark on the soul.
But it was their choice. And the consequences of that choice—both external and internal—were their responsibility to bear.
The sound of footsteps approached from behind. Li Yuan did not need to turn to know who it was—through his Wenjing Realm, he had already heard the familiar intention: the middle-aged man who had become the unofficial leader of the crowd last night.
"Mister Li," the man said, his voice tired but steady. "We... we don't know what to do now."
Li Yuan turned to face him. The man looked as if he had aged ten years in a single night—deeper-set eyes, heavier shoulders, but there was also something different in his posture. No longer the posture of a person living in constant fear.
"What do you want to do?" Li Yuan asked in a gentle tone.
"We want... we want something different," the man replied, searching for the right words. "A system not based on cruelty. A leader who cares about the people, not just about power. But we don't know how to build that."
Li Yuan looked at the man with eyes that carried the understanding of thousands of years.
"No system is perfect," he said with serene honesty. "Every system will have flaws, because systems are run by humans, and humans are not perfect."
"But," he continued, "there are fundamental principles that make a system better or worse. First: power must serve the people, not the other way around. Second: no one should be above the law—even leaders must be accountable for their actions. Third: justice must be based on actions and character, not on the accident of birth."
The man nodded slowly, absorbing the words.
"But who will lead us now?" he asked. "The king has no worthy heir—his children are young and have been raised in the same system that made their father what he was."
Li Yuan had been thinking about this question since last night. Through his Wenjing Realm, he had heard the intentions of thousands of people in this capital, searching for someone who had the right combination of wisdom, empathy, and strength to lead in this difficult transitional period.
And he had found someone.
"There is a child," Li Yuan said with a simplicity that carried the weight of finality. "From the noble class, but different from the others. I heard his intention last night—an overwhelming fear, but also anger at the injustice, a desire to do what is right even though his body trembled, and most importantly: a sincere intention to help others without expecting a reward."
Li Yuan pointed in the direction of the mansion on the noble level.
"His name is Lian. He is the son of Lord Feng—one of the more moderate nobles, who was not involved in the worst of the cruelty. He is only sixteen years old, too young in many ways, but sometimes it is precisely the young who have the ability to see with fresh eyes."
The man looked doubtful.
"A noble? After all that has happened, how can the people trust someone from the class that has oppressed them?"
"Because," Li Yuan replied in a tone that carried undeniable truth, "true justice is not about collective revenge against a social class. True justice is about judging each individual based on their own character and actions, not based on the accident of their birth."
"If you judge all nobles as guilty simply because they were born noble, you are no better than the system you have just overthrown—a system that judged people based on birth rather than character."
The man fell silent, contemplating the words.
"How do we know that this child is truly as you say?"
"Bring him here," Li Yuan said with simplicity. "Let the people meet him, speak with him, hear his own intentions. And then let the people decide. It is not I who will choose your leader—that is your own right and responsibility."
After a further discussion, a decision was made. Messengers were sent to Lord Feng's mansion to summon the boy named Lian.
While waiting, Li Yuan walked through the palace that now felt like an empty shell. The palace servants and officials moved with a restless unease—their world had been turned upside down, and they did not know if they still had a place in it.
Through his Wenjing Realm, Li Yuan heard their intentions: fear of retaliation, worry about the future, and in some cases, regret about their role in the fallen system.
They are also victims in their own way, Li Yuan mused. Trapped in a system that forced them to choose between their own safety or standing against injustice. Not everyone has the courage to be a martyr.
He found Inspector Chen—the official he had spoken to on the night of retaliation a year ago—sitting in his office, staring at documents with a blank expression.
"Inspector," Li Yuan greeted gently.
The man looked up, and Li Yuan saw that his face had fundamentally changed. The eyes that were once full of political calculation now showed something different—perhaps a wisdom born from suffering, or perhaps just deep exhaustion.
"Mister Li," Inspector Chen replied in a flat voice. "I heard what happened last night. I... I'm not surprised. After our conversation a year ago, I knew that this was coming—either through reform or revolution."
"And the king chose the path that made revolution inevitable," Li Yuan finished in a tone that was not judgmental, only stating a fact.
Inspector Chen nodded with bitterness.
"I tried," he said, his voice full of frustration and regret. "After our conversation, I tried to advocate for reform. I submitted proposals to loosen some of the most repressive policies, to create accountability mechanisms, to..."
He stopped, shaking his head.
"But the king did not listen. And when his brother returned, everything got worse. Prince Tianwei convinced the king that I was a threat, that my advocacy for reform was a sign that I sympathized with the 'rebels.' I lost most of my authority, was constantly watched, and..."
He looked at Li Yuan with eyes full of a deep weariness.
"I was a coward," he said with raw honesty. "I could have resigned, could have spoken out more loudly, could have done more. But I didn't because I was afraid of losing my position, losing my security, losing..."
"Losing your life," Li Yuan completed with understanding. "And that is a human and understandable fear."
"But now," Inspector Chen continued in a voice that was almost a whisper, "the people who tried to make a difference—Uncle Wu, Mei, Master Feng, and the others—they who dared to stand up even though they had more to lose than I did, they are all dead. And I am still alive."
Tears began to flow down the man's cheeks—not loud sobs, just silent tears that came from a regret that was too deep for words.
"How can I live with this?" he asked, and it was a genuine question, not rhetoric.
Li Yuan sat across from the official, giving him a moment of respectful silence before answering.
"By ensuring that their deaths were not in vain," he finally said in a gentle but firm tone. "By using your position and your knowledge to help build a better system. By becoming the voice for justice that you were too afraid to be before."
"Regret without action will only torment your soul without providing any benefit to the world. But regret transformed into action—that can make a difference."
Inspector Chen looked at Li Yuan with a complex expression—hope mixed with doubt.
"You think a new system would need people like me? After all that I have... or haven't done?"
"A new system will need people who understand how the old system worked, so they can ensure the same mistakes are not repeated," Li Yuan answered with calm honesty. "But more than that, a new system will need people who have a wisdom born from experience—even the experience of moral failure."
"The question is not whether you are perfect. No one is. The question is whether you are willing to learn from your failures and try to be better."
Several hours later, the boy named Lian arrived at the palace, accompanied by his father Lord Feng and a few commoner envoys.
Li Yuan observed the boy with deep attention. Lian was a thin boy with large eyes that darted nervously—clearly very afraid, but had come nonetheless despite that fear. He wore noble clothes, but they were not extravagant—simple, practical, showing that his family was likely one of the more moderate ones.
Through his Wenjing Realm, Li Yuan heard the boy's intention with incredible clarity: an almost paralyzing fear, but also a strong sense of responsibility, a desire to do what was right even though his body trembled, and most importantly—a sincere empathy for the suffering of others, even those from a different social class.
Yes, Li Yuan confirmed inwardly. This is the right person. Too young, too afraid, but with a solid moral foundation. With the right guidance, he could become the leader this kingdom needs.
Lian was brought into the throne room where hundreds of people were still gathered. When he entered, a silence fell—a silence heavy with suspicion and judgment.
The middle-aged man who had become the unofficial leader stepped forward.
"You are Lian, the son of Lord Feng?" he asked in a tone that was formal but not unkind.
"Y-yes," Lian replied, his voice trembling but clear. "I... I was summoned here, but I don't know why."
"Mister Li said that you have a sincere heart," the man continued, looking at the boy with a judging eye. "That you have empathy for the suffering of others, even those not of your class."
"Is that true?"
Lian looked around the room—at the faces of the people who had lost so much, at the eyes full of suspicion and battling hope.
And then, something remarkable happened.
Instead of trying to sound confident or authoritative, instead of trying to hide his fear, Lian spoke with raw honesty.
"I am afraid," he said, his voice trembling but clear. "I am very afraid. Last night, I watched from my balcony as you all walked to the palace, and I... I wanted to join. I wanted to stand with you. But I was too cowardly."
Tears began to flow down his cheeks, but he didn't wipe them away.
"I heard about what happened two months ago. About the executions. And I... I was angry. I was very angry. But I did nothing because I was afraid. And now the people who were braver than me—the people who dared to stand up even though they had more to lose—they are all dead."
The boy looked directly into the eyes of the middle-aged man.
"I don't know why Mister Li thinks I can... can help with anything. I am just a coward. But if... if there is a way I can make a difference, if there is a way I can help ensure that the people who died did not die in vain, then I am willing to try. Even if I am afraid. Especially because I am afraid."
The silence that fell over the throne room now had a different quality—not suspicion, but serious consideration.
Through his Wenjing Realm, Li Yuan heard a shift in the collective intention of the people. Lian's raw honesty—his willingness to admit his fear and his failure rather than pretend to be a hero—had touched something within them.
Because they were all also afraid. They all also felt cowardly at certain moments. And seeing someone—especially someone from the class that had oppressed them—admit the same weakness made him feel... human.
The young woman who had lost her sister stepped forward.
"You said you were angry about the executions," she said in a probing but not hostile tone. "Why? They weren't from your class. What difference did it make to you?"
Lian looked at the woman with eyes that were wet with tears but also very honest.
"Because they were human," he answered with a simplicity that carried a fundamental truth. "Your sister—Ling, wasn't it?—she taught children, she shared with the hungry. That... that is not a crime. That is compassion. And a world where compassion is punished with death is a sick world."
He wiped his tears with the back of his hand—a very childlike gesture that somehow made his words feel even more sincere.
"I can't change what has happened. I can't bring them back. But if you... if you give me a chance, I will spend the rest of my life trying to ensure that no one has to die again just because they showed kindness."
Li Yuan watched this exchange with quiet satisfaction. He did not need to intervene—Lian was speaking from his own heart, and the people were responding on a genuine level.
After a moment of silence, the middle-aged man spoke again.
"We all need time to consider this," he said, looking around the room at the gathered people. "This is not a decision that can be made in a hurry. A new leader—whoever that may be—will shape the future of this kingdom for generations to come."
He turned to Lian.
"You will stay at the palace tonight. Tomorrow, we will hold a meeting with people from all levels. They will meet you, ask you questions, and then we will make a collective decision."
"Is that fair?"
Lian nodded quickly, clearly relieved that he didn't have to make an immediate decision.
"Yes, of course. I... thank you. Thank you for at least considering."
As the crowd began to disperse, Li Yuan remained standing at the side of the room, observing with eyes that carried thousands of years of wisdom.
This is the beginning, he thought with quiet satisfaction. Not the end, but the beginning. The path to a better system will be long and difficult, with many mistakes along the way. But at least now they are walking on the right path.
And this child—Lian—maybe he will succeed, maybe not. But he has something more valuable than confidence or strength: he has an awareness of his own weakness, and a willingness to try despite his fear.
Sometimes, that is all that is needed.