Two days had passed since the night that changed everything. The capital of Tianshan was still grappling with a new reality—a world without a king, without the hierarchical system that had defined their lives for generations.
Li Yuan stood in a corner of the palace balcony overlooking the large square below, where thousands of people from all levels had gathered. This was the promised meeting—the moment when the kingdom's future would begin to take shape through the collective choice of its people.
Through his Wenjing Realm, he heard a complex symphony of intentions: fragile hope mixed with fear of uncertainty, a desire for change mixed with anxiety about how to achieve it, and here and there, a still-seething anger toward those who were not yet ready to forgive the old system.
In the middle of the crowd stood Lian—the sixteen-year-old noble boy who two days ago had spoken with raw honesty about his fear and failure. Today, he wore clothes that were simpler than usual, almost indistinguishable from a commoner except for his slightly more upright posture—the result of years of training as a noble child that couldn't be completely erased.
Next to Lian stood his father, Lord Feng, with a complex expression—pride mixed with worry, hope mixed with fear of what might happen to his son.
The middle-aged man who had become the unofficial leader of the people stepped forward onto a platform that had been built in the square. His voice—amplified by the natural acoustics of the tiered city's architecture—reached every corner.
"Brothers and sisters," he began, and the crowd slowly quieted. "We gather today to make a decision that will shape all our futures. Two nights ago, we did something we never imagined was possible—we passed judgment on the rulers who had oppressed us."
A silence fell, heavy with the memory of that night.
"Now we face an even more difficult question: what will we build in the place of what we have destroyed?"
He pointed to Lian.
"Mister Li has suggested that this boy—Lian of the Feng family—may have the qualities needed to lead us into a better future. But that is only a suggestion. The final decision is in all our hands."
A murmur of conversation rippled through the crowd. Through his Wenjing Realm, Li Yuan heard a wide spectrum of reactions: skepticism, curiosity, anger at the idea that a noble could lead again, and here and there, a willingness to at least listen.
"Why a noble?" a voice from the crowd shouted—an old man with a face wrinkled by years of hard labor. "Didn't we just overthrow a system where nobles ruled over us? Why would we choose one of them to lead again?"
It was a fair question, and one that many others had clearly been thinking.
Lian, standing under the gaze of thousands of eyes, looked like he might faint. His face was pale, his hands were trembling, and he had to lock his knees to keep them from buckling. But when he spoke, his voice—though weak—carried an undeniable honesty.
"I... I understand your anger," he said, his voice straining to reach those in the back. "If I were you, I would also reject the idea of being led by a noble again. The old system was indeed built for the benefit of my class at the expense of all of you."
He took a shaky breath, trying to find the right words.
"But I want to ask: should a person's worth be determined by their place of birth? Or by the choices they make?"
The crowd stirred restlessly, but no one interrupted.
"I cannot change the fact that I was born a noble," Lian continued, his voice a little stronger now. "But I can choose how I live. I can choose not to accept privileges I didn't earn. I can choose to serve rather than command. I can choose to listen rather than dictate."
A woman from the crowd—one of those who had lost family in the executions two months ago—stepped forward.
"Words are easy," she said in a sharp but not hateful tone. "How do we know that you are not just saying what we want to hear? How do we know that once you have power, you won't become like the old king?"
The question struck to the core of the issue. Lian looked at the woman with honest eyes.
"You don't know," he admitted with surprising simplicity. "I don't know either. I have never led anything. I don't even know if I can do what needs to be done. I am too young, too inexperienced, and too... afraid."
Tears began to flow down his cheeks, but he didn't wipe them away.
"But I know this: I don't want to live in a world where people like your sister are killed for showing compassion. I don't want to live in a world where birth determines a person's worth. And I am willing to spend every day of the rest of my life trying to build something better, even if I am not sure how."
He looked out at the entire crowd, his trembling voice now carrying an intensity not heard before.
"And if I fail—if I start to become like the old king, if I start to prioritize power over justice—then I ask all of you to do to me what you did to King Tianlong. Do not let me become a tyrant. Do not let the system we build become like the old one."
The silence that fell over the square was so deep that even the wind seemed to stop blowing.
Li Yuan, from his position on the balcony, watched with deep attention. Through his Wenjing Realm, he heard a subtle shift in the crowd's collective intention. Lian's raw honesty—his willingness to admit his fear, his uncertainty, and even his own death if he failed—had touched something within them.
Because they were all also afraid. They were all also uncertain about the future. And seeing someone—especially someone who was supposed to be their "enemy"—admit the same weakness made him feel real in a way that no confident speech could achieve.
Inspector Chen—the official Li Yuan had spoken to a few days ago—stepped forward from the edge of the crowd. His face still showed the marks of regret, but there was also something new: a resolve to do better.
"I served in the royal administration for many years," he said in a strong and clear voice. "I saw how the old system worked—or rather, did not work. I saw how corruption and privilege corrupted every attempt at justice."
He looked at Lian with a serious expression.
"But I also saw this boy. I heard him speak with his father about the injustices he witnessed. I saw how he secretly gave food to hungry servants. I heard how he questioned the most repressive policies, even when it made his father worry for his safety."
Inspector Chen turned to face the crowd.
"I am not saying that this boy is perfect. No one is. But I believe that he is sincere. And in a world full of powerful and cruel people, I would choose someone who is sincere and afraid over someone who is confident and has no conscience."
Master Chen, the furniture maker, stepped forward next. The hammer he had carried on the night of the execution was now replaced by a wooden chisel—the tool of his craft, not a weapon.
"I do not believe in a system where one person holds all the power," he said in a thoughtful tone. "The old king had absolute power, and it turned him into a monster. So if we choose Lian—or anyone—to lead, we must ensure that their power is limited."
"How?" someone from the crowd asked.
"By creating a council," Master Chen replied, having clearly thought about this. "A council made up of representatives from all levels—commoners, merchants, even some of the more moderate nobles. The leader makes decisions, but the council must approve them. And if the leader acts against the interests of the people, the council has the power to remove them."
Murmurs of agreement rippled through the crowd. The idea of shared power—of oversight—resonated with those who had just seen what happened when power had no oversight.
The young woman who had lost her sister—she who had spoken with the loudest voice for justice—stepped forward. Her face still carried the marks of sorrow, but there was also a new strength in her posture.
"I do not forgive the old system," she said in a firm voice. "I will never forgive those who killed Ling and the others. But..."
She stopped, struggling with the words.
"But I don't want our anger to be the only thing that defines us. I don't want a new kingdom built only on hatred of the old one. If we do that, we will only create a new cruelty."
She looked at Lian with a judging but also open gaze.
"If you are truly sincere—if you are truly willing to serve rather than command—then I am willing to give you a chance. But know this: we will be watching. We will judge every decision you make. And at the first sign that you are starting to become like the old king, we will not hesitate to overthrow you."
Lian nodded quickly, his face wet with tears but also showing a dawning resolve.
"I will not ask for more than that," he said in a trembling but sincere voice. "And I promise—I will do everything I can not to disappoint the trust you are giving me."
Silence fell again, but now there was a palpable shift in the air. Not full agreement—many were still skeptical, many were still angry, many were still uncertain. But there was a willingness to try, a willingness to give something new a chance.
The middle-aged man who led the meeting looked out at the entire crowd.
"Let's do it the new way," he said with a final tone. "Let's not make this decision through force or power, but through a vote. Who is willing to give Lian a chance to lead—with the oversight of a council we will form?"
Slowly, hands began to rise. Not all of them—maybe half the crowd, maybe a little more. But it was enough to show that this was not a decision forced by a minority, but a choice made by a significant portion of the people.
"And who is against it?"
Other hands rose—not as many as those who agreed, but enough to show that this was a controversial decision, that there was no perfect consensus.
"Then we will give Lian a chance," the middle-aged man announced in a serious tone. "But with conditions: in one month, we will meet again to evaluate his decisions. If the majority feels that he has failed to serve the interests of the people, we will choose a new leader."
He looked at Lian with a serious expression.
"Do you accept these conditions?"
Lian took a deep, shaky breath, then nodded.
"I accept," he said in a voice that was stronger than before. "And I am grateful for this opportunity."
After the meeting ended and the crowd began to disperse—some with hope, some with skepticism, all with uncertainty—Li Yuan descended from the balcony to meet with Lian privately.
The boy stood in a corner of the square, his body trembling with adrenaline and relief. When he saw Li Yuan approaching, he immediately bowed respectfully—a reflexive gesture from years of training.
"Mister Li," he said in a voice that was still trembling. "Thank you. Thank you for... for believing that I could..."
"I do not believe in anything," Li Yuan interrupted in a gentle but firm tone. "I only heard your intentions and judged that you have a solid moral foundation. But whether you can truly lead well, whether you can make difficult decisions, whether you can endure under pressure—all that remains to be seen."
Lian looked at Li Yuan with wide eyes, a little taken aback by the brutal honesty.
"But... but you suggested me. Doesn't that mean you believe—"
"I suggested you because of all the people in this kingdom, your intentions are the most in tune with what is needed right now: a genuine desire to serve, an awareness of your own weakness, and a willingness to admit when you are wrong," Li Yuan explained with patience. "But good intentions alone are not enough. You will face decisions that have no clear answers. You will face people who try to manipulate you. You will face situations where every choice causes suffering to someone."
He looked directly into Lian's eyes.
"Are you ready for that?"
Lian was silent for a long time, truly contemplating the question instead of giving a hurried answer.
"I don't know," he finally admitted with the honesty that had become his hallmark. "But I am willing to try. And I am willing to learn."
Li Yuan nodded slowly.
"That is a good answer. Better than blind confidence."
He paused, then added in a softer tone:
"I will not be here to guide you. I am only a wanderer, and my journey will take me elsewhere in a few days. But before I leave, I will give you one piece of advice."
Lian nodded quickly, clearly valuing any wisdom he could get.
"Always remember what it felt like to stand in the square today—trembling, afraid, uncertain," Li Yuan said in a tone that carried the depth of thousands of years of experience. "Remember that feeling every time you have to make a decision. Because on the day you no longer feel afraid of making a mistake, on the day you feel certain that you are always right—on that day, you will begin to become like King Tianlong."
"The fear of failure, the doubt in yourself, the awareness of your own weakness—all of those are signs that you still have a conscience. Never lose that."
Lian absorbed the words with a serious expression, clearly trying to remember every syllable.
"How can I ensure that I don't lose it?" he asked with raw sincerity.
"By surrounding yourself with people who will tell you the truth, even when the truth is painful," Li Yuan replied. "By listening to those who suffer most from your decisions. By never dismissing criticism as 'disloyalty' or 'treason.' And by always asking yourself: 'Does this decision serve the people, or does it only serve my ego?'"
Li Yuan placed a hand on Lian's shoulder—a gesture he rarely made, but felt right in this moment.
"You have a chance to make a real difference, Lian. Do not squander it. And do not let power change you into something you do not recognize."
With those last words, Li Yuan released the boy's shoulder and began to turn to leave.
"Mister Li," Lian called out, his voice full of an unspoken desire to ask for more guidance, more certainty, more support.
But Li Yuan only shook his head gently.
"The path forward is yours to walk, not mine to show," he said with a calm finality. "I have done what I needed to do here. The rest is up to all of you—to you, to the people, to those who choose to build something better from the ruins of the old."
And with that, Li Yuan walked through the now-empty square, his steps carrying him toward the city gates and the path that would lead him to another part of this world—a vast world, full of other communities, other conflicts, other lessons waiting to be taught.
Behind him, Lian stood in silence, his shoulder still warm from Li Yuan's touch, his mind full of the advice he had just received, and his heart beating fast with a mixture of fear and resolve.
A new journey had just begun—for Lian, for the people of Tianshan, and for the kingdom they would build together from the ashes of the old system.
And somewhere on a distant road, Li Yuan continued his endless journey, carrying with him the knowledge that he had planted another seed—a seed that might grow into something beautiful, or might wither and die.
Only time would tell.
But at least now, they had a chance.