Grinding Cultivation Toward Martial Saint

Amidst faint dust and smoke, a red silhouette rushed into the courtyard.

Wearing a golden-red gown, the hem sweeping the ground, adorned with numerous ornaments, and a Phoenix Crown on her head, showcasing meticulously detailed attire.

Ji Mingyue had just rushed into the courtyard. At a glance, she saw Ji Mingyuan lying on the ground, lifeless, the wine cup in his hand rolled aside, amber wine spilled everywhere.

Her steps suddenly stopped, the color drained from her face instantly, her pupils contracted violently.

"Five... Five Brother..."

Ji Mingyue’s voice trembled, almost breaking.

She threw herself beside Ji Mingyuan, reaching out to check his breath, touching chilliness, no sign of life.

"Five Brother!" Her voice turned calm, grabbing Ji Mingyuan’s shoulders and shaking them.

Ji Mingyuan’s body still retained some warmth, but all signs of life were gone.

At this moment, Ji Mingyuan’s eyes were tightly closed, his face ashen, with a trace of wine stain at the corner of his mouth, and a hint of sarcasm or relief in his expression.

The swordsman in black stood quietly aside, watching Ji Mingyue’s lost look, a complex emotion flickered in his eyes but quickly returned to calm. He tightened his grip on the sword slightly, but ultimately did not speak.

The courtyard suddenly became silent.

After a long while,

Ji Mingyue felt the corpse in her hands gradually cooling down, slowly lifted her head, and looked at the swordsman in black.

"Is this Eighth Brother’s doing?"

Although the voice was questioning, the tone was filled with certainty.

The swordsman in black was silent for a moment, then slowly said, "Princess, the Holy Emperor’s will cannot be defied. The Fifth Prince... drank the wine willingly."

"I knew it!" Ji Mingyue sighed deeply.

To speak of her relationship with Ji Mingyuan, it wasn’t particularly close.

It was just some interactions in childhood, but as they grew older, the feeling between the siblings faded.

However, following the palace intrigue a few days ago, she was left with just two brothers.

Her full-blood brother, the Eighth Prince Ji Minghao, soon to be the new ruler, and the Fifth Prince Ji Mingyuan.

Yet on today’s auspicious day for the coronation, her brother Ji Minghao ended the life of her Fifth Brother with a cup of poisoned wine.

At that moment, past memories flashed through her mind.

Her brother as she remembered him was gentle, mild-mannered, kind to others, but never had she seen such ruthlessness.

Upon thinking this, Ji Mingyue’s heart inexplicably trembled.

Then a trace of mockery appeared on her face.

"Imperial power... Imperial throne..."

"Is this what imperial power means? The bond between siblings is nothing but a joke! It’s a fight to the death!"

Ji Mingyue then let go of Ji Mingyuan’s shoulder and slowly stood up.

Tears welled up from her eyes, a wave of sorrow surged within her heart.

She didn’t know where this sadness came from, where it originated.

Yet she was deeply sorrowful.

She knew, though Ji Mingyuan was her brother, his death somehow couldn’t move her this deeply, triggering uncontrollable sadness, a misery rising from her heart.

Standing in the courtyard.

Her body convulsed, large teardrops fell to the ground.

Her already thin body appeared fragile.

Silent tears slipped down, leaving dark water stains on her red gown.

Outside the courtyard, the wind blew, stirring the fallen leaves with a rustling sound, making the courtyard feel even more desolate.

Ji Mingyue slowly raised her hand, wiping away the tears on her face, but new tears flowed again.

"Princess, please take care of yourself!" The swordsman in black spoke.

"Take care of myself!" Ji Mingyue laughed mockingly.

Then, she slowly lifted her head, her eyes still glossy but showing a hint of cold clarity.

She looked at the swordsman in black, spoke calmly, "Tell Eighth Brother... no, tell the Holy Emperor. I’ll personally take care of Fifth Brother’s funeral. Let him be at ease being the Emperor."

The swordsman in black bowed slightly, "Yes."

Ji Mingyue said no more, took one last glance at Ji Mingyuan’s increasingly stiff body, and turned, walking step by step out of the courtyard.

Her red gown dragged along the ground, making a soft rustling sound on the stone, her straight and thin back conveying a sense of loneliness.

Majestic courtyards, ruthless imperial power.

At this moment, she truly understood.

She passed through the long palace path, heading towards Chengtian Hall.

From afar, the sound of ceremonial music faintly reached her, solemn and festive, contrasting sharply with her current mood.

On the other side.

In front of Chengtian Hall, the coronation ceremony was nearing its end.

Ji Minghao sat on the dragon throne, accepting congratulations from the officials, changing the era name to "Jinghe," granting amnesty throughout the empire.

Then followed the imperial wedding ceremony.

Shen Mengyun, with her phoenix crown and scarlet veil, slowly walked into the plaza towards Chengtian Hall, assisted by lady officials.

At this moment, the solemnity of the new ruler’s coronation before Chengtian Hall hadn’t completely faded, but the ceremonial music had quietly changed its tune.

The formerly dignified sounds of chimes and lithophones gradually receded, replaced by a joyful melody played by strings and pipes.

"Two o’clock, imperial wedding, let the ceremony begin—"

As the voice of the Minister of the Ministry of Rites, Xie Xun, resounded again.

The officials stood solemnly again, yet the atmosphere had completely transformed.

The coronation ceremony was a grave national ceremony, solemn and unsmiling.

But the imperial wedding was different; it was a royal celebration, still grand but with added cheer and festivity.

Jiang Ning stood in front of the seats, gazing calmly towards the side palace path of Chengtian Hall.

There, a grand procession was slowly approaching.

Thirty-six maidens in crimson palace attire, holding palace lanterns, feather fans, and incense burners, formed two rows, walking lightly and elegantly.

Following them were eight attendants carrying a richly adorned Phoenix palanquin, its top carved with a phoenix ready to soar, fringes swaying gently with each step, glinting luxuriously in the sunlight.