Chapter Sixteen: The Competitive System

Early the next morning, Zhou Tian was dragged out of bed by his father.

“Can’t whatever it is wait until I’m awake?” Zhou Tian mumbled, his face full of reluctance as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He was, after all, an ordinary mortal, not someone blessed with cultivation—he needed his sleep, after all.

“You have the nerve to say that? Look at the time! Yesterday, you were up at dawn just to see Tianling!” Zhou Yi was exasperated.

“Alright, alright. What’s so urgent?” Zhou Tian yawned, thinking that if it wasn’t anything important, he’d crawl back into bed. Even in his dreams last night, Tianling’s sweat-soaked image haunted him, and he’d nearly run out of energy.

“What’s so urgent!” Zhou Yi’s voice rose three octaves, his eyes wide as copper bells. “Didn’t Uncle Zhou tell you last night? The Emperor is summoning you and Tianling today!”

Zhou Tian scratched his head. Now that he thought of it, Uncle Zhou had indeed come by the previous night to tell him. But at the time, his mind had been filled with the temptation of Tianling’s drenched figure. An imperial summons? What summons? What horse? What plum? And so he’d forgotten all about it.

An embarrassed but polite smile crept onto Zhou Tian’s face as he tried to smooth things over. “So that’s why I heard magpies singing at dawn—it was an omen of His Majesty’s summons!”

Resisting the urge to give his son a good smack, Zhou Yi tried hard to keep his temper in check. “Just come with me, now!”

“Alright, alright…”

After a short wait, Zhou Tian finished washing up and changing his clothes, then followed Zhou Yi into the sitting room.

Tianling was already there, waiting. She had been informed the previous day as well, and unlike Zhou Tian, she hadn’t forgotten nor slept well after hearing that the Emperor had summoned her.

Seeing Tianling, Zhou Tian immediately perked up and greeted her with a grin. “You’re up early, Ling’er.”

At his intimate address, Tianling’s cheeks flushed. She glanced at Zhou Yi, a little embarrassed to be called so affectionately in front of Zhou Tian’s father. “Mm…” she murmured, nodding, but too shy to say more.

“Alright, enough, Zhou Tian. You’ve got some nerve—if it weren’t for you, we’d have left long ago!” Zhou Yi admonished, noting that his son was so courteous to a pretty girl, yet had no such regard for his own father.

Without further delay, Zhou Yi ushered them out of the house toward the main gate, where a carriage was already waiting.

When Zhou Tian caught sight of the carriage, his eyes nearly popped out of his head.

Nine violet beasts, each three meters tall, were harnessed to a golden carriage. They stood three abreast, forming three rows. Each beast had a lion’s head, deer antlers, tiger eyes, the body of an elk, dragon scales, and an ox’s tail—a creature much like a qilin, robust and muscular, with purple divine light shimmering across its body. Mysterious patterns traced their scales.

The carriage itself was the epitome of luxury—a golden canopy topped it, with gilded glass ornaments hanging from the four corners, each radiating golden light. The red lacquered panels were embossed with dragons and phoenixes, picked out in golden thread, so lifelike they seemed poised to leap from the wood.

Compared to this, the carriage Zhou Tian had used yesterday was nothing but a bicycle next to a sports car.

Swallowing hard, Zhou Tian said, “Father, this… this is yours…”

At this moment, he felt nothing but the urge to cling to Zhou Yi’s leg and call him “Dad!” Blood was thicker than water, after all.

“Don’t even think about it!” Zhou Yi cut him off before he could finish. “This is my own Qin Prince’s carriage. It’s fine if I let you ride with me, but if you took it out alone, those old ministers—who treat protocol as their very lives—would have your head!”

“Alright…” Zhou Tian replied, crestfallen. Suddenly, he felt a gulf open up between himself and Zhou Yi once more. After all, he was a transmigrator—some barriers in his heart were hard to cross… Ah, well…

The group climbed into the carriage. The violet-scaled beasts roared skyward, their massive feet stepping onto clouds of purple lightning as they soared toward the imperial palace.

Flight was forbidden within the palace, though exceptions existed. After all, the Emperor of Qin couldn’t be expected to walk everywhere when leaving the palace. Thus, carriages of the third rank and above were permitted to travel through the air.

The carriage wasn’t moving at full speed. These violet-scaled dragon beasts carried a trace of the divine dragon’s blood, their power reaching the Manifestation Realm. If they went all out, their thundercloud storm could blanket the entire imperial city. Zhou Yi had no desire to provoke a torrent of complaints from the ministers.

Sitting inside, Zhou Tian’s gaze drifted, his thoughts turning to memories of the Emperor of Qin.

The Celestial Qin Empire was unique among the Nine Provinces. It was the only ruling family to govern an entire province as an empire, with a system all its own.

First and foremost was its succession. The throne of the Celestial Qin Empire was not passed down by the usual rules of inheritance, but by competition.

In this world, those with great cultivation could live for thousands of years. Ruling Emperors of Qin, whose lifespans were terrifyingly long, easily outlived not just their sons but their grandsons’ grandchildren. The usual system of primogeniture simply would not do, and it came with many flaws.

And so, the system of competition was born. If you were outstanding enough to win the approval of the Zhou clan elders, you could become emperor.

Though it seemed a simple and even perfunctory system, in practice, it was far from easy. The Emperor of the Celestial Qin was also head of the Zhou clan. In Zhou Tian’s memories, there was a saying among the Zhou:

“It is the Zhou clan that makes the Celestial Qin, not the Celestial Qin that makes the Zhou clan!”

The true superpower of Futian Province was not so much the Celestial Qin Empire, but the Zhou clan itself.

This competition was not the bloody infighting of palace dramas from Zhou Tian’s previous life. The clan elders were no fools—they would never allow such chaos. All that was required was to display one’s abilities and let the elders judge who was most fit. Factionalism, courting support—such things were pointless. After all, what power was greater than the Zhou clan? As for framing or harming one’s brothers, that was sheer recklessness.

Curiously, not all members of the Zhou clan desired the throne. There were records of those chosen by the elders who refused to become emperor. Not everyone yearned for power—being emperor meant less time to cultivate, hindering their pursuit of strength, so many declined.

Thus, relations among the Zhou clan’s descendants remained harmonious. Competition, yes, but always healthy competition.

The relationship between the Prince of Qin and the Emperor was especially close—they were full brothers. It was said the elders debated for a long time between Zhou Yi and the current emperor. In the end, Zhou Yi’s youthful impulsiveness lost out to the emperor’s steadiness, and the elders made their choice.

The distance from the Prince of Qin’s residence to the palace was not far; in only a short while, the carriage descended from the sky.

Ahead lay the imperial palace itself. Not even the Prince of Qin was permitted to fly above its sacred grounds.