“To throw oneself into the fray” — in truth, those words were unnecessary, for she had long since been caught within it. Moreover, much of how things had unfolded to this point had been driven by her and those around her. This contest against Tantai Wuji had the lives of all people under heaven as its stakes.
And so, Lang Jiuchuan could not afford to stand aside.
Now that things had come to this, she could retreat even less than before. To retreat now would be tantamount to deserting the battlefield mid-battle — her cultivation heart would surely shatter.
Feng Ya, upon hearing these words, understood that she had already made her preparations in full. Though he was filled with worry, he offered no words of counsel.
The two parted ways and each set about their tasks.
The great nation of Da Zhan now found itself in a period of chaos that surpassed even the disorder of open warfare. The people had to guard against the terrifying demonic wraiths and creatures on one side, while also defending against fellow humans who might turn on them — stabbing them in the back, or pushing them forward as shields against the encroaching evil. And for those common folk who had neither power, nor influence, nor wealth, surviving in the cracks between these dangers was no exaggeration. This sort of chaos was like the end of days.
Faced with such a scene, even the hundreds of court officials were filled with unease. They had read widely and studied the historical records. Even in the turbulent eras of history, disorder had arisen because rulers were foolish and incompetent, and the court had grown corrupt — that was how a nation could be riddled with a thousand wounds. Never had such calamities as these occurred — the arrival of a demonic path to wreak havoc upon the mortal world. This was something they had never heard of, something they had never imagined could come to pass.
And yet here it was, right before them.
Just like the strange tales written in the records of the bizarre — those things truly existed in the very land on which they lived.
They could argue with words. They could wage war. But against these demonic creatures, they were utterly helpless, filled with fear and disbelief. Who among them had not spoken the words of Confucius — that he did not speak of the uncanny, the violent, the disorderly, or the supernatural? And yet who now dared claim that Da Zhan was still a nation without such things?
How had the world suddenly come to be like this?
Not a single court official could make sense of it. They could only place their hopes in the monks and Daoist practitioners whom they had previously looked down upon, pinning their expectations especially on Lang Jiuchuan — the Golden Core Zhenren who had already attained True Immortal cultivation.
If even she could not drive away the demons and purge the evil, this world under heaven would be completely finished.
Feng Ya, however, had arrived at a certain understanding: perhaps the spiritual energy of this realm was on the verge of revival.
But regardless of whether that was so, the immediate priority was to stabilize the chaos in Da Zhan and halt the slaughter of humans by one another. He used forceful and domineering means to compel the powerful and privileged to take action — to pacify the realm and rescue the people — even if it meant forcing them to contribute money and resources.
Those who refused?
The gates of the underworld were thrown wide open. He had entire clans of grown men sent through those gates for a tour, to pay their respects to the King of Hell all together.
The King of Hell and the other august lords of the underworld were both furious and helpless. Not only had the entire underworld’s ghostly officials been dispatched to the mortal world to collect souls, but they also had to feign solemnity in putting those living souls through all eighteen levels of hell. What a sin this was!
And yet, none of them dared refuse. If the mortal world collapsed and the heavenly order perished, there would be no reason for the underworld to exist at all.
Feng Ya’s actions were both domineering and ruthless. Having been stirred up by him in this manner, those who were by nature selfish — though bitterly aggrieved — had no choice but to comply obediently. They simply did not dare to experience the horrors of those eighteen levels of hell for themselves.
In an instant, countless orders issued forth from Wu Jing downward. Those who defied the commands would be executed.
Such thunderous measures, while they did not entirely suppress all who had given rise to wicked thoughts and greedy desires, were nonetheless better than before — when the common people could not even find grain to eat, and had to sell their sons and daughters; when those corrupted by demonic energy would even resort to the human tragedy of exchanging children to be consumed.
And in this darkest hour of Da Zhan’s chaos, an unexpected force rose from the southern lands.
At first, only scattered reports reached the wider world. The incident began after the imperial mausoleum fire, when Da Zhan’s descent into disorder was just beginning. A band of refugees had stirred up trouble, and a poorly equipped local militia of only a thousand men followed their county magistrate to suppress the unrest and protect the people.
Later, as Da Zhan grew more and more chaotic, the numbers of this army continued to grow. Though it appeared to be composed of a ragtag band of commoners, its discipline was strict — and its commanding general, most of all, inspired an unshakeable trust in those who followed him.
They suppressed violent mobs and pacified the people at once. Wherever they passed, swift and thunderous methods were used to rapidly restore order and bring relief to the populace. As a result, the southern regions — though the demonic energy had spread far there — saw the least harm inflicted upon the common people.
This army also seemed utterly fearless in the face of demonic energy. They not only dared to engage demonic wraiths in direct combat, but were even capable of purifying demonic energy with the power of righteous and upright energy. The commanding general in particular seemed to be under divine protection — no dark, grievous, or demonic energy could approach his person, and he could in fact cause demonic energy to disperse and retreat.
This army was named the Black Armored Army. When it marched, it moved in silence with killing efficiency. Upon their banners was embroidered a blazing crimson flame — called the Crimson Flame Banner — said to carry the pure Yang fire capable of incinerating all baleful and wicked energy.
And the Black Armored Army was also called by the people the Army of Light, for wherever they passed, the common people could tear themselves free from the mire of despair and behold new hope.
The commanding general of the Black Armored Army was a county magistrate from the distant borderlands of Lingnan — a man named Ning Zhe.
After the arrival of the demons in the world, many of the powerful and privileged who feared death had gone into hiding to preserve themselves. It was Ning Zhe who led the Black Armored Army, driving from south to north with force, cutting through this boundless darkness like a beam of light, illuminating this chaotic and dim world.
The news spread further and further, and in greater and greater detail. Not only did it reach the ears of all people across the realm — it also reached those of Feng Ya and the others.
Feng Ya went personally to meet Ning Zhe.
Ning Zhe had originally been a grievance wraith who had been born into a borrowed body. He and the original owner of that body had formed a covenant of shared life and death before heaven and earth — a clear path already acknowledged by the heavenly order. Moreover, with Lang Jiuchuan’s guidance, he was no longer a grievance wraith at all, but a true and genuine human being — one born to carry the hope of this very realm.
When Feng Ya laid eyes on him, he understood who it was that Lang Jiuchuan had called the rightful sovereign.
He saw the intricate pagoda that hung at Ning Zhe’s waist at all times — the pagoda growing ever more sentient and filled with the awe-inspiring, upright might of heavenly vigor through the merit he had accumulated. It naturally repelled all demonic and wicked energy, preventing it from coming near his person.
He could also make use of the intricate pagoda to protect his own troops, preventing demonic energy from eroding them. The armor worn by those soldiers bore faint engravings of peculiar pale golden talismanic inscriptions, keeping demonic energy at bay.
And he, too, was another thread of hope that the heavenly order had left for this mortal world.
The air of a sovereign had begun to manifest at the center of Ning Zhe’s brow.
Facing Feng Ya, Ning Zhe felt reverence, yet no fear. His eyes were as firm and sharp as ever; his bearing carried the unyielding righteous spirit that had been tempered through hardship and suffering, along with a trace of long-restrained compassion and benevolence.
He was not the least bit guilty.
He was not afraid of the world calling him a treacherous rebel. He was simply doing what he believed was right — establishing a heart for all the people, setting a destiny for heaven and earth, opening an age of lasting peace for ten thousand generations, and restoring a clear and righteous realm to this world.
“Keep your heart steadfast and righteous, protect and shelter the living people. Whether, in the days ahead, you will be able to revitalize this land of wounds from its ruin, and hold up the sky as it falls — that depends on your courage and resolve.” Feng Ya regarded Ning Zhe with a calm, measured gaze. “If you can accomplish it, then the years you spent suppressed, enduring existence as a vessel spirit in hiding, will not have been in vain.” He added: “And do not fail the knowledge and skill you have spent a lifetime cultivating.”
Ning Zhe cupped his fists in salute. “I would not dare fail the Zhenren who rescued me. I will devote every last effort to opening an age of peace for ten thousand generations, and I will never forget my original purpose.”
Feng Ya gave a nod. He channeled greater power into Ning Zhe’s intricate pagoda, and as he did so, remarked: “Very well. I await you to hurry along and take over this mess from me — do not take too long. Sitting on the court throne is truly dreadful!”
Ning Zhe was left momentarily speechless.
Some of you guessed it! Oh ho ho!
I imagine all of you readers can tell that the story is nearing its end. What follows is all wrapping up and filling in remaining threads. I’ll do my best to write it well, and I may delete and revise parts I’m not satisfied with. Updates may be fewer, late, or there may be times when I genuinely can’t write a thing — I hope you’ll understand. And if you don’t, well, that’s that.