White clouds drifted lazily in the sky as the warm sun shone brightly overhead.
The once tumultuous sea surface had regained its tranquility, with broken planks and masts gently floating along the waves.
Saren Agu stood high in the air, gazing down at the land he had inhabited for countless years. It had been reduced to ruins, with mountains crumbled and city walls leveled.
Such a scene was reminiscent of when the Confucian Saint sealed away the Shaman God. That time, a thousand miles were turned to wasteland, devoid of life for three hundred years. Only after the power of the two Transcendent cultivators dissipated did Jingshan City rebuild, growing to its current scale.
Now, history repeats itself.
This time, however, it wasn’t the Confucian Saint’s true form, nor was the Shaman God at full strength. While many had perished, a significant number had survived.
Scattered in the distance, some observed, others meditated to heal, and some tended to their wounds. None dared to return and investigate.
The Great Feng army had retreated.
Saren Agu’s gaze shifted to the altar. In an instant, he vanished, reappearing atop the altar before the figure in blue robes.
Emperor Zhen De, Yier Bu, and Wuda Baota descended, landing beside the Great Shaman.
Before them stood a shattered human form, his body displaying terrifying cracks, not a single part unscathed.
His right arm, once wielding an engraving knife, had its flesh dissolved, revealing bloodstained bones.
The blue robes were tattered, mirroring the state of the man wearing them.
From this day forward, Great Feng would no longer have its War God.
The Confucian cap and engraving knife had departed moments ago, returning to the Central Plains.
Saren Agu spoke softly, “In a thousand years of the Central Plains, among the notable figures, you, Wei Yuan, certainly count as one.”
“Damn it, damn it, damn it…” Yier Bu’s face contorted with rage as he fumed, “How could he summon the Confucian Saint? How could a mere warrior summon the Confucian Saint? The Shaman God accumulated power for over a thousand years, finally breaking free from the seal, only for this scoundrel to ruin it all.”
“I’ll lead our troops to bathe Great Feng in blood, slaughtering for thirty thousand li, all the way to their capital!”
“You sound like an uncouth warrior now,” Emperor Zhen De mocked.
Every Daoist who had fallen to demonic cultivation seemed to possess a talent for provocation.
Emperor Zhen De stood with his hands behind his back, his Immortal Golden Body radiant, golden light intertwining with black. He spoke calmly, “The Shaman God is sealed, and Wei Yuan is dead. Though the situation is grim, we haven’t lost this war yet. Now, it’s time for you to fulfill your promises.”
Saren Agu smiled, “Then allow me to congratulate Your Majesty on achieving longevity and overseeing the Central Plains.”
Emperor Zhen De nodded slowly.
Saren Agu continued, “Wuda Baota, spread the news of Wei Yuan’s death throughout the Northeast. Have Yan and Kang dispatch people to rebuild Jingshan City, and order Jing to withdraw their troops. Gather the remaining shamans to heal the surviving civilians and soldiers…”
He issued a series of instructions for the aftermath.
This battle would surely be known throughout the Nine Provinces. He cared little for what would happen in Great Feng, but within the three countries of his domain, it would undoubtedly spark a tidal wave of discussion.
This day would be marked as the most humiliating in the history of the Shaman God Religion.
…
In a wilderness far from Jingshan.
“Aaaargh!!!” Nangong Qianrou’s anguished scream echoed across the sky, filled with despair and intertwined with deep-seated hatred.
“Shaman God, Shaman God, Shaman God…”
He knelt on the ground, pounding it furiously with his fists, venting for a full quarter of an hour.
The white-robed Daoist approached him, offering a brocade pouch. Nangong Qianrou, his face streaked with tears, looked up blankly.
Second Senior Brother Sun Xuanji said, “Wei…”
Before he could finish, Nangong Qianrou snatched the pouch like a madman, tearing it open to reveal a slip of paper inside.
Nangong Qianrou unfolded the paper, read it, and tears once again streamed down his face. After a long while, he composed himself and gazed towards Jingshan, murmuring:
“Foster Father, I will finish the game you left unfinished.”
Someday in the future, I will return here, let iron hooves trample every inch of the Shaman God Religion’s land, let cannon wheels crush their backbone, and turn these sixty thousand li of mountains and rivers into scorched earth.
Sun Xuanji raised his hand, gently erasing the existence of this heavy cavalry unit, ensuring no one in the world would remember them.
…
At Cloud Deer Academy.
In the bamboo grove behind the mountain, inside a bamboo pavilion.
Zhao Shou sat motionless in the hall, like a statue.
He had maintained this posture for over a month, with a thin layer of dust settled on the table before him.
Suddenly, Zhao Shou stirred, turning his head to look out the window.
Beyond the open window, under the clear blue sky and amid rolling mountains, two streaks of light flew across thousands of mountains and rivers. Like meteors streaking across the sky, they gently landed on the table before Zhao Shou.
Academy Chancellor Zhao Shou rose slowly as if a great burden had been lifted. He brushed the dust off his clothes and bowed deeply, not rising.
It was unclear whether he was bowing to the two sacred objects or to that figure in blue robes.
…
In the Imperial Palace.
Behind the lowered curtains, Emperor Yuan Jing, seated cross-legged on a rush mat, slowly opened his eyes.
After a moment of silence, he revealed a smile that seemed both excited and triumphant, bordering on manic.
Emperor Yuan Jing paced up to the tower, gazing at the layers of red walls and the undulating golden tiles. He spread his arms to welcome the wind, speaking slowly:
“My era has arrived.”
…
At the Star-Observing Tower, on the Eight Trigrams Platform.
The Supervisor glanced at the Imperial Palace, smiled, and lowered his head to drink.
The mortal world isn’t worth it.
…
At the Xu residence, Xu Qi’an felt a sudden, sharp pain in his chest.
“What’s going on? Why does my chest hurt out of nowhere?”
He frowned, wanting to make a self-deprecating joke, like how could a Fifth-Rank peak cultivator have a heart attack?
But for some reason, an inexplicable sense of unease lingered in his heart.
…
On the Northern Border.
In the camp of the allied forces of Great Feng and the Yao barbarians, Xu Xinnian sat by a table, contemplating the map before him.
He had grown thinner, yet more robust. Still handsome, his skin was no longer fair, darkened by the northern sun and roughened by the winds and sands of the frontier.
He remained a proud scholar, but his sharp edges had softened, replaced by a calm and reserved demeanor.
War had forced him to grow quickly. The courtesans of the entertainment district had transformed him into a man, but they couldn’t grant him maturity.
It was the fallen comrades, the battles teetering on the edge of life and death, and the enemies he had slain with his own hands that truly matured him.
Chu Yuanzhen rushed into the tent, smiling as he said, “Cixi, I have some uplifting news for you.”
Xu Second Young Master pondered briefly before replying, “The camp hasn’t mobilized, so it’s not about winning a battle. What is it?”
Chu Yuanzhen punched the air excitedly, “Jing has withdrawn their troops!”
…
Late at night.
By candlelight, Xu Qi’an held a fragment of the Earth Book, sending a message: [Today, the National Preceptor and I explored the underground again. The Former Emperor hasn’t returned. Logically, such a formidable figure shouldn’t have disappeared without a trace.]
[Second: Maybe he’s already replaced Yuan Jing and is pretending to be the emperor in the palace. Oh, I forgot, he is Yuan Jing.]
Xu Qi’an was deeply concerned about the Former Emperor’s disappearance. A high-ranking cultivator who had secretly cultivated for forty years had vanished without a trace after his hiding place was discovered.
This made Xu Qi’an extremely anxious because the Former Emperor was Yuan Jing, and Yuan Jing was the Former Emperor. He had a great grudge against Yuan Jing, and by extension, against the Former Emperor.
Now, a top-tier powerhouse was lurking in the shadows, ready to strike at any moment.
Who wouldn’t be afraid?
Of course, one could hope that all of Yuan Jing’s erratic behavior was just an act, that the Former Emperor, as a pinnacle expert, would have the dignity befitting his status and wouldn’t bother with an insignificant figure like himself.
Prince Huai was killed by Shen Shue, what did it have to do with Xu Qi’an?
If it were any other top-tier expert, Xu Qi’an might have entertained such illusions. But this was the Former Emperor, corrupted by the Earth Lineage Patriarch.
A supreme expert filled with malice and completely evil would surely be vengeful.
[Fourth: Let’s approach this from a different angle. What cultivation system do you think Yuan Jing, or rather, the Former Emperor, followed?]
In the Earth Book chat group, Chu Zhongtang, one of the wisdom bearers, posed a question.
The Former Emperor had lost his virginity early, effectively closing off the path of martial arts. He had studied under Luo Yuhen for twenty-one years, undoubtedly following the Human Lineage path… Xu Qi’an replied:
[Third: The Human Lineage, I suppose.]
[Fourth: That’s what I thought too. So, what are the drawbacks of the Human Lineage cultivation method? Karmic fire burning the body. The Former Emperor’s rank is very high, like the National Preceptor, he needs to use the nation’s fortune to suppress the karmic fire. He definitely wouldn’t leave the capital.]
[First: No, you’re mistaken. The Former Emperor is different from Luo Yuhen. Luo Yuhen needs the position of National Preceptor to borrow fortune. The Former Emperor himself is the emperor, bearing the nation’s fortune.]
Huai Qing, another wisdom bearer, refuted the other wisdom bearer.
Ah, I see. Then it’s not an issue… Chu Yuanzhen muttered to himself.
[First: There’s the Supervisor in the capital. Since he’s not under the dragon vein, he definitely won’t stay in the capital for long. He must have left the capital, but where he went and what he’s doing, we can’t guess.]
The most typical method would be to deduce his location based on the Former Emperor’s objectives… In other words, to know where he is, we need to know what he wants to do first… Xu Qi’an rubbed his brow.
From what we know, the Former Emperor devoured his two sons, Yuan Jing and Prince Huai, for longevity.
He got his wish and lived for forty more years.
Therefore, the Former Emperor’s ultimate goal is still longevity.
But the question is, no matter how powerful the Former Emperor is, could he be more formidable than the Founding Emperor Wu Zong? Could he be more powerful than the Confucian Saint?
Even these legendary figures have passed away, let alone the Former Emperor.
“According to the rule that those who gain fortune cannot attain immortality, the Former Emperor’s true age is over 80, and even the Confucian Saint only lived to 82. This means the Former Emperor is nearing his end. Of course, people’s constitutions vary, and the Former Emperor might live a year longer than the Confucian Saint in a state of extreme anger.”
“If I were the Former Emperor, I would desperately seek a way to achieve immortality, but… but how exactly would I go about it?”
It wasn’t that he wasn’t clever enough, but that he had access to too little information. He couldn’t even find a direction to make assumptions.
What exactly was the Former Emperor up to?
Come to think of it, it had been nearly half a month since Lord Wei set out on the expedition. He wondered how the battle was progressing.
…
On a certain evening, about a month after the army’s departure, the moonlight was clear and bright.
“Clop, clop, clop…”
On the official road outside the capital, a swift horse galloped towards the city. The courier, with cracked lips and covered in dust, reined in his horse and called out in a hoarse voice:
“Open the city gate, an urgent dispatch from eight hundred li away…”
Passing through the outer city, inner city, and imperial city, the message was delivered all the way to the palace.
In the dead of night, First Minister Wang was awakened by urgent knocking. His old steward pounded on the door, shouting, “Master, Master, wake up…”
In the pitch-dark room, a candle was lit. The maid sleeping in the outer chamber put on her clothes picked up the candlestick and hurried to open the door.
Shortly after, the maid entered with small steps, whispering, “Master, there’s news from the ministry. They say there’s an urgent dispatch from eight hundred li away.”
First Minister Wang, advanced in years, struggled to shake off his fatigue after being woken in the middle of the night. He pinched the bridge of his nose and said, “Dress me.”
Important offices like the Grand Secretariat had night shifts precisely to handle such emergencies.
Whether it was an eight hundred li urgent dispatch or a six hundred li one, the couriers always rode as if their lives depended on it. It was normal for several horses to die along the way, and messages could arrive at any hour.
Assisted by the maid in donning his official robes, First Minister Wang took a carriage. Amid the rumbling of wheels, he entered the palace and arrived at the Grand Secretariat office.
First Minister Wang walked briskly, entered the hall, sat behind his desk, and slowly said, “The dispatch!”
The official on night duty immediately presented the closely guarded dispatch. Only a few Grand Secretaries were allowed to open the eight hundred li urgent dispatches.
First Minister Wang took out a letter opener, broke the wax seal, and unfolded the dispatch with a rustle of paper.
He then fell into a deathly silence.
…
The Grand Secretaries of Wuying Hall, Jianqi Hall, and Dongge Hall – Qian Qingshu, Chen Qi, Zhao Tingfang, and three others – arrived together. They entered the Grand Secretariat and came to the First Minister’s hall.
To their astonishment, they found that the First Minister, the leader of the Wang faction and the highest-ranking official, seemed to have aged several years in an instant.
His face was ashen, and his slightly reddened eyes, somewhat cloudy, appeared dazed as if immersed in some profound sorrow from which he couldn’t escape.
Just yesterday, First Minister Wang had been fine. What kind of shock could have reduced him to such a state of mental and physical decline overnight?
First Minister Wang raised his head, looked around at the gathered Secretaries, and spoke in a low voice: “Wei Yuan… has fallen in battle.”
After a pause, he added, “Of the hundred thousand troops, only sixteen thousand have returned.”
Boom!
It was as if each person had been struck by lightning, their minds reeling, their expressions frozen.
Qian Qingshu, the Grand Secretary of Wuying Hall, mumbled, “This… this is impossible, impossible…”
First Minister Wang’s tone regained some composure as he spoke gravely:
“I know this is hard to believe, but as of now, this is the reality. Gentlemen, please set aside all negative emotions and hear me out. This battle was fought strangely. The dispatch has been sent to the palace. Before the morning court session, let us discuss this first…”
As dawn approached, the Grand Secretaries left, their expressions weary and deeply worried.
First Minister Wang beckoned to a trusted aide and instructed expressionlessly, “Send someone to the Xu residence. Inform Xu Qi’an about the situation of the Northeast battle.”
No written note was given to avoid leaving evidence.
After the trusted aide withdrew, First Minister Wang paced to the window, gazing at the darkest hour before dawn. He remained silent for a long time, like a statue.
Wei Yuan, without you, how lonely the future court sessions will be.
…
Before dawn broke, the sound of knocking simultaneously woke Zhong Li and Xu Qi’an in their room.
The latter responded, “Who is it?”
Old Zhang the doorkeeper’s voice came through, “Young Master, someone is here to see you. They claim to be from the Grand Secretariat.”
The Grand Secretariat? First Minister Wang sent someone at this hour to find me?!
Xu Qi’an immediately got up, put on his robe, and said, “Take me to see him.”
Leaving the room, they made their way to the outer hall. Xu Qi’an saw an unfamiliar middle-aged man in official robes standing in the hall.
“Constable Xu!”
The middle-aged official instinctively, unconsciously called out this title.
Xu Qi’an, accustomed to the “conservative” mindset of the capital’s people, asked directly, “Sir, what matter brings you here?”
The middle-aged official said, “The First Minister entrusted me to bring you a message.”
It is indeed from First Minister Wang… Xu Qi’an nodded, “Please, speak.”
The middle-aged official hesitated, pondering for a long while before speaking in a low voice, “Lord Wei… has fallen in battle in the Northeast.”