Chapter 430: Storm Over the City

The characters on the Heavenly Book faded away, returning to a blank slate. The Envoy of Cloud bowed respectfully: "Monitoring the anomalies of this divine artifact is our duty."

The implication was that one should not blame the gods.

The Emperor pointed to the divine altar: "Relying on that thing?"

"Precisely." The Envoy of Cloud said solemnly, "That is also a divine object."

"Send Bai Bai Ziqi; have him head south tomorrow morning to investigate as soon as possible." The Emperor turned and walked out, his voice indifferent. "Seize the pot and kill the person; that will end it once and for all."

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Sun Sun Fuling was not at home.

He He Lingchuan leaned over the wall and saw that her courtyard was also filled with lush flowers and plants, especially dozens of massive hydrangeas that almost filled the corner, blooming in a rare, intense blue-purple.

In the past, this little courtyard had nothing at all; it was so empty that even a thief would want to cry upon seeing it.

The seashell wind chime under the eaves tinkled, complaining that its owner had left home again for no reason.

However, in He He Lingchuan's courtyard, the flowers and plants remained upright, and the fish in the tank were full of spirit, not a single one missing. It was evident that when he was away, Sun Sun Fuling would come over regularly to tend to them.

He He Lingchuan took two books and headed out; he was going to the Wenxuan Pavilion to return them and, while he was at it, look for more history of the Yuan Kingdom.

The devil hides in the details; perhaps he could discover something else.

Ever since he finished listening to the conversation between the Yuan monarch and his ministers, he had felt a sense of urgency, his mind set on gathering clues as quickly as possible.

He He Lingchuan wanted to close his eyes and rest while riding in the carriage, but the driver was very talkative and started chatting about the "return to the east" the moment he opened his mouth.

Only then did He He Lingchuan learn that in the day or two he had been away, the news that "the monarch has ordered the Panlong military and civilians to return to the motherland" had already spread, and it was the hot topic on every street corner.

Some said they could return; others said it was a conspiracy.

Some were eager to return, while others had no desire to go back at all.

If such arguments were fueled by alcohol, they often ended with shouting and fists deciding who had the more convincing point.

Consequently, over a dozen taverns in Panlongcheng saw rare instances of brawls and injuries, all products of the agitated public sentiment.

He noticed the driver was also in his early forties, with his left sleeve rolled up, revealing a long scar on his arm.

It was a saber scar. "You were a soldier too, right? Do you want to go back?"

The driver sighed: "When I was a kid, I lived on Huangzhou Island; I could catch fish and shrimp whenever I wanted, and pick island eggs from the trees at will." He pointed to a large tree by the roadside. "Now, let alone picking island eggs, try cutting a branch off a tree here? You might end up getting a few lashes."

"Look at those young people in the city; they don't want to go back," the driver added. "They've lived here since they were small and think the Panlong Wasteland is the best place under heaven. Plus, they've heard that the motherland is rife with corruption and the people are in dire straits, so they don't want to go anywhere."

"Then you really want to go back?"

"I don't dare to go back." The driver shook his head. "I've been away from home for thirty years; going back now would mean being a stranger in a strange land. I hear the motherland is crawling with bandits; I'm afraid there won't be a good life waiting there either. Besides, the road home isn't easy—how many people will die along the way?"

"Isn't it said that the Baling Kingdom is opening the Jin Xi Corridor for us? It should be easy to travel, right?"

"Heh, the Baling Kingdom!" The driver pointed to the scar on his hand. "This wound was dealt by a Baling man; my arm was almost gone back then. How many of our good soldier boys died at the hands of Baling and Xianyou? If the Baling Kingdom is trustworthy, then sows can climb trees."

He sighed: "As for this whole affair, regardless of whether we end up going back or not, the entire Panlong Wasteland is going to be in an uproar for quite a while."

On the way, they passed Yunling Island, where Fatty Bai was still standing at the entrance chatting with customers.

He He Lingchuan got out of the carriage temporarily to restock on consumables like sleeve arrows and medicine.

After Bai Gu took the money, he hesitated to speak. He He Lingchuan put an arm around his shoulder and laughed: "Still dwelling on that matter?"

"You really haven't heard?" Bai Gu sighed. "It's already the talk of the whole city. Look at the state of things outside; it's as if we're all setting off to return tomorrow."

He had wanted to gain an advantage, but he hadn't managed to.

"Then why don't you go back?" He He Lingchuan glanced at him; the fatty wasn't telling the truth. "Don't use my shop as an excuse. You could sell it to someone else or have someone manage it for you, and you could just slip away."

He had already learned how flexible a businessman's methods could be from Shi Er and his own steward, Ding Ding Zuodong. Could a mere shop stop Fatty Bai from leaving? Bai Gu was speechless; wasn't he just unsure of Panlongcheng's intentions? If this news turned out to be empty, and he had already liquidated his business, what would he do then? Without the protection of the Panlongcheng army, who knew how many disasters one would encounter on the road home? Who could guarantee they could make it through the Baling Kingdom's Jin Xi Corridor?

However, his claim that it was the "talk of the city" was no exaggeration. He He Lingchuan's hearing was sharp; he could hear two tables of guests on the second floor of the teahouse across the street discussing the return to the east.

It was indeed the number one trending, blockbuster event.

He He Lingchuan patted Bai Gu's shoulder: "Put your heart at ease and run your shop well. We definitely won't be leaving."

Bai Gu gave a start: "How do you know? Do you have inside information?"

He He Lingchuan gave him a mysterious smile: "Cannot be said, cannot be said."

Say what, though? He came from the future; of course he knew that the people of Panlongcheng never left the Panlong Wasteland until its destruction.

Although the progression of the dream might not perfectly coincide with history, in his memory, no major event capable of changing the main storyline had occurred yet.

Therefore, most of the people here probably wouldn't be able to leave.

Thinking of this, his heart stirred.

If the Xiluo Kingdom really issued a relocation order and the Panlong military and civilians obeyed and returned east, could they escape their ultimate fate of being slaughtered? This thought grew like wild grass in his mind, and he couldn't stop it.

He didn't know when it started, but he had begun to worry for this city and its residents, resisting the arrival of the doomsday moment with all his heart.

He was a witness to the final moment of the fall of Thousand Stars City.

That kind of tragedy, hopelessness, and heroism could not be described in words, not even one ten-thousandth of it.

He He Lingchuan was unwilling to see Panlongcheng follow in its footsteps; after all, this city had given him an increasing sense of belonging.

Getting back into the carriage, He He Lingchuan decided to make a detour to the Promotion Bureau first.

He had saved up enough military merit again, and this time he wanted to exchange it for a spear technique.

One inch longer, one inch stronger; after experiencing the Great Hanhe Battle, he had a deeper understanding of this saying. There would certainly be many opportunities for mounted combat in the future, and while the Floating Life Saber was good, it couldn't escape the limitations of short-range weaponry.

He had seen the spear techniques of General Hong, Xiao Xiao Maoliang, Hong Chenglue, and even Zhao Pan, and he was filled with envy.

The name of the spear technique the Promotion Bureau exchanged to him was plain and simple, called "Galloping Thunder Spear Art," meaning that the spear strikes like galloping thunder—not only fast, but also possessing the power of thunder.

He He Lingchuan's combat experience was growing richer by the day, and he deeply understood that "the only thing that cannot be broken in all martial arts is speed" was a paradox. Didn't a hummingbird flap its wings fast? What threat did it pose to people? If it was hot, it might even fan you a little.

Fast, steady, accurate, and ruthless—fast without being lacking; that was the true essence of victory.

He had just finished memorizing the spear manual and was about to return the jade slip to Clerk Liu when a guard ran in with a clatter and asked: "Which one is He He Lingchuan?"

"I am."

"General Hong has ordered you to report to the Hall of Conflict for duty immediately."

A mission? He He Lingchuan dropped the jade slip and followed the messenger.

The Hall of Conflict was one of the places where the high-level officials of Panlongcheng discussed military secrets; not only was it difficult for ordinary people to get near, but even the Great Wind soldiers could only enter with a token.

He He Lingchuan followed behind the messenger, passing through the government offices to the north, and soon passed Zhong Sheng's residence.

The Hall of Conflict was built behind his residence, making it convenient for the city's boss to convene meetings at a moment's notice.

This place had no greenery at all; the ground was bluestone, and the walls were also bluestone—empty and cold. Though called a meeting hall, He He Lingchuan felt it was more like a prison; the moment he entered this space, a sense of murderous intent rushed toward him.

There were two halls for actual meetings, one large and one small. The exterior facades were all square, with the seams between the masonry filled in.

Even a light green grasshopper landing on the wall would be very conspicuous.

And it had slid to the ground as soon as it jumped over, clearly because the building itself had a layer of barrier that did not allow living creatures to linger on it.

There used to be trees in the courtyard; judging by the stumps, they were quite thick, but they had already been cut down.

Trees made it easy to hide people or hide other things; after all, the surveillance methods in this world were ever-changing.

He He Lingchuan discovered the barrier as soon as he entered, and there were several layers of them; if anyone were to force their way in or sneak in, it would definitely trigger an alarm.

Just looking at these arrangements, one knew that the topics discussed in the Hall of Conflict were not simple.

The messenger stopped at the entrance of the small hall and did not approach further: "You wait here." He turned and left.

His mission was already over, and he could not enter the hall.

Even the wind blowing into the Hall of Conflict was colder. He He Lingchuan had only stood there for a short while when several more Great Wind soldiers entered.

Afterward, Zhong Sheng and General Hong appeared.

General Hong pointed at two people at random, one of whom was He He Lingchuan: "You two go inside the hall for duty." Then she said to the others, "You stand guard outside the hall."

Everyone acted according to orders.

He He Lingchuan entered the small hall, which was only about fifty square meters in area, and the vast majority of the space was taken up by the large sand table in the center, so it could accommodate at most twenty people.

General Hong stood at the sand table and manipulated it a few times, and the loose sand began to pile up into shapes; hills, high mountains, lakes, rivers, and valleys appeared one by one.

In about a quarter of an hour, the sand table was completely formed.

From He He Lingchuan's angle, he could just see the majestic plateau and the stone forest that looked like a thousand sails—

On the sand table were the Chifeng Plateau and Zhu Zhu Xiuer's lair, the Ghost Needle Shi Lin.

General Hong was wearing a mask again.

This time it was an eagle-head mask, in brown, gold, and red; the craftsmanship was equally exquisite, and the style was also somewhat abstract.

It had to be said that General Hong's aesthetic was always on point. He He Lingchuan was very curious: who exactly made her masks? Zhong Sheng also stood by the sand table, looking down at the miniature Panlongcheng.

There was a vertical line between his brows, the result of frequent frowning.

The Commander of the Panlong Wasteland—the responsibility and burden represented by this position were not something an ordinary person could bear.

Moreover, He He Lingchuan remembered the entrustment of the Yuan King. The "scourge" that had caused even the powerful Yuan Kingdom to perish in grief and indignation was right here with Zhong Sheng. Once leaked, the consequences would be unimaginable. Just this point alone meant the psychological pressure he had to bear was unimaginable.

(End of chapter)