Chapter 291: The Martial Saint Lectures on Warfare

The three-day deadline arrived.

A vast caravan departed from Qinghe, heading straight for the Qinghe Hunting Grounds.

Autumn Hunt.

It was no simple hunt—it would last a full month.

The great affairs of a state are sacrifice and warfare.

The most important part of the Autumn Hunt was, of course, the sacrifice; just like at Tiannan Hunting Grounds, it began with a three-day grand rite.

Only after that would the formal Autumn Hunt begin.

But even then, it was not hunting—it was Yuan Marquis personally setting up an altar to lecture on martial arts, answering all questions on the martial Dao, a tremendous boon for any martial cultivator.

A single piece of advice from one of the top ten in the realm could equal a decade of solitary training.

Otherwise, why would elders from the great sects drag their families along, eager and delighted?

It was all to hear Yuan Marquis's lecture.

The altar lecture lasted another three days.

Only then came the main event: the martial contest.

Yuan Marquis's status was too high to fight himself; moreover, since his own sons were still young, the contest was reserved for the young talents of Yunzhou.

At Tiannan Hunting Grounds, the scene was even grander.

All imperial princes were required to compete—truly magnificent.

The top three would receive rewards from Yuan Marquis.

Finally, the central theme of the Autumn Hunt arrived: the hunt itself.

Lasting ten days.

It was not meant to send these privileged youths into the Ten Thousand Mountains to fight beasts; the Hunting Grounds were, after all, enclosed—beasts were captured and placed within the Qinghe Hunting Grounds for people to hunt.

Again, the top three performers would receive the Marquis's reward.

The entire process, taken together, naturally took a full month.

Only such a long duration could express reverence for the gods, ensuring the longevity of Yu State; in Qinghe, it also served to demonstrate loyalty to the Sacred Master.

"Brother Li, who do you think will win the Autumn Hunt outright?"

Wang Li rode beside Li Rui.

In Yu State, scholars rarely lacked strength; even if they didn't practice martial arts, they were at least skilled with bow and horse.

Li Rui smiled and shook his head: "The young talents of Yunzhou are as numerous as fish crossing a river—I have no idea."

Those who came this time.

Though called Yunzhou's young talents, many geniuses from other provinces had also rushed here.

But it didn't violate the rules—all were from major sects with branches in Yunzhou, so Yuan Marquis turned a blind eye.

"I think Brother Yang has a good chance of making the top three."

Wang Li gazed at Yang Heng, another retainer nearby.

"Quite possible."

Li Rui agreed.

Yang Heng had caught Yuan Marquis's eye and been taken on as a retainer—his talent and physique were clearly exceptional; rumors said he had recently broken through into the Ascending Moon Realm, one step away from Primordial.

At just over forty, nearing Primordial—he was truly remarkable, riding high on fortune.

Just look at how he sits his horse, head held high.

As Li Rui and Wang Li chatted idly.

Suddenly.

They heard a rapid clatter of hooves.

They turned their heads.

And saw a massive, broad-shouldered man riding a blood-red demonic horse like a crimson lightning bolt, flashing past them.

Wang Li sighed:

"That's the Marquis's sixth adopted son, Huyan Ku."

Li Rui glanced twice.

Everyone knew Yuan Marquis had adopted eight sons, each a formidable warrior, fierce generals who led charges into battle.

This time,

Three of his adopted sons had come with Yuan Marquis to Qinghe.

The man just seen—Huyan Ku—was one of them.

Yuan Marquis's adopted sons were never pampered; all had fought in wars, crawling out of piles of corpses.

All were ruthless.

Wang Li continued: "General Huyan is indeed a fierce warrior, but his temper is volatile—he's known as the Iron-Headed Leopard. Brother Li, don't you dare provoke him."

"Of course."

Li Rui wasn't idle enough to provoke the Marquis's adopted sons.

Don't be fooled by their status as invited retainers.

That was merely Yuan Marquis showing face to Yunzhou; in truth, the four of them held low rank in the Marquis's household. Yuan Marquis had served as Viceroy for decades—his staff was overflowing with talent. Even after he voluntarily dismissed most upon retirement, the few who remained were dragons among men.

The Eight Adopted Sons were each ferocious, ruthless warriors who had followed Yuan Marquis across ten thousand miles.

The once-terrifying Black and White Killers? They were slain by Yuan Xiong, the eighth adopted son, alone with a single spear.

The prestige speaks for itself.

At dusk,

The massive procession arrived at the Qinghe Hunting Grounds.

Ning Zhongtian and officials from Qinghe and Yunzhou's Ritual Office had already been waiting.

"Big brother."

Ning Zhongtian spotted Li Rui and walked over.

He gazed at Yuan Dingting, escorted by a crowd as they entered the Qinghe Hunting Grounds, and murmured: "What a grand display."

This time,

Just the accompanying officials, sect elders, and disciples numbered several hundred.

Each one was an elite from their region.

Qinghe truly shone with honor.

Li Rui smiled: "By the way, have you prepared everything needed for the grand sacrifice?"

At the mention of the grand sacrifice,

Ning Zhongtian felt a headache coming on.

These past days, the Ritual Office's old sticklers had been pointing fingers—saying the three sacrificial animals weren't prestigious enough, the stone platform had only eight steps, and so on—truly annoying.

He had risen from the martial underworld; he despised such rigid formalities.

"Don't worry—I did exactly as those old fools demanded."

Li Rui nodded: "Fourth brother, you've worked hard."

Without his big brother holding him back, Ning Zhongtian would have thrown every Ritual Office elder out of the Qinghe Hunting Grounds.

No choice—the grand sacrifice wasn't truly meant to commune with some distant, mythical Immortal Court.

It was primarily to display imperial majesty.

The elaborate rituals subtly deepened people's awe.

That's all.

But not a single detail could be neglected—this was propriety.

To ignore ritual law and be caught was a grave crime.

Autumn of the 87th Year of Tianwu.

Qinghe Hunting Grounds: Altar erected for grand sacrifice, seeking prosperity and continuity of martial arts in Yunzhou.

The main Autumn Hunt sacrifice took place at Tiannan Hunting Grounds, performed personally by Yu State's Sacred Master.

Qinghe served as substitute.

The ceremony's scale naturally didn't match Tiannan's; the three sacrificial animals were still pig, ox, and sheep—but all were high-grade demonic beasts, far beyond what ordinary wealthy families could afford.

Ning Zhongtian had spent half a month lurking in the Ten Thousand Mountains to find the sacrificial animals. Today,

Yuan Dingting stood alone atop the nine-step stone platform, clad in a crimson python robe, overlooking the crowd below.

Annan Marquis was a marquis by rank; according to ritual law, wearing this crimson python robe was outright overstepping—but the Ritual Office elders below wore nothing but reverence on their faces, not merely because Yuan Marquis's status silenced them, but because this crimson python robe had been bestowed by the Sacred Master himself.

In all of Yu State, only two men held this honor.

One was Yuan Marquis before them; the other was Grand Secretary Zhang.

One civil, one martial—they were the pillars of the empire.

No one dared object to the crimson python robe.

Since this was a substitute sacrifice, everything was simplified—no elaborate welcoming of the gods, no offering of jade and silk, no presentation of the sacrificial meats, no first, second, or final libations.

Otherwise, people might suspect him of overstepping.

The ritual officer simply recited the prayer.

"Heaven and earth both abound; I alone hold reverence. I light the purple altar, seeking the sacred path. I humbly offer the rites, the incense swirling in profusion, the embroidered banners spread wide, serving the Most Honored Spirit."

His words drifted like celestial music.

Not a single mistake in content, wording, or delivery!

One by one, Yu Kingdom officials and sect elders and disciples knelt prostrate, faces solemn.

In an instant—

A spectral spear's shadow surged upward, piercing the nine heavens, towering over ten thousand zhang, stretching across the sky.

The aura of a Martial Saint!

Seeing this magnificent spectacle, everyone tilted their heads upward, mouths agape, unable to close them—how could this possibly be the work of a mere martial cultivator?!

The top ten in the realm—terrifying indeed.

No wonder they're called terrestrial immortals—what difference does this display hold from true divine power??

The sacrificial recitation paused; the Ritual Official stared at the colossal spear curtain, speechless with shock.

Yuan Dingting timely reminded: "Officer Wang, continue the recitation."

"Ah, uh."

Officer Wang nodded dazedly, then resumed chanting the sacrificial text—but no longer with his former composure; his voice now trembled slightly.

Qinghe, dozens of li away.

In the city, whether high officials or common folk, all looked up and saw the grand spectacle at the Qinghe Hunting Grounds.

"The Spear Immortal—it must be the Spear Immortal."

"You're ignorant—that's our Marquis's power!"

Some Qinghe locals dropped to their knees outright, bowing their heads repeatedly.

Even senior sect elders and disciples who understood the truth could not help but kneel in submission.

This was precisely the effect the sacrifice sought to achieve.

Demonstrate strength.

To common folk, it was a god descending from heaven—mysticism; to sect members, it was a Martial Saint emerging—pure power.

In short, this sacrifice worked on everyone.

The grand sacrifice lasted half a day.

Only then did it end.

Afterward came a day of fasting, to show respect to ancestors and deities.

Ritual Officials would hang fasting plaques to the left of tents and dwellings; those fasting must wear the plaques at their waist when venturing out, so all could monitor one another.

Fasting forbade not only meat, but also alcohol, music, and all luxuries—violators would be severely punished, even imperial relatives were not exempt.

"Tasteless food—damn, it's truly tasteless."

Servants delivered meals to each tent.

One bowl of rice, one dish of plain stir-fried greens—that was all.

Tan Hu suffered terribly—he was used to wine and meat daily; how could he endure such plain fare?

Ning Zhongtian chuckled, watching Tan Hu:

"Huizi, you've improved—you've been with Brother, now you're using four-character phrases!"

Tan Hu rolled his eyes.

Li Rui chewed slowly on the vegetable stems and said to Tan Hu: "Huizi, if you can't eat today, sleep. Don't cause trouble—otherwise, if the Marquis blames you, I can't save you."

A martial cultivator skipping a meal is nothing—but breaking the fast is a grave offense.

Exile is entirely possible.

"Yes, yes, I'll follow Brother's orders."

Saying this, he set down his chopsticks and rose to leave.

But Li Rui called out: "You'll sleep in my tent today."

Hearing this,

Tan Hu's face fell instantly.

The next morning.

Everyone was awakened by cries and wails, rushing out to see.

There, Yuan Marquis's three adopted sons dragged four men to the center of the camp.

"Gathered to drink and took women—broke the fast, caught red-handed."

Some who knew the details laughed as they spoke.

In former years, Yunzhou never held sacrifices; officials and sect elders alike were lax, especially those with martial bandit ways—but now that Yuan Marquis has come, things are different.

If you're a dragon, coil up. If you're a tiger, lie down.

Whoever breaks the fast will be punished according to ritual law.

The four men's dantians had been shattered; their martial arts were utterly destroyed.

Next came exile to the cold, barren north—without martial skill, survival would be hard.

All who saw this were shaken.

They felt relief that they had not broken ritual law—otherwise, these four were their own future.

After this minor incident,

A one-day pause.

Then came the climax of the autumn hunt: Marquis Yuan's lecture on martial arts.

Normally, this step could be handled by Grand Masters from the Marquis's household—the Tiannan Hunting Grounds had once been lectured by Dingyuan Marquis on the Emperor's behalf.

But since this was Yunzhou's first autumn hunt, Yuan Dingting himself would deliver the lecture.

There would never be such an opportunity again.

It was a martial lecture.

No need for Daoist rituals—purification, summoning spirits, threefold absolution. Yuan Dingting was military-born, valued discipline over ceremony; after the grand sacrifice, he cut all excess.

He simply laid a carpet in the center of the camp.

Everyone sat in a circle around it.

Seemed casual—but in truth, deeply deliberate.

The Marquis didn't care, but the listeners did—seating was strictly ordered by status and rank.

Li Rui, without question, sat in the front row.

His cultivation base was insufficient, but he held Qinghe's geographical advantage, so he earned a seat.

Yuan Dingting's voice began to rise slowly.

Not loud.

Yet clearly reached every ear—just this alone astonished them.

Transmitting sound with qi!

Li Rui's heart trembled.

"The martial cultivator must first cultivate resolve; bones and sinews are the foundation, internal breath the core, technique the tool. Without firm resolve, one cannot achieve greatness. Like a tree without roots, water without a source—no matter how fierce one's strength, it will not last. Thus, the martial cultivator must set his resolve like a mountain, walk his path like water, unmoved by external things."

"."

"Martial cultivators of the lowest rank imitate beasts, of the middle rank imitate demons, of the highest rank imitate immortals."

"The cultivation of martial arts is like rowing upstream—fail to advance, and you retreat. A Martial Saint can move mountains, tread oceans, slay immortals!"

(End of Chapter)