Chapter 102: The Terror of the White-Haired Old Man

He still didn't understand in the end — the weight contained within a dynasty that could stand for a thousand years without falling.

No wonder countless noble clans and great mountain sects, possessing such tremendous power, had never once thought of betrayal or overthrow — all they did was pledge loyalty, even currying favor in every way.

No wonder, after he had gained such vast renown, those who supported him were still only a handful of minor sects and small factions — never once had any great sect or major faction come to support him, not even in secret.

It turned out, it wasn't that they didn't want to.

It was that they couldn't! Didn't dare to!

Once they acted, either they would succeed, or they would be doomed forever!

Never again would there be a day of restoration!

Therefore, they saw not a shred of hope in him — how could they speak of support?

Five Limits? A joke.

If it really only took Five Limits to overthrow 【a dynasty】, could so many sects and great factions not scrape together a force larger than his?

Unfortunately, he understood far, far too late — and was far too naive…

Not only did he drag down so many like-minded brothers, but he would also drag down the woman who had given her heart to him, and perhaps the force behind her as well — She Gu.

His sins were deep and heavy; ten thousand deaths would not suffice.

At this moment, Zhang Rang seemed to recall once more what had happened half a month ago.

Back then, everything was still thriving. After several years of accumulation, they finally had a group of brothers whose strength had reached Five Limits.

They had also successfully torn two great provinces from the hands of the Great Zhou, giving the displaced people everywhere a stable destination and home. Everything was moving toward the good, toward the upward.

Just as everyone was discussing how to save the common people from fire and water at the hands of the Great Zhou—

That person appeared. That four-eyed, white-haired old man appeared. He came bearing an army of fifty thousand, and everything changed…

He styled himself the Prefecture Lord of Zhangtian Mansion of the Great Zhou, commanding the strongest military force of the entire Great Zhou, clearing away all obstacles in the world for Zhou Tianzi.

He was second to none, above ten thousand men — the Prefecture Lord.

Back then, he said he was old and could not bear to see rivers of blood, and gave them a chance: surrender on the spot.

Apart from the instigator, all others could submit to the court.

But merely fifty thousand troops appearing near Qingzhou, plus at most the scattered soldiers already in Qingzhou, amounted to no more than a hundred thousand.

Such a paltry force made the brothers laugh. Just fifty thousand… oh no, a hundred thousand troops.

With just this little force, they wanted them to surrender outright?

What right did they have to stop the uprising army, which boasted a million troops and a hundred and fifty thousand martial artists?

Thus, the two sides could not negotiate, and began to settle things by force.

At first, they still held the upper hand steadily, until among the brothers a few appeared who, trusting in their own strength, wished to take that old man's head from amidst the army of ten thousand.

At that moment, that old man stepped onto the field.

On that face of his with two pairs of strange eyes, the pair of eyes that had been closed all along slowly opened — and from that point on, everything changed…

Power vanished…

Yes! The power that came from martial artists vanished.

Within a radius of one kilometer centered on that old man, all the extraordinary power of their side — that mighty power belonging to martial artists…

Vanished!

No matter how they tried to drive it, that power lay dormant within their bodies as if it had disappeared, no longer stirring, as though it had encountered some great enemy.

In an instant, the superhuman power of a great number of brothers was simply gone. The disorientation caused by the sudden wave of unfamiliar weakness, along with the various stray arrows on the battlefield, instantly took the lives of a great number of brothers.

If it were only one kilometer, that would still be manageable, but that old man's speed was far too fast — so fast that ordinary people… no, even Seven Limits martial artists could only see a string of afterimages. He was like a phantom drifting unpredictably across the battlefield.

Wherever he passed, ordinary people stripped of martial power were cut apart as if by some invisible thing, one by one like rice stalks, their bodies tumbling into a ground strewn with severed limbs and broken remains.

In the end, ordinary people simply had no power to resist martial artists, unless they were piled upon with endless manpower until crushed to death.

But, what if you also added the enemy's countless martial-artist soldiers?

At this moment, their side had lost the power of martial artists. Even if their numbers were greater, the enemy's numbers were not far behind, and the situation reversed in an instant.

Their martial artists, once mighty beyond compare, lost that power and were slaughtered as easily as bleating pigs and sheep awaiting the knife.

In an instant, the army of a million lost its head. The massive force that had proclaimed it would overthrow the Great Zhou crumbled into sand in a breath, and the splendid situation collapsed like a landslide — gone…

The words that four-eyed, white-haired old man uttered with calm indifference at that final moment remained vivid in his memory to this day:

"What do you think a dynasty relies upon to stand for a thousand years?"

"The love of those noble clans?"

"What a joke."

"Noble clans? Great sects and factions?"

"They're nothing but dogs raised by our Great Zhou. If they disobey, we simply replace them."

……

"Leader, Leader, there are two large forks in the road ahead — which one shall we take?"

Lost in thought, a youth's question reached his ears, interrupting Zhang Rang's recollection. He raised his head, wanting to speak.

But a wave of dull itching and stabbing pain came from his chest again, and the words Zhang Rang wanted to say turned into violent coughing. Clearly, the gravely wounded man could not even get a word out.

"Leader, don't speak — your wound is very serious." The woman beside him spoke with worry, one slender hand pressing firmly against the man's chest, where a patch of dark red showed.

That was the wound pierced through him by a single strike from that four-eyed old man. Had he not already broken through to Seven Limits, he would have perished on the spot in that instant.

But even so, without timely medical treatment, he might not have long to live.

Thinking of this, the woman's face was also clouded with sorrow.

She Po… no, perhaps she should be called Zhou Qingqing — the woman spoke: "Xiao Hu, where do the two paths ahead lead respectively?"

The one she called Xiao Hu was a young lad with a somewhat boyish face — the same youth who had asked the question just now.

He was a child Zhang Rang had picked up some years ago from a small famine-stricken place.

"Reporting, Granny. To the left lies the Duanlong Mountain Range; to the right lies Ping Zhou."

"Let's go—we're heading for the Duanlong Mountain Range!"

Zhou Qingqing only thought for a moment before deciding which direction to flee.

As for why she chose this somewhat familiar mountain range, perhaps deep inside she was still clinging to a faint, impossible delusion.

Duanlong Mountain Range, oh Duanlong Mountain Range—once again, the place where the Dragon Species first appeared.

Even though that mysterious creature, suspected to be of the Dragon Species, had already left, she still held a slim, desperate hope.

……

Half a month later, Jianghe Ruhaikou.

A flood-dragon serpent with wings that blotted out the sky flew in from over the sea.

Gazing down at the lush, dense forest far below, and at the river that forever rushed on without cease, and at the sea where fresh and salt waters met in a clear dividing line.

Baichuan felt an understanding smile rise within him. He didn't know why he was smiling either—it was simply that, looking at this once-familiar place, a quiet joy welled up of its own accord.

Much like a student who has traveled far finally returning home, even though he had only stayed here briefly for a single month.

Perhaps he still has a touch of the habit of being sentimental about the past.

He lowered his altitude once more and slowly descended to the ground.

Accompanied by a faint tremor of the earth, he set foot on this familiar land once again.

Baichuan raised his dragon head. At this moment he was in no hurry to leave; he simply looked this way and that, trying to find any traces he had left behind before.

Unfortunately, after a thorough search—perhaps because he had been too cautious back then—he could not find a single trace of his former presence. Even the nest he had left behind had already vanished.

Slowly letting out a sigh, Baichuan felt for the first time how clearly Time flowed over him.

Since there was nothing familiar left, it was time to set out on the road once more……

(End of Chapter)