Chapter 464: Heaven Overturned, Earth Reversed

Chen Guanlou drank a sip of water.

He sensed someone approaching and swiftly hid inside the house.

Only when the presence had moved far away did he return to the roof and continue watching the Heaven Sacrifice Ceremony.

He didn't care who had passed over the roof or what their purpose was. He only cared whether there would be entertainment today—whether there'd be a fight, whether someone would die. None of it concerned him.

He was merely an onlooker, uninvolved and indifferent.

The elaborate ceremony finally reached a pause.

Chen Guanlou was awed by the Ministry of Rites officials who presided over it—the ceremony lasted one or two hours straight, without a single break, not even a sip of water, not a single mistake. Their physical stamina, memory, and mental fortitude were terrifying.

The world of top scholars was terrifying indeed.

Now came the main event.

The sacrificial offering was brought onto the altar.

Da Ming Wang had a gag strapped over his mouth and was carried onto the altar by several Embroidered Uniform Guards.

Chen Guanlou chuckled. Told you not to ignore my advice, told you to keep your mouth shut. Now you're gagged like an animal—ugly, dishonorable, your face as a rebel leader utterly ruined. You deserve it!

You thought you'd roar at the old emperor? Look how thoughtful the Embroidered Uniform Guards were—they gave Da Ming Wang not a single chance to speak. That's how loyal service should look.

The Tianlaomiao men? They just go through the motions, loafing around every day. Nothing compared to the Embroidered Uniform Guards!

Who will wield the blade?

Will it be Old Zhang?

The answer was about to be revealed.

Unexpectedly, there was still a long ceremony ahead.

This time, officials from the Imperial Astronomical Bureau took over, reciting the sacrificial text and burning it to inform Heaven. Once the ritual was complete, a new execution ground had been constructed.

Da Ming Wang was bound to a wooden cross in a spread-eagle position. His clothes had been stripped off, leaving only his undergarment. After six months in captivity, his once-muscular frame had turned flabby, bloated with fat—nothing like the image of a rebel leader.

Yet this was exactly what the court wanted.

The more he deviated from the image, the more it crushed the spirits of rebels across the land, shaping public opinion to sway the hearts of the people.

The scholars had calculated every detail.

Who would believe a bloated, pudgy man was the one to lead the people back to the light? He was nothing but a parasite.

A parasite must be toppled. Must be killed.

The executioner appeared—it wasn't Old Zhang.

Chen Guanlou felt a flicker of disappointment.

On such an important occasion, Old Zhang hadn't even been chosen.

Better he wasn't chosen. Today's execution by a thousand cuts wasn't exactly a blessing.

The Heaven Sacrifice Ceremony had proceeded flawlessly up to this point. All that remained was to offer the sacrifice to Heaven, completing the final ritual—then today's ceremony would be a perfect success.

Many had now relaxed, catching their breath, feeling a little ease. The upcoming execution was merely an afterthought.

First cut!

Second cut!

Third cut!

Suddenly…

Boom!

The earth trembled. Houses shook. People screamed in terror.

The sky fell. The ground collapsed.

Was it an earthquake?

Could it really be an earthquake?

How could the Imperial Astronomical Bureau have missed predicting it?

How could an earthquake strike with such perfect timing?

A terrifying sight materialized before their eyes.

The altar collapsed!

The altar had collapsed!

It wasn't an earthquake.

It was someone who had planted explosives beneath the altar—and detonated them.

"Your Majesty!"

"Save the Emperor!"

"Rebels are attacking! Alert the guards!"

The scene erupted into chaos.

Dust rose thickly, obscuring everything. Yet men seized the opportunity to slaughter wildly—swords clashed, blades flashed, chilling the blood.

Screams for help, roars for rescue, cries for the Emperor's safety—everywhere.

Dust concealed the carnage; every so often, a severed head flew out into the open, triggering fresh shrieks.

Chen Guanlou didn't move.

He remained seated on the roof, a flask of wine beside him.

As I said before—he was here today only to watch the spectacle, to witness the birth of a miracle.

Whether it was a miracle, he didn't know. But the spectacle? He'd seen plenty. Every moment of today was seared into his memory—never to fade, not in decades, not in centuries.

After all, such a grand scene, so heart-stopping, such a bold stroke.

So ruthless—to plant explosives beneath the altar and kill with such precision.

Who had the nerve?

Who had the power to plant explosives beneath the heavily guarded altar and detonate them on schedule? There's a traitor inside!

The entire realm would descend into chaos because of this explosion.

"The Tianlaomiao will soon have big business coming in. I'll have to get busy," Chen Guanlou muttered, sounding vaguely melancholy. Busy was good—money to be made. But he hated being too busy; he wouldn't even have time to visit Pingping and Lili at the brothel.

You earn money but have no time to spend it—is that reasonable?

The wind howled!

Chen Guanlou cursed bitterly.

Even hiding on the roof, he couldn't escape being dragged into the mess.

Blind martial artists slashed at anyone they saw. Chen Guanlou wouldn't tolerate such fools—he plucked a flower, hurled a leaf, and killed the idiot outright.

Then he moved to another spot.

"Chen Guanlou, save them!"

Who called him to save anyone?

He'd hidden himself—why had they found him?

He looked up—it was the Hou Fu's head steward.

"Chen Guanlou, the Young Master is trapped inside. Hurry and find a way to save him."

"How did you find me?"

"I stumbled upon you by luck. No time for explanations now—I'll tell you later. Come with me, save the Young Master. You must bring him out alive."

Chen Guanlou didn't move.

The steward was furious—he knew Chen Guanlou's nature. "There'll be a generous reward afterward. I won't shortchange you."

"Fine."

That was more like it.

The key point: the steward didn't just want the Young Master Chen Guanfu saved—he handed Chen Guanlou a list, ordering him to rescue as many of these people as possible.

Chen Guanlou: …

As long as the silver was paid, he could instantly transform from a Tianlaomiao jailer into a firefighter. He snatched the steward's waist sword, slashed through the air, and charged into the dust to save lives.

Inside the dust, it had become a bloody hell.

Multiple factions were slaughtering each other.

No wonder the Hou Fu forces couldn't break in.

Not only Embroidered Uniform Guards and the Six Ministries' agents, but also imperial guards from the capital, plus masked martial artists of unknown origin—all of them powerful, none weaker than fifth-rank cultivators.

They'd emptied their entire arsenal. The mastermind had staked everything—success or death.

Chen Guanlou remembered the Young Master Chen Guanfu hadn't gone onto the main altar—he was on the second-tier platform below. Chen Guanfu was only the Young Master, not yet the Marquis; his status didn't merit the highest altar.

If today's attendee had been the Marquis himself, he'd have been on the main altar, standing beside the Emperor—taking the worst blows, survival left to luck.

Who had the audacity to orchestrate this? To kill the Emperor and every official in the court right here on the spot?

Heaven overturned. Earth reversed.