Chapter 783: Farewell to Nan Zhou, the Path of Flight

It was deep into the night.

Yet the city of Liuli was ablaze with lanterns, crowds streaming endlessly through its streets and alleys.

Even though the subjects of the Divine Dynasty were well-traveled and far surpassed the creatures of Hongze’s remote corners, they were still mere mortals.

For ordinary people, it was nearly impossible to discern the true depth of a demon’s cultivation; their most direct, crude measure was simply the size of its body.

The Southern Emperor’s demonic form was simply too vast—so immense that it seemed if it fell, the entire city of Liuli would instantly crumble to ruins.

Thus, even after several days had passed, the people remained gripped by the lingering terror and exhilaration of barely surviving the calamity.

Such a colossal demon had ultimately been pierced through its body by a divine sword forged from surging heavenly flames.

Those who had not witnessed it firsthand could never imagine the sheer awe it inspired.

The name Nanyang, passed mouth to mouth, had already been elevated to that of a true immortal; if this trend continued, erecting temples and offering sacrifices to him would be merely a matter of time.

In contrast to the noisy chaos outside, the Grand Hall of the Prefectural Office was eerily silent.

The three Regional Commanders sat in utter silence.

Yet they bore none of their usual commanding presence.

Yang Mingli flipped aimlessly through the documents on his desk, his gaze distant—he hadn’t absorbed a single word.

Beside him, Yan Lanting sat slumped in his chair, staring blankly ahead, rubbing his wrinkled face repeatedly with both palms, like an old farmer hunched on a field ridge—no trace left of a Regional Commander’s bearing.

As for Feng Xi, she leaned back, eyes closed, resting; on her expressionless face, faint signs of aging had begun to appear.

“…”

Wu Shan slipped silently into the hall and replaced the untouched, now-cold tea with fresh cups.

He glanced at the three men, seemingly soulless, lips parting—but he said nothing.

The demon disaster of that day still echoed in his mind.

Yet what had reduced these three to this state was not the Southern Emperor’s terror—after all, these Regional Commanders were no green recruits; they had long known the vast gulf between themselves and the Southern Emperor, and were not so easily broken.

The true cause was the Southern Emperor’s single utterance: “Bodhisattva.”

That one phrase had revealed why their Nanyang General had received so much advance intelligence, and why he possessed cultivation rivaling all of Nanzhou.

Because he was, in truth, one of the Puxi Teachings’ own—and a revered Bodhisattva at that.

More precisely…

He was a member of the Demon-Slaying Bureau who, to save Nan Zhou, had risked everything to infiltrate the great sect.

As for when…

Wu Shan clenched his teeth, recalling the Bodhisattva who had arrived just in time to ambush him during the Puxi Teaching’s attack.

Under these circumstances, how had he even awakened safely within the Divine Dynasty?

Perhaps from that very moment, Lord Nanyang had already joined the Puxi Teaching.

News of his battle with the Southern Emperor would soon spread… Wu Shan knew little of these great sects, but he could imagine how they would treat a “traitor.”

This was precisely what the three Regional Commanders feared.

If Lord Nanyang failed to return safely, these three would never find peace for the rest of their lives.

“Sigh.”

Wu Shan turned and walked slowly toward the hall’s exit.

On the steps, Ye Lan stood motionless, hand resting on the hilt of her sword, staring blankly at the night sky like a stone statue.

“If only I hadn’t left the Divine Dynasty,” Wu Shan murmured beside her, voice heavy with guilt.

“…”

Ye Lan remained silent for a long while, still not turning, only whispering: “He never mentioned any of this.”

At this, Wu Shan froze.

Lord Nanyang had done so much—yet had he ever spoken a single word to anyone?

Even before the Southern Emperor arrived, the man had patted his shoulder—meaning he had remembered, all along, that Wu Shan bore a grudge against the Southern Emperor.

And that final, boastful remark as he slew the Southern Emperor—wasn’t that also fulfilling Wu Shan’s own unspoken wish?

How could such a man ever blame him?

Thinking of this, Wu Shan lifted his gaze in awe, looking toward the heavens—when a streak of light flashed across his pupils.

The burly, fat man shuddered, eyes wide with joy: “He’s back!”

Before the words left his mouth, three figures had already shot out of the hall behind him—swift as lightning, utterly unlike the hollow, broken men they had been moments before.

The streak of light landed, revealing a familiar figure in dark robes.

Ye Lan stepped forward, staring fixedly at that handsome face—she had personally witnessed his transformation: from subordinate, to younger brother, to senior brother, to superior, to now, their ancestral patriarch.

In such a short time, their relationship had shifted too many times.

So much so that for a moment, she didn’t know how to address him—only her breath quickened, then thickened with unshed tears, as she voiced the question everyone needed to ask: “Are you well?”

“…”

Shen Yi had just returned, and was now pinned under countless stares.

He frowned slightly, unsettled—he hadn’t felt this kind of attention since leaving Hongze.

After a pause, Shen Yi nodded: “For now, I’m fine.”

At that single phrase, the tension in everyone’s hearts loosened slightly.

“If someone carries word of this back to Nan Xumí, you…” Yan Lanting pressed, still uneasy—Puxi Teaching members weren’t fools; if Nan Zhou remained unconquered, they’d demand accountability.

“I killed everyone who knew. It should buy me enough time to leave Nan Zhou.”

Shen Yi stepped into the hall. Nan Zhou’s affairs were settled; there was no need to hide anything further—only to spare them needless worry.

“…”

The three Regional Commanders’ expressions froze.

They stared at his back, struggling to imagine what mental state allowed someone to speak such terrifying words with such calmness.

Remember—he was a Bodhisattva; those who accompanied him on missions were surely other Bodhisattvas.

These exalted beings, towering above mortals, were reduced to a single phrase—barely even granted names.

“You’re leaving Nan Zhou?”

The first to recover was Ye Lan—the lowest in cultivation, yet the one who had spent the most time with Shen Yi, and was thus most accustomed to his ways.

Though she had expected it—given all he’d done, Nan Zhou could no longer hold him.

Yet at this moment, her eyes still filled with reluctant parting.

“First, to the Imperial Capital. You’re coming with me.”

Shen Yi gave her no choice.

Given his crimes, Nan Xumí would surely send a Great Liberation Bodhisattva to investigate—and Ye Lan, Master Zhi Kong, and others who knew the full truth would be their first targets.

Unlike the Regional Commanders, they had no cultivation to protect them, no Demon-Slaying Edict, no access to imperial qi to summon in emergencies.

If captured, they wouldn’t even have the power to die on their own terms.

For his own sake, and for theirs, Shen Yi could not let them remain in Nan Zhou.

“Also, send word to the mountains—have them relocate. Best to vanish entirely, and avoid all involvement.”

Facing this blunt command, Ye Lan showed no resentment—only joy: “Understood! I’ll see to it at once.”

Watching Ye Lan turn and hurry away,

Feng Xi stepped forward, lips pressed tight. From Shen Yi’s actions—erasing every trace—she sensed his words were far too optimistic.

“Nan Zhou should be safe for now. You needn’t worry. Remain vigilant and hold your posts.”

Shen Yi turned to the beautiful woman, offering reassurance.

No matter their strength, the fact that these three Great Immortals had chosen to lift the Southern Emperor rather than flee—earned his respect.

“We’re not worried about Nan Zhou…” Feng Xi sighed. The Bodhisattvas who descended, the great demons who walked the earth—nearly all were dead. The twenty-seven prefectures had known no demon calamity in a long time.

Compared to the other three continents, Nan Zhou now deserved to be called a paradise on earth.

She shook her head, softly: “For the sake of our brief time as colleagues, let me see you off. It’ll spare you many troubles once you reach the capital.”

If she didn’t see him depart safely, she and those two old men would never rest easy.

“Then thank you, Elder.”

Shen Yi paused, then nodded in agreement.

He would leave behind a set of stabilizing stones in the twenty-seven prefectures; these three Regional Commanders had just suffered grievous wounds—they had no need to force them to stay.

“Wait! I have one more question!”

Yang Mingli finally found his chance to speak. Under the puzzled glances of the others, he licked his dry lips: “May I ask… what is your title within the Puxi Teaching?”

“…”

Shen Yi looked at him, understanding his hesitation, and smiled wryly: “Subduing the Dragon, Taming the Tiger.”

“Hss—”

At those four words, Yang Mingli bit his lip, pulling a scroll from his sleeve.

It matched! All of it matched!

He had long sensed something strange about recent events—his decades of experience had failed him at every major turn, making him wonder if his mind had betrayed him.

Yang Mingli opened the scroll to the first page, trembling as he pointed to the top three names.

“Subduing the Dragon, Taming the Tiger—the Great Ming King—is you. Nanyang General—is you. And if I’m not mistaken, the Grand Void Alchemy Emperor—is also you!”

The Grand Void Alchemy Emperor hailed from Shenxu Mountain—a once-in-a-generation prodigy.

Everyone knew Ye Lan and Shen Yi had both joined Shenxu Mountain; his tone just now had been unmistakably that of a sect master.

Such a young genius could not possibly be the ancient worm-demon Shenxu Patriarch—his identity was now clear.

"So, the three prodigies Lao Fu had the Demon-Slaying Bureau investigate? All three were our own people..."

By this point, Yang Mingli’s throat was parched.

Watching the old man’s excitement, Shen Yi glanced at the names listed at the back of the scroll: "Close enough."

To be honest, he felt a bit sorry for this Minister Yang.

After all, Yang Mingli was the first to reveal most of his own identity; from the moment he abruptly asked about the Bodhisattva’s title, it was clear that even if he denied it, the other man had already guessed most of it.

And yet, such a sharp-minded man had, because of me, suffered repeated setbacks in judgment... a severe blow to his confidence.

"See? It’s not my fault!"

Upon receiving a confirming nod, Yang Mingli glared at Yan Lanting beside him.

"..."

Yan Lanting had no interest in responding; when he looked at Shen Yi again, he found him even more terrifying.

In other words, there never were two legendary prodigies who each slew eight young elites from the two sects.

Outside the Beiliu River, the man alone slaughtered all sixteen, including those of Tianwu Xuanwu, and even toyed with the third-rank experts watching nearby.

Of course, we three old fools were fooled too.

We actually believed that ridiculous tale of the two fighting until exhaustion, letting Nanyang reap the benefits.

"I don’t know what you’re so worked up about."

Feng Xi shot Yang Mingli a disdainful look. If, back then, when the Yuchi Monkey Demon incident occurred, Yan Lanting hadn’t stepped in to defend him—if Yang had gotten his way and punished Nanyang—the twenty-seven prefectures would surely be bathed in blood by now.

"..."

Shen Yi watched the three bickering quietly, suddenly feeling as if he’d been transported back to the Great Qian.

Back then, after resolving the demon plague in Qingzhou, Old Master Chen Qiankun had suddenly turned into this childish old man.

He liked this feeling—it made him inexplicably relaxed.

But it wasn’t time to relax yet. Only when he secured his own life could he spare a moment to return to Qingzhou.

"Gentlemen, I take my leave." Shen Yi slowly bowed.

The men who had been chattering moments before fell silent.

The two old men said nothing, finally letting out a long sigh, returning the bow, and murmuring: "We’re lucky you’re here... Farewell."

The troubles of Nanzhou weren’t solved—they’d simply shifted from the common folk of the twenty-seven prefectures onto one man alone.

We can’t help much, but all we can do is protect the peace and tranquility he sacrificed his life to secure.

Several days later.

A Fire Dragon Treasure Car rose into the sky from Liuli Prefecture, streaking northward; its roaring dragon soul blazed fiercely, covering ten thousand li in an instant, leaving Nanzhou behind.

Inside the carriage were only a few people.

Feng Xi had prepared a memorial, detailing everything that had occurred in Nanzhou, bearing the seals of the three Regional Commanders.

This was the only thing Nanzhou could offer Shen Yi.

With this memorial, he could exchange it with the Emperor for any reward he desired.

Ye Lan and the monk Zhi Kong were brought aboard, seated on either side of Shen Yi; the Divine Void Mountain side had also been arranged—Qianfeng Daoist would lead the Eight Main Peaks and hundreds of outer peaks’ disciples to evacuate Nanzhou before Nanshumi could react.

Aside from the name Nanyang, Shen Yi left no trace behind in Great Nanzhou.

He closed his eyes, feigning sleep, feeling the Fire Dragon Car beneath him.

It was a fine magic artifact—but once beyond the Divine Court, it couldn’t be used lightly again.

He didn’t know how long passed.

As the carriage suddenly halted, Shen Yi opened his eyes, gazing at the faint outline of the Imperial City ahead.

(End of Chapter)