Chapter 825: Former Dynasty Subjects

The fishing boat docked at Zhen’e, and Nian Shangyou followed Qiao Yi ashore.

A train station stood beside the harbor; Qiao Yi and Nian Shangyou boarded the train and traveled through mountains for exactly five hours.

Nian Shangyou kept gazing out the window, eager to know what the former dynasty’s capital truly looked like.

Yet along the entire journey, he saw no trace of a city—only dense forests and thick snowdrifts; apart from the rails and platforms, he hadn’t seen a single other building.

When the train reached the heart of Zhen’e, Qiao Yi led Nian Shangyou off and climbed a mountain peak on foot.

Looking down from the summit, Nian Shangyou was stunned.

He saw a colossal ring towering before him.

Its base rested upon the wilderness below the mountain, its peak reaching the mountaintop; within its center, shifting black shadows flickered, making Nian Shangyou dizzy, as if he might be swallowed whole by boundless darkness at any moment.

Qiao Yi asked: “Shangyou, do you know what this is?”

Nian Shangyou fell to his knees with a thud, unsure whether to kowtow to Qiao Yi or to the great totem.

Though his mind was in chaos, years of training still guided his instincts—he kept kowtowing to the great totem, yet his mouth continuously praised Qiao Yi:

“My lord raised a platform a hundred ren high, built walls weighing a thousand jin, and restored the great totem—this glorious achievement shakes antiquity and outshines all eras!”

“My lord orchestrates all things, alone masters yin and yang, breathes forth thunder and lightning, glances and rivers reverse their flow!”

“Your heroic strategy pierces the rainbow, your sleeve sweeps to settle heaven and earth, your fame shakes the nine underworlds, your dominance spans the ten directions.”

“Enough!” Qiao Yi cut him off. “This is not my work alone—the False King here played an indispensable role!”

Nian Shangyou looked at Qiao Yi: “My lord means the False King discovered Zhen’e, giving you the perfect site to rebuild the great totem?”

“No! Rebuilding the great totem was not my work alone—the False King contributed even more than I did!”

Nian Shangyou still didn’t grasp Qiao Yi’s meaning: “My lord, are you saying the False King once advocated rebuilding the great totem?”

Qiao Yi shook his head: “He never once voiced such advocacy—if he had, his true intentions would have been laid bare for all to see.”

Do you recall the old custom? When cultivators from Pulu Province came to Shang to cultivate, they first needed the False King’s approval?”

Nian Shangyou remembered this well.

When the Sage was still in Pulu Province, cultivators of the ninth layer seeking promotion to the tenth layer in Shang were nominally required to obtain the Sage’s permission—even if they had allies in the imperial court, they still had to at least pay their respects to the Sage, go through the motions.

Nian Shangyou also recalled a detail: “The False King once held the authority to judge loyalty and treachery.”

By “judging loyalty and treachery,” the Sage could directly determine whether a cultivator was loyal to Shang; if deemed “loyal,” the cultivator would receive a relatively easy post upon arrival in Shang.

If deemed “treacherous,” the cultivator would face brutal cultivation conditions—in short, a life worse than that of livestock; many cultivators never reached the tenth layer, as their training exceeded the limits of human endurance.

Qiao Yi nodded repeatedly: “The inner workings of this authority to judge loyalty and treachery were profoundly subtle, concealing the False King’s full scheming.”

Nian Shangyou said: “I’ve heard rumors—the False King’s judgments had nothing to do with loyalty or treachery; they depended entirely on closeness and kinship!”

“Not only that,” Qiao Yi gazed at the bustling crowd beneath the great totem: “Those whom the False King trusted absolutely were sent to Zhen’e to oversee the reconstruction of the great totem.”

Nian Shangyou was startled: “Then how many years has the great totem been under construction?”

Qiao Yi said: “Ever since the False King lost Pulu Province, he began building the great totem—day after day, without interruption—because he was meticulous, and for all these years, the imperial court never discovered it.”

Only after I entered the Grand Secretariat did I notice certain cultivators from Pulu Province had peculiar circumstances—like the literary cultivator He Caiyuan, who, after three years of cultivation in Shang, was granted a high official post due to outstanding merit—but the records were vague about what exactly his merit was, and no one knew where he had spent those three years.”

His son, He Haiqin, was even more bizarre—he rose to a key position after less than a year of cultivation in Shang; when questioned, he gave evasive, unclear answers, and no one could explain how.”

Nian Shangyou found this unreasonable: “No one ever questioned this?”

Qiao Yi sighed: “Some did investigate, but the False King concealed everything with fabricated merits.”

“Merits can be fabricated?”

Qiao Yi gave a bitter smile: “He Haiqin once severely injured the Lu brothers and protected Lu Maoxian and others in Pulu Province—such incidents were twisted by the False King into ‘merits.’”

Nian Shangyou had heard of this: “That’s just a power struggle among local strongmen—it happened all the time in Pulu Province! How could that count as merit?”

Qiao Yi gazed into the distance: “At the time, the False King was in Pulu Province—he could always spin a plausible story.”

Besides, the entire imperial court regarded Pulu cultivators as slaves—who would argue with the False King over the affairs of slaves?”

Though the False King had lost power, he still bore the title of monarch; when I investigated this matter, I faced countless obstacles.”

I never expected the False King, in his arrogance, moved Dao Gui Ridge to Shengxian Peak, thinking he’d acquired a sharp weapon—yet he didn’t realize his own limitations; once Shengxian Peak was seized by Dao Laogui, he fled in panic back to Shang, and only then did my investigation make progress.”

Nian Shangyou quickly said: “The False King must have revealed a flaw, which my lord detected.”

Qiao Yi shook his head repeatedly: “He didn’t reveal anything himself—I simply kept wondering: how did he escape from Shengxian Peak?”

Nian Shangyou recalled: “According to rumors, he used the Imperial Seal—he left the Imperial Seal at Shengxian Peak and flew directly back to Chaoge.”

Qiao Yi waved his hand: “At first, I believed this too—but the timeline doesn’t add up. The False King returned to Chaoge much later than when he left Shengxian Peak.”

Later, I examined the Imperial Seal’s craftsmanship multiple times and proved the truth was more complex.”

The False King did use the Imperial Seal—this is true—but how he used it matters. The Imperial Seal doesn’t grant free passage; its proper function is to create official transit documents that unlock special routes.”

These routes already existed—some older than most of Pulu Province—but they were impassable until stamped with the Seal’s documents, which acted as keys to open them; however, using the documents required leaving the Seal behind at the origin.”

Nian Shangyou found this explanation implausible.

Everyone said the Imperial Seal possessed boundless divine power—how could it be reduced to this in Qiao Yi’s account?

Nian Shangyou said: “The Seal has been lost in Pulu Province—how can my lord deduce its function merely by examining its craftsmanship?”

Qiao Yi smiled: “I didn’t examine the craftsmanship—Master Gongxiu, Duan Tielu, examined it. Do you still doubt his insight?”

“No, it’s not that I doubt him—it’s that my lord—” Nian Shangyou fell silent.

A few days ago, Nian Shangyou had discovered the whereabouts of Master Gongxiu, who had promised to repair the Great Furnace within three months.

Yet Qiao Yi said he didn’t trust him and refused to bring him.

Now Qiao Yi says he trusts him—what’s the reason?

In such a short time, Nian Shangyou had learned too much; his mind couldn’t process it all, and some things remained unclear.

When he finally understood, he dared not speak.

Was Master Gongxiu Duan Tielu performing a duet with Qiao Yi?

He was right—these two were indeed performing a duet.

Qiao Yi trusted Duan Tielu and had been assigning him tasks all this time—he merely didn’t want anyone to disturb him.

Nian Shangyou could now guess what Qiao Yi had Duan Tielu do.

He had just mentioned the Imperial Seal and shown Duan Tielu its craftsmanship—could Duan Tielu now have forged a new Imperial Seal for Qiao Yi?

With the Seal, one could become emperor.

Never ask this question. Never even guess it—otherwise, one life wouldn’t be enough to pay the price.

Qiao Yi looked at Nian Shangyou: “Grand Secretary Nian, what are you thinking?”

“My lord!” Nian Shangyou immediately replied, “I was wondering: where does the path opened by the False King lead?”

Qiao Yi frowned: “Shangyou, did I not explain clearly, or did you not listen?”

“Your humble servant is dull—”

This was the only excuse Nian Shangyou could think of.

Qiao Yi said: “The False King was trapped on Shengxian Peak and used the Seal to flee back to Shang—this path naturally leads from Zhen’e to Shengxian Peak!”

All whom the False King trusted traveled this same path, going directly from Shengxian Peak to Zhen’e to build the great totem.”

This path always existed, but only the Imperial Seal could unlock it—thus, the people of Pulu Province never knew of it, nor that its end was the great totem!”

Nian Shangyou looked down: “So many people have walked this path, seen the great totem—how did no one leak word of it?”

Qiao Yi patted Nian Shangyou’s occiput: “The great totem erases memories.”

A chill shot from the back of his skull straight up his spine.

He realized he knew too much he shouldn’t have known—he now wished to know nothing at all.

Qiao Yi gazed at the great totem and continued: “After returning to Shang, the False King still hoped to regain power through the great totem—but he couldn’t obtain the Xuanyuan Silkworm; the great totem was merely an empty shell, useless.”

I endured countless hardships to uncover the great totem’s location, then appointed Li Qi as Prince of Pingyuan, forcing the False King to turn against me prematurely, driving him out of Shang—and thus I took control of the great totem.”

“My lord, your wisdom!” Nian Shangyou’s lips trembled.

Qiao Yi grew more excited: “The False King’s confidant, He Shengdong, has been subdued by me and revealed all the truth. With the great totem and the path from Zhen’e to Shengxian Peak, this is the perfect moment to reclaim Pulu Province.”

Unfortunately, I lacked the Xuanyuan Silkworm and the Imperial Seal—so I had to hold off.”

Now I have both the Xuanyuan Silkworm and the Seal—the final obstacle to seizing Shengxian Peak remains. Can you guess what it is?”

Shangyou, I trust you completely—don’t betray me now.”

Nian Shangyou dared not speak rashly: “Shengxian Peak is under Cui Ti’s control.”

Qiao Yi nodded: “Cui Ti commands the Dao Laogui—one of Pulu Province’s strongest forces. Since Dao Laogui occupies Shengxian Peak, I call it Pulu Province’s most perilous place.”

To seize it by force would mean catastrophic losses—so I must kill Cui Ti. But tell me, why haven’t I killed him sooner?”

Nian Shangyou trembled: “Your humble servant is dull—I dare not guess—I cannot guess.”

Qiao Yi pulled Nian Shangyou up from the ground: “Do you know the purpose of the great totem?”

“I do not,” Nian Shangyou struggled to stand.

Qiao Yi rolled up his sleeves, lifted his robe, and raised both hands, stepping sideways.

Nian Shangyou was confused—he didn’t know what Qiao Yi intended.

Qiao Yi’s waist twitched, arms outstretched, head tilting left.

This time Nian Shangyou understood—Qiao Yi was dancing.

Why was he dancing?

To be fair, his form was quite good.

Qiao Yi glanced at Nian Shangyou: “Dance with me!”

Nian Shangyou didn’t know how—he could only mimic Qiao Yi’s movements. Fortunately, the dance wasn’t difficult: each pose was static, simple in execution, yet filled with ancient grandeur and power.

Under Qiao Yi’s lead, everyone on the peak danced; those below joined too—all movements perfectly synchronized.

Qiao Yi danced as he spoke: “This is the ancestral ritual of the former dynasty—the proper way to activate the great totem. That fool Yu Zhuo—”

Gathering the souls of the dead and directly feeding them into the totem caused countless souls to vanish into nothingness!

Hearing this, Nian Shangyou hurriedly turned to look at the great totem; in that moment of distraction, he lost his step, slipped, and fell sideways, then heard a low moan from the totem, and collapsed onto the ground.

The low moan came from the great totem; Nian Shangyou saw the dark shadow at its center undergo a clear change—rings of light flickered around it, gradually contracting inward until they vanished entirely.

Across the wasteland, the ground kept rising as figures burst forth from the earth.

They struggled to crawl onto the surface, crawled for a while, then slowly rose to their feet.

Are people growing out of the ground?

Is this the true purpose of the great totem?

These people emerging from the earth were different—they were misshapen, yet each bore three heads.

Could these all be members of the imperial family?

Are imperial family members grown from the soil?

Don’t think about it! Such thoughts must never be entertained!

He shouldn’t have thought that way—these people weren’t grown; they had long been crafted by the great totem, merely buried in the earth all this time.

Nian Shangyou turned his head, unwilling to look at the three-headed figures, but Qiao Yi pulled him straight down the hill, all the way to its base.

“My lord, what are you doing? Your humble servant is dull-witted—I see nothing unusual.”

“Then look closely!” Qiao Yi dragged Nian Shangyou up to one of the three-headed figures.

Nian Shangyou glanced at it—he recognized it, yet didn’t recognize it.

He recognized it because the middle head was Han Bin, a noble of the royal house, who had once followed Yu Zhuo in establishing the New Pavilion in Bozhou, then died from the plague engineered by Cui Tik.

He didn’t recognize it because the other two heads were utterly different—the left head resembled a high minister, but Nian Shangyou couldn’t recall his name.

The right head was even more unfamiliar; judging by its features, it appeared to be a commoner.

Qiao Yi led Nian Shangyou to another three-headed figure—the left head was Lei Pin, a minister; the other two heads were a muntjac and a jackal, and the body resembled that of a bear.

After viewing dozens of these three-headed figures, Nian Shangyou shut his eyes, unable to look further.

Qiao Yi lowered his voice and asked Nian Shangyou: “I’ll ask you again—why didn’t I kill Cui Tik sooner?”

“Your servant… doesn’t know—” Nian Shangyou dared not speak, not even dare to think.

Qiao Yi said: “Say ‘don’t know’ again, and I’ll kill you on the spot!”

Nian Shangyou, helpless, carefully weighed his words and uttered four: “Suppress rebellion, gather troops.”

These four words hit the mark.

If Cui Tik had been killed earlier, who would deal with the rebels in Bozhou?

Many among them were imperial family members—if Qiao Yi personally executed them, he would later bear the curse of fratricide.

Cui Tik was a special envoy, appointed by the Emperor—his duty to suppress rebellion was legitimate and justified.

But more important than suppressing rebellion was gathering troops.

The great totem cannot create soldiers from nothing—it needs raw material, and Cui Tik has supplied it with abundant raw material during this time.

Now there remains one critical question: why did these souls gather at the great totem?

The great furnace was broken—they should have become wandering, lost spirits.

As far as Nian Shangyou knew, Qiao Yi had not deployed large numbers of demonic cultivators to gather souls.

Souls are so hard to find—how did these come here?

This made Nian Shangyou recall another question: why wasn’t Qiao Yi eager to repair the great furnace?

The great furnace had the ability to summon souls—yet this ability vanished entirely, simply because Puluozhou stole two leaves.

Could it really be just those two leaves?

Nian Shangyou looked again at the great totem—was this truly made of stone?

Could part of the great furnace be hidden here?

After all, Puluozhou broke the great furnace—the Imperial Cabinet must send someone to repair it; any parts removed during repair could be blamed on Puluozhou.

Then the great totem could summon souls, and Puluozhou could be held accountable. “Do you understand now?” Qiao Yi asked Nian Shangyou.

Nian Shangyou tensed all over: “No—I don’t understand—”

Qiao Yi shook his head: “You must understand, even if you don’t. Today we march—anyone who leaves this place must lose all memory of it; anyone who retains memory of it must never leave. Only you and I are exceptions.”

You understand military strategy—this army must be jointly commanded by you and me. I tell you all this because you are the only one I can still trust.”

Nian Shangyou looked up at Qiao Yi; though taller, he could not stand straight, and had to crane his neck to see him.

Perhaps the totem’s glow was too dazzling—he could no longer clearly make out Qiao Yi’s face.

But he knew that if he wanted to live, he must not speak a single wrong word: “Your humble servant will obey your commands, my lord.”

“Good. Inventory provisions and arms—prepare for campaign!”

Nian Shangyou felt it was too hasty: “My lord, warfare is no trivial matter—a major battle requires months, even half a year, of preparation.”

To march today will surely leave many gaps.”

Qiao Yi looked at Nian Shangyou: “Shangyou, this battle has been prepared for far longer than half a year—this is half my life’s work!”

“But—” Nian Shangyou didn’t know how to say it—“these people have never fought a battle.”

These assembled souls, in life, had little to no connection with warfare.

Look at their expressions—blank, eyes vacant, as if devoid of mind—they hardly look like soldiers.

Qiao Yi said: “Each possesses immense combat strength—they carry cultivation base. Teach them simple formations, and they will be invincible.”

Are there such rapid formations?

Nian Shangyou had no confidence: “My lord, can they even learn formations?”

“They can!” Qiao Yi was utterly confident. “Treat them as the Difeng Corps—if you apply yourself, you can teach them the Thousand-Man Force Formation!”

“The Thousand-Man Force Formation?” Nian Shangyou shook his head repeatedly. “That is a formation only imperial bloodline can learn!”

Qiao Yi looked at the throng of three-headed figures: “Do you think they are not of imperial bloodline?”

Nian Shangyou dared not speak rashly: “I believe they should not be considered—”

Qiao Yi smiled: “What makes imperial bloodline so noble? Shangyou, don’t overthink. Some things—you only need to test.”

Nian Shangyou said: “Then let us teach them the formations first, before marching to Puluozhou.”

“No!” Qiao Yi sharply refused. “I just said—anyone leaving this place must lose all memory of it.”

We cannot reveal the location of the great totem.”

Moreover, with Cui Tik dead, Puluozhou will surely suspect something. Every extra day increases the risk of exposure—every drop of effort may be wasted!”

Nian Shangyou made one final request: “Without Cui Tik, the Dao Laogui may lack a leader, but they remain fierce, vicious spirits—we must have a strategy to fight them.”

Qiao Yi said: “The strategy is to avoid battle entirely.”

Nian Shangyou truly didn’t understand: “Avoid battle? Then what?”

Could they possibly persuade the Dao Laogui to surrender?

Qiao Yi looked at the crowd dancing around the great totem: “Remember these dances—they are the ancestral rites of the former dynasty, and they hold power to summon the Dao Laogui.”

Nian Shangyou blinked: “Why would dances from the former dynasty summon the Dao Laogui?”

Qiao Yi smiled: “Guess where the first Dao Laogui came from.”

“Also from the former dynasty?” Nian Shangyou’s mouth hung open, his beard trembling.

Li Banfeng sat on the snow, watching Yang Xiangjun drill his troops.

He had just returned from Haichiling, bringing supplies and weapons to the demon cultivators and a reward for Yang Xiangjun.

Yang Xiangjun was indeed a gifted commander—he first evacuated the village, then launched repeated surprise attacks.

With alternating pressure and relief, the spell cultivators couldn’t keep pace—they suffered defeat after defeat, heavy casualties; within two more battles, they would collapse entirely.

In this situation, Yang Xiangjun devised a new tactic: he planned to exploit the spell cultivators’ collapse to lure Heng Wuyou back,

then launch a pincer attack with Li Qi, killing Heng Wuyou outright to eliminate the threat forever.

Li Banfeng naturally agreed. After lunch, his family and Li Banfeng watched Yang Xiangjun drill, even Zhao Xiaowan couldn’t help praising: “Husband, Yang Xiangjun has roamed the Jianghu for years—I thought his military skills had rusted, yet his troop deployment is as sharp as ever.”

Hong Ying whispered: “Was he even notable back then? I don’t remember.”

Suishenju said: “Back then he was pure masculinity; now he’s drenched in feminine perfume—it makes me shudder. How could you recognize him?”

Li Banfeng didn’t understand military tactics and grew drowsy watching—until Jiu’er whispered in his ear: “Master, wake up!”

“Ah!”

Jiu’er’s features twisted, her face cracking into fissures, oozing pus and blood.

Li Banfeng startled—just as he moved to save her, he sensed something wrong with the surroundings.

Not just Jiu’er—his wife, Hong Ying, Yang Xiangjun, and all the spell cultivators—their skin was cracking, flesh swelling beneath, limbs shortening and thickening, eyes shrinking, lips thickening, teeth sprouting from their mouths.

Ordinary people wouldn’t recognize this creature—but Li Banfeng knew it well: Dao Laogui.

Why had everyone turned into Dao Laogui?

They circled Li Banfeng, dancing an ancient, primal rhythm.

A blond man in a tailcoat addressed Li Banfeng: “My friend, I always believed I created these dances for them—but in truth, I’ve suffered a distortion in perception and cognition.”

It was Cui Tik—he danced among the Dao Laogui.

“These dances may have always belonged to the Dao Laogui. After spending so long with them, I absorbed their perception—and mistakenly believed I invented them.”

Li Banfeng said: “You came to me just to convey a delusion?”

“I came to tell you: these are a shared product of our wisdom. If they go out of control—what will you do?”

“Why would they go out of control? Come back to Neizhou right now!”

“Seven, what did you just say about losing control?”

Under Hong Ying’s persistent shaking, Li Banfeng awoke from his dream.

“Husband, are you too tired?” Zhao Xiao wan wiped Li Banfeng’s sweat with a handkerchief; both handkerchiefs were soaked through, yet his forehead was still not dry.

“Why am I sweating so much?” Li Banfeng kept shivering, “I must go to Jianren Gang!”

PS: I wonder if it’s still time to get there?

In Chapter 321, “Cocoon to Butterfly,” after He Haiqin reached the ninth layer’s peak, he shed his physical form, and his soul arrived at Shengxian Peak, where he received documents from the Sage. Through a cave behind Shengxian Peak, he traveled to a mysterious location to begin constructing the Great Totem; at the time, his identity was a coachman.

Master Lu had used the Imperial Seal multiple times, and his method was to create travel documents.