Chapter 714: Da Qi's Imperial Destiny: Half a Year of Sparring

Xie Yuan’s face was pale with anxiety—the official bulletin clearly stated that his father, Xie Ling, and his elder brother, Xie Mu, were missing, presumed dead!

“Brother Guan, you’re always the one with the best judgment—what if Father and Elder Brother… are they… still alive?”

You pressed your hand over his trembling back, “Sixth brother, no news yet.”

Before the words were out, a chime of jade pendants rang out. You looked up to see Xie Qi Yue hurrying in, her skirt lifted, her hairpins askew.

You greeted her, “Cousin Qi Yue.”

Xie Qi Yue answered with a nod—when she first heard you call her “cousin,” she’d felt awkward, but after the events at Daguan Garden, Qunfang Garden, and the clan assembly,

now hearing it again, she felt no resentment at all; it felt right, even comforting—to have such a composed, capable cousin.

Knowing the family had received the bulletin, she guessed Xie Yuan would come to you and rushed over.

Xie Qi Yue saw Xie Yuan slumped on the stone chair, utterly desolate, and felt a pang of sorrow—this cheerful Xie Yuan, reduced to this state: “Xie Yuan, don’t panic yet—it’s not that dire.”

You added, “Sixth brother, rest easy. If anything truly happened, today’s bulletin wouldn’t be so vague. And if the Crimson Eyes Army had succeeded, the news would have spread across the land.”

“The Crimson Eyes Army won only by exploiting terrain and timing. Even if their hundred thousand troops were destroyed, many would have escaped—you know the power of the Nine Stages of Martial Cultivation.”

Xie Yuan finally calmed. His father’s strength had once overshadowed the Nine Surnames of Bianjing; concern clouded judgment. When the Xie Family received the news, the old matriarch of Daguan Garden nearly fainted, and his mother was thrown into panic.

“Brother Guan, are you saying Father escaped? Where would he go?”

You shook your head. “I don’t know. But no bad news is good news.”

Xie Yuan nodded, looking at you again—he knew your relationship with your father was distant, hence your coldness.

At that moment!

Several more people arrived at the courtyard gate.

Xie Qi Yue hurried to greet them, “Fourth cousin, you’ve come.”

Zhang Yunzhi, Li Shuwan, and Xue Hong had come—Xie Qi Yue had summoned them, worried for Xie Yuan.

Zhang Yunzhi no longer looked dazed as before; her expression had regained its composure.

Xie Yuan didn’t rise, merely greeted them from his chair, regaining a flicker of spirit.

“Qi Yue, I told you—when Brother Guan is here, even the biggest crisis finds order. No need to worry.”

Xue Hong and Li Shuwan glanced curiously around the courtyard—he’d never been here before and was astonished.

You invited them to sit.

This shocking upheaval was like a boulder cast into Bianjing.

That morning, the Grand Secretariat had convened court; the Academy had summoned all Bianjing students and scholars to Xiushen Tower.

The usually bustling West Wing Pavilion was unusually empty.

Xie Yuan suddenly looked up, remembering: “Brother Guan, you once said the Crimson Eyes Army would break Bianjing—I didn’t believe you. Now they’ve swallowed the entire Jiangnan Circuit.” He clenched his fist. “What do you think their next move will be?”

The annihilation of a hundred thousand troops was a heavy blow to Da Qi, but not a mortal wound.

Zhang Yunzhi recalled how you’d predicted the Crimson Eyes Army would breach Bianjing. Now, having crushed Xie Ling’s hundred thousand, they were famed across the land. Those who had hesitated, fearing the army would perish in Yunyue Marsh, now had renewed confidence—and supporters surged like a tide.

The Crimson Eyes Army had taken Chang’an—first step accomplished.

“Brother Guan, how did you foresee this?”

Li Shuwan and Xue Hong stared with curiosity—they’d heard of you in their families: you were the sword disciple of the Academy’s Second Master.

You merely shook your head. “It’s the turning of Heaven’s timing—impossible to explain clearly.”

“We’re caught within the storm—who dares claim to understand Heaven’s changes? How can we judge rise and fall?”

“Yet their next move is easy to guess.”

Xue Hong’s eyes gleamed—he, the most outstanding youth of the Xue Clan, had, with his warrior brothers, repeatedly analyzed the Jiangnan situation. Though opinions differed, they’d deduced a pattern.

He couldn’t help asking, “What’s your view, Brother Guan?”

Wu Tong brewed tea for everyone, then stepped aside.

Zhang Yunzhi accepted the cup politely, surprised—Wu Tong, in just months, had grown even more ethereal: her unadorned skin glowed with luminous clarity; without jewels, her entire bearing radiated quiet elegance.

Strangely!

The serene, captivating aura you once carried had vanished entirely—you now looked no different from ordinary Academy students.

Li Shuwan’s eyes narrowed slightly; her slender finger tapped thoughtfully.

Having seized Jiangnan Circuit, Jingjing and Shidao were separated by Shannan and Henan Circuits—rivers, passes, and Da Qi’s fortified towns made the region easy to defend.

Logically, they should consolidate Jiangnan, recruit troops under the weight of their victory, and advance slowly.

After thinking, you said slowly, “The Crimson Eyes Army won’t stop—they’ll charge straight ahead.”

“Three urgent tasks: seize the canal transport, capture state granaries and treasury, and issue a proclamation of rebellion.”

Xue Hong’s pupils contracted—your words matched their deductions, yet no one had dared state them so decisively.

“Brother Guan, your insight is profound.” He pulled a silk scroll from his robe. “This proclamation was intercepted this morning by the Xuanjing Bureau—please read.”

Unfurled, the vermilion characters bled: “Heaven reveals signs—the earth hangs inverted! Da Qi has lost virtue—the Nine Surnames stole the Cauldron!”

“The court and clans suck the people’s blood; their slaves ride horses to crush homes; corpses line the roads, children’s bones fill the ditches!”

“The Imperial Court has become a den of demons; the robes of nobles are stitched with wolfish designs!”

“Now the Crimson Eyes shine bright—to cleanse the Nine Surnames, abolish cruel laws, open an age of eternal peace, restore equality to the world…”

Xie Yuan read each word—each phrase mirrored the accumulated rot of Da Qi’s two centuries.

By directly targeting the Nine Surnames, they forced them all into opposition—but also gathered the people’s rage into a wildfire.

Xue Hong smiled, “Brother Guan, if your prediction holds—that the Crimson Eyes Army will breach Bianjing—how long will it take?”

Xie Yuan thought, “Two circuits lie between—Shannan and Henan have garrisons. Even if the Crimson Eyes Army is unstoppable, it’ll take years.”

You were certain: “It will be autumn wind sweeping fallen leaves.”

“Less than half a year—”

“Bianjing will see golden armor glinting in the sun, crimson banners blotting out the sky.”

Li Shuwan hesitated, “Brother Guan, do you believe the Crimson Eyes King, Ban Sheng, has such power—or the Crimson Eyes Strategist, Wulan?”

“The Academy’s masters say Ban Sheng commands armies like a god—among all military strategists since the Warring States, he ranks among the top ten.”

“Wulan is even more mysterious—no one knows his origin. Only his name appears in the Academy’s records of students from across the land.”

You shook your head. “It’s not these two who are formidable—it’s the people.”

A wutong leaf drifted down. You spoke softly: “The people no longer stand with Da Qi… they cannot survive.”

“Have any of you seen the world beyond these walls?”

Silence fell. They were born noble, raised in silk and jade, stepping on golden steps—they knew nothing of the starving corpses lining the roads.

Zhang Yunzhi said, “Thirteen circuits are indeed in turmoil—rebellions flare everywhere; it’s become a tide.”

Da Qi had gone white overnight.

She continued, “Yesterday, the Director of the Astronomical Bureau, along with Academy masters, observed the heavens through the night.”

“In the Purple Forbidden Enclosure, the guiding stars shine bright—a sign of war. The Emperor Star is dim, but has not fallen.”

“Da Qi still has four hundred years of imperial destiny—”

The Director of the Astronomical Bureau was a Nascent Soul, Stage Ten Yangshen cultivator—a Yin-Yang master who had lived over two hundred years.

He had once foretold, through celestial signs, that nine stars appearing together would herald the Nine Surnames.

Now the Nine Noble Houses believed this utterly; as for the starving masses and rising fires, they watched coldly.

Xie Yuan’s brow darkened: “Father is missing—and now, in this chaotic age…”

Xie Qi Yue comforted him: “Your father has great fortune—he will survive this.”

The group changed the subject!

Xue Hong smiled, “I know Brother Guan’s martial prowess is extraordinary—I’d like to spar with you.”

Zhang Yunzhi and Li Shuwan’s eyes flickered—they’d heard from their fathers that Xie Guan was the Second Master’s disciple.

Ordinary Bianjing citizens didn’t know, but some high-ranking figures among the Nine Surnames had learned.

As the top youth among his peers, Xue Hong had long been eager to test you.

After all—you were the Second Master’s disciple. How could one not spar?

Li Shuwan was curious too—especially after the Yanbo Lake incident, where your reputation was terrifying: you’d slain the Ninth Stage martialist Xiao Yu, three foreign crown princes, and over a dozen upper-stage experts.

It was impossible to believe—a boy not yet come of age possessed such power!

It sounded like a fairy tale—even if one had begun cultivation in the womb, it was unthinkable.

You looked at Xue Hong—he summoned his full blood qi, eager not to be underestimated, revealing his peak Seventh Stage martial cultivation—the pinnacle among his peers.

Xie Qi Yue frowned, “Xue Hong, what are you doing? Who in Bianjing can beat you?”

At her voice, Xue Hong’s fierce aura instantly collapsed.

Li Shuwan spoke: “Qi Yue, you don’t know your ninth brother’s true strength.”

“He’s deeply hidden.”

Xie Qi Yue couldn’t believe it, turning to Zhang Yunzhi, who gave a slight nod.

She looked at Xie Guan—he didn’t look like a martial master at all.

You thought for a moment, then nodded.

Xue Hong’s eyes blazed; his true qi surged violently—a black blade materialized in his hand, wreathed in crimson demonic energy: Zhan Ye, the Crimson Eyes Army’s ultimate technique, his strongest killing move.

The demonic aura engulfed the entire courtyard like a sudden black wind.

As Xue Hong’s blood and qi churned violently—

Without warning, the black wind vanished, abruptly cut off.

Xue Hong’s pupils shrank—he felt a weight on his shoulder; his surging true qi melted like snow beneath the sun. Worse—he felt faint sword qi coiling in his dantian, the tip of a blade half-formed, glinting with cold light.

One thought—and the sword forged from his own qi would pierce through his body.

Xue Hong loosened his clenched fist, his knuckles white, his Adam’s apple bobbing several times, yet not a single word could escape his throat. The young leader of Bianjing could barely force out the words “I yield.”

He lost too quickly—so fast he hadn’t even seen how the other had moved, as if merely blinking had decided the outcome.

Xue Hong exhaled. “I lose.”

He stared at you with burning eyes. “How much strength did you use?”

“Three-tenths.”

Xie Qi’s small mouth opened slightly, her face filled with utter shock.

Li Shuwan and Zhang Yunzhi had anticipated it, yet still wore expressions of surprise.

Xue Hong said nothing more, sat down in silence, his usually upright back now bearing a hint of loneliness.

Lady Zhuge of the great courtyard came seeking Xie Yuan; the others followed suit and departed.

As Zhang Yunzhi’s group neared the exit of the Western Garden and turned back, the boy still stood at the gate.

It seemed Xie Guan always did this.

Li Shuwan sighed. “I never expected, Yunzhi, that your casual search would uncover someone of such hidden depth.”

Zhang Yunzhi recalled the boy’s words at Grand View Garden, as he left holding an umbrella: “Though I am unworthy, I wish to see the scenery above, to witness the vast, sweeping winds.”

For a moment, her expression grew distant.

You watched their figures vanish, then returned to the courtyard.

Wu Tong stepped closer; she had just overheard you say the Chimu Army would breach Bianjing in only half a year.

Wu Tong naturally believed every word her young master spoke.

“Young Master, what shall we do when Bianjing falls?”

“The world is vast, Wu Tong—go see it.”

Wu Tong replied, “Wherever you go, I go too.”

A ripple suddenly spread across the water in the courtyard’s large vat; Lady Ruan surfaced from within. When submerged, even a cultivator who had ignited the Divine Flame could not sense her presence.

Strikingly, the pus-filled sores on her head had receded by more than half; sparse black hairs had sprouted fine, soft down, and her sallow skin had regained a semblance of humanity.

You had used the Yang Fu Jing to purge part of the cold poison and yin energy from her body. Combined with no longer soaking in icy water, ceasing to feed her blood to beasts, and eating daily meals prepared by Wu Tong, her primordial energy naturally recovered.

Now, Lady Ruan spent her days clutching a bronze mirror, her brows and corners of her eyes brimming with uncontainable joy.

Sensing no malice from those in the courtyard, she gradually dared to wander further.

Yet this lady was especially fascinated by the Yanhuo of mortal life; whenever Wu Tong lit the stove to cook, she would rush over to learn—only to end up with soot all over her face.

Wu Tong shook her head in exasperation and finally forbade her from touching the stove again. So she simply followed Wu Tong quietly.

Every afternoon, you removed the cold yin energy from her. Without the Yang Fu Jing, her cold energy had already penetrated deep into her body, even invading her lungs and organs—you would have been helpless.

On her first session, she was terrified, nearly fleeing the small courtyard. But remembering the sword qi within her, her life and death held in another’s hands, she walked forward as if to her death.

To her surprise, the brilliant golden light from the boy’s hands did not hurt—it felt warm and soothing.

Even so, during the second treatment, she still frowned tightly, fearing this was merely a more subtle form of control.

Only after half a month did she wake one morning, gaze into her mirror, and realize the sores had receded greatly, fine down had sprouted on her scalp, and her long-stagnant cultivation had advanced.

From then on, she would bring her small stool herself, waiting before the appointed time.

She also changed her address—calling you “Master.”

After you finished your cultivation, Lady Ruan would approach with her bronze mirror, eyes wide with anticipation.

(End of Chapter)