Chapter 110

In the world of the Heaven-Defying Sword, within the capital city of Dadu of the vast Yuan Empire spanning Eurasia,

at night, the Ruoyang Prince's mansion glowed brightly with lanterns, dozens of candles as thick as an arm blazing fiercely,

illuminating the grand hall at the center of the mansion as brightly as daylight.

These candles were made from the oil of giant whales of the Eastern Sea, long-burning and enduring,

their light clear and odorless, the finest among all candles.

Yet at this moment, Chaghan Temür, who held the rank of Grand Marshal in the Yuan court and commanded all military forces across the land, bearing the title of Ruoyang Prince,

stood beneath a vast map, deeply troubled.

Gazing at the countless uprisings scattered across Huguang, Jiangzhe, Jiangxi, and other provinces—so numerous they could not be wiped out, so persistent they could not be slain—

he could not help but clench his fist and sigh:

"Has the Yuan realm truly become beyond salvation?

Is it truly true, as these Han people claim, that our barbarians have no destiny to rule for a hundred years?"

Thinking of the increasingly desperate battlefield, the increasingly treacherous court,

where power struggles erupted constantly and entire families were exterminated at a whim,

this Ruoyang Prince, whose power rivaled heaven itself, felt more powerless than ever.

His son, standing beside him, dressed in narrow-sleeved robes in the style of Mongol nobility,

Kukutemür, seeing his father so disheartened, quickly urged him:

"Father need not be so anxious. Even if the rebels are many,

our Yuan iron cavalry can still sweep the world!

As long as you rally yourself, you need not even conquer all under heaven—

merely maintaining our Yuan rule is enough to extend it another hundred years!

Such talk as 'barbarians have no hundred-year destiny' is merely the self-deceiving words of defeated Han."

It was merely words used by those failed Han people to deceive themselves.

The Ruoyang Prince chuckled bitterly at his son's naive words.

The Yuan was no longer the mighty, invincible empire of decades past,

nor were its iron cavalry the unstoppable force that once crushed all resistance.

Today, many Mongols could no longer even ride or shoot arrows,

let alone charge into battle—they could barely ride to travel!

In Han terms, they had been blinded by the splendor of Dadu,

their bones softened by the decadence of the Central Plains.

"Min'er, do you have a strategy to teach your father?"

Ignoring his son Kukutemür's childish words,

the Ruoyang Prince turned to his daughter, Minnintemür.

Compared to his son, he placed greater faith in this daughter—intelligent, resourceful, quick-witted,

prophetic in judgment, direct and bold in action, possessing grand strategic vision.

Not least, to better study Han culture,

she had taken a Han Confucian scholar as her teacher and adopted a Han name: Zhao Min.

While other old Mongol nobles sneered at Han culture, he fully supported her:

As the Art of War says: know yourself and know your enemy, and you will win a hundred battles.

To rule the Han, one must understand their culture, find their weaknesses, and defeat them one by one.

And his daughter had not disappointed him—these past years, she had given him great aid.

Had she been a son, he would have named her heir to the Ruoyang Prince title.

With a face radiant as jade, eyes clear as water,

Zhao Min, whose dark and white pupils were sharply defined, smiled sweetly:

"Father, though the rebels rise one after another, endless and seemingly unrelated, each led by a local chieftain,

their roots all trace back to a single organization.

If we can destroy this organization, even if we cannot eradicate all rebels,

we can at least reduce the pressure by four or five tenths, making it far easier to restore order afterward."

"The rebels' root…"

The Ruoyang Prince murmured, lost in thought.

Suddenly, he realized—his voice broke out:

"The Ming Cult!"

Suddenly, he realized with a start, and a name slipped out:

Zhao Min nodded lightly: "Since our Yuan took control of the Central Plains, the Ming Cult has never ceased its desire to destroy us.

Now it dares to act openly—Peng Peng Yingyu, one of the Five Scatterers of the Ming Cult, leads uprisings by Zhou Ziwang, Xu Shouhui, and others in Jiangxi and Hubei.

Other rebel forces, too, bear the Ming Cult's shadow—either receiving financial and grain support, or being led by Ming Cult disciples in disguise.

If our Yuan can destroy the Ming Cult's headquarters at Bright Peak, we will deliver a crushing blow to these rebels."

"The Ming Cult is not easy to exterminate; its followers are scattered across the land, hard to capture.

The only viable plan is to directly destroy their headquarters, Bright Peak.

But Bright Peak, as the Ming Cult's main stronghold, is built on treacherous terrain,

fortified with secret tunnels, precipitous cliffs, the Seven Ups and Thirteen Cliffs, and other defenses;

surrounding it are the Five Elements Banners—Metal, Wood, Water, Fire, Earth—stationed in outposts.

The residences of the Law Kings and Guardian Messengers also encircle the main altar, forming a protective ring.

The place is easy to defend, hard to attack; to storm it would require a hundred thousand troops, willing to die, besieging for months or even years.

But our Yuan no longer has the strength to muster such an army."

Recalling the intelligence sent by his spies buried at Bright Peak, the Ruoyang Prince smiled bitterly.

Even Kukutemür, politically naive as he was, fell silent:

Was the idea of besieging Bright Peak beyond the minds of others in the Yuan?

Though the Yuan trembled on the brink, it remained the strongest power on this land,

and many clever men had thought of this step.

The sole reason it had never been carried out? It was simply impossible—desire outweighed ability.

But Zhao Min smiled, and asked:

"Father, have you forgotten the martial sects of the jianghu?"

The Ruoyang Prince shook his head: "How could I?

Ever since the Golden Knife Imperial Son-in-Law Guo Jing held back our Mongol cavalry for decades at Xiangyang,

our Yuan has never relaxed its vigilance against the jianghu.

Had we not feared the old Daoist on Mount Wudang, whose martial skill was unfathomable and might assassinate the emperor,

we would have long since ridden through the jianghu, smashing temples and toppling mountains."

Beside them, Kukutemür suddenly understood:

"Minmin, you mean we should send the Mount Emei, Wudang, and other jianghu sects to attack Bright Peak for us?"

Zhao Min nodded slightly: "Precisely. It is the strategy of driving wolves to devour a tiger."

Yet Kukutemür raised a question:

"Wudang, Mount Emei, Western Shaolin—these great sects have no deep grudge against the Ming Cult. Why would they attack Bright Peak?"

The Ruoyang Prince merely smiled dismissively:

"A mere grudge? A little manipulation is enough."

He glanced at the guards standing nearby—A Da and others:

"When we fought over the Dragon-Slaying Blade, wasn't it A San who crushed Yu Yu Daiyan's entire body's joints with the Great Diamond Finger, leaving him paralyzed for twenty years?

Though Zhang Master Sanfeng had once trained at Western Shaolin,

he refused to believe Western Shaolin was behind it, and overruled all objections, avoiding a rupture with Western Shaolin.

But since then, Wudang and Western Shaolin have drifted apart, with no contact for years."

Kukutemür's eyes lit up: "Father, you mean we use our own experts to kill leaders of the great sects using Ming Cult techniques, frame the Ming Cult,

make them turn on each other, while our Yuan reaps the benefits?"

"Exactly."

The Ruoyang Prince's face broke into a satisfied smile, giving Kukutemür a look that said, "This boy is teachable."

Though his son lacked the brilliance of his daughter Zhao Min,

Kukutumur's eyes lit up: "Father, you mean—

have our Great Yuan's masters kill the leaders of the major sects using Ming Cult techniques, frame the Ming Cult,

make them destroy each other while our Great Yuan reaps the benefits?"

"Precisely."

The Prince of Ruoyang smiled with satisfaction, giving Kukutumur a look that said, "This son of mine is teachable."

Though his son lacked the wit of his daughter Zhao Min,

But after proper training, they are quite usable for important tasks.

"Father, there's no need to go to such trouble."

At that moment, Zhao Min shook her head and said softly.

"Oh? What insight does Minmin have?"

The Prince of Prince Ruyang immediately realized Zhao Min had a good plan and pressed urgently:

"Speak quickly."

Zhao Min looked confident, as if she held all the cards: "According to the intelligence I've gathered,

Abbess Zhendie, leader of the Mount Emei Sect, harbors a deep resentment toward Yang Xiao, the Left Light Messenger of the Ming Cult.

This story from decades ago begins with the early death of her senior brother, Gu Gu Hongzi:

Her senior brother Gu Gu Hongzi once quarreled with Yang Xiao over certain matters,

and the two agreed to a one-on-one duel, forbidding any third party from interfering;

To increase his chances of victory, Gu Gu Hongzi borrowed the Zhuan Yi Tian Sword from Abbess Zhendie.

But during the duel, Yang Xiao moved with astonishing speed,

snatching the Zhuan Yi Tian Sword before it could even be drawn, and striking Gu Gu Hongzi down.

After seizing the sword, Yang Xiao sneered: 'The Zhuan Yi Tian Sword is famed far and wide!

But in my eyes, it's nothing but scrap metal!' Then he tossed the sword aside and left without a second glance.

Gu Gu Hongzi, proud and haughty, could not bear this humiliation; consumed by bitterness,

he fell ill on his way back to Mount Emei and died three days later.

Gu Gu Hongzi and Abbess Zhendie had been raised together by Fengling Abbess, the second leader of Mount Emei,

childhood companions with deep affection—so close they nearly became a couple.

Given all this, how could Abbess Zhendie not hate Yang Xiao with every fiber of her being?"

"Besides Gu Gu Hongzi, Yang Xiao also seduced Abbess Zhendie's prized disciple, Ji Ji Xiaofu,

forcing her to kill Ji Ji Xiaofu in the name of justice and to uphold Mount Emei's discipline."

"All this has made Abbess Zhendie hate Yang Xiao and the Ming Cult with unrelenting fury.

If we give her an opportunity, she will storm Bright Peak."

Clap! Clap! Clap!

Kukumuter could not help applauding his truly brilliant sister:

"Brilliant!

This will not only stoke the hatred between Mount Emei and the Ming Cult,

but cost our Great Yuan not a single soldier."

"Hmm."

The Prince of Prince Ruyang stroked his beard and smiled, clearly delighted by Zhao Min's analysis.

Facing his praise and his brother's, Zhao Min remained calm and continued:

"The disciple Ji Ji Xiaofu, seduced by Yang Xiao, was already betrothed to Yin Yin Liting, one of the Six Elders of Wudang.

All we need to do is leak this news to Wudang—Wudang will naturally turn its anger toward the Ming Cult.

With Wudang leading the charge and Mount Emei as the vanguard, other sects like Western Shaolin and Huashan will gladly join in, cheering and sharing the spoils.

Thus, our plan will succeed!"

"Ha! I have Minmin—like a fish in water!"

After hearing Zhao Min's reasoned analysis, the Prince of Prince Ruyang's gloom vanished; he laughed heartily.

"Congratulations, Your Highness! Hail to Your Highness!"

The guards—Xuanming Elders, the Eight Arrows, A Da, A Er, and others—all bowed in unison to congratulate the Prince of Prince Ruyang.

"Ha! Congratulations to you all too!

Once the Ming Cult is dealt with, I shall petition the Emperor to reward you all—

gold, silver, riches, honor—endless!"

The Prince of Prince Ruyang's smile could not be contained,

painting a grand picture of reward for the martial masters loyal to him.

"We pledge our lives to Your Highness and to the Great Yuan!"

The martial masters, stirred to fervor, bowed in unison to show their loyalty.

Only one martial master, wearing a mask and dressed as a head monk, bowed his hands in salute

but remained silent—as if his throat were damaged and he could not speak.

Clap! Clap! Clap!

"Prince of Prince Ruyang and Princess Shao Min—you have devised a truly masterful scheme.

If your plan succeeds, the Ming Cult will face annihilation,

and all major sects of the martial world will suffer devastating losses.

Afterward, the Great Yuan's rule may well endure another half-century!"

At that moment, a clear, approving voice suddenly came from outside the hall.

At that moment, a clear, approving voice suddenly came from outside the hall.

Hearing his secret plan overheard, the Prince of Prince Ruyang turned pale with rage.

"Protect the Prince, the Young Prince, and the Princess!"

The martial masters, equally shocked, instantly formed a shield before the Prince of Prince Ruyang, Kukumuter, and Zhao Min.

Among them, the Xuanming Elders—the most powerful in martial skill—moved fastest,

guarding the Prince and his family the instant the voice sounded.

They shielded Prince Prince Ruyang and the others the instant the sound arose.