Chapter 331: with translation of chapter title

Beyond the light curtain lay the replicated 'mirror Zhongyuan', deep within the False Song imperial palace.

Absolute darkness shrouded a secret chamber; only at its center hovered an irregular, constantly twisting and jumping dark-blue crystal, emitting an ominous glow.

The light cast the Iron Crow Army master's figure as even more illusory, almost on the verge of dissolving.

He stared at the crystal; those two points of scarlet light were faint yet stubborn.

"Mount Taihang... the last stronghold... has also been uprooted..."

A hoarse voice echoed in the secret chamber, carrying a bone-deep hatred and a hint of weakness that could not be concealed.

"Chen Wen... you damned variable... you and your deformed dynasty..."

Within the crystal, a fleeting image flashed: in the Taihang Valley, the conduit formation destroyed, the surviving Iron Crow Army soldiers meeting their end under the elite siege of the Chen dynasty.

That image was like a poisoned spur, driving deep into the already fractured core of his 'consciousness'.

In the Battle of Jinzhou, he suffered grave wounds, nearly exhausting his primal power to replicate this 'mirror Zhongyuan', propping up Zhao Kuangyin as a puppet.

He had thought he could quickly regain strength via historical inertia, pulling this variable back onto the 'purge' track.

However, successive setbacks—economic infiltration defused, spy network sabotaged, the Northern Expedition's mirror of Northern Han thwarted, and now even the last relatively stable infiltration route completely cut off—have left his recovery plan struggling to move forward.

"Conventional means... are too slow... too powerless..."

He extended a hand formed of shadow, touching the jumping dark-blue crystal.

Within the crystal, the violent energy seemed to sense his will, emitting an even more piercing hum.

"We cannot let him continue developing so peacefully... cannot let him keep interfering with the nodes... accumulating that damned 'Fortune Momentum'..."

The scarlet light suddenly brightened a fraction.

"We must... employ a more fundamental rule... activate the deep power of the 'Purge Agreement'..."

"Since direct physical destruction is temporarily unfeasible... then from within... corrupt them..."

His shadow-like form suddenly merged into the dark-blue crystal.

The crystal shuddered violently, its surface swelling with countless fine, eerie runes that writhed like living things.

An intangible wave, bearing extreme chill and decay, emanated from the crystal as its center, penetrating the chamber's barriers, traversing physical distance, and silently spreading.

Finally, like a drop of water seeping into a sponge, it merged into the vast light curtain spanning north and south.

"Phase one... 'Shadow Eclipse'..."

"Go... seek those cracks in the soul... amplify those lurking shadows... let suspicion breed... let loyalty gather dust... let negligence spread..."

"Let this so-called 'Great Chen'... begin to rot from within..."

A venomous whisper echoed within the crystal, then together with the intangible wave, dissipated into silence.

East of the light curtain, Great Chen, Bianliangcheng.

As night deepened, the bustling streets gradually quieted, save for the regular rhythm of the night watchmen's clappers echoing through the alleys.

Imperial City, inside the study.

Chen Wen did not rest; he stood by the window, gazing at the tranquil night sky outside.

Within him, the thick, dark-yellow Fortune Momentum qi vortex continued to turn slowly, imparting a sense of steadfast, mighty power.

At the morning audience, the proclamation of a standoff pattern was made; officials were invigorated, the people's hearts united, and everything seemed to be progressing toward the better.

But for some unknown reason, a faint unease lingered in his heart, impossible to dispel entirely.

It was not a clear threat, but rather an instinctive premonition stemming from the intangible bond between his ever-growing Fortune Momentum and some unknown force.

He recalled the fragment of information gained at the Battle of Jinzhou, those incomplete concepts—'node', 'variable', 'Purge Agreement', 'End'.

"The master of the Iron Crow Army... will certainly not rest here.' He murmured to himself, brows slightly furrowed, 'What exactly are the 'Purge Agreement' and the 'End's greeting' he spoke of?'

As he pondered, the steady flow of his Fortune Momentum qi vortex fluctuated ever so minutely, barely perceptible.

Like an invisible stone dropped into a calm lake, it sent out a ripple of negligible consequence.

This fluctuation vanished instantly; had Chen Wen's sensitivity to his own Fortune Momentum not far surpassed that of ordinary people, he would have almost overlooked it.

He suddenly became alert, focusing his mind to sense carefully.

The vortex remained thick and mighty, seemingly unchanged.

"Is it an illusion?' Chen Wen mused, 'Or...'

He could not determine whether that momentary anomaly arose from his own overthinking, or if something truly was attempting to pierce the Fortune Momentum barrier, to probe or influence the dynasty's foundation.

This vague sense of threat deepened the unease in his heart by a notch.

Meanwhile, in the west of Bianliangcheng, the residence of a certain Zhang, an official of the Ministry of Works.

Zhang, the vice minister, was approaching forty, his rank neither high nor low; he was diligent and pragmatic in daily life, though lacking great talent, he was nonetheless conscientious, and under the pragmatic style of the Ministry of Works' Secretary Zhao Lao'nian, he enjoyed considerable recognition.

Recently, having overseen a capital city dredging project, he had been running back and forth, exhausted in both body and mind.

Tonight, after finishing reviewing a batch of material accounts, he felt only a dazed head and a faint throbbing in his temples.

He blew out the study lamp, rubbed his forehead, and walked toward the bedroom.

Passing through the courtyard on the way, a night breeze brushed by, bringing the slight cool of early summer that should have been refreshing, yet he inexplicably felt a chill and couldn't help shivering.

"Really tired,' he muttered, shaking his head, not giving it further thought.

Lying down on the bed, he soon fell into a deep sleep.

However, his sleep was not peaceful.

In a daze, he seemed to be back at the office, colleagues' faces flickering before his eyes; those everyday conversations that usually seemed ordinary now sounded somewhat grating.

A peer of similar seniority, who advanced faster due to greater skill in ingratiation, wore a smile that seemed tinged with mockery;

the few revision comments his superior had made on his submitted documents, upon recollection, also seemed full of criticism and distrust;

even several of his underlings huddled together whispering, he felt they were discussing his inadequacy, that he could not bear the responsibility of this dredging duty...

An indescribable vexation, resentment, and suspicion, like vines growing in the darkness, quietly twined around his heart.

He tossed and turned in bed, brows furrowed, muttering incoherent delirium.

The concubine on watch outside was startled awake, and she whispered, "Sir, are you feeling unwell?"

Assistant Minister Zhang flung his eyes open, bloodshot, his tone unprecedentedly harsh: "Nothing! Stop your noise!"

The concubine jumped, then fell silent, daring not to speak again.

Assistant Minister Zhang panted, gazing at the canopy, feeling his chest suffocating.

Those negative thoughts, which had only occasionally flickered and been suppressed by reason, now clung to his mind with unprecedented clarity and resolve.

"That's right… it must be so… they're all laughing at me… they all think I'm incapable…"

"Damn this miserable post—let whoever wants it take it!"

A strong sense of lethargy and resentment welled up.

He was unaware that a faint, almost night‑blended azure glimmer, like a spider's silk, had brushed his window lattice while he slept, seeping in silently.

……

Not far from the Zhang Manor lay a military camp.

A squad leader in charge of night watch, lantern in hand, made his rounds of the barracks as usual.

He was a veteran who had followed Chen Wen since the days of Jiao Tu Zhen, brave in battle and beyond doubt loyal.

But now, walking the silent camp, hearing the soldiers' sleeping snores, an inexplicable weariness and… emptiness welled up in his heart.

"What's the point of drilling day after day and standing watch night after night?"

"Even if I secured a future, gained a marquisate and generalship, what then? In the end it's just a handful of earth."

"Can this chaotic age truly be ended? The False Song eyes us hungrily from across the border, and rumor speaks of some sinister Iron Crow Army… must we really fight this war until the Year of the Monkey and Horse?"

Thoughts of despair and pessimism, which he would never have in ordinary times, surfaced uncontrollably.

He shook his head hard, trying to dispel these "shouldn't-be" thoughts.

"What nonsense! His Majesty is brilliant and capable, and our Great Chen rises like the midday sun!" He admonished himself in a low voice, straightening his back.

Yet that inexplicable weariness, like a bone‑deep ulcer, still clung to his heart, making his steps feel somewhat heavier than usual.

……

Inside the Imperial Study.

Chen Wen still stood by the window, that trace of unease not having faded.

He closed his eyes, trying to actively commune with and sense the mighty Fortune Momentum.

The Mysterious Yellow Vortex sped up gradually, linking with his mind and spirit.

This time he caught more.

Within the vast, bright torrent of Fortune Momentum that symbolized the dynasty's vitality, there seemed to mingle some extremely dilute, barely discernible "impurities."

They were not physical entities, more like an intangible "thought"—gloomy, obscure, bearing corrosive and distorting qualities.

They sought to cling to the vortex's edge, seeping in silently, amplifying existing tiny cracks and provoking latent negative emotions.

"Indeed… it's not an illusion."

Chen Wen opened his eyes, his gaze sharp as a blade, looking westward as if to pierce the palace walls and behold the source of that light curtain.

"Is this your new tactic?"

"No longer a frontal assault, but a corrosion of the human heart…"

He drew a deep breath, realizing that an entirely new, more covert and perilous war had quietly begun.

This "shadow‑erosion" wind had already blown into Great Chen; though initially weak, if left to grow its consequences would be unthinkable.

We must quickly find a countermeasure.

He pondered a moment, then turned and walked toward the desk, preparing to summon the relevant personnel.

The night grew ever deeper.

An invisible undercurrent began to stir silently within the fledgling dynasty.