Chapter 593: Southward Gazing! The Accelerating Cycle of Reincarnation

Approaching Peace, Chancellor's Mansion.

The atmosphere in the study was more viscous and gloomy than the autumn rain outside.

Qin Hui sat in the Grand Tutor's chair, the desk before him piled with documents—impeachments against him, appeals for Yue Fei's vindication, requests for autopsy, reports of unstable local conditions, and frontier military dispatches urging grain and pay...

Each felt like a heavy stone, weighing on his mind and even more on this precarious chancellorship.

After the fracas at the Wind-and-Waves Pavilion, he seemed to have aged several years overnight.

Not his appearance, but a dissipation of his vigor and spirit.

Originally, he thought that by borrowing the Iron Crow Army's strength to eliminate Yue Fei, he could rest easy, fully control the court, and implement the 'North-South Peace Agreement' state policy.

Who would have known that a single proclamation from Bare Mountain, a single inquiry into the authenticity of the 'stabbing character,' would have him and the entire Imperial Court roasted over a fire piled by the masses?

"Chancellor, the Censorate's Censor Liu has again submitted a memorial, still asking about the autopsy… How should we reply?" The aide stood below with hands lowered, voice cautious.

"Delay." Qin Hui squeezed out a word from between his teeth, rubbing his throbbing temples, "Just say the corpse… was destroyed by Jin spies, or that it has already been dealt with according to law, making further examination inconvenient. In short, it cannot be examined!"

He knew this was drinking poison to quench thirst.

But it cannot be examined; if it were, everything would be over.

The aide retreated with repeated assent.

The study returned to silence, only the patter of rain against the window lattice.

Qin Hui leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes.

Fatigue surged like a tide, nearly drowning him.

He suddenly recalled that, after the Wind-and-Waves Pavilion incident, the Iron Crow Army's 'once-coated' final appearance conveyed, through those hollow eyes, a cold and brief message:

"The Wind-and-Waves Pavilion node has deviated; routine correction is insufficient."

"We will activate the backup plan, accelerate the process."

"You… had better look out for yourselves."

Accelerate the process?

What does that mean?

At that moment Qin Hui's mind was in turmoil, and he didn't have time to think it over.

Now, having calmed himself, a deeper chill quietly crept up his spine.

Iron Crow Army… what are they going to do?

Just as his mind was unsettled.

The light in the study seemed to dim momentarily without warning.

Not the candlelight flickering, but as if something more essential had been lightly tugged.

Qin Hui suddenly opened his eyes.

Everything was as usual.

The rain outside continued as before.

But inexplicably, he felt his heartbeat quicken by a few beats, a surge of inexplicable irritability and palpitations rising.

It seemed as if something, in an unseen place, began to lose control… spinning, accelerating.

This strange feeling was not unique to Qin Hui.

Throughout the city of Approaching Peace and even the wider False Song territories, those who were perceptive or in key positions successively felt a certain 'abnormality' over the following days and tens of days.

The Imperial Palace.

Emperor Zhao Zhe's illness, originally merely from excessive worry, was supposed to be regulated by the imperial physicians and gradually nursed back to health.

But somehow, in recent days it suddenly grew severe.

His cough worsened, blood appeared in his sputum, night sweats and palpitations, his mouth often mumbling incoherent words, muttering things like 'Wind-and-Waves Pavilion,' 'Iron Crow,' 'The Jin are coming again,' and other delirious talk.

The imperial physicians were at a loss, their medicines seeming to have lost effect.

The court audience had been suspended for many days.

A haze dubbed 'Monarch Minor State Doubt' began to envelop the palace gates. Several older princes, and the maternal relatives and court officials behind them, had their thoughts quietly stirred.

Above the court hall.

The existing factional strife seemed to have been doused with boiling oil.

Impeachment memorials flew about like snowflakes, their reasons often absurd and urgent. Today A impeached B for corruption; tomorrow C reported D for rebellion; the day after, E and F became entangled, accusing each other of forming factions.

Officials' appointments, removals, and promotions shifted so rapidly as to dazzle the eye.

Yesterday still a hotshot, today he might be thrown in prison; a vacancy filled this morning might see a different appointee by afternoon.

Frequent turnover in personnel brought chaos to governance and paralysis to execution.

Local prefectures.

Tax collection demands became harsher and more urgent.

It seemed as if the state treasury had suddenly revealed a huge, unfillable hole.

Reports of flood and drought disasters also seemed more numerous and dense than in the same period of previous years.

Refugees began to appear in small numbers, and banditry grew.

A restless unease spread through towns and countryside.

Everyone, from the imperial court to the farthest jianghu, vaguely felt—time seemed to have sped up.

Not the speed of sunrise and moonset.

But an intangible, anxiety-inducing 'haste.'

It was as if an invisible hand had gripped the mainspring of the world called False Song, frantically winding it tighter, urging it to dash headlong toward some predetermined, dark endpoint.

And on that transcendent level.

The Iron Crow Army master's residual, icy 'will', just as it had done to the northern grasslands, forcibly intervened in the timeline of the False Song world.

This is not a fine "cut" or "replacement".

Rather, it is a more brutal, more permit‑consuming "push".

Like pouring a huge, spinning turbine into a river that originally flowed slowly.

Accelerating its flow speed.

Stirring its sediment.

Letting the decay, contradictions, and toxins deposited on the riverbed surge up faster, polluting the whole channel.

It also lets the downstream, destined to appear, more turbulent and more destructive "tributary"—the historical variable called "Yuan"—merge earlier and more smoothly, eventually replacing the original "Jin" and becoming the dominant force in the north.

Within the Jin realm, the Upper Capital Huining Prefecture.

Wanyan Zongbi (Wuzhu) likewise felt this omnipresent "haste".

The argument in court between the peace and war factions suddenly heated up.

The elderly Emperor Wanyan Sheng's health took a sudden turn for the worse, and the hidden struggle among the several imperial princes eligible to inherit the throne quickly surfaced.

Internal contradictions that originally would have taken years or even decades to accumulate and erupt now, in just a few months, have reached a brink of confrontation.

What worries him even more is the north.

The newly risen, unusually fierce unifying force on the steppe has already had its southern probes clash more than once with Jin border patrols.

Their horsemanship and archery are superb, their fighting spirit vigorous, far surpassing any previous steppe tribe.

And in the south.

That damned Yue Fei didn't die; he even raised a new banner.

The False Song court fell into unprecedented chaos and weakness, yet the "Northward Aspiration–Yue" allied force took root on Mang Mountain like a sharp nail.

East, west, south, north—it seems as if wind is leaking from all sides.

A sense of imminent collapse, so strong that even Wanyan Zongbi's steadfastness cannot help but feel a chill.

"Accelerating… everything is too fast…"

He stood before the map, brows furrowed, muttering to himself.

It seemed as if an invisible hand were eagerly… clearing the stage.

Mang Mountain, Wild Boar Valley.

Chen Wen stood on a higher rock platform in the valley, gazing southward.

He held in his hand his own warm‑nourishing token, his brow slightly furrowed.

For several days, through "Shi Yong", he could clearly "see" that the southern momentum representing the False Song court was turbid, collapsing, and sinking at an unprecedented speed.

Not a normal decline.

But like an old house whose key support has been pulled out, visibly tilting and collapsing.

The stench of decay is so intense it almost condenses into substance.

Moreover, what puts him on guard is that beside that accelerating‑dissipating momentum, another hidden, deeper, more barbaric, more destruction‑filled momentum seems to be quietly raising its head in the northern shadows, ready to stir.

That feeling is somewhat similar to the black "turbid current" coalescing on the northern steppe, yet also different.

More……dark, more……impatient.

In the fragmented visions occasionally brought by the "causality fragments", besides the steppe iron cavalry, there now appear more exotic attire, more unfamiliar banners, and…… even more desperate wails and city‑burning flames.

"The time in the south…… is off."

Chen Wen withdrew his gaze and whispered to Wu Yong beside him.

Wu Yong twirled his short beard, his expression grave: "The scouts report that the situation in Lin'an is ever‑changing, the imperial house is gravely ill, princes vie for the throne, officials shift like a revolving lantern. Disasters erupt frequently across the land, refugees increase daily. This sign of decline comes too sudden, too fierce, contrary to reason."

"It's the Iron Crow Army." Chen Wen said firmly: "They are kindling beacon fires in the north, and in the south…… they are accelerating the cycle of rebirth."

"Accelerating rebirth?" Wu Yong asked, puzzled.

"They ripen decay, ushering in…… greater destruction ahead of time." Chen Wen gazed at the south's gloomy skyline, his eyes deep: "They cannot wait for the False Song to rot on its own, nor for the Jin to decline step by step."

"They want to push forward themselves, letting a more terrifying enemy take the stage earlier."

"With two torrents, they will flood all variables."

Wu Yong sucked in a breath of cold air: "Then…… us?"

"Us?"

Chen Wen rubbed the token in his hand, feeling its steady flow—his own momentum.

"We are the 'variable' in their eyes."

"When the flood comes, let it come."

"Let's see whose wave is higher……"

"Or whether the stakes we have driven in are firmer."

He turned and stepped down from the rock platform.

His steps remained steady.

Only in his gaze toward the southern horizon did a hint of icy clarity appear.

The accelerated cycle of rebirth has already begun.

A greater storm, being forcibly bred in the historical dark clouds, is pregnant with thunder.