Chapter 45

Seven days later.

Yan Prince’s residence.

Dou Changsheng stood in the training ground, waiting calmly.

Over these past days, Dou Changsheng had used the Qingyang Spring to begin cultivating the Five Qi, while also pondering the Gengjin Thirteen Swords.

He had also sent a formal invitation and received a reply, which is why he had come today.

After an indeterminate length of time, footsteps sounded, and Yu Yun, an ordinary-looking man of average build, strode forward.

Beside Yu Yun stood a one-eyed giant, his hair falling to obscure half his face; the single visible eye was sharp as a blade, brimming with piercing intensity, making Dou Changsheng dare not meet it and immediately averted his gaze.

Dou Changsheng recognized him—he was the eldest of Yu Yun’s nine adopted sons.

The One-Eyed Divine Lord, Zhao Wudao.

A master ranked on the Earthly List.

All nine adopted sons were masters; three had ascended to the Earthly List.

The eldest had received the most cultivation, the youngest the greatest talent.

From his name alone, one could tell Zhao Wudao’s origins were humble—he was an abandoned infant, carrying a broken sword, named after a wooden tablet carved with the character “Zhao.”

Yu Yun had raised him as his own, and for decades he had marched beside him in campaigns north and south, becoming his right hand and left arm.

Zhao Wudao stood with arms crossed, watching Dou Changsheng from afar, his gaze cold as that of a lone wolf, utterly isolated.

Yu Yun stepped forward, stopping before Dou Changsheng, and spoke calmly: “I know why you’ve come.”

“You wish to learn the Gengjin Thirteen Swords.”

“I have some understanding of this sword art.”

“The core of this art lies in the formation of momentum.”

“If the momentum is weak, even this supreme technique remains ordinary.”

“But as for momentum, I understand little.”

“I know only one kind—I am an orphan, raised by a military household, enlisted as a youth, and for over a century I have fought in countless battles.”

“I know only the momentum of war formations—ten thousand troops united as one, capable of reversing rivers, reversing tides, and transforming heaven and earth.”

“I understand Wang Tianhe’s intent.”

“Your internal qi is vast; the sword qi from the Wuliang Sword Art spreads like a sky-covering tide, endless and unceasing.”

“It can be shaped into a military momentum—like ten thousand cavalry and infantry, overwhelming all resistance under sheer force.”

“I’ve prepared it—this sword strike, I’ve pondered for decades, born from my first insight upon reading military texts when I was promoted to Captain.”

“More means victory.”

“As long as I strike with tenfold the enemy’s strength, the advantage is mine.”

“This is the Ten Thousand Army Formation.”

Yu Yun raised his hand; light emerged from his palm, instantly forming a three-foot blade, and with a slight flick of his arm, a sword qi slashed forth.

Beneath the divine intent, a world seemed to unfold.

Dou Changsheng saw Yu Yun clad in armor, wielding a spear, riding a galloping steed, commanding ten thousand cavalry as they charged against thousands of infantry armed with long knives.

Like a storm, they swept through—enemies drowned, reduced to corpses.

One strike, complete; they surged forward and vanished like wind, the silhouette fading until all disappeared.

The light in Yu Yun’s hand vanished. He looked at Dou Changsheng, who stood stunned, and said calmly: “You cannot understand this at first glance, for this sword strike is not merely about forming momentum—it is about making your sword art function like a military formation.”

“This secret technique, woven into sword art, is known only to me.”

“Overwhelm with numbers. Crush with momentum.”

“When I fight, I always expend national strength, winning through sheer quantity.”

“Among the Ten Great Generals, I lead them—I deserve it.”

“For surprise raids and long-distance strikes, I am inferior to the Marquis of An in Western Qin; for troop deployment and battlefield arrangement, I am inferior to General Tian Anguo of Eastern Qi.”

Yu Yun did not boast; his words were plain, unadorned.

Zhao Wudao, who had remained silent until now, suddenly spoke, his voice deep and resonant: “You have served the military governor’s office and earned merit.”

“But that is not enough to earn your adoptive father’s secret art.”

“With your vast internal qi, combined with your adoptive father’s secret technique, this ordinary supreme art will become one of the greatest.”

“This secret technique is not limited to the Gengjin Thirteen Swords—it can be applied to other sword arts, fist techniques, palm techniques, and more.”

“Your adoptive father rose to prominence through this technique, distinguishing himself from the military ranks, and it earned him great merit.”

Yu Yun cut off Zhao Wudao and looked at Dou Changsheng: “If you want this secret technique, I will give it to you.”

“Of all I have learned, only a few martial arts were passed down by elders under oath not to reveal them—everything else, I care nothing for.”

“I do not like to bind others with obligations.”

Yu Yun sighed, smiling bitterly: “But now I am trapped in the capital.”

“I cannot leave easily, and Zhao Wudao is under watch.”

“The Northern Yang Prince’s identity is too sensitive—neither Chen Qingyao nor the Emperor will permit me to meet him.”

“So I must ask you to personally escort the Northern Yang Prince out of the capital to his fief in the north.”

“You may rest assured—neither the Emperor nor Chen Qingyao will harm the Northern Yang Prince.”

“This is their way of restraining me—it is my weakness.”

“They are more eager to protect him than to harm him.”

“Yet I have one question that puzzles me deeply.”

“Why has he always been dissatisfied with me? Why, to oppose me, would he abandon the northern lands and incur the wrath of heaven and men?”

“I send you to investigate the reason—and along the way, escort him. If, upon returning to Northern Yang, you still find no answer, then let it be forgotten.”

Yu Yun drew a deep breath, still bewildered: “The late Emperor showed me favor and entrusted me with command of the northern frontier.”

“For all these years, to repay him, I have fought countless battles, north and south—over a thousand engagements.”

“I have never disrespected the late Emperor or disrespected the new Emperor.”

“Why then?”

Humans are emotional creatures, not machines.

To be treated this way, Yu Yun’s heart was not at peace.

Had the young Emperor still been Emperor, Yu Yun would have kept these words locked inside, never daring to ask.

But now the young Emperor is the Northern Yang Prince, and though Yu Yun has no thought of confronting his sovereign, he could no longer suppress this indirect probing.

Zhao Wudao sneered: “The Northern Yang Prince is an idiot.”

“Persecuting loyal ministers, listening to traitors.”

“This disaster is entirely his own doing.”

“Does he not know that among the three regents entrusted by the late Emperor, my adoptive father is the most loyal?”

“Chen Qingyao is called Chancellor, but in truth he is a traitor of Jin—he has spent years recruiting henchmen and gathering countless martial experts.”

“Liu Qingzhi climbed to power by any means necessary, and now has invited wolves into the house—making Chen Qingyao the imperial consort. Next, he will fall ill, and Chen Qingyao will seize power under the title of imperial consort.”

“He will become the first imperial consort to rule as regent in Jin’s history.”

“An outsider will take the throne, transforming Liu Jin into Chen Jin.”

“This man has a head full of Lv shit—what’s there to ask?”

Yu Yun rebuked: “Do not speak so recklessly!”

“He is still the late Emperor’s blood.”