Chapter 102: The Broken Army Divine Weapon Arrives!

Li Guanyi stared at the golden-inlaid waist token, the three large characters “Jinwu Guard” stamped upon it.

The token was heavy, solid in his grip.

This was what the sons of martial aristocratic families craved—only descendants of noble houses or officials of fifth rank and above could qualify, and even then only after rigorous selection; they became the Emperor’s personal guard, clad in radiant heavy armor, wielding crossbows and blades, imposing and majestic.

These were the aspects most alluring to ordinary noble youths.

But for Li Guanyi, it meant only one thing.

The only two identities that granted entry into the imperial palace and admission to the Qilin Pavilion as a guardian.

Li Guanyi had prepared himself to clash with those martial aristocratic youths, yet he never expected that after merely strolling with Qibì Li outside, he would return to find this token—his usual sharpness gone, as if stunned.

The girl beside him lightly kicked his calf and whispered:

“Aren’t you going to thank your aunt?”

Li Guanyi snapped back to himself and said, “Thank you, Aunt.”

Imperial Consort Xue smiled faintly. “I’m glad you like it, Guanyi.”

“As for those martial aristocratic youths, let me say something blunt: don’t bother with them. They set traps—you don’t have to jump in. Just treat them like rabid dogs. There’ll be time to deal with them later.”

“Let them taste their own favorite trick: using status to crush others.”

Li Guanyi opened his mouth to speak.

Imperial Consort Xue stopped him, whispering, “I know you study both literature and martial arts, and have earned Master Wang Tong’s praise—you carry the bearing of a gentleman. But with good people, be humble; with these, make them understand that in strength, you far surpass their family name.”

“When this child is born, he will be a prince of Chen Guo.”

“And he will still call you brother.”

“Imperial kin.”

One sentence settled it—yet also served as counsel.

Li Guanyi smiled slightly. “Your nephew understands.” Imperial Consort Xue smiled. She found this child clever—no need to explain further. She ordered her maids to bring tea and desserts: delicate Jiangnan pastries, fragrant and exquisite, the tea light and aromatic.

Though late into the night, Old Master Xue Daoyong still led Li Guanyi and the others away.

In this chaotic age, the imperial palace was heavily guarded.

To enter today was already an imperial favor; even so, they had to leave promptly when time came, or face grave punishment. On the carriage ride back, Old Master Xue chuckled, “I imagine those martial aristocratic youths have been sharpening their fists these past days, eager to fight you.”

“This time, they’ll punch cotton—furious and frustrated.”

“They’ll probably lie awake all night. But Guanyi, be careful—some among them truly have skill. And no matter what, these noble youths will claim every other Jinwu Guard position; the rest will swarm into the Imperial Guard.”

“When you report for duty as a Jinwu Guard in three days.”

“Your new comrades will likely welcome you… warmly.”

The old man casually pointed out a looming problem.

At this stage, it became an internal Jinwu Guard matter—the Xue family could no longer intervene.

Li Guanyi gripped the Jinwu Guard token. “No matter. They’re no match for me.”

“If they want a fight, I’ll give them one.”

The old man burst into laughter.

Back at the Xue family’s residence in Jingcheng, Li Guanyi went to his courtyard and found the rockery he had once cut in half restored to its original state—clearly ordered by Old Master Xue. The old man’s mind was meticulous; this was to conceal Li Guanyi’s cultivation level.

The tea and sweets in the palace had been too sweet. Li Guanyi tossed a few salt-roasted peanuts from Zhao Da’s specialty into his mouth, crunching them to restore his palate, then sat cross-legged, his spirit sinking toward the bronze tripod.

The Qilin’s imprint grew distinct.

This was not a Dharma Form.

Not yet, at least.

It was a force—a power from the divine beast Qilin.

The force that had instantly halved its own aura. Li Guanyi raised his palm, sensing the violent energy. His martial instincts told him: even with his current physique, unleashing this power would injure him.

Only one use.

Yet its strength rivaled the ultimate Dharma Form techniques of Yue Qianfeng or Xue Daoyong.

This was Qilin’s gift to him.

A life-saving talisman.

Even in this chaotic age, in Jiangzhou City, a technique from the top fifty of the Divine General Rankings could unleash terrifying power—enabling Li Guanyi to survive against all odds. Even if Yuwen Lie came to assassinate him without shame, this Qilin Rage would wound him before he even realized it.

What a profound gift…

Li Guanyi murmured to himself.

The weight of the gift lay not only in its power, but in the cost paid by the giver.

Qilin had given him its very last hope of escape.

Trapped for ten years under the forced seal of the Four Symbols Spirit-Sealing Array, it had still gathered this much power—proving Qilin had held onto a fierce will. But that will had sustained it for a full decade, and upon seeing Li Guanyi, it gave it all away!

As if resolving a long-held knot.

As if the very force that had driven it to struggle for ten years had finally found fulfillment.

It abandoned its own hope of survival to ensure Li Guanyi’s safety.

Li Guanyi clenched his fist, silent for a long while.

Many who had endured storms might quietly accept Qilin’s kindness, lie low, leave, live well, and use this power to carve a name for themselves. But if he did that, he would not be a youth.

He opened his hand.

He resolved to see Qilin.

Li Guanyi meditated, picked up his brush, and recorded every variation of the Four Symbols Spirit-Sealing Array he had memorized.

He planned to visit Old Master Zu tomorrow for guidance.

His time studying the Huangji Jing Shi Shu had been too brief. Even with Zu Wenyuan—the greatest calculator in the land—teaching him, he could not yet fully comprehend it. To glimpse even a sliver of Qilin Palace’s location within the palace and then encounter Qilin was already extraordinary talent.

He wrote down many variations, mixed with his own insights.

As he recorded them, his understanding of the array deepened. When he finished, the stars on the horizon had faded. The boy tossed his brush aside, leaned forward, and rested his head on the table piled with array diagrams.

Qilin. Power.

And his parents’ fate—was there truly foreign power involved?

Li Guanyi thought of these things for a long while before falling asleep. The next morning, he washed up, had no interest in watching the martial aristocratic youths’ Jinwu Guard selection, and instead rode swiftly, buying buns along the way, eating as he headed to the Daoist temple to find Zu Wenyuan.

Old Master Zu was reviewing scrolls.

Li Guanyi stepped forward, bowed, and recounted every variation he had encountered the day before.

Then he sat quietly, eyes lowered to the ripples in his teacup, worried Old Master Zu might sense something—he was about to speak—when Zu Wenyuan, flipping through the scrolls, showed a flicker of surprise, then smiled.

“Excellent, excellent. I never expected you’d grasp array theory so deeply, Guanyi.”

Li Guanyi said, “You’re the greatest calculator in the land—can’t you figure it out?”

The old man chuckled. “Divine power cannot match the power of will. I can only discern good and ill, who benefits and who suffers. I lack such ability. But you—these variations you’ve given me…”

“You’re sharp, perceptive—as if you’ve truly seen the Qilin Array.”

“When I first encountered this array, I only thought slightly more than you did.”

Zu Wenyuan smiled gently.

This man—the greatest calculator in the land, the Daoist High Priest—had eyes as clear and calm as a child’s, though his hair was white with age. The Daoist High Priest held rank second only to the two Daoist Primordials, yet he did not cultivate martial arts—he had no capacity for combat.

He possessed the power to see through all things, yet now he merely smiled warmly.

His gaze held no ripples—serene, clear—and he comforted him:

“In the world of calculation, everything is possible.”

“With great talent, one can deduce the entire array from a single point.”

“For you to perceive these variations is only natural.”

“But…”

The old man raised a finger, pointing to a spot on Li Guanyi’s array diagram, smiling gently.

“Here, and here—you made errors. It’s not twenty-six variations, but twenty-eight. If you tamper here, other variations will trigger. Yet within the array’s living transformations, these variations have alternative solutions.”

“If only twenty-six variations appeared, it means seven nodes in the array are malfunctioning. If not due to the array’s operator lacking skill, then the operator has divided loyalties.”

“In reality, this is impossible.”

“How could seven nodes be deliberately hidden?”

“It defies logic.”

“Let me show you the correct solution.”

“Though this goes beyond the Huangji Jing Shi Shu.”

The old man smiled and asked:

“Would you be willing to spend some time listening to an old man’s ramblings, Guanyi?”

Li Guanyi recalled how the old man had sent him to deliver scrolls at Zhuque Gate—leading to his encounter with Yuwen Lie, the ascent of Bai Hu, and the Emperor’s invitation to the imperial banquet. He suspected.

He straightened his robes, bowed solemnly, and knelt forward.

“Please take me as your disciple.”

Zu Wenyuan’s expression froze.

The old man chuckled, reached out, and lifted the boy by his collar—this snake who climbed the pole the moment he saw advantage. He placed a light hand on the boy’s head, laughing and exasperated. “You—you’re the sneakiest of them all!”

“Look, even I couldn’t calculate this!”

“See? Calculation isn’t omnipotent.”

“Go learn your Qi-Reading Art properly—do you really think you can become a Daoist so easily?”

That day, the old man taught Li Guanyi array theory.

Yet these variations still did not exhaust the transformations of the Four Symbols Spirit-Sealing Array—this was merely the work of Si Wei when he was in his thirties. That madman who claimed he would build a heavenly array to encompass all Nine Provinces was truly a peerless genius.

Li Guanyi felt as if he’d just spent hours solving the hardest math problems.

His head throbbed; he reached up and rubbed his temples.

Master Zu seemed to understand his state, paused his explanation, and said gently: “Go on, rest. If you keep staring, you’ll forget everything. The way of Wen and Wu is tension and release—this art of calculation is no different.”

Li Guanyi could only rise and leave. The old man watched the array diagrams, nodding in approval.

He stepped out of the room, watching the boy vanish into the distance. As he rode away, Li Guanyi turned back and waved. The old man smiled and waved goodbye. A young Daoist priest, curious, asked: “Master Jiu, this young layman comes every day—is he trying to become your disciple?”

“Why won’t you accept him?”

“Is he unsuited to our Daoist sect?”

The old Daoist smiled and shook his head, recalling the young man who had ridden out to meet him when he first entered Guanyi City, and the calculations he had since made. The old man gazed at the sky.

He looked at the Daoist sect, the mortal world, the dust of life, the entire realm.

He watched the boy ride away on horseback, sword at his side, leaving the Daoist sect behind, entering the world. His hooves struck the blue stone pavement—clear, crisp, drip-drip-drip—with the dust of the world on either side.

Zu Wenyuan’s gaze was gentle.

He did not calculate. He merely brushed his sleeve and whispered:

“It cannot be spoken. It cannot be named.”

“Once spoken, it loses its power.”

The young Daoist’s curiosity turned to frustration and regret. The old man laughed aloud and turned back into the house.

In this chaotic age, heroes abound.

So many.

Not just me.

Li Guanyi rode slowly back, deeply pondering the variations of the arrays. When he returned, he found a carriage waiting at the gate. Curious, he was met by the steward, who led him inside. There, Li Guanyi saw a powerful warrior seated outside.

He carried a distinct scent—Tielei. They lived with cattle and sheep, day and night, and carried their odor. Their heavy blades, designed for chopping and slashing, turned toward Li Guanyi. The young man wore a heavy sword, his bearing stern and noble.

These fierce Tielei warriors bowed their heads, pressing their palms to their chests in respect.

“We have seen you stand against Yinguo’s Yuwen Lie. A young hero of courage.”

“Prince Qi has come to visit. Please, enter!”

They spoke in broken Central Plains speech. Li Guanyi stepped inside and saw Prince Qi, mighty and imposing. His gaze dropped to the side, where sat a handsome young man in a blue robe, about twenty-seven or twenty-eight. The young man saw Li Guanyi too.

He rose, smiling forward: “Brother Li, we met during your travels years ago. How have you been?”

Li Guanyi froze. The handsome youth stepped forward, seized his hands, shook them vigorously, his smile warm. In a voice only the two could hear, he whispered:

“Your false identity needs stronger support.”

“Otherwise, won’t you be exposed? Fugitive?”

Li Guanyi’s pupils contracted.

The youth’s words and demeanor were like a venomous snake, striking straight to the core. The boy raised an eyebrow and replied, in a voice only the two could hear: “I don’t know what you mean.”

Pojun smiled with satisfaction.

Strong will.

Prince Qi asked curiously: “So you two know each other?”

Pojun laughed loudly: “Yes! When he was young and traveling, we met. Don’t you remember? I told you about my Central Plains friend—cultured and martial. That’s him! We roasted meat together back then. His cooking was excellent. I asked him why, with such a fine background, he wandered outside.”

“He told me: A true man’s ambition lies beyond the horizon!”

“I never thought I’d meet an old friend again—that’s why I was so excited asking who he was. Don’t you remember?”

Prince Qi suddenly understood: “No wonder you were so eager to rush forward then.”

“I see.”

“Hahahaha! Your Highness, chat with Master Xue. I haven’t seen him in ages—I must talk with him.” Prince Qi, seeing only a fourteen-year-old boy—not the feared Central Plains hero or lord he’d feared—had no reason to keep Pojun away. He said cheerfully: “By all means, go.”

Pojun smiled and made a courteous gesture forward. Li Guanyi raised an eyebrow and looked at Master Xue.

The old man nodded. Li Guanyi knew it was safe, and stepped out with Pojun.

He had come to test him. After a brief chat, he sensed Li Guanyi’s caution.

Pojun didn’t mind. He only smiled and said: “First meeting, there must be a gift.”

“Come, look!”

He led Li Guanyi to a carriage parked in the Xue family courtyard and gestured for the boy to see what it carried. Li Guanyi casually lifted the ox-hide tarp—and his pupils shrank sharply—

Inside lay a battle halberd!

The dark halberd shimmered with faint golden light; in the air, it roared like a tiger.

Divine Weapon—Tiger Roar Heaven Halberd!

The young man smiled softly:

“I am Pojun.”