Chapter 178

Rain fell endlessly over Jiangzhou City, and inside the grand hall, the coarse cloth covering the Dao Ancestor's statue finally drifted down; the old Daoist priest, his hair white as snow, sat quietly there, utterly lifeless, before him a chessboard, the other side of which the Dao Sect had remained silent for a long time.

He set down the chess piece in his hand.

He merely said:

"Pity."

The wind blew in; the young Daoist Zhuiyue sat there, strands of white, cloudlike energy drifting from his body, then the young Daoist toppled backward and fell into deep, snoring sleep. A man stood, his left hand behind his back, holding an umbrella, rising gracefully, ethereal, not of this world, gazing at Zu Wenyuan's body.

The Dao Sect's voice remained cold, yet he sighed:

"You solved that game."

"That day, I invited you into the Calculating Dao; today, with your death, are you inviting me back into the mortal world and the realm beneath heaven? Zu Wenyuan, your move was truly cunning."

He turned around, white qi swirling around him, stepped out with his umbrella, his face indistinct; everyone in the Daoist temple seemed busy with their own affairs, none noticing the Daoist's presence.

A strand of hair fluttered at his temple—silver.

Not the pale white of an ordinary old man.

The Dao Sect's aura of ethereal detachment had changed.

He stepped into the mortal world with his umbrella, took half a step, and all the rain falling from the sky halted; droplets hung suspended in midair, boundless and ethereal. The Dao Sect extended a finger, parted the rain, leaving a single beam of brilliant sunlight for Zu Wenyuan.

The sunlight pierced through layers of mist and clouds, landing solely upon the old man.

His long hair flowed beautifully downward, bound by a jade hairpin; he merely said: "The world is three parts duller without Zu Wenyuan."

"You passed my Book of Imperial Supreme Cosmic Order to outsiders—as you wished."

"I shall go see for myself those candles you chose."

The Dao Sect walked away with his umbrella, only three steps—and he dissolved entirely into a wisp of qi. A final crane cry echoed, as if a white crane soared into the heavens, yet nothing was seen. At that moment, the young Daoist Zhuiyue slowly woke.

He opened his eyes, scrambled up, and saw the old man sitting quietly before him.

Though rain still poured everywhere else, a single beam of sunlight—especially warm and radiant after the rain—pierced through the clouds and fell upon the old man; even the dust around him seemed gilded with radiance, shining like gold.

The young Daoist stared, transfixed, then realized the old man was at peace.

He trembled as he reached out, testing the old man's breath.

His face turned deathly pale; he collapsed backward, shook for a long while, then spun and ran out in large strides, shouting: "Master Zu! Master Zu has passed away!!!"

"Master Zu has passed away!"

In the grand ceremony of the Chen Empire's imperial palace.

The Living Buddha suddenly paused; the prayer beads in his hand snapped apart.

The beads fell to the ground, scattering one by one; a few vanished into crevices, never to be seen again. The dark-skinned monk froze, his lips trembling, then raised his head to see eastern clouds swirling, golden radiance spreading far and wide.

The Living Buddha closed his eyes, clasped his hands, held back for a long time, then finally shed tears.

"Hey, Monk."

"I'm Zu Wenyuan. Wen, as in 'civilized,' Yuan, as in 'far-reaching heart.'"

Amid the grand ceremony, none of the various factions noticed the sorrow of the monk from the Western Regions; all were stunned by Dan Tai Xianming's death. No matter how others cursed him as a traitor or called him a power minister, no one could deny his status and strength.

His disciples and friends filled the entire world; his students and old associates were no ordinary folk.

This man held immense prestige.

His wife's family was a great clan; his death would surely draw countless vengeful souls.

Dan Tai Xianming's prior suggestion to imprison Yue Pengwu had pushed his personal reputation and public evaluation to the very peak of controversy; then came another report, voice trembling: "Also, Yue Pengwu escaped prison—successfully!"

The crowd erupted. Dan Tai Xianming's death. Yue Pengwu's escape.

Added to last night's palace upheaval—though concealed by Xiao Wu Liang, still glimpsed by many—and finally, the single line of writing left by Dan Tai Xianming, nearly everyone subconsciously connected these pieces.

It was Li Guanyi, Yue Pengwu's assassin, who had stealthily traveled here.

Enduring humiliation and hardship, he ultimately killed Dan Tai Xianming and rescued Yue Pengwu.

Thus, the reputations of both Dan Tai Xianming and Yue Pengwu now rested squarely on one man's shoulders. On this day, countless people across the world remembered that name. Li Zhaowen's smile vanished, replaced by a sigh—sighing at how many heroes the world held.

Prince Jiang Yuan of the Ying Kingdom felt a chill at his neck.

"An assassin…"

He stared at the corpse of the powerful minister, instinctively raising a hand to touch his own neck, squinting: "Li Guanyi—I truly despise this man."

The Seven Kings of the Turkic sighed: "He entered the imperial palace alone, drew his blade, slew the power minister, rescued the loyal general, then walked away with a flick of his sleeve. Such a man—even as an assassin or killer—must carry a will as fierce as blazing sun. What a pity we never drank with him."

"What a regret!"

Po Jun clapped the Seven Kings on the shoulder.

The Seven Kings snapped awake: "Ah—yes, I spoke out of turn."

Po Jun merely thought to himself:

"No, you praised him well—say more!"

The young strategist's lips curled slightly; his spine straight, his left hand behind his back, his ink-black eyes swept over the faces of all present—he felt exhilarated, thinking these people were all mediocre, insignificant fools. Hmph, have you ever even seen the world?

Have you ever met my lord?

Ha!

Yao Guang, oh Yao Guang.

I can make my lord's name resound across the world, vanish unscathed, and tidy up every last loose end.

What do you have to compare with me?

Your white hair?

Or your hands that burn everything except arrays?

Yet…

Po Jun's gaze slowly sank, landing on the dead Dan Tai Xianming; his ink-black eyes reflected violet light. The young strategist's lips twisted: "You used death as a gambit, turning my lord into your chess piece, old dog—bold indeed."

"But did you take me for a fool?"

"The benefits? We'll just eat them."

"As for that black pot, heh..."

The young strategist stood behind the Seven Kings of the Turks, his gaze drifting lazily over them: there was the prince of the Xixia of the Western Regions, the suddenly appearing Regent, Chen Wenmian, and the Crown Prince and Second Imperial Prince of Ying.

With so many places involved, if I cannot handle your death-as-trap, then...

My "Breaker Army" — I burn it for you!

The young strategist remained arrogant, still proud; his gaze soared, as if already sweeping past the splendid, beautiful palace of Chen, eager to fly across the entire realm. Meanwhile, the Regent walked before Dan Tai Xianming and stared at those words.

The aged Yu Langwang almost immediately guessed most of the key points.

He lowered his eyes, glancing sideways at the altar where the ancestral tablets of Chen's many forebears had once stood — upon it were inscribed the names of Li Wanli and Su Changqing, the married couple, and the twenty-four generals who died in battle. The old Yu Langwang saw, on the largest tablet, the words: "All who died for the peace of the realm."

The Regent laughed.

In his heart, he said:

"Li Wanli, when we were young, we fought together, we killed together."

"Now you're dead, yet I still live — and I must still fight and struggle and ride across this realm alongside your son. Truly, this is..."

"Perfect!"

He limped forward to the altar and ritual vessels, and took up three incense sticks himself.

Nearby, eunuchs and officials from the Ministry of Rites had rushed over to remove the tablets bearing the names of Tai Ping Gong and others, but the Regent's gaze swept over them — the Ministry officials froze, their hairs standing on end, stammering: "L-Lord, this violates ritual propriety."

"Violates ritual propriety?"

The Regent suddenly burst into loud laughter: "Tai Ping was defined by these fallen warriors!"

"I pay homage to them!"

"It is perfectly proper!"

Under his gaze, the Ministry officials turned pale and withdrew. Though before all the people of the realm, the Regent stared at those tablets, lit the three incense sticks, and the smoke curled gently — as if, through the haze, he could still see each of those figures.

We once lived and died together, we betrayed each other in life and death, we turned swords against each other.

But now, only I remain.

He grinned, and drove the incense sticks into the great ritual tripod.

Then, with a single motion, he threw back his cloak and performed three full prostrations — the Regent's mighty voice rang in every ear.

"Honor Tai Ping Gong Li Wanli! Honor Su Changqing!"

"Honor these many warriors!"

"Honor all soldiers who gave their lives without regard for self, for the peace of Great Chen!!!"

Then the Chen soldiers could no longer stand.

Their weapons pressed to the ground, they knelt in unison, palms striking their chests.

Thinking of these years of humiliation, of having just been whipped by eunuchs to throw their comrades' corpses into ditches, their blood boiled, their chests swelled with an unspeakable heroic spirit, fire rising — and solemnly they chanted:

"Honor Tai Ping Gong Li Wanli! Honor Su Changqing!"

"Honor these many warriors!"

"Honor all soldiers who gave their lives without regard for self, for the peace of Great Chen!!!"

Their voices thundered like rolling lightning.

The Regent rose, his cloak sweeping like a cloud of ink.

Then the other soldiers rose as well.

The clashing of weapons and armor sounded grim, as if echoing from a battlefield; wind stirred fallen leaves, and the Yu Langwang returned once more — proud, self-willed, violent, confident, yet profoundly benevolent toward his troops, willing to share life and death with his generals.

Such a man seemed born to draw every eye.

Chen Dingye's face turned ashen.

Yuwen Lie gripped his weapon and whispered: "Your Highnesses, did you see? This is the enemy you will surely face — the greatest enemy. Such a man will not die in bed."

"One breath before his death, unless a blade pierces his heart, he will still be charging forward on horseback — greedy, cunning, ferocious Yu Langwang..."

Po Jun watched the aged Yu Langwang.

The smile on his face finally began to fade — if he was right...

Po Jun thought: Master, you may have no choice but to fight such a hero.

Under the silent gaze of all, the Regent helped Chen Wenmian onto his horse — his arms were iron-strong, enough to support his own son. Then he mounted his warhorse, his eyes fixed on Chen Dingye, clad in the Emperor's Twelve Symbols robe and crown, and said:

"Though a foolish younger brother, he still has his use."

"I shall let you live on."

He tightened the reins, and the warhorse turned. Behind him, the Chen soldiers fell silent, struggling — some halted because of their families, while others gripped their weapons, hands on sword hilts, silently following behind the king who had once led Chen's greatest age.

The Regent departed, as abruptly as he had arrived.

He did not use his overwhelming momentum to force his brother to abdicate and restore the era of Wu Di, when a thousand elite troops stormed the palace and killed the Liang Emperor. Some said he had merely come to show off his power, to take his son away — still the crude ways of that old warrior.

Too flamboyant, utterly unlike a true overlord.

They said the Regent had the measure of a king, but not the capacity to become the sovereign of all under heaven.

He did not understand how vital a vast nation was to hegemony.

It meant grain, steel, supplies, elite generals, and endless recruits.

Others believed the cunning old Yu Langwang's vision remained sharp.

Chen had rotted like spoiled meat — still a giant, but counting its final days. Inheriting such rot would only bind his sword-hand with tangled officials and rival clans, until the blade turned on himself. Reform would be impossible.

Better to tear it down and start anew.

He chose instead the last places in Chen not yet corroded by corrupt nobles.

The Western Regions!

Under Dan Tai Xianming's direct command, they seized three hundred li of territory in the Western Regions — there lay all they needed. Beyond lay the fractured, vast Western Regions; the corpse of the overlord Tuyuhun was rich enough to feed them, and the so-called warlords there would be no match for the Regent.

The Regent Prince's true rival was none other than Yingguo, the dominant power ruling the Central Plains.

Should Yingguo's military advance southward, it would be blocked by Chen Guo—a decaying giant—giving the Regent Prince ample time to complete his ambition of devouring Tuyuhun.

Chen Dingye was no rival at all in the Regent Prince's eyes.

Just as he had said.

Though merely a mediocre younger brother, his very existence held value.

The Regent Prince did not hesitate; his comings and goings were swift. He knew he was old, his hair already streaked with white, and more importantly, the greatest general under heaven was even older—he had already wasted thirteen years, and he was past sixty.

He had once been stripped of his Wu Gong; his thigh flesh had regrown, and unless he spurred his warhorse and swung his blade with all his strength, he would never again have the chance to fight the greatest general under heaven before death claimed him.

If he did not, he would die on his bed!

He could not accept it!

Time waits for no one.

So he brought back his son, seized control of the Western Regions, mounted his warhorse, clad in ink-black armor, and rode once more across the land to crush so-called warlords and famed generals, conquering the territory of the world.

Thus ended Chen Guo's grand sacrifice in haste; the people were released, each returning home, the martial world trembling in fear, abandoning even their own weapons to flee Jiangzhou City immediately, spreading this news across the entire world.

And everyone knew Li Guanyi would now make his name resound across the land.

Another problem was this:

The Xue family would also suffer misfortune.

"No matter how cunning Li Guanyi is, no matter how he deceived the Xue family's tiger, this moment still originated from the Xue family—hah, the Xue family is done for."

"We could also find a way to send our own clan's daughter inside."

"She might even become Empress."

All the great clans were pondering this, when suddenly a knock came at the door. The clan lord, who had been speaking with the imperial family, looked up, displeased, and said: "What time is it? Didn't I say today I'm meeting with my uncle? No matter what, don't disturb me unless it's urgent?"

But the door was kicked open. The clan lord rose, his expression annoyed—but the next instant, his face turned deathly pale. Xue Daoyong stood there, clad in a long robe, an old man holding a warbow.

"Xue… Clan Lord…"

The arrow pierced the air with a shrill whistle—a brief, sharp cry.

Xue Daoyong's body was drenched in blood. The old man held his warbow, gazing at the distant sky. Just now, he had personally slain the imperial elite unit dispatched to handle special emergencies, buying time for the boy—now there were no pursuers on the road.

Thus Lu Youxian waited long without reinforcements; the famed general riding the flying beast was struck dead by the old man's bow, an arrow piercing fifty li straight through—shooting through both man and beast, sending them crashing to the ground.

The old man dropped the warbow in his hand.

Servants had already brought forward court robes.

Xue Daoyong gazed at the sky.

They always say the emperor is chosen by Heaven's Mandate—but I do not believe in fate, Guanyi. You will see: everything will change. From Guan Yicheng to the borderlands, countless men will seek to kill you. But rest assured, old man will stand between you and them.

Chen Guo's bounty on you will be suppressed to the absolute limit of my power.

After this, the Xue family's aid to you will be minimal.

The old man said: "Take one-third of the Xue family's wealth."

The man beside him froze: "One-third?"

Xue Daoyong laughed heartily: "What use is ten thousand taels of gold? To protect one's offspring, to march toward the world, to fulfill the righteous fury in one's breast—what is wealth for, if not now? Go!"

"... Yes!"

Much later, in the palace, Emperor Chen Dingye sat alone upon the throne, his hands gripping the dragon-headed armrests tightly, thinking of all that had transpired today—only anger, only hatred surged within him. Suddenly, footsteps approached outside.

Boom!

The palace doors, forged of special material and requiring twenty strongmen to open from both sides, burst open a crack—revealing a pair of eyes like a tiger's, light spilling in as Xue Daoyong, clad in court robes, strode forward.

Like a tiger gliding forward.

Chen Dingye stared at the Xue family's patriarch. Xue Daoyong bowed his hands and said:

"I beg Your Majesty, name my daughter's unborn child Crown Prince."

Chen Dingye's face flushed crimson; he drew his sword in fury.

The great hall's doors swung open. The old man bowed in salute; behind him, at least half of the civil and military ministers stood there, all clad in court robes, standing in the rain, bowing in unison.

Xue Daoyong stepped forward three paces; the civil and military ministers followed, bowing in unison.

They all cried: "We beg Your Majesty, name the son of Consort Xue Crown Prince!"

"We beg Your Majesty, name the son of Consort Xue Crown Prince!!!"

The roar echoed through the great hall. Xue Daoyong stood at the front, like a tiger no longer hiding its fangs.

Chen Dingye stared at the old man. Xue Daoyong bowed, raised his gaze—eyes like a tiger's.

They stood in silence for a long while. Then Chen Dingye's sword fell to the ground.

Clang!

As if all strength had drained from him, he staggered into his seat, face pale, and said:

"... Granted."