Chapter 276: Qin Wu Hou Stirs the Land, the King

Ji Daochun's voice was lowered, but the young Qin Wu Hou's voice was bright; Wen Lingjun's expression froze slightly—those three words and the presence of this strolling grand minister should have been mutually exclusive.

A mighty, heroic sword cry rose from the Emperor's palace.

Chixiao Sword erupted.

It transformed into a crimson divine dragon circling and roaring, staining the sky red, then landed in Li Guanyi's hand, its sword cry howling; Ji Daochun's expression slowly grew solemn, while the Qin Wu Hou held the sword without uttering a word.

The divine weapon Chixiao Sword slashed down heavily.

Ji Daochun merely saw a blur before his eyes; he instinctively raised his dragon-headed staff, then both hands trembled—and the dragon-headed staff snapped clean in two.

Chixiao Sword descended.

Blood exploded.

A chorus of gasps rose as officials in vermilion-purple robes stumbled backward.

On the imperial road, inlaid with bas-reliefs, Bai Ruyu cleared a vast empty circle— they thought a tragedy was unfolding, their hearts pounding wildly.

For a moment, no one dared move; the high ministers stood frozen.

Dare to move?

No one dares move. No one dares move.

Even the Imperial Guards who arrived upon hearing the commotion turned pale at the sight of that sword.

They all knelt halfway to the ground.

Only then did the vermilion-purple-robed high ministers realize what had happened; they hurriedly bowed their heads and stepped forward, while the students outside the imperial road also clasped their hands in salute, paying reverence to the divine weapon Chixiao Sword.

Only Li Guanyi still stood tall.

Everyone bowed to this Chixiao Sword.

Everyone was bowing to him!

But Li Guanyi, holding the sword, did nothing else; the razor-sharp divine weapon had severed the dragon-headed staff, its blade now firmly resting against Ji Daochun's neck, embedded slightly into his shoulder as blood welled out.

It remains embedded there now, blood continuously sliding down.

The young marquis's gaze was indifferent, as if Ji Daochun did not exist.

Ji Daochun felt again that piercing sensation.

He had wished to draw this mighty, dragon-and-tiger-like hero into the imperial clan; if that failed, he would constrain his power with influence, ensuring the dignity of the Red Emperor's lineage did not fall.

He had never imagined Li Guanyi would be so decisive.

He had never imagined that the master of Chixiao Sword, whom Prince Ji Yanzhong refused to name, was him.

Li Guanyi held the sword, resting it against the man's neck, and said:

"Though I very much wanted to cut you down with one stroke."

"Killing you holds no meaning for me."

"It would only dirty my sword, my hands."

Ji Daochun stared fixedly at the young face, at the Chixiao Sword, his expression twisting with extreme complexity; the surrounding high ministers urged him to retract the blade, and the Qin Wu Hou seemed persuaded—he drew back the sword, withdrawing its razor-sharp blade.

Even though Li Guanyi hadn't truly slain him, the Chixiao Sword had sunk several inches into his shoulder, sawing through bone, flesh, and meridians alike—excruciating pain twisted Ji Daochun's face.

Killing on the imperial road would instantly destroy the moral high ground he'd just gained, branding him a tyrannical minister; Jiang Wanxiang and Chen Dingye would not let this weakness pass.

Li Guanyi thought: if he were still the wandering swordsman he once was, he would have already seized this old bastard, slammed him to the ground, and punched him until his face bloomed like peach blossoms—only then would his fury be sated.

Who do these old bastards disgust?

But the Qin Wu Hou now could not do such a thing.

After receiving the Emperor's greatest support, to immediately kill an elder of the imperial clan—even he knew how arrogant that would appear; the young Qin Wu Hou suddenly sighed: "The tide of the world binds us both—ultimately, we are never free."

"It seems I've changed too."

Ji Daochun sensed in the young boy before him the aura of a feudal lord among warlords.

The next instant, the Qin Wu Hou suddenly smiled faintly.

In that instant, Ji Daochun saw on Li Guanyi's face the noble bearing of a lord vanish, replaced by a ferocious, snarling grin.

"But you dare threaten me? Impose your rules upon me?"

"I fucking—"

"Old pig-dog!"

"Eat my shit!"

He gripped the Chixiao Sword and swung it with sudden force—horizontal slash!

The broad blade of Chixiao Sword slammed hard against Ji Daochun's face.

PAM!!!

Ji Daochun was flung backward; Li Guanyi swung again with his other hand.

Left and right, the Chixiao Sword hammered the old man's face again and again, like a giant hand slapping him—blood spewed from his mouth continuously.

I won't kill you.

That's all—just won't kill you.

The Qin Wu Hou swinging the Chixiao Sword—no one dared intervene.

A few well-preserved teeth flew out, clattering on the imperial road—chaotic cries and screams erupted; the eunuch rushed out, frantically crying:

"General, General! The Emperor says, please, General, spare his life!"

Li Guanyi swung his sword backward, the blade grazing the old man's neck before plunging into the imperial road; he stared at Ji Daochun and said: "Today I do not kill you because I owe the Emperor face."

"This Marquis obeys the Emperor's decree—I will not kill you."

This voice slowly carried to the ears of the many students.

Li Guanyi exhaled deeply; the unease in his chest finally eased.

He adjusted his stiff court robes, stretched his limbs.

Thrilling!!

Wen Lingjun stood frozen, dazed and speechless.

Li Guanyi turned and strode away, too indifferent to care for those behind him.

At that moment, Ji Daochun, who had been supported by the nobles, staggered to his feet, shaking off the nobles around him, staring at the young lord in his sumptuous court robes, his grief overwhelming as he cried out:

"Ancestors of the Red Emperor! The legacy you built is being stolen by outsiders!"

"I have no face to meet you."

"Ignorant Emperor!!"

"Rebellious minister! Rebellious minister!!"

Ji Daochun had served under three emperors, an elder of the imperial clan.

In his eyes, the achievements founded by the Red Emperor surpassed all else; later emperors were merely household heads, and this realm should have belonged solely to the Red Emperor's lineage—yet power had been given away.

Now, as he watched the retreating figure of Qin Wu Hou, he realized all he had known and taken pride in would be torn apart—and he was already so old.

Overwhelmed by immense sorrow, Ji Daochun cried out several times, then suddenly shoved away the crowd.

"Your servant, unable to guide the emperor and glorify our imperial clan above, unable to restrain the powerful ministers and curb their influence—your servant is guilty."

The white-haired elder of the imperial clan let out a bitter laugh, bowed deeply toward the palace, then suddenly charged forward with his head down.

Ji Daochun slammed his head into the Red Emperor's Merit Stele just behind Li Guanyi.

With all his strength, his brain shattered, blood gushed out, slowly trickling down—human instinct resists self-destruction by force; such resolve surpassed suicide by blade.

Blood spewed from Ji Daochun's mouth, his eyes fixed unblinkingly on Li Guanyi's back.

And then he died there.

Blood slowly streamed down the carved stone bricks; the entire imperial avenue grew stiff, solemn. Li Guanyi's step paused slightly—the blood of Ji Daochun flowed beneath his feet. He understood: these elders and he were locked in a conflict deeper than mere politics.

They followed their own principles and order.

And he had come to destroy the very glory they cherished.

The Bai Hu Da Zong that sparked war…

Li Guanyi suddenly lowered his gaze and smiled faintly. The scent of blood filled the air. The young lord stepped upon the white jade-like imperial avenue, stained with blood, then drew his sword and, facing the stunned, terrified gazes of the young scholars, moved forward slowly.

He did not look back.

Ji Daochun, who died for this era, had some backbone; the rest of the imperial clan were mere withered bones. Wen Lingjun stared fixedly at this scene—in the scholars' eyes, the solemn palace, the imperial avenue, the oldest elder of the clan had died.

Qin Wu Hou walked forward step by step, gripping Chixiao Sword.

The broad imperial avenue seemed to split into two halves.

One side: the imperial clans and noble families standing frozen. The other: the lord advancing solemnly.

A tremendous shock struck the scholars' hearts. Whether friend or foe, they knew they would never forget this scene.

Even decades later, even when their hair turned white, when their juniors asked of their youth, they would recall this very moment.

Li Guanyi halted.

Qin Wu Hou turned his wrist—Chixiao Sword's blade finally pressed again into the white imperial bricks, sinking three inches. His hand hovered over the hilt; his python robe fluttered, his brow sharp, behind him the palace loomed, the sky's clouds churning.

He lifted his gaze toward Wen Lingjun and the other scholars of the Academy.

All the scholars, except Wen Lingjun, instinctively lowered their heads.

This day.

After three hundred years.

The master of Chixiao Sword had reappeared in Zhongzhou.

And then he said: "Li Guanyi establishes his court under Tian Ce."

"Scholars who wish to tread the world—"

"Come!"

……………………

The bloodshed in the court had ended.

Li Guanyi's reputation shifted drastically: some believed Ji Daochun was the loyal minister of the clan, while Li Guanyi was a usurping noble; others claimed that since Li Guanyi drew Chixiao Sword, he alone was the true heir of the Red Emperor.

Regardless, Li Guanyi's fame would soar like a windborne fire.

He had already leapt into the ranks of the most powerful figures in the realm.

Even if he failed, he would leave an even darker, more vivid mark in history. Wen Lingjun wandered back to the Academy in a daze, still unable to believe what he had witnessed.

Ji Daochun had long been regarded as a venerable elder of the imperial clan, entering politics eighty years ago, holding immense prestige, honored by court and great families alike—all had received his favors.

And Li Guanyi had drawn Chixiao Sword.

Who was the true heir? Wen Lingjun felt lost. Suddenly, someone tugged his sleeve.

"Huh? What is it?"

Wen Lingjun snapped back to awareness, turning his head at the tug. Feng Xiao was drinking, frowning as he added: "You weren't listening, were you? This is going to spark a major disaster."

Wen Lingjun nodded: "Yes."

In half a month, the Academy's Dao Debate would begin, with many scholars and grand masters present. Feng Xiao said: "Originally, the Eighteen Southern Provinces held no advantage. Now Li Guanyi is at his peak—he is the Tian Ce General."

"But by accepting this title, he has directly clashed with the imperial clan and the great families. Most scholars in the Academy are tied to these families—even commoners have received their favors."

"At this point, Li Guanyi has almost no chance of victory."

"Not to mention that old Granduncle Ji Daochun has just committed suicide before the Merit Stele on the imperial avenue."

Feng Xiao murmured: "I dare not imagine how the entire imperial clan and court will speak of him now. Even with his soaring reputation, he cannot gain the slightest advantage in the Academy's Dao Debate."

"Yet he still…"

Feng Xiao fell silent, unsure how to say this to his friend.

Wen Lingjun said: "He drew Chixiao Sword."

Feng Xiao grinned and said:

"Indeed, whether the legend of the Chixiao Sword holds more weight, or the familial favors of the clans, we shall see after the Dao Debate in ten days. But regardless, Li Guanyi's name has already shaken the region."

Wen Lingjun said: "Mm."

Feng Xiao sighed, saw Wen Lingjun's distracted state, left him there to rest properly, and hurried off with his wine to seek old friends and acquaintances in other academies to tell them about this.

Yet as he passed by the courtyard of Gongyang Su Wang, he seemed to hear a series of screams.

Drunken Feng Xiao frowned, poked his finger into his ear.

"Is Su Wang His Excellency slaughtering a chicken?"

"Screaming so loudly."

"No, what breed of chicken is this? The sound is truly piercing!"

Feng Xiao took a sip of wine, sat backward on his horse, swaying lazily, leaning back until his back rested against the horse's rump, moving forward slowly. The events of today had struck him too hard—he desperately wanted to drink.

Ah, still screaming?

Feng Xiao glanced drowsily, drank, and thought to himself:

"Truly remarkable, Su Wang His Excellency!"

"Even slaughtering a chicken is extraordinary!"

"Screaming so loudly and still going on—hmm, must be a special breed."

"Perfect—I've been too drunk to rise in the morning. One day I'll ask Su Wang His Excellency what breed his rooster is; it's got such vigor!"

Feng Xiao strolled away leisurely.

The screams from Su Wang's courtyard continued.

Wen Lingjun stroked the jade pendant in his hand, fell silent for a long while, unsure what to do—when suddenly, he heard a soft knock at the door. He snapped out of his thoughts and looked up.

A young man stood there, wearing a gray-blue upper garment, dark blue lower robe, hair tied with a wooden hairpin, black boots on his feet—plain in appearance, it was Wen He.

Wen Lingjun welcomed Wen He back.

Wen He looked at Wen Lingjun and said: "Did you see what happened today?"

Wen Lingjun smiled bitterly: "Yes. But how did you come here?"

Wen He looked at him, calmly: "I suspect you're struggling to choose—on one side, the legitimate line of the Red Emperor; on the other, the Chixiao Sword. These two forces have clashed before you. Your nature sees far, yet you're too slow to act."

"I suspect you're caught in turmoil."

Wen Lingjun fell silent, let out a bitter laugh: "Is it that obvious?"

Wen He said plainly: "No matter what, we're brothers. And you're over twenty—you'd naturally feel this way. But you've always sought loyalty to the legitimate line. Now you're hesitating. Doesn't that show you're already disappointed in this so-called legitimacy?"

Wen Lingjun said nothing. Wen He poured wine casually: "Tell me."

"Between us, there's nothing we can't say. Perhaps I can offer you advice."

Wen Lingjun sighed, lifted his cup and drained it, holding the wine vessel:

"Hesitation… My family, generation after generation, has served as ministers, drawing imperial stipends. The imperial clan has never treated me poorly. If I abandon them now, what difference am I from a heartless man? But now…."

"The realm is crumbling, storms rising everywhere. States wage diplomacy and war constantly. The south has been pacified; the west is in chaos. The feudal lords gather in Zhongzhou. This is a time of existential crisis—and yet Li Guanyi holds the Chixiao Sword and can establish his own court and offices."

"Yet Zhongzhou still wallows in the grandeur of the clans and the glory of history."

Of Ji Daochun's affair, Wen Lingjun only said: "Utterly foolish!"

"He thinks himself loyal, yet his death forces the entire clan and imperial house onto a path of confrontation with Qin Wu. This old fool uses the entire court and royal family to build his own reputation!"

"A corrupt minister, a parasite!!!"

Wen He looked at Wen Lingjun: "So your emotions and your rational analysis are in conflict."

"Good. You're a man of feeling."

"I like dealing with such people."

"Because I am too."

Wen He smiled.

Wen Lingjun wanted to laugh at him, but when he opened his mouth, his voice grew faint. He realized something was wrong, shook his head—this man of royal counsel collapsed onto the table, motionless.

"Aren't you supposed to help me, give me advice, make the decision for me?"

Wen He set down the wine vessel, then pulled from his robe a rope of Treasured Weapon grade.

Mr. Wen He's face broke into a smile: "Yes, I came to…"

"Make your decision for you."

Wen Lingjun sensed something was wrong, but struggled helplessly. Wen He said: "Your nature sometimes needs a push. What a pity, Lingjun—I know your talent better than anyone."

"A man of upright bearing, majestic presence—such talent is rare in the world."

"On my lord's side, whenever I think of you, a man who restrains me, being on the other side, I can't drink tea, eat meals, or sleep well. So I thought—I'd better tie you up first."

Tssssss!!!

The Treasured Weapon-grade rope tightened. Mr. Wen He's smile was warm and radiant:

"Seventy-eight complex potent toxins of Ma Fei San, sixty-eight paralytic bodily agents, plus three spirit-nourishing formulas."

"Please accept them."

The head of the academy, the royal counsel Wen Lingjun, was bound.

He voluntarily joined the Fire Qilin Army.

……………………

As Li Guanyi, dressed in court robes, accompanied Ministry of Rites officials toward the palace, the imperial residence remained quiet. Generals Ling Pingyang guarded it; Elder Murong wandered off, vanished. The silver-haired girl sat alone, reading Juan Sect records, when suddenly, a sound came.

A soft sound.

The silver-haired girl's ears twitched slightly.

Yet she continued reading the records, not turning her head.

Then the source of the voice seemed unwilling to yield, sending forth another sound.

Yao Guang sighed softly; even now, her expression remained calm. She put away the Juan Sect scroll, gathered it up, then turned and walked toward the source of the sound—two steamed buns lay on the ground.

Crouched in the corner sat an old fellow.

His hair was white and unkempt, with a Black Tortoise beside him.

Master Siming.

The silver-haired girl looked up at him, her voice serene: "Do you really think this could draw me over?"

Master Siming scratched his head awkwardly: "Ah, uh… isn't it?"

Yao Guang said: "Please don't waste food."

The Black Tortoise kicked the old man right off the corner wall.

The old fellow scratched his head, looking embarrassed, shoved the two steamed buns into his bosom, and looked at Yao Guang: "Hahaha, no waste, no waste at all—but I came here to see you for a real reason."

Yao Guang tilted her head and turned to leave.

Master Siming quickly reached out and grabbed the girl's arm: "It's good news! Truly good news!"

"I swear by the name of Simi."

"It's the absolute best thing! Otherwise, let him be ruined! Let him—let him—"

Master Siming couldn't think of anything harsh enough to satisfy the threat yet spare him from Simi's vengeance. Yao Guang sighed helplessly, her voice calm: "I understand."

"What kind of spectacle are you dragging me to?"

Master Siming gave a thumbs-up: "Good child!"

Then the old man and the girl leapt over the wall. Along the way, Master Siming wove strange arts, coordinating with Yao Guang to conceal their qi signatures, circling endlessly through the vast city.

Master Siming bought snacks and candies, gave them to the girl, then loudly recounted tales from his youth. After wandering for a long while, they arrived at a place of considerable splendor.

A crimson wall separated inside from outside; only the treetops could be glimpsed faintly. Outside, armored guards armed with weapons stood watch, each radiating a chilling aura that stirred awe and kept others from approaching.

Master Siming pointed inside and grinned:

"Something fascinating is happening in there!"

Yao Guang thought for a moment, then took a bite of the snack.

The silver-haired girl turned and walked away!

"Hey hey hey, come back, you little brat…" Master Siming reached out, grabbing her hood by the drawstring. Though tall himself, he yanked hard—lifting the silver-haired girl into the air.

The girl stepped through the air as if walking on solid ground.

She fell silent, lowered her head, and saw her feet hovering above the earth.

Master Siming grinned: "If you know such an art, why climb the wall?"

Master Siming replied confidently: "It's a matter of preference and pursuit."

As he spoke, he entered with Yao Guang, hiding among pavilions and terraces—but not advancing further. Soon, two figures arrived. In an instant, the silver-haired girl's expression shifted—

The two figures sprinted toward them: one ancient yet still radiating a chilling aura, his martial energy nearly solidified; the other wore simple cloth, silver hair flowing, his bearing free and easy.

General Jiang Su, the Whale Fisher.

Yao Guang's heart surged violently; she wanted to leave, but Master Siming held her fast:

"If you want to go, old man won't stop you."

"But if the Empty-Basket Fisherman spots you, you'll never see him again."

Yao Guang remained silent for a long while, then sat quietly again. Their combined arts merged, and with blank expressions, they carefully held leaves above their heads. Master Siming silently chuckled, resting his elbow on the girl's head.

The old man and the girl stared across at them.

Inside the pavilion, Jiang Su and the Whale Fisher were in excellent spirits. Even the Whale Fisher would never look down on Jiang Su, a peer whose internal energy surpassed his own.

That wouldn't be pride—it would be foolishness.

The two exchanged as equals, passing cups several times. Jiang Su laughed: "Fine skill, fine formation, fine drinker."

The Whale Fisher replied: "You're no slouch either."

Jiang Su only shook his head: "I heard the Whale Fisher is always proud—but now I see otherwise."

The Whale Fisher said: "If I didn't say that, would I say you're terrible?"

Jiang Su paid it no mind, only laughed loudly, rising to offer more wine: "What boldness! Whale Fisher, you've traveled far—have you seen the military might of Great Ying? Have you met my Crown Prince?"

The Whale Fisher drank, saying: "I've never met any Crown Prince."

Jiang Su smiled: "My Crown Prince is past thirty, elegant as jade, outstanding in bearing. One day, when I lead a million troops and stand beside Your Majesty to claim tens of thousands of li of land, he shall be the sovereign of all under heaven."

The Whale Fisher said: "That's excellent."

Jiang Su said: "It is excellent—but I have one concern. My Crown Prince still has no official consort—no future Crown Princess, no future Empress."

The Whale Fisher merely drank.

Jiang Su smiled: "I've heard you have a daughter?"

"Would you let her become my Crown Prince's wife?"

"The future Empress of All Under Heaven?"

The silver-haired girl stared across.

The Whale Fisher finally stopped drinking, his gaze fixed on Jiang Su:

"Hm?"