Chapter 291: The Heavenly Strategy General Enters the Palace to Kill!

The elderly man in blue robes, after that single sword duel, had already summed up eight hundred years of Jianghu romance; after the fight ended, the wooden sword—elevated to divine status by the legend of the Master Jiankuang—floated in midair, then settled steadily beside Li Guanyi.

The wooden sword was plain, its blade unlike the noble splendor of the Tiger Roar Heaven Spear or Chixiao Sword.

Its surface was pitted and scarred, yet small seal-script inscriptions, like those on Li Guanyi's waistband sword, Murong Qiushui, naturally emerged, faintly radiating a sharpness.

【Dragon Map】.

Short sword Murong Qiushui.

Wooden sword Dragon Map.

The man in blue robes walked forward, but no longer carried the once-unrivaled sharpness; instead, he bore a trace of age. Murong Longtu drew the wooden sword and tossed it to Li Guanyi.

"I've had my fill. This body's martial arts and sword Dao have reached their peak."

The old swordsman smiled: "Let's go."

Li Guanyi could hardly believe it, then burst into joy—he rose, stepped forward, and seized Murong Longtu's wrist, but froze, sensing the old man's vital energy nearly entirely dispersed, yet one thread of luminous life still endured.

Amidst a vast dragon's roar, crimson-gold flames coalesced and surged upward, forming the immense, ancient crimson dragon. The Primordial Crimson Dragon said: "This battle pleases me. Murong Longtu, I have remembered the vow you made that day."

"This battle rivals the day the world united to slay the Overlord."

"I shall carry this battle in my heart."

With the dragon's roar, the crimson dragon soared upward; all the Jianghu figures in the city bowed deeply, watching as the final sword's giver—the man in blue robes—departed, supported by the young boy.

This was the last time these people would ever see that blue-robed swordsman.

Jiang Su's divine weapon dissolved into light. He thought of the old swordsman's final words—those that had drawn the crowd to attack him—and sighed, unsure what emotion to hold: "Hardship, hardship."

The old man had told them earlier: "Try joining forces to kill me."

"Murong Longtu will leave behind one final sword's aura and vitality."

"My lifespan is no more than three years."

"Or one sword."

After his final battle, the blue-robed Master Jiankuang left a sword aura within himself. At that moment, Murong Longtu spoke those words to every elite warrior in the world capable of single-handedly killing the boy, calmly saying:

"Within three years, this final aura will dissipate, and Murong Longtu will die in the Jianghu. But during these three years, if anyone dares to lower their dignity and strike at my child—"

"Then Murong Longtu's one sword shall fall upon your house."

"Gentlemen, feel free to try."

The world's legends—the Five Palace Lords, the Ten Great Masters, even the grand currents of power—

Were all held in place by this dying swordsman's final sword.

Hard-pressed, unyielding.

Jiang Su looked over: the boy supported the greatest swordsman in the world as they walked away; the wooden sword, sentient, floated gently beside them, while the Tiger Roar Heaven Spear and Chixiao Sword dissolved into light and flew to Li Guanyi's side.

"Great-grandfather, you scared me—I thought you were going to…"

Murong Longtu laughed: "Ha, I can't live as long as you hope. But these people? They're not enough to make me exhaust my last breath. Your great-grandfather doesn't seek to linger for centuries, yet he's not so frail."

"That battle was exhilarating! Thrilling, thrilling! The Jianghu has grown dull."

Murong Longtu glanced at the many Great Masters.

The old man placed his palm on Li Guanyi's shoulder and walked back with him, speaking simple words: the soybeans today tasted good, the wine was decent. Li Guanyi replied he'd tasted some too.

The two returned to their lodging.

Murong Longtu seemed utterly exhausted; as he chatted with Li Guanyi, he gradually grew drowsy, sitting there, slowly closing his eyes. Li Guanyi held the old man's hand, feeling his pulse still beat—the vital essence was indeed preserved.

"Your mother, when she was young, was the most mischievous…"

"She loved pulling my hair."

Murong Longtu closed his eyes and drifted into sleep. Li Guanyi held the old man's palm—those hands that once wielded the sword without peer—now wrinkled and aged. Li Guanyi waited until Murong Longtu slept soundly before gently returning the hand to his side.

Ling Pingyang, Wen Lingjun, and Wen He all learned of today's events.

Murong Longtu shook the Jianghu.

And Li Guanyi endured over twenty assassination attempts.

Li Guanyi's blue Daoist robe was stained with blood. Though his wounds had fully healed under the Immortal Regeneration Body, to outsiders, the blood-soaked robe was terrifying indeed.

Li Guanyi rose.

Wen Lingjun stared at his back, throat moving, unable to speak.

They were all brilliant minds—they knew who had ordered the attack on Li Guanyi.

Li Guanyi's voice, unusually calm, said:

"The attacker used the Crimson Dragon Subdues the Nine Provinces technique."

"Currently, there are twenty-four old and young involved."

"They ambushed me while my great-grandfather fought his death duel."

His voice was calm, yet Wen Lingjun could not speak. The boy rose and stepped out: "Mr., don't stay here. My old man is exhausted today—don't disturb him."

Wen Lingjun fell silent, nodded. Everyone withdrew. Li Guanyi merely instructed others to bring ingredients; he washed rice himself, cooked a meat porridge, chopped vegetables neatly, prepared a meal—without a word, quiet and reserved.

Finally, he wiped his hands, estimated the food was ready, and said:

"Ling Pingyang."

Ling Pingyang stepped forward half a pace: "My lord."

"Dispatch five hundred Fire Qilin cavalry here. The remaining five hundred guard the refugees."

Ling Pingyang bowed: "Yes!"

Sweat beaded on Wen Lingjun's forehead.

He was caught in the middle, unsure what to do. Li Guanyi said: "This has nothing to do with you, Mr. I'm doing this myself. I was born a fugitive—do they truly think I'm theirs to manipulate?"

The boy smiled, then turned to Wen He beside him:

"Mr., bring me my armor."

Wen He remained silent, reacting swiftly at this moment.

Li Guanyi undid his bloodstained Dao robe, wearing only an inner tunic, then a fitted soft armor, followed by segmented heavy armor plating, and finally a crimson battle robe with civil-military sleeves; as he donned the armor, he said to the man beside him: "This porridge, simmer it longer—when the time seems right, reduce to a low flame and slow-cook it."

"Yes."

Wen Lingjun finally spoke: "Lord, where are you going?"

Li Guanyi said: "Mr. Lingjun, you've finally changed your address—but alas, I'm about to do something that will disappoint you. They moved against me—do you think I'll pretend nothing happened?"

Wen Lingjun fell silent, then said: "We have other ways."

Li Guanyi said: "But I want my way."

"You practice the Way of Kings. Today, Li Guanyi intends to be tyrannical."

"What will you do?"

Li Guanyi answered:

"Kill."

Wen Lingjun's face turned deathly pale.

Outside, a steady thunder of hooves rolled in—the Fire Qilin was gone, but dragon steeds waited for him; Ling Pingyang and his five hundred heavily armored troops were the elite of Yue Pengwu's command, the closest thing in the world to the Three Great Heavy Cavalries.

Now that they knew their lord's ordeal, they stood silent and deadly, gripping heavy spears; by law, such external forces could not enter the city—but Ling Pingyang led them in a forced charge, and the gate commander dared not stop them.

Li Guanyi donned his armor, took up Mu Jian's wooden sword.

Then he mounted his horse.

Five hundred hooves crashed down like muffled thunder.

This newly renowned General of the Heavenly Strategy.

Entered the imperial palace—to kill.

…………………

The imperial palace was vast, actually a vast complex of palaces; one portion belonged to the Great Emperor, another to the Huangzu Sect—the true imperial palace, as commonly referred to by the people, encompassed all of it.

After Ji Daochun's death, the eldest among the clan were Prince Ji Yanzhong and Ji Yunqing; Prince Ji Yanzhong was a broad-minded elder who sought only the Chishao Sword and the Red Emperor's legacy, while Ji Yunqing's line was cunning, secretly influencing court affairs.

At this moment, a bronze beast-head incense burner burned pine incense.

Ji Yunqing, now the clan's patriarch since Ji Daochun's death, was reading a volume of Daoist scriptures, murmuring phrases of Supreme Nonaction; a servant nearby, unable to suppress his worry, said: "Laozu."

"Those assassins under your command failed to kill Li Guanyi."

Ji Yunqing merely replied calmly: "Oh, a pity."

Even so, he remained unperturbed; his grandson clenched his teeth and leaned forward: "Grandfather, you can't be so dismissive!"

"Li Guanyi's great-grandfather is Mu Jian—the man who fought the entire martial world alone today, even matching the ancient Taigu Chilong, who once stood shoulder to shoulder with the Red Emperor eight hundred years ago!"

"If Mu Jian comes knocking, our palace guards won't hold him."

A chess piece fell.

Ji Yunqing, still reading, moved a piece himself, and looked calmly at his grandson: "Knocking?"

"What nonsense are you speaking?"

"Let alone that Mu Jian's own life is short."

"Do you remember the Emperor's Sword, the Marquis's Sword, the Commoner's Sword?"

The youth said: "I remember them clearly."

Ji Yunqing said: "Recite them for me."

The youth recited: "The Commoner's Sword: unkempt hair, wild beard, drooping cap, coarse neckband, short-tailed robe, eyes shut, speech halting. They strike before each other, slicing necks above, severing liver and lungs below. This is the Commoner's Sword—no different from cockfighting; once life ends, it serves no purpose in state affairs."

Ji Yunqing nodded, speaking softly: "Remembering clearly is enough."

"That so-called Mu Jian, the martial world's sword madman."

"In the grand tide of the world, he is but a lone commoner."

He plucked up a chess piece at random: "Smooth as jade, polished flawless—what use? On the world's chessboard, he is still only a slightly larger piece."

"No matter how high one's personal Wu Gong, it cannot cut down a hundred thousand troops; even if he slaughtered a hundred thousand, what difference would it make to the world's tide?"

"He is merely a bigger chicken—flaunting momentary might, dying in the process. A laughably foolish fool. As for Li Guanyi, though he has some talent, he ultimately relies on borrowed fame and power; by using this fame and power, he has given us a handle."

"The Dao Jing says: to gain is to lose."

"What we fear is Li Guanyi not entering this arena of fame and gain."

Ji Yunqing stroked his beard:

"My young nephew has some talent—he's better than you. He gave Li Guanyi everything he could offer. But alas, he has courage but not enough wit—he's too young, too merciful, hasn't been beaten enough in this arena of fame and gain."

"Yet he doesn't realize: if Li Guanyi had no fame, it would be nothing—but with this fame, controlling him becomes far, far simpler."

"The world knows the value of fame and gain, but doesn't know that desirelessness is strength. True heroes flow like water—without weaknesses, without attachments, without desires." Ji Yunqing's voice was calm; the youth bowed his head respectfully:

"Grandfather's teaching is right."

Ji Yunqing reached out, plucking a white chess piece; it rested in his palm—the old man's hands were exquisitely kept, pale and slender, as if holding a puppet, and he said softly:

"Wealth, power, beauty, prestige—how many heroes through history failed to see through them? How many mighty men outside, brimming with heroism, come to Jingcheng and have their bones softened by beauty, their spirit drained by power?"

"You must remember: only by relying on authority is the true path—achieving our goals without shedding a drop of blood."

Ji Yunqing admonished his grandson, then smiled: "You—you only pretend to be foolish before me. You feigned that Ji Zichang was ill, lured out his childhood sweetheart, and poisoned her—I won't scold you for that."

"Yet now you pretend ignorance before me."

"Didn't you already seek out the Weida Sect of the Wan Mingyi line, saying the Master Jiankuang's fate was sealed? Li Guanyi's greatest support is gone—right now, isn't Li Guanyi weeping over the dying Master Jiankuang?"

The youth smiled along:

"I still believe the Grand Master of that sect."

"He cursed Ji Zichang's own son to death."

"Mm. The world is changing—but no change will touch us. I know your mind. I am old, have enjoyed the world's glory and wealth my whole life, and expect a peaceful end—may my posthumous title be Wen Zheng."

"With your words, the world will fall apart before you're even thirty."

"But no matter which house—Chen or Ying—takes the throne, when they arrive here, you open the gates, hand over the Jade Seal, kneel respectfully, and saving your life won't be hard; you might even earn yourself a Hou Jue."

"Look, the world is in turmoil, yet we stand firm. Li Guanyi, Chen Dingye, Jiang Wanxiang—they're all fleeting clouds. Whoever wins, you and I will enjoy wealth and honor. That is the way of power."

"It's a pity we didn't kill Li Guanyi, the man who wields Chixiao Sword."

"And he's not even imperial blood."

"Shouldn't he be dead?"

"Shouldn't he be dead for befriending Emperor Ji Zichang?"

As the grandfather and grandson spoke, sudden noise erupted outside—chaotic, panicked. Ji Yunqing remained calm, quietly continuing his game. His grandson Ji Zichang stepped out to investigate, walking through one after another screens, curtains, and ponds, muttering irritably:

"Who's causing trouble again? Don't they fear being dragged off by the Court of Rituals and punished?"

His voice cut off. Ji Zichang's eyes froze.

Before him, a fully armored warhorse reared up. The rider, a battle general clad in black armor, thick-browed and broad-eyed, gripped a long black spear. In one motion, riding with the horse's momentum, he thrust it forward.

The spear didn't strike to kill—it passed just beside Ji Zichang's cheek, severing strands of hair.

"Ling Pingyang, stop! Don't kill him!"

"If you kill him, you'll invite disaster."

Ji Zichang recognized the voice.

It was Li Guanyi!

He exhaled in relief, his face bearing the dignified bearing of imperial blood, ready to demand: "Qin Wu Hou, how do you manage your subordinates? Do you hold the whole world in contempt?!"

He never got to say it.

The warhorse's neigh echoed like a dragon's roar.

Another warhorse surged from the side. The youth atop it seized the spear from Ling Pingyang's hand with effortless motion. The spearhead trembled once—and pierced straight through Ji Zichang's chest. Blood sprayed out.

Boom!!!!!

A torrent of power hurled Ji Zichang backward.

He smashed through layer after layer of screens.

Blood splattered across the floor, dripping into the pond, sending hundreds of koi surging and churning like waves.

Ji Zichang, impaled through the chest, was pinned against the shelves of Daoist scriptures beside the old man who had been playing chess. Such force—the spearhead pierced clean through his body and drove deep into the ground, crimson blood pooling around him as he writhed.

Ji Yunqing seemed unable to believe it, paralyzed.

The rules he knew had shattered in an instant.

The warhorse's noise faded.

Iron-shod hooves clattered on the opulent floor. Li Guanyi, clad in battle robe and armor, held the reins in his left hand, letting the warhorse enter freely—to graze on the rare flowers Ji Yunqing had paid a fortune for.

Ji Yunqing lifted his head, gazing at Li Guanyi. Li Guanyi, seated atop the warhorse, looked down at him with icy eyes. He reached out, seized the spear—and in an instant, his internal Qi exploded.

Ji Zichang's heart was shattered outright.

"I kill, and nothing happens."

All within the palace stood stunned, disbelieving. This imperial clansman, cousin to the Emperor, had been killed like a chicken. The wind blew in, carrying the stench of blood and chaos.

Li Guanyi pulled the spear free. Ji Yunqing stared blankly for a long while before speaking:

"You, you, you…"

"You killed an imperial clansman! How dare you kill the Emperor's brother?!"

"What of the grand scheme? Have you lost sight of the tide of fate? Your title is barely yours, your reputation just won—do you not cherish it?! Can't you endure a moment's anger? Can't you think of the greater good?! You—you—you…"

Li Guanyi said: "Fine. I'll give up your Hou Jue title."

Ji Yunqing turned deathly pale.

Li Guanyi asked: "You sent assassins to kill me today, didn't you?"

Ji Yunqing replied: "Not just me."

Those words instantly shifted suspicion onto many others.

Ji Yunqing added: "The Emperor is coming. You won't dare kill me."

Behind them, the unmistakable sound of palace guards echoed—Fire Qilin heavy cavalry entering the palace, the guards now fully assembled. A faint, calm smile appeared on Ji Yunqing's face. "General Li, don't defy the tide."

"You killed my grandson. We're even now."

Li Guanyi said: "You're wrong."

He thrust his spear forward.

The sound of steel piercing flesh.

The spearhead pierced through Ji Yunqing's throat, emerging from the back.

The old man's voice died.

He was a true strategist of the great clans, more adept at scheming and reading the tide of fate than even Wen Lingjun—but perhaps having sat too long in power, he had forgotten the true nature of the world's heroes.

Ji Yunqing's eyes locked onto Li Guanyi.

Li Guanyi withdrew the spear. A thin trail of blood clung to its tip. At his waist hung the Dragon Pattern Sword. In that instant, he seemed to have grown older—his voice calm, flat, unyielding:

"I command all the armies of the realm. I don't need to borrow fate."

"I am the tide."

He turned his warhorse. Ji Yunqing, clutching his throat, knelt on the ground, unwilling to die. In his final blurred vision, Li Guanyi—clad in heavy armor, battle robe, golden-threaded crown—casually tossed the spear back into Ling Pingyang's hands.

A blade of sword qi flew toward him—then his neck burned with pain.

The old, calculating clansman closed his eyes.

No scheming. No struggle over fate. No familiar rules. Just one spear. One sword.

Outside the chamber, the Fire Qilin heavy cavalry's spears stood ready. Palace guards arrived, their commanders pale with shock. Many imperial clansmen arrived too—each face tense, yet secretly gleeful.

'Li Guanyi, you've finally fallen for it.'

'He won't do anything to Ji Yunqing.'

'Hahaha, now you've stained your reputation!'

But the faces of these imperial clans turned white the next moment, for when Li Guanyi rode out on his warhorse, his battle robe was stained with blood, his left hand gripping the reins, his right hand holding a severed head—white-haired and ancient.

Li Guanyi raised his hand and threw Ji Yunqing's head down; it rolled on the ground.

'Today, assassins tried to kill me, the Wu Hou.'

'All were from the imperial clans—twenty-four assassins total. I've collected twenty-four heads.'

A clan member allied with Ji Yunqing roared in fury: 'Qin Wu Hou, do not—'

Zing!!

A bowstring snapped. A scream rang out.

The man's shoulder was pierced clean through; in Li Guanyi's hand was an ancient, plain warbow, his battle robe flaring as he, the youth who rode for the people, gripped the Po-Yun Zhen-Tian Bow, raised his hand, and hurled a token—dark as gold, inscribed with two large characters.

【Tian Ce】!

Tian Ce Supreme General, commands all troops under heaven.

Behind Li Guanyi, five hundred heavy cavalry stood with chilling, icy menace. Li Guanyi pulled the reins; his warhorse advanced slowly, steadily, its aura rolling like a collapsing mountain—finally turning the clans' faces ashen. Li Guanyi said:

'Five thousand Imperial Guard troops are under my command.'

'Capture this man for me. If you cannot deliver him, I will come myself—with twenty-four heads.'

The Imperial Guard commander turned ashen, and could only bow and respond, 'Yes.'

Li Guanyi gripped his sword, gazing into the distance. The Fire Qilin troops marched forward, cold and silent. As they passed the elder clan members, the youth's voice was calm: 'You wished to call me a power minister.'

'Then why not grant your wish?'

The elders' expressions froze. They finally understood: there was a difference between those who held power and those who possessed strength. Li Guanyi rode slowly away on his warhorse and replied:

'As you wished—Li Guanyi is now a power minister.'

He clenched the wooden sword at his waist.

'I will explain today's events to His Majesty, the Great Emperor.'

'Prepare your heads.'

The warhorse's pace paused slightly; ahead, a man rode toward him.

It was Jiang Wanxiang.

Li Guanyi pulled his warhorse to a stop. Jiang Wanxiang looked at him and laughed loudly:

'The autumn hunt hasn't even begun. Why are you in such a hurry, Tian Ce General?'

Li Guanyi looked at Jiang Wanxiang and replied:

'Hasn't the autumn hunt already begun?'

In the autumn of the eleventh year of Tianqi, the Supreme General of the Tian Ce, who held the title of Open Court with Equal Authority to the Three Excellencies, rode his horse into the palace, killed two imperial clan members, rode out to admire flowers, and met Emperor Ying.

The Emperor said—'The autumn hunt has not yet begun. Why are you in such haste?'

The General replied—'It has begun.'

Half a month still remained before the traditional autumn hunt of the Red Emperor, yet later generations would regard only this day—the moment when the bloodstained hooves of Qin Wu Hou met Emperor Ying at the palace gates—as the true beginning of this event.

The sword surged from the rivers and lakes; Qin Wu Hou was assassinated, and led five hundred heavy cavalry into the palace to kill.

These three events were seen as the opening of the end of this era.

That night, Qin Wu Hou entered the imperial palace to 'beg for forgiveness.'

The next day, twenty-two high-ranking heads from the Shijiahe Sect and imperial clans fell, respectfully delivered to Qin Wu Hou's mansion.

The third day, the Great Emperor of Zhongzhou, Emperor Ji Zichang, declared—

【The autumn hunt begins】.