Chapter 434: Breakthrough!

After experiencing ecstasy to despair, despair to the unimaginable.

The crisis in the southwestern Wang Cheng was resolved in a dramatic manner; many rebel troops were captured, then personally recruited and pardoned by Duan Qingyu and others, their crimes of ignorance forgiven; most of the captains and soldiers previously knocked from their mounts by Li Guanyi had broken bones and limbs but were left alive.

Duan Qingyu, Tai Bo Yong, and others secretly felt profound gratitude.

Li Guanyi went to change his clothes, swapping his plain long robe for a slightly more luxurious battle robe, jade belt cinched at the waist, seated within the Wang Fu, beside him on the table rested a richly ornate and ancient wooden box containing a silk scroll.

Li Guanyi was flipping through a juan sect record, before him stood Miao Ziling, the witch-cult heir, obediently standing, beside her a woman with white hair—her teacher—both slightly tense.

Only the sound of Li Guanyi turning pages could be heard.

Under the might of the army, Miao Ziling's teacher's life-extending Gu was easily retrieved.

The Canglang Guard's military might was formidable, and they were the ones who had returned the life-extending Gu; Miao Ziling and her teacher had no lingering notions of secrecy or forbidden transmission, and immediately produced the ancient scroll of the witch-cult lineage.

After reading it, Li Guanyi's expression showed slight disappointment.

The life-extending Gu indeed possessed the ability to prolong life, but such a method, though highly effective, came with extreme limitations.

It required one's own essence, qi, and spirit to intertwine and circulate with the Gu, borrowing techniques from Daoist external alchemy; if carefully cultivated, one could reverse the accumulated vitality stored within the Gu near the end of one's lifespan and restore it to oneself.

But first, this art demanded meticulous cultivation, for the Gu was fragile at the outset.

One misstep and it dies right before your eyes.

Qi such as peerless sword aura or military battle killing intent could easily crush and kill the Gu.

The Son of Heaven's aura need not be considered.

Completely impossible.

The Son of Heaven's aura was the most majestic and tyrannical.

No Gu could withstand the collective fortune of all under heaven.

One could say the Son of Heaven's aura was the most antithetical to heretical and heterodox arts.

Miao Ziling whispered softly: "It's like how Your Lordship cannot cultivate this art…" She lifted her gaze to Qin Wu Hou, who had shed his scholar's robes and now wore armor over his signature Central Plains martial-scholar sleeve battle robe.

Crimson Fire Qilin cloud patterns hung down; when he looked up, his bearing was that of dragon and phoenix, his presence radiant as sun and moon, divinely martial and extraordinary.

The witch-cult's ancestral strange serpent ate only a few drops of his blood.

It exploded on the spot.

This was due not only to Li Guanyi's blood qi, but also to his fusion of military battle killing intent and the Son of Heaven's fortune; what manner of vessel was that serpent, utterly incapable of bearing the blood qi of a contemporary overlord? Even Buddhist and Daoist teachings could not coexist with the Son of Heaven's aura—how much less witch-cult arts?

Miao Ziling's teacher, Siming Shuang, tugged at her hand.

Since ancient times, overlords and Sons of Heaven have coveted immortality; to speak such words risks angering them.

Miao Ziling lowered her head and dared not speak further.

Li Guanyi closed the scroll and said:

"... If this were cultivated, how long could it extend life?"

Siming Shuang answered: "At least three years, at most seven."

Li Guanyi asked: "Is there a Gu capable of withstanding metal and iron sword qi?"

Siming Shuang thought, then replied: "... Ordinary Gu are flesh and blood, but records tell of strange insects in the world that feed on divine swords; if such a Gu could be obtained, perhaps it might endure sword intent."

Li Guanyi asked: "Where might such a Gu be found?"

Siming Shuang answered: "Where metal and water generate each other, in the far northern lands, perhaps such a thing exists."

The far northern lands...

That would be the territory of the Turkic steppe.

Li Guanyi thought of the Turkic Seven Khan and the world's second divine general; Siming Shuang hesitated, then asked: "May I ask, Your Lordship, are you seeking to prolong the life of the Sword God, Elder Murong Longtu?"

Li Guanyi said: "So what if I am?"

Siming Shuang replied without humility or arrogance:

"That Sword God's sword intent is peerless, capable of cleaving metal and severing jade."

"Even a divine Gu may not bear his divine intent, let alone sustain his vitality—this method has little chance of success."

Qin Wu Hou fell silent for a long while, then said: "Even so, as a junior, seeing an elder's lifespan nearing its end, how could I not consider his welfare..."

"I beg your aid—the Tiance Prefecture still holds positions; if you are willing, you may take up idle posts in its Beast Taming Bureau."

"Any witch-cult methods not bound by lineage may be compiled into texts and passed down."

"If you wish to remain in the southwestern lands, that too is acceptable."

He placed his hand on the wooden box beside him; without visible effort, the box floated smoothly through the air and landed beside them, its lid opening to reveal a layer of gold ingots.

Qin Wu Hou said: "These gold ingots are my apology."

"Regarding this art, I may yet require your assistance."

Eeeeee!!!

It's gold!!!

Miao Ziling's eyes were filled entirely with gold; the delicate southwestern girl stared fixedly at the ingots, nearly glowing with desire; Siming Shuang reached out, pinched her pupil's delicate chin, and forcibly turned her face away.

Siming Shuang bowed deeply and said: "Thank you, Your Lordship, for this generous gift."

"We are country folk, ignorant of the sages' teachings."

"We were meant to grow old in these hills—yet I dare ask: Is there a Grand Master of Yin-Yang in the Tiance Prefecture?"

Siming Shuang raised her head to look at Li Guanyi.

Li Guanyi said: "Are you referring to Master Siming?"

Siming Shuang sighed: "Of course..."

She said: "I am willing to seek the divine sword Gu for Your Lordship, but I hope to meet this Master Siming, the elder..."

Li Guanyi said: "I have never heard of any connection between the witch-cult lineage and the Yin-Yang school."

Siming Shuang said: "The witch-cult lineage has no connection to the Yin-Yang school."

"My ancestral master once had a connection with that Grand Master; before his death, he left a letter and personal effects to be delivered to him, but it never succeeded, and he carried this regret to his grave. My master was by his side when he passed, and every time he spoke of it, he was filled with sorrow."

Li Guanyi said: "Fine, I will ask Master Siming. If he agrees, you may meet him."

Situ Shuang bowed deeply and placed the box of gold down. Li Guanyi swept his sleeve, and a surge of qi sent the box landing beside them. Situ Shuang then picked it up, bowed again, and withdrew.

Before leaving, Situ Shuang said: "If your Lord wishes to prolong the Sword God's life, seek the other branch of the Witch-Cult lineage. I heard he was once the chief sorcerer of the Chen royal court, refining the Elixir of Immortality. I saw him myself when I was young."

"The Elixir of Immortality in his furnace might yet restore the Sword God's vitality."

Qin Wu Hou remained silent for a long time.

Then, with a sigh, he said: "I understand."

Situ Shuang and the other departed. Li Guanyi held the Juan Sect scroll, and for the first time felt regret over swallowing the Elixir of Immortality—but its power had already been evenly dispersed and blended into his body by Jiang Su through a peculiar method.

Now he could only hope the Life-Prolonging Gu could find a vessel capable of bearing the old man's sword qi. Murong Longtu had already left the martial world; Li Guanyi wished only that he might see a few more springs in Jiangnan, hoping this elder, who had spent his life in chaos, might witness a time of peace.

Even if the Sword Madman was carefree.

But which child does not hope their elders live long and blessed lives?

Though Li Guanyi was poor, he would never stint on gold and silver in matters like this—though these gold pieces had been gathered by Nangong Wumeng during her recent scavenging across the Southwest Wang Cheng.

Li Guanyi was stunned.

Chen Wenmian, having heard of the two's past, mused: "So that's it. Though Brother lost thirty years of fortune, Heaven sent General Nangong to your side."

"Brother's fortune and wealth are precisely General Nangong."

"And General Nangong took thirty years of Brother's fortune."

"Doesn't that mean he must stay by Brother's side for thirty years too?"

Xiao General Xiao Wuliang and the Young Sword Saint Xu Huiyang wore expressions of utter bewilderment as they watched their earnest, calm young lord. Chen Wenmian was always sincere and composed—but sometimes, such excessive sincerity was a terrifying trait.

Then they saw General Nangong Wumeng suddenly puff up like a startled cat, his face flushing red as he leapt backward.

"Y-you you!!!"

"Who wants to stay with him?!"

"Li Guanyi, your brother is just as shameless as you are!!"

Chen Wenmian asked seriously: "General Nangong, are you blushing?"

"Is it because I was impolite?"

"Or because you must stay by Brother's side for thirty years?"

Nangong Wumeng: "Ah, I… ……"

General Chen Wenmian of the Gray Wolf Guard asked, puzzled:

"General Nangong, do you not wish to stay by Brother's side?"

"No, not… you… you…"

Nangong Wumeng's face burned crimson.

Suddenly he shouted.

He turned, stepped, snatched up Yao Guang, and ran off shouting.

Chen Wenmian said: "It seems he does not refuse."

The Southwest King Duan Qingyu had already handed Li Guanyi the Southwest topographical map.

Li Guanyi set the Life-Prolonging Gu technique aside, picked up the ancient scroll, smoothed its creases, and slowly unrolled it. Delicate brushwork depicted the eighty-one cities of the Southwest and the distribution of its mountain ranges.

As he unrolled it, the third ninth of the Nine Tripod's surface, saturated with the utmost human destiny, slowly traced the entire Southwest topography—golden light interwove and shifted, real and unyielding.

Eventually, this portion of the Nine Tripod's pattern sharpened into clarity.

Connected to the Western Regions, it revealed countless auspicious signs stirring amid Qianshan's myriad waters; a blade surged skyward, converging on the Tripod's side—Li Guanyi seemed to hear two bell-like resonances.

One came from Mount Juxu in the Western Regions, from that desolate desert oasis.

One came from the Eighteen Provinces of Jiangnan, from the flourishing Jiangnan Shenzhou.

Li Guanyi's own qi flowed.

When would the Third Tripod be cast?

The Southwest army had been reorganized. Chen Wenmian personally inspected it. Li Guanyi's fingers swept over the water systems of the Southwest; the city lords tied to Chen Dingye, due to Mu Taihong's actions, had all gathered in the Southwest Wang Cheng.

After their rebellion, they could not flee far.

Duan Qingyu, Chen Wenmian, and Xiao General Xiao Wuliang personally intervened—and within days, they captured them all. Li Guanyi's prestige in the Southwest now reached its peak—

Twenty years ago, the son of Tai Ping Gong returned with auspicious signs and the Mingzhu pearls, awakening the ancient Jiu Li divine weapons of gold and iron. And since Tai Ping Gong had once taken twenty-four Mingzhu pearls, their return now carried an inexplicable sense of karmic resonance.

The Southwest city lords who had planned to break the alliance were punished according to Southwest customs: their original ranks stripped, replaced by others of the same bloodline who met the era's and territory's requirements.

During this process, Master Yan Daiqing of the Southwest personally oversaw it.

To some extent, he could not be fully trusted.

But regarding the safety and reliability of these new city lords, one could rest easy.

The army was reorganized personally by Chen Wenmian and Xiao General Xiao Wuliang.

Xiao General Xiao Wuliang himself was among the top generals in the land. Even with one arm severed, his battlefield prowess could not match his peak—but his twenty years of combat experience remained invaluable.

Yet on this day, as Xiao General Xiao Wuliang reorganized the troops, he heard a loud laugh: "Hahahaha, little General Xiao Wuliang, how mighty and domineering you've become!" Now in his early thirties, Xiao General Xiao Wuliang turned to see Duan Qingyu.

Duan Qingyu held a bundle, smiling as he greeted him.

Xiao General Xiao Wuliang had been a general under the Divine Martial King since age thirteen, trained hand-in-hand by Chen Fubì. When Duan Qingyu first met Xiao General Xiao Wuliang, he was a child smaller than even Li Guanyi or Chen Wenmian now.

But now, Chen Fubì was dead. That quiet, handsome boy had become a famed general of the land—and on a brutal battlefield, lost an arm. The world had churned and changed; it was truly lamentable.

After a long while, he saw Chen Wenmian arrive—the young white-robed general, barely of age, extraordinary in valor, having carved his way through countless armies, elegant yet bold. He dismounted and bowed. Duan Qingyu clucked in wonder: "No less than his father."

On this day, Duan Qingyu drank with Xiao General Xiao Wuliang and Chen Wenmian for a long while.

After three rounds of wine, Duan Qingyu revealed his purpose: "I came here today because I suddenly remembered—years ago, that old wolf suddenly came to me, left something, and told me to give it to you…"

He lifted the bundle beside him, placed it down, and patted it.

"Should be three years ago… or four?"

"Just before Chen's last grand sacrifice, I think… Hah, that old bastard finally picked up his Wu Gong again. I never thought I'd see him again—he's aged far faster than I have."

Chen Wenmian stared at the bundle; Duan Qingyu said, "Open it and see."

Chen Wenmian thanked him, opened the bundle, and froze slightly—it contained only a long robe, a scroll, and a green bamboo staff. Nothing else.

Duan Qingyu took a sip of wine, recalling his final meeting with the old Yu Langwang, and said:

"He came to me, bought a courtyard, surrounded it with countless bamboo trees—it was a fine place. He told me he was going to face his final battle…"

Duan Qingyu closed his eyes, as if still seeing that bold man—Yu Langwang smiling: "Old thing, I'm going to avenge my brother, and incidentally, bring my son out."

Back then, Duan Qingyu had been speechless: "Li Wanli is gone. What can you stir up alone? Opposite you are Chen and Ying. What can you possibly do by yourself?"

Chen Fubì burst into loud laughter: "Being unable to do it, and choosing to do it anyway—those are two different things."

"Knowing you cannot do it—that's wisdom. Choosing not to do it when you could—that's folly."

"Knowing you cannot do it… yet still going ahead."

"That's what we are!"

"I'm going out into the world, and I doubt I'll return. But I have a son—a wonderful, wonderful boy. This time, I want to bring him out. I want him to meet the heroes of the world."

"Someone like me will probably die a bad death."

"After I'm gone, he'll come to this southwestern land. I've left these things to tell him: don't let me bind you. The world is vast—do what you wish to do."

"That kind of boy doesn't dream of wealth, power, or the Emperor's throne. For him, a pond, a bamboo grove, a courtyard here in the southwest—as a teacher—or wandering the world—that's what suits him better."

"He is my son."

"I give him a second choice."

Yu Langwang said: "These clothes, this courtyard—I bought them with money I saved from tilling the fields. Tell him that."

The mighty warrior, whose hands were caked in blood, spoke softly:

"Not a single drop of blood on them."

"This robe is clean."

"Very clean."

Chen Wenmian held the bundle, his body stiff.

Duan Qingyu closed his eyes and whispered: "He said—you can do anything you wish to do. You are yourself. Being Chen Fubì's son must not bind you. He said…"

Duan Qingyu looked at this gentle, meticulous general:

"Can you untie the tangled knots?"

Chen Wenmian remained silent for a long time.

He thought of the thousand knots his father had given him.

Duan Qingyu looked at the quiet young man, sighed, patted his shoulder, rose, and walked away—his voice ringing clear and bold as he sang freely, echoing through the southwestern mountains and rivers.

Then he went to forge the Ciketong Alliance.

Li Guanyi kept his promise, drank heartily with Duan Qingyu.

They spoke of the dream of one nation, of all the great winds and clouds of the world.

Duan Qingyu spoke of the past; Li Guanyi spoke of the future.

Duan Qingyu had never heard such a vast dream—he listened as Li Guanyi spoke of carving roads through mountains to connect the isolated southwest to the outside world, so all people might study literature and martial arts, and even those in the southwest could enjoy the goods of the northern lands.

And this was no mere daydream.

Many results had already been achieved.

Duan Qingyu became thoroughly drunk.

He drank every last drop of wine in the tavern, then laughed with awe: "Your boldness rivals your father's!"

"Even in your father's and Yu Langwang's time, we only signed treaties with Chen to halt our fighting."

"But the Chen Emperor is petty—he gave us nothing. No roads opened, no trade permitted. Our children seeking to study at the Central Plains academies were blocked, restricted at every turn."

"Where is the good you speak of?"

He lifted his final bowl of wine, drank it down, and said: "In the past—"

"When we southwest forces marched, it was only to shed blood for the Chen Emperor."

"Whoever fought for them was a fool!"

"But if, as you say, we draw our blades to fight for our own future—then surely our soldiers will give their all, even unto death?"

"Hahahaha! Come, let me test you—just as I once tested your old man!"

In his drunken state, he went into the hills to urinate, like some crude street brat, challenging him to vulgar contests.

Duan Qingyu stared, face flushed with shame and anger.

When he returned, he refused to speak of who won or lost.

He chose a day, when Li Guanyi's prestige in the southwest was at its peak and had not yet faded, to announce the signing of the alliance.

All eighty-one city lords pledged, re-signing the alliance.

The ceremony was grand, following southwestern rites: not only common folk present, but auspicious omens, descendants of witchcraft, and armies stationed outside—all steps followed southwestern tradition.

Yet when the new alliance was presented, the wording was no longer the old version—it declared themselves subjects, pledging to join the Tiance Prefecture. Li Guanyi looked at Duan Qingyu before him, who still reeked of wine, and said:

"If you were merely Tai Ping Gong's son, we would have allied with you, as we once did with Chen. But today, the ones signing this alliance are not Li Wanli's son—they are Li Guanyi."

"Allow us to address you as Lord."

"The world is vast—we wish to join you in great endeavors."

That day, the southwest joined the Tiance Prefecture. The vast world now linked the western frontier and the southwest; their qi flowed together. Though not yet swallowing ten thousand li, though many problems remained after the Ciketong Alliance, in the grand tide—

The momentum of swallowing ten thousand li had been forged.

At Li Guanyi's ear, the Nine Cauldrons atop Mount Juxu in the western frontier rang louder than ever.

Li Guanyi breathed, his qi surging vast and mighty, his heart-mind opening wide, his spirit towering with heroic spirit; the foundation of his Eighth Layer had shifted and transformed, yet he had not yet cast this great cauldron, nor had he made the nine cauldrons of the Western and Southwest regions resonate—yet with this momentum to swallow all under heaven, he had already taken a step forward.

Li Guanyi's realm reached the peak of the Eighth Layer.

And it was exceedingly complete—a peak of the Eighth Layer achieved through the qi-destiny of humanity, harmonious and effortless, now reaching the point where only one more step was needed to surely shatter this barrier and attain the level of a Ninth Layer Grand Master.

Even though he had not yet shattered this barrier, had not yet reached the Ninth Layer, with Li Guanyi's own qi growing longer and deeper, and his realm ascending, part of his injuries had already healed and were being smoothed over at an astonishing speed.

Under the bolstering of the Southwest's qi-destiny, Li Guanyi's Immortal Undying Body of the Eighth Layer peak flowed swiftly; and having witnessed the Divine Art of the Life-Extending Gu, which pursued immortality from another direction, his Immortal Undying Body subtly began to transform.

It surpassed the original limits of Zhang Ziyong's Immortal Undying Body.

It reached its extreme: the cracks within his body, once inflicted by Jiang Su, were now mending at a visibly perceptible pace, with each breath and flow of qi.

The Fifth Divine General of All Under Heaven, Li Guanyi.

After months of confrontation with Jiang Su.

His injuries—fully healed!

Returned to peak combat condition, and even taken another step forward—to greater strength.

Peak of the Eighth Layer!

Thus, once he cast the third of the Nine Cauldrons, he could attempt to break through to the Ninth Layer, reach an even stronger state; at that time, the fifth position on the Divine General List should surely change again.

Yuwen Lie!

Just as Li Guanyi intended to cast the third Nine Cauldron, the Black Tortoise Manifestation suddenly appeared, crouching on his shoulder; Li Guanyi froze, turned his head—and saw the Black Tortoise Manifestation spin around, exposing its back.

Golden characters glowed, forming the handwriting he knew well.

【Home in peril—return swiftly】!!!

Li Guanyi's qi instantly turned sharp and deadly.

Hm?!!

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