Chapter 460: Three Arrows Secure the World, the Qin King

Li Guanyi came from the bustling city centers of the eighteen southern provinces.

He walked through places people normally shopped, through narrow alleys where children played and chased each other, and in doing so, his sleeves gathered the sound of students reciting aloud, the everyday smells and smoke of the marketplace, shedding the battlefield's ruthless decisiveness, shedding the so-called grandeur of a famed general of the realm.

Those scholars and Confucians dressed in fine robes, every gesture, every intricate pattern, every detail, proclaimed their difference, proclaimed their superiority over common folk.

Then, these self-proclaimed scholar-officials watched as the sovereign, Xu Xing, walked out.

From among the common people.

A moment of silence.

Before this, how meticulously they had criticized and prepared every detail of the enfeoffment ceremony, how they had pursued every nuance, even caring deeply about every grain and pattern, every move deliberate, every reference carefully chosen.

So that not a single detail lacked tradition, not a single place lacked the solemn dignity of ancient sage-kings.

They sincerely believed that to preside over the emergence of a king in their lifetime was the ultimate honor for a civil official and scholar, that even their every gesture, every word, would be recorded in history and passed down through generations.

In a turbulent age, to be part of it and seize such an opportunity to leave their names in history, to be studied centuries hence, was nearly their lifelong longing.

Ancient sage-kings were said to have ascended as soaring dragons, their ministers clinging to the dragon's scales and thus ascending to immortality.

In the past, they thought this merely the exaggerated tales of storytellers, meant to glorify the divine legends of ancient sage-kings; now they saw it was metaphorical—meaning only that those ministers of old owed their fame to the great emperor of that era.

But all these hopes, all these longings, shattered at this moment.

The stronger their longing had been, the deeper their disappointment now.

The sovereign was not standing with them.

Qin Wang stood among the people, dressed in ordinary clothes, holding half a coarse bread roll, raising his brow, chewing slowly and calmly.

He regarded this era with level gaze—the envoys from the various states, the ministers and generals—his spirit relaxed and unhurried, unaware that the Nine Tripods seemed to have shifted slightly because of it.

The ritual officials from Chen, Ying, and Zhongzhou were all awed into silence; perhaps such a thing was too absurd, never seen before, leaving them utterly uncertain how to judge it.

Not to mention others—Nan Hanwen, upon seeing this aura, felt a jolt in his chest; he had a faint sense that his plan to corrupt Qin Wang might not come to fruition.

The silver-haired girl thought for a moment, then stood quietly behind.

Watching Li Guanyi finish the peasant's staple food, then step forward one by one, during which time the ritual officials had hurriedly prepared the raised platform with craftsmen from Ying and Chen.

On both sides, the Fire Qilin soldiers bowed their heads, standing respectfully and solemnly, calling out: "My Lord!"

Qin Wang ascended the platform slowly.

At this moment, no words were needed, no splendid robes.

His clothes still bore traces of dirt; his brow calm. Wen Lingjun, Wen He, Yan Daiqing—all saw his appearance, and before they could speak, an elder ritual official from Zhongzhou stepped forward, his face stern, bowing: "My Lord!"

Nan Hanwen stared in shock, glancing at the old Confucian.

The old man's eyes lifted, as if brimming with righteous qi, utterly unshaken by Qin Wang's aura, and declared loudly:

"Today's auspicious hour was meant to proclaim to Heaven and Earth and all the people the enfeoffment of a king—there must be proper rites, following ancestral laws, every gesture, every movement, must accord with Heaven above and Earth below, align with the people's hearts, respond to the seasons."

"Even the sage-kings of old did so, never daring to act capriciously or self-willed; only through constant self-restraint did they achieve great deeds, earning the people's allegiance and the title of sage-king passed down through ages."

"Yet Your Majesty, though your achievements are illustrious, now act recklessly and wantonly!"

"Above, you do not accord with Heaven; below, you do not align with Earth."

"You wear no python robe, no imperial dragon robe, no jade belt at your waist, no jade pendants or precious gems—yet you bear dust and dirt, acting so arbitrarily—who could call this the conduct of a sovereign?"

"Your Majesty ought to be the model for all under Heaven—superiors act, inferiors follow."

"How could you defy ancestral rules, disrespect the teachings of the sage-kings?!"

The elder ritual official spoke with bitter indignation; in his world, this was utter disrespect, the collapse of ritual and order. All eyes turned to him—many civil officials and scholars, even some Fire Qilin soldiers—but the scholars subtly resisted.

The Fire Qilin soldiers and strategists, though puzzled, felt no resistance at all—only stillness. Li Guanyi spoke softly: "Ancestral rules?"

"Whose ancestors?"

One sentence, like a sharp blade, pierced the hearts of the ritual officials and scholars, cleaving open a crack—the Qin King before their eyes, though he had achieved such feats, worthy of kingship, was not born of royal or noble lineage.

Tai Ping Gong, too, rose through battlefield merit.

He was not of the bloodline established at the founding of the Chi Empire.

Whose ancestors?!

Qin Wang's gaze was cold and level; it swept over the faces of the ritual officials, then settled on the other Fire Qilin soldiers. Today, he would quell this unrest, establish this resolve.

What he opposed was not a physical thing.

The elder Confucian's face stiffened, flushed crimson; he stepped forward and shouted: "It is the ritual of Heaven and Earth's operation! It is the law followed by past wise kings and emperors! Every rite, every law, restrains the human heart—this is the very foundation of the realm's order!"

Li Guanyi knew such elders had their own way of thinking and perceiving the world; he did not argue further, only replied calmly:

"This is Tiance Prefecture."

"What I revere is the true Dao."

The elder Confucian's face turned ashen: "You!!!"

A metallic ring rang out—before the words finished, every Fire Qilin soldier's hand gripped his saber hilt, stepping forward in unison, drawing their ceremonial blades in an instant—the lethal aura of the realm's elite army surged.

Even if inner agitation lingered.

But Qin Wang was here—so was the army's heart.

Li Guanyi raised his hand, and the Fire Qilin soldiers sheathed their weapons. He spoke gently: "Old Master, you have labored greatly these days for this ceremony. Attendants—bring him a seat."

Someone brought a chair, and the old man sat down.

Li Guanyi stepped forward, turned, his ink-black sleeves swirling, his black hair lifting slightly—the path ahead had been blocked by preparations for the enfeoffment ceremony, yet he ordered it cleared, allowing the common people to come forward and watch.

The enfeoffment ceremony, like a sovereign's sacrifice to Heaven and Earth, involved reporting achievements to Heaven and Earth, inscribing texts, the sovereign kneeling before Heaven and Earth to complete the rite—extremely elaborate and solemn.

But Qin Wang turned, and the ritual officials preparing the Heaven-and-Earth sacrifice were awed into stillness, not daring to make any rash move. Qin Wang looked at the gathering crowd, at the Fire Qilin soldiers on either side of the platform, and said calmly:

"If we are to sacrifice to Heaven, Earth, and all things, let it be done my way."

He looked at the sacrificial offerings—the livestock, the ritual items.

He did not reach for them.

Only extended his hand—and golden ripples spread across his palm; the Break-Cloud Heavenly Bow slowly appeared in Li Guanyi's grasp, his five fingers closing around it, the divine bow humming faintly, like a tiger's roar.

Xue Shen, who had been watching the spectacle, paused slightly—he felt the divine bow was subtly undergoing transformation.

Li Guanyi, hair streaming in the wind, said: "Three incense sticks—to sacrifice to Heaven, Earth, and the myriad gods."

"Today, I too have my three incense sticks."

He raised his hand, fingers closing—each soldier of the Fire Qilin Army released an arrow from their palm; the arrows flew to him, and as one settled upon his warbow, the ancient weapon, which had ridden countless battlefields across the land, let out a howl.

This bow had slain the Turkic Great Khan, pierced countless enemies, and towered over innumerable battlefields—and now, in this instant, the bowstring's low hum scattered threads of grim, deadly energy.

The Fire Qilin Army had just left the battlefield!

All here were peerless elites.

As the divine weapon drew taut, threads of bloodlust—the fierce, grim, battle-hardened aura—spread outward; over these past days, the Fire Qilin soldiers, whose breaths had gradually calmed, now froze mid-breath.

Then, their energies instinctively linked.

Nan Hanwen's pupils contracted.

He turned stiffly, his gaze slowly falling upon a Fire Qilin officer who had just been chatting with them—once, this officer had been courteous, gentle as an old farmer, discontent with the world.

He believed Qin Wang, with such great achievements and such towering renown, ought not to be inferior to Chen Huang or Ying Di.

He believed Qin Wang deserved palaces, beauties, music, and dance.

Such officers, born common, forged their merits blade by blade, were straightforward by nature, easily swayed—and there were many like him in the Fire Qilin Army and Tiance Prefecture.

But now, the moment Qin Wang drew his bowstring—

All the subtle influences, all the schemes and machinations of these past days—

Shattered—entirely!

The boundless, grim aura of the battlefield returned to their bodies.

Their frames tensed.

They instinctively gripped the ceremonial knives at their waists—as if these were weapons meant for mortal combat; they instinctively straightened their spines—as if clad in armor; their eyes blazed, fixed solely upon that single figure.

Their breaths, perfectly synchronized.

In an instant, their exhalation ceased—held for several breaths—then slowly released.

Huh—

Inhale.

Their synchronized breathing sounded like the ringing of swords—grim, uniform.

Nan Hanwen and the others stood rigid, trembling uncontrollably.

As if, in this instant, a slumbering, colossal divine beast had awakened within these simple, honest, easily influenced Fire Qilin soldiers—gnashing teeth, sucking blood, cold and deadly, gazing down upon the world.

Qin Wang suddenly asked: "Who are you?"

The Fire Qilin soldiers answered: "Tiance Prefecture!"

Qin Wu Hou asked: "Who are you?"

The Fire Qilin soldiers stepped forward, responding in deep voices: "Fire Qilin Army!"

Li Guanyi whispered: "Wrong."

"We are still that wandering band beyond Beicheng!"

His powerful Yuan Shen spread out—the Fire Qilin soldiers froze; memories of their long march from beyond Beicheng to here, of the soldiers who had joined along the way, surged back—and Li Guanyi, smiling as he had then, whispered:

"Back then, I told you: I would lead you home."

"We have homes—but the four corners are not yet pacified. Should we become the ones who leave others homeless? Today, I still have three regrets unfulfilled. I sacrifice these three regrets to Heaven and Earth, so Heaven and Earth know our original vows."

"Today, I sacrifice to Heaven, Earth, and the state—comrades, march with me!"

He drew his bow, the arrow pointing toward the highest peak beyond the Eighteen Provinces of the South; the mountain stood elegant, sheer cliffs rising—Li Guanyi's arrow shot through the air, a beam of light, tearing across a hundred li.

The sea of clouds scattered; the arrow slammed deep into the rock, and the winter clouds split open, surging outward on either side.

Li Guanyi's voice carried: "Sacrifice to Heaven."

"I have not yet—"

"Pacified the world!"

The first words—grand, majestic, opening with overwhelming might.

Nan Hanwen's scalp prickled.

The Fire Qilin soldiers raised their weapons in unison, shouting: "Wind!"

Their ideals were reforged.

Li Guanyi took up the second arrow, its form like a dragon, following closely and driving into the rock; a low, grim sound, like thunder rolling across Heaven and Earth, carried Li Guanyi's voice—deep and slow, resonating through the world at the realm of a Zhongtianda Sect Grandmaster.

"Second regret: sacrifice to Earth. I have not yet—nourished the people."

The Fire Qilin soldiers' eyes gleamed; they stepped half a pace forward, shouting:

"Wind!"

Li Guanyi drew the third arrow, nocking it to the bowstring; he gazed at Heaven and Earth—now utterly grim and vast—and released the arrow; the final arrow, like light, hammered into the rock.

His heart remained as it had been in that youthful boy.

The ruler's heart is iron; my heart is iron.

To the people of the world, emperors and generals are enough.

Our dream—

Is greater than that.

He whispered: "Third: sacrifice to man."

"I have not yet—opened peace!"

Nan Hanwen's body stiffened; he closed his eyes in near-painful resignation—pacify the world, nourish the people, open peace—such grandeur struck his heart again and again.

Like a nightmare clinging to this body.

The soldiers of the Fire Qilin Army raised their weapons high and responded in unison: "Great Wind!!!"

Three arrows drawn, offered to Heaven, to Earth, to Man—their grandeur far surpassed any mere ritual. The Qin Wang held the divine bow, gazing at the arrow driven deep into the mountain rock: Ninefold Heaven Grandmaster, the Divine Weapon, Shatter-Cloud Thunderbow.

Before the Fire Qilin Army showed any sign of unrest, he dispelled it with three arrows.

This coronation ceremony imprinted upon the Fire Qilin Army the vows: "To Secure the World," "To Protect the People," "To Seek Peace"—these three arrows pierced not only the mountain rock, but also the very heart of the Fire Qilin Army.

The Qin Wang held the bow and arrow; Nan Hanwen and the others could see only the King's back.

Beneath the jade hairpin, his black hair stirred slightly.

From this moment on, even if he himself were gone.

The Fire Qilin Army, bound by the oath of these three arrows, haunted by their unfulfilled weight.

Still able to guard peace, still able to protect the people.

To claim the world, one must become fire, and burn away oneself.

The Qin Wang's sleeves billowed, his spirit vast and heroic. The elder of the Ministry of Rites stood frozen, his old world and its rules utterly shattered beneath these three arrows. His lips trembled as he spoke:

"You—you mean to do what?"

"Ritual and law restrain the heart—that is the foundation of this world! Are you going to destroy it all?"

The Qin Wang turned his head, looking at the old man, and answered:

"What is rotten must rot. In heaven and earth, what can last forever unbroken?"

"Today's new, tomorrow's old."

"Only change is unchanging."

"My ancestral master once said: All things, all methods—only change endures."

The great Confucian refused to yield:

"But ritual and propriety are precisely the foundation that holds this world together!"

Li Guanyi said: "Neither you nor I can speak for something as vast as the world. But if the old man is right—that ritual and law, which restrain hearts and establish hierarchy, order, and distinction between high and low—are the foundation of this world—"

The Qin Wang said: "Then let this world—"

"Die."

A plain sentence.

Thunder rolled. The elder of the Ministry of Rites, the world's venerable Confucian scholar, turned pale with shock and terror. Nan Hanwen's expression grew dazed—he no longer knew where he was. But in that instant, beneath the Qin Wang's nature, beneath those deeds, a corner of his true self finally revealed itself.

The invincible enemy. The impossible feat. The unreachable dream.

How could the scholars and literati of the world, seeing this vast, noble dream, fail to fly toward it like moths to flame?

The way of a true man.

Must every act be undertaken only when success is certain?

Li Guanyi reached out—not for the jade seal, but for the wine cup beside him. He envisioned the Nine Cauldrons of Jiuzhou, and suddenly, the cauldrons of Jiangnan, the southwest, and the western lands all began to ring and howl.

Wen Lingjun and Yan Daiqing exchanged glances.

In each other's eyes, they saw the same quiet, natural pride.

The Nine Sons of the Academy, the Four-Directional Warlords, Yan Daiqing, Pojun—all were proud men of their age, each with different dispositions. Without that one man, these heroes of the age would surely have drawn swords against one another.

But now, it was different.

Beneath the Fire Qilin, beasts followed in awe—

Before this, Li Guanyi had already sent falcon-messages to all corners of the land. Thus, beginning at the farthest western city, riders on swift steeds wiped frost and snow from their faces, listening to the mournful, solemn sound of the cauldrons.

From their saddlebags, they took out an object.

A crimson, flame-like presence unfurled across the vast grassland. With solemn reverence, they planted the crimson Fire Qilin battle flag into the city.

And so it was everywhere.

From the icy, boundless grasslands of the west, to the green bamboo forests of the southwest; from Zhenxi Xiongcheng in the west, to the watery villages of Jiangnan—on every city, crimson Fire Qilin cloud-patterned battle flags rose.

A great wind came gently, flaring the banners fiercely.

One-third of the world blazed like fire.

How to celebrate the birth of a new King?

Low, solemn war drums thundered into the heavens.

A million armored soldiers raised their weapons, marching in unison, stepping forward in rhythm, gripping their arms, chanting the same tune in different tongues, swinging their halberds in slow, steady advance.

The war drums boomed, stretching across the land, vast and magnificent, immense in spirit.

Faintly, it seemed as if every city, every corner of the Qin Wang's domain, could hear the drums—simple melodies merging into one, like a blade unsheathed, a fire consuming the sky, shattering the old order, breaking the chains of the past world.

Westerners, Tuyuhun, Xiongnu, Tiele, the thirty-six tribes of the west, even the Tian Kehan of the Tiele, the Wang Zu of the Tangxi, the central plains' noble clans, fugitives from Chen, the Xuanjia of Ying—all spoke in their own tongues, and as the drums reached their peak, they spoke together.

They did not march in perfect unison, but raised and swung their halberds.

Swords and knives whirled.

Even the common folk within the cities could chant the simple, catchy song.

And so they sang—

"Received the mandate, left the palace halls, generals and ministers punish the rebellious."

"All sing 'The Victory March,' sharing peace as one people!"

The spirit was mighty, shaking heaven and earth, echoing far and wide, shaking all quarters. In the eighteen prefectures of Jiangnan, the Qin Wang held his sword, his hair falling, hands clasped. The Nine Li divine weapon, forged of metal, had transformed into a heavy broadsword. Its blade sank down, resting upon the ground.

Dark ink-colored blade, faintly marked with dark-gold patterns.

A million mighty soldiers, the vast world—he turned his head, looking at the ministers and generals.

Not a single one could meet the Qin Wang's gaze.

Nan Hanwen could no longer raise his head to look directly. The Qin Wang pressed one hand upon the broadsword's hilt, lifted the other, holding the bowl of wine, gazing at them, at the people, at his comrades, and raised his murky wine.

He whispered: "All sing 'The Victory March,' sharing peace as one people!"

"Ladies and gentlemen, drink together."

Three arrows fix this heart; the Qin King breaks the formation.

Thus it is: the white steed passes the crevice; Qin Wu swings his spear, and Xue Shen watches, stunned into silence, then remains quiet for a long while before saying to the old Master Siming: "Are you certain that only four or five years have passed since I taught him the spear technique?"

"Is this reasonable?"

"This is not reasonable!"

The old Master Siming: "…………"

Xue Shen sighed: "I even want to fight right now, then sleep until a thousand years from now, to see how posterity records him—but in such a situation, only by witnessing it with my own eyes can I feel true exhilaration!"

Some say: The Qin King is unjust, abandoning all rites.

Others say: The Fire Qilin looks down with disdain; the sovereign's might is like a prison.

The world's praise or blame clings to this body; Li Guanyi's hand rests on the broadsword's hilt. He knows that as the path moves forward, obstacles grow ever greater—yet he holds fast to his original heart, unmoved. The Gold Guard faces only one corner of the world's order.

And now, he is the Qin King.

Then, he faces the entire old order of the world.

He merely raises his cup in salute, to the mountains and rivers of this realm.

Then he tilts his head and drinks.

Within the Nine Tripods, finally, a power distinct from imperial majesty begins to form—this time, it is not the Nine Tripods guiding Li Guanyi, but the young Qin King who reverses the flow, guiding the human destiny, the spirit of the state.

Heavy, flowing light.

Roaring upward!

?? Please vote for monthly tickets, friends~

? Also, help a friend promote a book: My Girlfriend Died in the Past

? "You say you have a girlfriend?"

? "Yes."

? "She's beautiful, has a great figure, perfect temperament, and her family is very wealthy—she doesn't even require you to own a car or house, or pay a bride price?"

? "That's right."

? "Moreover, she does your laundry, cooks for you, and even boils water for your foot bath?"

? "Exactly. I don't even know what good fortune I've earned over countless lifetimes..."

? "Then you're truly lucky—I'm almost envious of you."

? The doctor, writing in the medical record, turns and instructs the nurse:

? "Her condition has worsened again; remember to increase the dosage."