Chapter 532: The Fire Qilin Roars at the Mountain's Peak, the Azure Dragon Roams the Four Seas

The Nine Provinces Cauldrons are forged by gathering the Mandate of Heaven; they are the great sacred vessels of the realm.

The Qin Wang has already obtained one cauldron in Jiangnan—the Primeval Taigu Chilong; one in the Western Regions—the Nine-Colored Divine Deer; one in the Southwest—the Iron-Eating Beast; and half a cauldron from the grasslands. Though they were forged into cauldrons, the territories held by the Seven Kings at that time, and the hearts of their people, were not yet sufficient to truly forge a complete cauldron.

It was only with great difficulty, after a cordial and friendly exchange between the Primeval Taigu Chilong and the Grassland Divine Eagle—two auspicious beasts meeting auspicious beasts—that the Grassland Divine Eagle willingly agreed to cooperate and complete the forging.

It possessed no special ability.

It could only use this metal and the auspicious divine beasts to anchor the Mandate of the territory.

Now that he holds the entirety of Chen State's lands and has gained half the territory of the grassland Tujue, when he forges the cauldron again, he should be able to forge the Mandate of more than two cauldrons. At that time, if the world's Mandate were divided into nine parts, Li Guanyi would hold more than five-ninths, but not quite six-ninths.

The position of nine-and-five, corresponding to one nation among the realm.

The decisive battle will be in a matter of days.

The pacification of Chen, the destruction of the Tujue, the execution of the Chen Huang—through this series of deeds, the Mandate surged and converged upon one person. The Mandate within the Nine Provinces Cauldrons had long since brimmed over, surging and trembling, vast as the mountains and rivers beneath the heavens.

A martial arts Grandmaster must begin to walk his own path, tempering his Yuanshen and body.

Only by truly forging a path never before walked can one break through the barrier, surpass one's own limits, and attain the realm of martial legend.

What Li Guanyi walks is the path of unifying the Nine Provinces, one nation across the four seas.

He himself walks his own path, and has endured many fierce battles; he is now only half a step away from the realm of martial legend. Yet the hardest thing in the world is that final step after the ninety-nine.

Even with Li Guanyi's surging momentum, if he wishes to attain sudden enlightenment and take that step, it is exceedingly difficult. At this stage, it is no longer something that can be broken through by bitter cultivation alone—only by that 【single thread of opportunity】.

If the opportunity comes, if the chance appears, perhaps within a single breath he could break through.

If the opportunity does not come, perhaps he might sit in stillness for a full sixty-year cycle without the slightest progress.

Li Guanyi's current state is like that of Murong Longtu when he sat in closed-door seclusion for over a decade in the Murong household, or like the Wolf Wang Chen Fubi who galloped through the chaotic age yet never took that final decisive step, or like the Great Khan of the Tujue.

Murong Longtu and the Yu Langwang took that step, and thus attained legend.

The Great Khan never took that step; he died still half a step short.

When Li Guanyi became a Grandmaster, he no longer relied upon the Nine Cauldrons.

When he took the title of King, it instead refined the Nine Provinces Cauldrons in turn, granting them new possibilities. The barrier of martial legend is hard to find—perhaps at the moment of forging the Nine Cauldrons, a sudden resonance, with the Mandate surging, could become that thread of opportunity for him.

Through this opportunity, break the barrier, and attain martial legend.

The current foundation of the State of Ying surpasses that of Tiance Prefecture.

Only if Li Guanyi, this commander-in-chief, breaks through his own Wu Gong once more and attains martial legend can the two sides truly stand on the same level to slaughter each other, to fight for a vast and mighty realm.

The forging of the Nine Cauldrons is never accomplished in a single stroke.

It always requires considerable time.

One must gather the metal of Chen State, and the metal of the various grassland tribes.

Fortunately, although His Majesty the Qin Wang ranks among the poorer sovereigns, he has plenty of brothers beneath him. These tasks are not particularly difficult to carry out—though they are ultimately time-consuming matters.

Matters on the grasslands were entrusted to the former heir of the Tangut State, Hao Yuan Xia, and the Seventh King Ashina.

As for Chen State, Li Guanyi went to handle it personally.

For this purpose, the Qin Wang issued a decree summoning the veteran of Tiance Prefecture's Fire Qilin Army, the former General of the Scout Army, Nangong Wumeng. This act left the originally smug Xuan Gui Dharma Aspect, who had been planning to show off its abilities, falling silent.

The Xuan Gui Dharma Aspect widened its pea-sized eyes.

It watched Nangong Wumeng dawdle over. The latter carried Wu Gong of the Sixth Heaven, looked just as in years past, and behind him his super-complex wealth-attracting Dharma Aspect had, on top of the original few, somehow acquired a golden dragon and an extra golden leopard.

Blazing with golden light.

The Xuan Gui Dharma Aspect's eyes were nearly blinded by the glare.

Sitting there, its broken little front paw propped beneath its chin, it was just short of having a cup of wine.

It let out a sigh.

A turtle's life.

Truly melancholy!

If it had already reached the level of the old Master Siming's Xuan Gui Dharma Aspect, it would long since have spoken up, long since have grabbed Li Guanyi's sleeve and shouted loudly.

"Gui Gui, where did you find such a living ancestor?"

"What use is this Xuan Gui anymore?!"

"What use is there!"

"Just stew me into soup and be done with it."

But at present it could only grow ever more melancholy, especially seeing that the former General of the Scout Army had a silver-haired girl tucked under his arm, skilled in the art of divination and deduction—the Xuan Gui sighed all the more.

What is more melancholy for Gui Gui than one living ancestor?

Correct.

Two living ancestors!

"Mm, I figured Yaoguang hadn't seen you in a long time, so I brought her along. It's absolutely not because I'd be a little cowardly coming here on my own—absolutely not."

Nangong Wumeng's reasoning was crooked, but his tone was bold.

He added: "Besides, I originally thought it would be rather difficult."

"But that Senior Zhen Kui didn't intervene at all."

"Really strange."

The silver-haired girl had already spread her arms and thrown herself at Li Guanyi, her forehead plopping down into his chest, drawing from him the energy she had lacked for so long. Li Guanyi reached out and stroked the silver-haired girl's hair, smiling:

"In that case, you've come at just the right time."

Nangong Wumeng wondered what the Qin Wang meant by that "come at just the right time."

As he thought about it, his cheeks flushed slightly red.

But a moment later, his face was set in a gnashing-teeth expression, muttering things like "I knew it," and he went off with a certain Mr. Li to the Chen imperial clan's secret vault—which, naturally, had already been cleaned out by His Highness the Qin Wang and Mr. Wen Qingyu together.

"Although we've already cleaned it out once, based on my understanding of the Chen Huang, there is a hundred-percent chance there's a hidden chamber inside. What's placed out in the open can only count as good stuff in the eyes of ordinary people."

"The truly fine treasures, the things suitable for forging the cauldron."

"It must be hidden inside."

The Prince of Qin was puffed up with pride.

Carrying the sly cunning of common folk who make their living in the marketplace and the mortal world.

Nangong Wumeng let out a sigh; he no longer had the heart to feel vexed.

"You're so obsessed with hiding money — for a hegemon's status, I even feel a bit sorry for you."

The Prince of Qin's five fingers descended from above and pressed onto General Nangong's skull, his smile dangerous: "What did you say? This King gives you three breaths to take back everything you just said."

Nangong Wumeng curled his lip: "You're not poor?"

The Qin Wang was utterly self-righteous: "I'm poor, but I won't allow others to say I'm poor!"

"No matter what kind of man, he still needs his little lies."

"Speaking the truth would be a bit impolite."

Nangong Wumeng laughed until he was bent over backward.

Helpless as it was, in truth he didn't find it troublesome at all — on the contrary, he was quite happy to scour through these fine things that the Chen Kingdom's Emperor had hidden in the royal clan's secret chamber together with Li Guanyi and Yaoguang.

They found many things, including but not limited to: love poems one emperor had written to his daughter-in-law; a collection of undergarments gathered by some unknown fellow; IOUs from debts run up in his youth.

A bloodstained corner of a chessboard, and a test paper hidden away, marked 【copy ten times】.

Those rigid, formulaic monarchs from the annals of history suddenly came alive.

Some good, some bad.

Not just a stiff, wooden portrait.

Li Guanyi held an ancient coin — this ancient coin was carved from jade, and having been stored for so long, part of it had already been tinted by seepage; it bore the four seal-script characters "Great Peace Under Heaven," and this jade coin had quite a bit of collector's value.

Li Guanyi also found many jade artifacts stored together with this ancient coin.

"Fine stuff indeed."

The Qin Wang's fortune was ordinary, but his eye was sharp and discerning.

Nangong Wumeng asked: "Looks like it could fetch quite a bit of money — what about it, shall we have Duan Qingyu sell it off?"

Li Guanyi liked these jade artifacts, and the inscriptions on them; he toyed with a tinted jade bi-disc and said with a smile: "These things, I won't sell."

Nangong Wumeng said: "Not selling — you mean to keep them?"

"Mm, planning to give them to someone."

Nangong Wumeng paused, pretended to be curious, his expression unchanged, as if it had nothing to do with him, and asked: "Who are you planning to give them to?"

Li Guanyi twirled the jade bi-disc and said with a smile: "Naturally, to my well-behaved little daughter."

"These years fighting out there, apart from the longevity lock I gave her when she was born at the full moon, I haven't given her anything — though I've collected quite a bit of New Year's money…"

Li Guanyi wore a smile.

Over these years, that little Princess's New Year's money would still be sent to the Qin Wang here.

Each time, it came with a letter.

Starting from the very beginning — nothing but the chubby little palm-print of a baby — to later on, some rather unsystematic characters, Li Guanyi came to understand the joy of raising a child from afar; only this little girl was so adorable, yet Emperor Ji Zichang seemed utterly exhausted.

This fellow was already forty, and what he thought about every day was getting peace and stability as soon as possible.

Then toss the child to the Qin Wang to look after, while he himself took his wife on travels to the four corners of the world.

Shifting the blame and shifting the child — solved in one go.

You took the New Year's money, and you're looking after the child too!

The Qin Wang expressed disdain.

As long as the money is given, what's looking after a baby?

If the money's right, looking after nine would be fine.

Emperor Ji Zichang wrote back, laughing and cursing: "You go ahead and have one, then."

The Qin Wang, however, replied: At the critical moment of the world, when the heroes of the four corners and all the common folk of the realm depend upon this body's weapons — when the people are in deep suffering — how could I sheathe my blade and sink into the land of tender softness?

A true man, while the world is not yet settled and his blood has not yet cooled — how could he turn back?

The world has not yet found peace, yet I alone would enjoy a private peace.

I am the thief of peace!

If the world finds peace, I shall throw myself to die upon the battlefield.

The merit of that peace will not be mine.

Yet it must include me.

Emperor Ji Zichang was lost in melancholy for a long while, then sighed deeply: "Without a lord such as this, how could peace be won? Without such breadth of spirit, how could the realm be settled?"

"Since ancient times until now, there have been many who were bold and valiant in youth, but upon growing older forgot their great vows and grew greedy for comfort."

"Therefore, Qin Wang Your Majesty."

"You took my child's New Year's money — when do you plan to pay it back?"

The Qin Wang is out of contact.

Don't talk about money, and we can still be friends.

Relying on the help of that adopted daughter's New Year's money.

With such an unexpected windfall, he planned to borrow flowers to offer to Buddha — to give the treasures collected by the Chen Kingdom's royal house to the little girl; he put away these jade artifacts, but in the deeper hidden places of the secret chamber also found many ancient swords, tiger tallies, and on the table a small cauldron and metal seal.

This would be just right for forging a cauldron.

As for the divine beast, one could borrow the majesty of the Fire Qilin.

And the things hidden by those tribes on the grasslands also failed to escape Ashina's eyes — they were all picked out one by one; ever since the Great Khan had died on the battlefield, the entire Ashina had changed.

Before that, his mother had already passed away, and in his eyes there was still a father.

Now his father too had died in this age of chaos.

Before him lay life and death.

Many khans fell in battle; even his father, a hero of unmatched might who swallowed the steppe, was gone. The lives and future of the remaining Turks, his kin, those simple people who only grazed their herds in peace on the steppe—now rested solely on his shoulders.

A person's heart realm does not grow with the passage of time or years.

It matures in an instant, after a single event.

Making your own choice is merely becoming an adult; making your choice and bearing full responsibility for all its consequences—even when you fully understand the outcome and still feel no regret—that is true maturity.

The final lance of the Great Khan pierced through Ashi's armor, thrusting it outward.

Yet it also seemed to pierce into his heart.

That proud, once vibrant and full of vigor, Seventh Khan Ashi became at once the khagan of all remaining Turks—his shoulders broad enough to bear fate and lineage. Thus, the noble families still hiding malice and resentment became his targets to purge.

Some nobles beneath the khagan, unwilling to submit, plotted rebellion, intending to rally the newly stabilized Turkic people and storm the Tiance Prefecture. But Seventh Khan Ashi uncovered their plot, bound them, forced them to kneel, yet they still resisted, cursing:

"You are also the son and bloodline of the Great Khan!"

"You too carry the blood of Eternal Heaven!"

"How can you willingly submit to a man of the Central Plains?!"

Seventh Khan Ashi said: "If I had met an ordinary man ruling the Central Plains with tyranny, I would have refused, raised arms, and joined the struggle for dominion over all under heaven."

The khagan noble said: "Then why not the Qin Wang?!"

Seventh Khan Ashi fell silent for a long while, recalling the decade-long span—neither short nor endlessly long—of their mutual acquaintance and rivalry, then sighed deeply:

"Had I met Your Majesty, I would have gone ahead as your vanguard, holding your horse's reins and steadying your stirrup, together pursuing the dream of a unified realm."

"To see the mountains and rivers united, peace across all under heaven—I would die without regret."

"You rebels, how dare you sow discord between us and Your Majesty?!"

The khagan struggled, but the ropes binding him were specially made years ago to hold Master Wen Qingyu; the harder he struggled, the tighter they cinched, sinking into flesh, muscle, and bone, searing with pain. He could only roar:

"We are both khagans!"

"How can we submit to another?!"

Seventh Khan Ashi thundered: "Your Majesty is the Tian Kehan!"

"Who are you, to dare speak so boldly, to compare yourself with Your Majesty?!"

"If you speak another word, Ashi knows you—but Ashi's blade does not!"

The Turkic nobles and khans turned pale, fell silent for a long while, and could offer no rebuttal.

The Turkic people of the steppe and the peoples of the Western Regions recognized Khan Ashi, but they also recognized the Tian Kehan, Qin Wang Li Guanyi. With this bond, and because life under the Qin Wang's rule had become better than under any of the former khans,

the Qin Wang did not lash out at the people with whips as some past khans had, nor did he label the poor as "savages," nor treat common lives as mere ropes—where knights and warriors could kill them without consequence.

The rebellious spirit diminished greatly.

With the four directions stabilized and the Prince of Qin casting the Ding, Chen Wenmian, after long quiet contemplation, went to the Xue family. He had now fought countless battles on the battlefield, bold and magnificent, having emerged from the tide of ten thousand troops without a single trace of fear or retreat.

Yet as he stood before the Xue family in Yicheng, holding sweets a child would love, he fell silent, unsure of what to do.

He had lost his initial boldness.

Finally he entered the Xue home. Xue Daoyong sighed, pitying this unfortunate divine general, his demeanor gentle: "You and Guanyi are like brothers. If so, you are also half my junior."

"Come in."

As Chen Wenmian walked with Xue Daoyong through the Xue family's corridor toward the Tingfeng Pavilion, they passed a curved gallery. On both sides hung large sheets of white paper, each inscribed with ink characters that fluttered in the wind.

This scene felt as if he had seen it in a dream.

As the wind blew, the white sheets, covered in bold black characters, swayed. Chen Wenmian stopped. Suddenly he heard laughter, and a child's voice. He saw a giant chasing a child: "Young Master, slow down, slow down!"

"Come catch me! Come on!"

A small child dashed past the gallery, gleefully dodging Zhao Da Bing. But as he turned, his youth betrayed him—though he possessed excellent Wu Gong, his foundation was still shallow. He could not avoid it, and crashed straight into Chen Wenmian's leg.

"Ah!"

The child cried out, recoiling from Chen Wenmian's deep internal Qi.

He fell backward.

Zhao Da Bing arrived just in time, lunging forward and catching the child in his arms: "Young Master, are you alright?"

The child sat there, dazed, yet said:

"I'm fine, I'm fine!"

He looked up and saw Chen Wenmian, who had halted.

His eyes sparkled: "Ah, you're so tall."

Chen Wenmian looked at the small child, who stared back at the young man in white robes with gentle aura. Xue Daoyong's expression was complex; he sighed: "Tianyi, this guest—call him 'big brother.'"

Chen Tianyi, having forgotten his past, smiled brightly: "Big brother."

He opened his arms.

"Hug me!"

Chen Wenmian fell silent for a long while. He looked at his bloodstained hands, then reached out, embracing this brother he did not know how to face—carefully, cautiously, complexly.

He had been used as a pawn by his grandfather, rejected by his mother, followed his biological father, then turned against the father he had served for over a decade. Now he encountered something akin to kinship—a complicated presence.

He suddenly understood, just a little more.

Why Chen Dingye had chosen to stop him, refusing to let him strike.

All these emotions tangled like a thousand knots.

Impossible to explain, impossible to untangle.

Chen Wenmian finally whispered:

"... Mm."

………………

The Turks submitted, the Chen state was pacified, and the Ding was cast—to fix the fate-qi. It could not let Li Guanyi shatter the legend of Wu Dao, but it could serve as that single thread of qi, seeking a moment of breakthrough.

Among the top ten divine generals of the realm, Qin and Ying were nearly equal.

Yet among the top thirty divine generals, Qin Wang's forces held far greater advantage than those of Ying State.

His aura was fierce and valiant, already bearing the resolve to swallow all four directions; yet the heroes of the realm were not confined to one state or region—in the annals of history, reading thousands of volumes revealed the people's suffering, the realm's fragmentation, and heroes slaying heroes across the four seas.

This occurred just before the Central Plains launched their final campaign against the Tujue.

When Jiang Su marched out, Jiang Wanxiang saw him off, his voice calm, saying: "My life, up to this point, has been like a grand play—plays must end, and they have their final climax; but before that, there must be a warm-up."

"Chen Dingye may be doomed—I, too, must now undertake this final battle."

Jiang Su led his troops away.

This was for the great righteousness of the realm.

Yet those like them, who uphold the realm's great righteousness and are willing to sacrifice vast strategic advantages to repel foreign aggression, never turning back even in death, also possess their own vision and choices—just as Qin Wang, when breaking the Tujue, was also preparing to overthrow the Chen Huang.

Jiang Wanxiang had his own preparations and purposes.

He had his own choices.

He saw, with his own eyes, that vast and distant realm.

He had grown far too old.

Especially since three years ago, he had resolved to prolong his life while channeling the fate and fortune of Ying State onto the Divine General Jiang Su, granting the already invincible Divine General Jiang Su an even stronger future.

But stripping away fate and national fortune was a tremendous drain on a monarch—especially for Jiang Wanxiang, who was already so aged, so… close to death.

In his prime, he could have borne such a drain, but he would not have had the mindset or choice; now in old age, though he possessed such resolve, the physical discomfort and backlash from his decaying flesh and blood would further erode his already dwindling lifespan.

A sovereign's life is as thin as paper.

Jiang Wanxiang was a man who never yielded in his entire life.

He was a hero of the realm, a monarch who rose from a lowly branch of the imperial clan to conquer the world.

With his vision, he had already seen the realm—he saw the possibility of its unification, knew that regardless of his own victory or defeat, the day of one realm, four seas at peace, was drawing near.

The dream he had sought his whole life lay just ahead!

Yet his vitality grew weaker, ever fainter—he would inevitably miss this grand battle; how could he bear it? How could he let go?

How could this be?!

How could he close his eyes and leave this world?!

"If I depart from such a realm without a fight, would it not be a regret?"

When he spoke these words to Jiang Su, Jiang Su fell silent and replied: "Had you not transferred the national fortune onto me, Your Majesty's destiny would not have sunk to this state."

Jiang Wanxiang laughed aloud: "From a lowly imperial clansman to where I stand today, I have never believed in the words 'what if.'"

"The tide of the realm admits no 'what if.'"

"One must rely on oneself."

Jiang Su said: "But Your Majesty…"

Jiang Wanxiang spoke softly:

"The fate of Ying State has been entrusted to the Grand Preceptor—the realm still holds other options…"

At these words, Jiang Su's expression hardened slightly.

Even this Divine General, neither good nor evil, felt a surging tide of destiny crashing upon him.

Jiang Wanxiang clasped his own hands, sensing the backlash of lost national fortune—his body unaccustomed, vitality unraveling—his expression calm: "I have ridden through life—now I see only this final act. Whether victory or defeat, it will be satisfying."

"Whether I win, or I lose."

"We must see it through to the end, is that not so?"

"Even if my hands are stained with blood, even if I am deemed the greatest traitor, even if after my death, all men curse me and the ages scream my name—what of it?"

"What care do we have for such things?"

Jiang Wanxiang spoke softly: "Let us see this through to the end. Let me become the realm's most traitorous, most fiercely solitary man—and then, with this aged body, march before the blades of the entire realm."

The aged dragon paced—then he entered the Ying State palace, just as he now paced into the palace of Zhongzhou. Behind him, a thousand armies, iron steeds and spears; before him, the noble families of Zhongzhou turned pale with shock.

The heroes and tyrants of the realm all walk their own paths.

They make their own choices.

They bear the consequences and costs of every action.

When Qin broke Chen, overthrew the Chen Huang, and cast the cauldron…

Jiang Su served as bait to draw attention; Jiang Wanxiang led his army to Zhongzhou, pacing forward, white-haired, brow arrogant, ascending the ninety-nine steps of white jade, gazing at Chi Di Ji Zichang—his temples faintly gray, his expression serene.

A thousand armies, a monarch of chaos before him.

Ji Zichang remained unmoved, speaking softly:

"Why have you come here so suddenly? What do you seek?"

"If you have come to pay homage, why do you not perform the proper rites?"

Calm, unshaken.

Jiang Wanxiang smiled faintly and raised his hand.

His left palm rested gently atop his right, bowing slowly.

His sleeves fell, revealing hidden ink-blue dragon patterns, like divine dragons drifting across the four seas—old, near death, yet his heart refused to yield, his bearing proud and haughty, radiating the aura of a warlord of chaos.

"Jiang Wanxiang, pays homage to Chi Di Your Majesty."

"I have come here now."

The aged dragon lifted his gaze, speaking plainly:

"I ask Your Majesty—to abdicate!"

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