Chapter 535: Taking and Protecting, the Choice

Only in the night three days ago.

The long wind swept across the sky of Zhongzhou, lanterns like dragons; the Ying state's elite guarded here, conflicts among many factions lurked beneath—technically, it ought to have been lively.

Yet beneath this surface-level liveliness, the city of Zhongzhou carried an inexplicable stillness.

Liveliness, stillness, intensity, deathly silence.

Different atmospheres swirled and coalesced within the night of this city.

The Gongyang Su Wang of the Academy lifted his head, gazing at the heavens where the long wind surged wildly; beneath the academy's eaves, wind chimes rang with crisp clarity.

In days past, the academy was filled with voices; such a crisp sound felt merely delightful.

Now the academy was desolate; apart from these elders, no young people remained—this chime of the night wind carried profound desolation and loneliness, stirring an inexplicable sorrow in the heart.

The old Qilin, whose horn had been severed, gazed with melancholy.

Would the eight-hundred-year fortune of the Red Emperor finally come to an end?

The Gongyang Su Wang observed the qi, watching the entire night sky of Zhongzhou—qi of military families, royal aura, imperial fortune, the breath of common people—all entwined and swirling into a vast ocean, so complex even the Bianshidao Sect could not discern it clearly.

Who can claim to understand fate and the hearts of men?

Gongyang Su Wang whispered: "How fierce the blades—Jiang Wanxiang's spirit is mighty. This time, he comes to devour the fortune of the Red Emperor's line. But, my friend, since its founding eight hundred years ago, the Academy's lineage has upheld that vow."

The old Qilin murmured: "At the very least, we must protect the stability of the Red Emperor's line."

The Su Wang said: "Yes."

The aged Qilin shifted his form, becoming a small cat, curling upon the Su Wang's shoulder. Though he had scolded the youngster, the First Master had once said, "When three walk together, one of them must be my teacher," and from the young Qilin he had learned the art and utility of transformation and shrinking for easier movement.

The Su Wang gripped the ancient sword of the Confucian Way: "Yuwen Lie, He Ruo Qinhu, lead their armies here. In this chaotic age, the martial generals' momentum is unstoppable."

"If we confront these two famed generals head-on, we are no match."

"Dying in the chaos is very likely."

"The only chance is…"

The old Qilin murmured: "Kidnap."

The Su Wang nodded: "Yes."

The aged Confucian stroked the long sword: "The line of the Eight-Hundred-Year Red Emperor cannot end this way. Even if he never claims the realm, he may still live as a peaceful Wang Hou, meeting a good end."

Afterwards, the Academy's various Masters secretly contacted the Red Emperor, hoping to take Ji Zichang away and send him to safety—even without imperial power, at least he might have a tranquil life.

But the Red Emperor gave no answer.

He only said that later, the Su Wang would see his answer.

The Academy's several Masters never abandoned rescue efforts; they exhausted all means—secret contacts, the Daoist Ziyang Zhenren, the Buddhist Living Buddha of Central Plains both intervened, preparing escape routes and rear-guard support.

Yet when they reached Ji Zichang's side,

What they saw was the true Emperor turning away, his back carrying eight hundred springs and autumns as he walked into death.

And now.

Furious flames surged skyward, as if ready to burn the heavens to ash.

The Su Wang and the Qilin, hidden among the crowd, watched this scene in silence.

They had come to rescue the Red Emperor.

But now they could not advance—the eight-heaven Qilin could not pierce such flames amid the Ying state's generals and troops, and the Su Wang was no match for Yuwen Lie. The aged Qilin, who had once followed the First Master, stared at the raging fire, lost in stunned silence for a long while.

The Qilin lowered his voice: "Is this his choice…?"

"His answer."

The Su Wang looked upon it all and said: "Yes."

The old Qilin said: "I met him many years ago—when his son with the Lady Wen was born, he was overjoyed, came personally to the Academy, paid respects to the Daoist Xiantian, Ziyang Zhenren, and even begged for a long-life lock for the child."

"Later, his son died."

"His brows never relaxed again—until recently, I sensed a faint glimmer returning to his eyes, like morning dew catching the first light, as if he had once more yearned for life."

"This was good."

"Master, does he not wish to live?"

Gongyang Su Wang said: "He wishes to live—but he desires something greater."

"That thing is more important than life."

"What of Lady Wen?"

"She is the same."

The aged Qilin fell silent for a long while.

Finally, the aged scholar could only sheathe his sword and offer a slight bow.

Even the Confucian Su Wang, though dwelling above the ninth heaven, could not act now.

Or rather—precisely because he was the Confucian Su Wang, he would not act now. He understood Ji Zichang's blazing resolve, recognized his determination to end the eight-hundred-year fate of the Red Emperor alone.

For one who has made up his mind, any intervention is the ultimate insult.

Gongyang Su Wang bowed solemnly:

"Honor to the Red Emperor."

"The gentleman dies never without his cap."

The First Master's disciple died for the sake of adjusting his cap—not for the act itself, but for the righteousness and principle it represented; that is courage.

Before the blazing fire, some were bewildered, others panicked.

Gongyang Su Wang's action was too sudden.

He had drawn attention to himself.

The sound of weapons forming ranks suddenly grew sharp—blades lowered, edges radiating sharpness and cold light, locking onto Gongyang Su Wang, centered on Yuwen Lie and He Ruo Qinhu, the two contemporary top-ten divine generals.

In single combat, Gongyang Su Wang holds half an edge over Yuwen Lie.

He firmly suppresses He Ruo Qinhu.

But in times of chaos, the might of military commanders lies in the grim battlefield, where martial divine generals are invincible; in such an environment, Gongyang Su Wang too may perish.

Yet he remained composed, paying farewell to the Red Emperor with solemn rites, not swayed by his surroundings or personal safety, only gazing at the fierce array laid out ahead, looking up at Jiang Wanxiang amid the two divine generals, watching the surging nine-tiered treasure tower.

The aged dragon's face glowed red from the blazing fire.

He seemed to have stood frozen in daze for a long while.

He had forgotten that a monarch and a minister, at such a moment, ought to stir the chaos, prevent the massive fallout of the Red Emperor's death, seize control of the news, and suppress its negative impact on himself to the utmost.

He merely watched quietly the fierce, brilliant flames.

He gave Emperor Ji Zichang an honorable choice: to keep his fortune and title and go pursue what he wished; but Ji Zichang's choice caught Jiang Wanxiang off guard.

Life and death are matters of great weight.

After a long while, he turned his head toward Gongyang Su Wang, surrounded by divine generals in formation, his white hair flickering in the fire, and said calmly: "Gongyang Su Wang, foremost of the Confucian school—I still remember the first time I met the Master; you were merely a middle-aged scholar."

"And I was merely a youth in fine robes and galloping steeds."

"Now time has passed, and we have both reached this age, this situation."

Gongyang Su Wang merely said: "The world is impermanent."

Jiang Wanxiang felt no killing intent toward Su Wang, only said: "I have some matters to discuss further with Master Su Wang. Before this fire, this is no place for conversation. Please return to the Academy; I shall visit you in person."

Gongyang Su Wang said: "Why does His Majesty today not call himself 【Zhèn】?"

The aged dragon gazed at the roaring flames and replied with a smile: "Today, seeing the Emperor, I realize that among all the heroes and warlords, across this land of a hundred places, there is still only one sovereign."

Gongyang Su Wang, sword in hand, turned and walked away calmly under the watchful eyes of Yuwen Lie and He Ruo Qinhu, drawing the attention of both divine generals; the remains of the royal clan slain here were gathered, and all ministers and officials were guarded.

Only Yuwen Lie, the divine general who had instinctively moved to quench the flames, was stopped by Jiang Wanxiang, for this raging fire represented the eight-hundred-year fortune of the Red Emperor's realm—a poison to divine generals with potent spiritual cores and robust physiques.

Yuwen Lie stared at the flames, their reflection burning in his pupils.

Ultimately, regret.

Though on guard, this proud divine general still bowed his head slightly, like a tiger lowering its muzzle in salute.

He Ruo Qinhu, shrewd and experienced, stepped forward half a pace after Gongyang Su Wang retreated half a step, and said: "Your Majesty."

"No Ji Yanzhong of the Ji clan, the strongest among them, is to be seen here."

He lowered his voice; renowned generals roamed the land, and all across the Central Plain was under calculation: "Your subject has heard that Princess Ji Ning'er, dearly cherished by Emperor Ji Zichang and his wife, is also the adopted daughter of Qin Wang Li Guanyi."

"From your subject's perspective, Emperor Ji Zichang's resolve here carries the intent to bury the eight-hundred-year fortune of the Red Emperor's line; yet man is not grass or wood—who can be without feeling? Even if the imperial heart is iron, the sovereign's will a prison, even with the courage to overthrow a dynasty, such a heart of iron may still harbor a thread of tender affection for one's own child."

"Likely, Emperor Ji Zichang and his wife used their lives as bait."

"And entrusted her to Qin Wang."

"As long as any descendant of the Red Emperor line survives, our Great Ying cannot suppress what happened today. Your Majesty, strike hard, uproot completely—great matters of state and the legacy of a thousand autumns rest upon our shoulders."

"I beg Your Majesty to grant me a written order, permitting your subject to go personally."

"Eliminate Ji Yanzhong and the Princess of Happy Joy."

Yuwen Lie, who had bowed his head, suddenly raised it, his eyes blazing with chilling intensity.

He Ruo Qinhu's expression remained unchanged.

Jiang Wanxiang fell silent, then said: "... Yuwen."

Yuwen Lie stepped forward half a pace, bowed his head: "Your subject is here!"

Jiang Wanxiang said: "You heard what General He said."

"Yes."

Jiang Wanxiang said coolly: "This matter is entrusted to you. Do not let me down."

Yuwen Lie bowed his head: "Your subject obeys Your Majesty's decree!"

The divine general strode out.

………………

Ji Yanzhong's breath grew slightly ragged; he clutched the child tightly, pushing his body technique to its limit. As a peak seventh-heaven master, he left the city and found the carriage prepared in advance.

It was drawn by dragon steeds, its chassis crafted with Mohist mechanical arts.

Even over rough terrain, it moved smoothly forward.

Beside Ji Yanzhong lay a sword—a long blade, sharp, sheathed. The carriage moved swiftly; the old man of the Red Emperor's line forced himself not to think of what Ji Zichang intended, focusing only on the child.

To Qin Wang.

To Qin Wang—Li Guanyi—surely he could protect this child.

But as they raced forward, Ji Yanzhong's heart suddenly skipped a beat.

The dragon steeds neighed, having encountered a ravine, nearly stumbling; the carriage jolted, slid sideways around a bend, and came to a steady stop. Ji Yanzhong gasped for breath, sweat beading on his forehead; he looked up toward the distance.

He had traveled far.

Yet even this hundred-li stretch remained visible: within Zhongzhou City, a blazing crimson hue surged skyward like a divine red sword, majestic and radiant, spreading crimson fire in all directions.

Ji Yanzhong had grown up in Zhongzhou City.

He knew every inch of it.

Without even needing thought, he could deduce: this blazing crimson fire, surging skyward, must originate from the imperial palace hall.

Ji Yanzhong instinctively moved to urge the horses and carriage toward Zhongzhou City—but the carriage stirred, and his face twisted in conflict, sensing the quiet, sleeping Ji Ning'er within.

Ji Yanzhong's face contorted in struggle.

Finally, he gasped deeply, his grip on the reins trembling, his cheek twitching; with sudden force, he yanked the reins, turning the carriage back onto the back roads, heading straight for Jiangnan.

He could almost sense the blazing fortune-fire behind him, in the palace complex; he could imagine all he had known—the bricks he walked on as a child, the courtyard where he trained as a youth, the towering red pillars taller than his height, the osmanthus tree his mother leaned against while telling him stories—all collapsing.

Human memory is bound to places.

When those places collapse,

It is as if memory and the soul's flesh are torn apart.

No homeland, memories like drifting solitary souls, with no place to land.

On this earth, a person loses the place to return to.

This emotion grows clearer the older one becomes.

Ji Yanzhong clenched his teeth, betrayed his past, and rushed the child outward—until, as they passed through a narrow path, he suddenly sensed something wrong, a sound like a powerful crossbow bolt fired.

Ji Yanzhong reacted instantly, his scalp prickling: "No good!!!"

Crimson fire exploded, transforming into overlapping scales that spiraled around the carriage; arrows shot forward like dark rain, dense and countless—all poisoned Mo Family mechanical crossbows.

Three hundred, secretly ambushed to kill.

Accompanied by an ancient dragon's roar.

Using the supreme art 【Taigu Chilong Shakes the Nine Provinces】, the Taigu Chilong Manifestation spiraled and roared, outright blocking all three hundred armor-piercing crossbows. There were ambushers—but were they from the Ying state, other imperial clan members, or—

The court ministers.

In Ji Yanzhong's mind, possibilities surfaced one after another; he let out a long howl, shielding the carriage and its child within while unleashing his supreme art through massive depletion of internal Qi.

The Taigu Chilong Manifestation spiraled, its dragon roar shaking the surroundings; Ji Yanzhong's Master-level Qi directly covered a radius of nearly a li; the Taigu Chilong Manifestation split into multiple afterimages, smashing in all directions, blasting hidden enemies out of concealment and killing them.

"Wen family secret guards?!!"

"And my brother's Taigu Chilong Guards…"

Ji Yanzhong recognized these ambushers along the road to Qin.

Even the Wen noble consort's family, even imperial clan members—the old man instantly understood their intent; they were equally talented, having deduced Ji Zichang's plan to take Ji Ning'er away.

And then, they moved to serve their own interests.

To intercept Ji Ning'er.

"Ji Yanzhong, we have no interest in fighting you—we block this road for only one demand: hand over the Princess of Changle!"

An old man with white hair stood there—the patriarch of the Wen family.

The Wen noble consort's grandfather.

He had cultivated to the Master realm, yet here he stood blocking them; Ji Yanzhong roared: "Grand Chancellor Wen, you are the Princess's blood kin—why do you do this?!"

"Even a tiger does not eat its own cub!"

"You—you have a heart of wolf and dog's entrails!"

The old man said: "I am not only Ji Ning'er's elder, but also the patriarch of thousands in the Wen family. Only by delivering the 【Red Emperor's sole bloodline of eight hundred years】 to the Ying Emperor can our clan be preserved!"

"For the clan, even I may die—even my most cherished granddaughter may enter the palace as a concubine. Besides, Jiang Wanxiang is magnanimous—he will not harm Ji Ning'er. He merely wishes her to enter the Ying imperial palace as a new princess!"

"That is the 【Red Emperor's eight-hundred-year】 righteous cause!"

Ji Yanzhong stared blankly, looking at the ambushers, the blades and spears forcing him and the child back; suddenly, he felt a sense of absurdity. The gentle, indecisive old man suddenly wanted to laugh.

Absurd. Absurd.

The void rippled; the Taigu Chilong Manifestation roared.

"Absurd!!!"

His hands twisted—【Taigu Chilong Shakes the Nine Provinces】, for the first time, unleashed in such fury, so utterly unrestrained. He was the elder who, when traveling the land, had once spared the starving Yue Qianfeng.

He was the elder who secretly observed, saw Yue Qianfeng become a bandit yet refuse to rob, and every time he descended to rob, he tilled the farmers' fields—then, breaking protocol, taught him the world's supreme art, beginning the legend of this generation's hero.

He had gently believed all people were the same—that every action had its hardship, and mutual understanding was possible. But now, he finally understood.

People act according to their class and position.

They cannot be understood.

This time, he killed.

Those he struck flew away, their chests caved in, spitting three dou of blood before dying—ghastly deaths, the dragon steeds pulling the carriage following close behind him.

He carved a bloody path!

The Wen patriarch's face changed: "Excellent technique, ruthless!"

"Ji Yanzhong, I will be your opponent—the rest of you, protect the Red Emperor's Princess."

"Take her back—safely!"

Another Master, outnumbered and outmanned, forced Ji Yanzhong to slow down.

A misty Immortal Crane Manifestation appeared, engaging Ji Yanzhong in combat; Ji Yanzhong fought recklessly, suppressing this old rival who had once matched his strength—but the enemy was too numerous.

His eyes bulged as they neared the carriage; when he risked his life, one of the rushing warriors in front pulled back the curtain—and his face broke into a faint smile.

His body suddenly froze.

Then, violently thrown backward, like a torn rag, his body split down the middle, leaving only a mist of blood. Others paused—then the same scene repeated, and in an instant, a hundred skilled warriors lay dead.

Only then came the piercing, razor-sharp sound tearing through the air.

Wen Hanfeng's face froze; the next moment, his pupils contracted.

The void rippled—as if a white tiger lunged forth.

The tiger's eyes were pale gold, arrogant and self-assured.

In an instant, Wen Hanfeng's protective aura shattered.

The Wen family's most gifted in a century, a Seventh-Tier Master, his aura shattered like torn cloth; his vision blurred, his throat sweetened, he spat blood—then, as he regained awareness, he found himself impaled through the abdomen by a heavy spear, nailed to the cliff wall.

Blood continuously dripped down.

Ji Yanzhong stared, dazed. He instinctively looked up.

The sound of hooves was clear.

Striking the earth with a drip-drip sound, his great cloak billowed like dark mist; atop the eight-foot-tall dragon steed 【Treading Clouds】 stood a man of immense height, broad shoulders, clad in dark silver heavy armor, pale face, black eyes, refined and haughty.

The Fifth Divine General of the World, Divine Might Grand General, Yuwen Lie.

Despair stirred in Ji Yanzhong's heart.

This was a true apex figure.

Yuwen Lie raised his hand; the heavy spear howled, merging with his divine form, unleashing a terrifying force that instantly crushed Wen Hanfeng, then flashed with radiant light as it flew back into his grasp—this supreme divine general, wielding a divine weapon, arrived with majestic aura.

Prince Ji Yanzhong stood before Yuwen Lie.

Yuwen Lie spoke briefly and directly:

"Your Majesty ordered me to eliminate you and Changle."

Prince Ji Yanzhong, bearing severe injuries, knew that as a mere Seventh Heaven cultivator, he had no chance of stopping this mighty, awe-inspiring general.

He was not afraid of death.

He only blamed himself for his powerlessness—unable to protect Ji Ning'er amid this raging chaos. Yuwen Lie flicked his wrist; a deadly afterimage surged forward, the heavy spear stabbing toward Prince Ji Yanzhong—but it only grazed the old man's neck before embedding itself into the mountain rock.

Prince Ji Yanzhong froze.

Yuwen Lie said: "The Red Emperor has already burned himself alive, eradicating eight hundred years of heavenly Dao lineage. Thus, Ji Ning'er is no longer a Princess."

Prince Ji Yanzhong opened his mouth. Even though he had long suspected it, he still felt a profound sorrow—whether for the eight hundred years of the Red Emperor, or for the pitiful fate of Emperor Ji Zichang, he could not say.

Many things cannot be clearly divided.

Yuwen Lie spoke slowly: "Your luck is good—the Daoist sect of Ziyang and the Buddhist Monk both intervened, holding back most of your pursuers. But the Red Emperor chose differently than they expected, and never revealed his decision to them."

"They have not arrived yet."

"And because of Gongyang Su Wang, only one of us—He Ruo Qinhu or I—could come out."

"It was me."

Prince Ji Yanzhong watched as this divine general of the realm, mounted on a dragon steed, rode up to the carriage, dismounted, leaned inside, and gazed at the sleeping girl.

The great cloak stirred.

The divine general knelt halfway before the child.

He reached out his palm and lifted the two-year-old Ji Ning'er into his arms.

He placed her within his battle robe, fastened it tightly—and for the first time, Yuwen Lie's voice grew unexpectedly gentle: "Your father and mother sacrificed themselves for the realm, with heroic spirit. Though the world now lies in chaos, it must not sink into petty scheming and base greed."

"Let Yuwen Lie guard the Princess."

"For the final journey…"

He turned, carrying the child, as the cold divine general mounted his divine steed, cradling the child in his left arm and gripping his battle spear in his right, looking at the old man—whose robe was stained with blood, yet who stood frozen, dazed: "Why?"

He did not understand—was Yuwen Lie deceiving Ji Ning'er back?

Yuwen Lie's voice was cold and flat: "Even in chaotic times…"

"There is more than victory and gain."

"A true man does what he must—and refuses what he must not."

"You—lead the way."

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