Chapter 561: Establishing Eternal Peace for Ten Thousand Generations

Changfeng Tower is the most mysterious place in all of Jiangnan.

But it is not the tallest tower; nearby, another tall building stands, where Gongwu Wumeng sat cross-legged, sighing with a look of melancholy on his face.

Sorrow, sorrow!

Suddenly, a voice came: “What are you looking at?!”

The voice appeared out of nowhere, startling Gongwu Wumeng; the woman’s body stiffened visibly, like a cat suddenly patted from behind, every hair standing on end.

She immediately snapped back, stammering: "W-what are you talking about? Peeping?!"

"I—I—I—I didn't peep, and I'm not jealous!"

Then she realized: though her cultivation had stagnated these past few years and she had yet to break through to the Seventh Heaven Master realm, her foundation in the Sixth Heaven was exceptionally solid, especially because she often got lost, accidentally wandered into wrong places, and stumbled upon red fruits—sweet, juicy, childlike fruits growing on trees.

After eating them, her martial power gradually grew thicker and deeper.

But the Master realm is uniquely special; it cannot be broken through by mere accumulation of inner energy. Still, with her profound internal qi, acute perception, and the sect’s divine weapon—the Yin-Yang Wheel Turn’s sacred blade—ordinary Masters couldn’t catch her.

Yet this person had approached her effortlessly, startling her—then she recognized his face: it was the Old Fatekeeper.

The Old Fatekeeper chuckled, climbing up on his old tortoise, exhaled deeply, and said:

“This place is high—the wind feels truly refreshing!”

Gongwu Wumeng looked at him, rolled her eyes. The old man grinned as he climbed up and said: “Mind moving over a bit?” Gongwu Wumeng reluctantly shifted aside. The Old Fatekeeper sat down and exhaled.

This great master of Yin-Yang, a rare genius of his age, gazed at this peaceful mortal world with deep longing; in his youth, he had been close friends with Emperor Chen Wu, the founding emperor of Ying Guo, and the Tuyuhun.

Together, they vowed to shatter the closed, chaotic world ruled by the Red Emperor.

To build a peaceful mortal realm.

At first, they succeeded—truly succeeded. But once they had carved out their kingdoms, those mighty warlords forgot their original ideals. They had pledged to fight side by side, yet when they met again, they came with armies of thousands.

The Old Fatekeeper visited each one, one by one—only to be met with utter disappointment.

Now, centuries have passed; the world has changed again.

The Old Fatekeeper gazed at the Jiangnan scenery and whispered softly: “I wonder… will this time succeed…?”

This was the moment the old man, who had lingered in the mortal world for centuries, came closest to his dream—yet he feared that if he blinked, the dream would vanish like a bubble, dissolving in an instant.

A firm voice reached his ear: “It will succeed.”

He turned—Gongwu Wumeng’s expression was serious.

Gongwu Wumeng patted the divine blade at her waist and said: “We’ve come this far—from Tianqi Year Ten until now, through the great upheaval of Tianqi Year Eleven’s autumn, the campaigns in the Western Regions, until today—every branch of the Red Emperor’s line has ended…”

“We’ve overcome so many, many difficulties.”

“We’ve paid so many, many sacrifices.”

“We’ve crossed countless mountains, rivers, lakes, and seas—we’ve achieved one great feat after another. Now, at this moment, how could we lose?!”

“We must win!”

The Old Fatekeeper looked into Gongwu Wumeng’s resolute eyes.

This woman, who had taken the Elixir of Immortality and still looked as beautiful as ever, carried an iron will—a true warrior. The soldiers Lei Laomeng and Qibi Li called her the Lucky Star and Wealth Star of the Qilin Army.

But she was also the most reliable comrade, who had joined them at the Battle of Zhenbei Pass and marched with the army across every battlefield.

The Old Fatekeeper grinned and said: “Hahahaha! Good spirit!”

“With this kind of drive, you can accomplish anything. But after the world is finally at peace, what do you plan to do?”

Gongwu Wumeng answered without hesitation: “Obviously—I’ll return to the mountains, rebuild my master’s lineage of Yin-Yang Wheel Turn Sect, take disciples, pass on our arts, restore our sect’s mountain gate and tradition, and then grow old…”

This had always been her goal, the plan she’d told everyone she’d follow after leaving the Qilin Army.

So her answer came naturally, smooth and fluent.

But as she spoke, her voice slowed. Her certainty wavered. By the end, she hesitated, even stammered—especially on that final word, which nearly escaped her lips.

The Old Fatekeeper burst into laughter, making Gongwu Wumeng grow annoyed; she glared at him.

The Old Fatekeeper finally said: “Grow old? How could you ever grow old?”

“With your martial talent and that damn fortune—like the daughter of the God of Wealth descended to earth—your breakthrough beyond the Master realm is inevitable. And haven’t you taken Hou Zhongyu’s Elixir of Immortality?”

“Ahahaha, that was the very elixir Hou Zhongyu crafted back then.”

“Even after another sixty years, your face will still look like this—you won’t age a bit. So your dream? You’d better rethink it. Think carefully before you settle on it.”

This teasing stunned Gongwu Wumeng—then joy bloomed. “Well… that’s true. Since I won’t age, I’ll have to reconsider.”

The Old Fatekeeper chuckled: “Didn’t Li Guanyi force you to sign a bunch of ‘indenture contracts’?”

Gongwu Wumeng glared: “Indenture contracts? They’re employment agreements!”

“He wants me to find countless gold and silver mines—I don’t have that kind of ability to locate so many deposits!”

The Old Fatekeeper laughed heartily: “I have an idea.”

“It’ll solve your worries.”

Gongwu Wumeng eyed him suspiciously, leaning closer. The Old Fatekeeper grinned: “Listen—I’ll tell you: search everywhere for gold and silver mines, then leave just a few untouched. Tell him you simply can’t find them. Then…”

Gongwu Wumeng: “Then…”

The Old Fatekeeper: “Then you can stay by his side—legitimately, openly!”

Gongwu Wumeng’s perception was sharp.

So when she heard this, it took several breaths before she realized what she’d heard—her face instantly flushed crimson. She shot up, pointing at the Old Fatekeeper and his old tortoise, who were laughing uproariously, stammering: “Who?!”

“Who said I want to stay by his side?!”

“Besides—he’s going to become Emperor! Conquer territory, pacify the realm—a great sovereign! I have no title, no status—why would I stay with him?!”

The Old Fatekeeper and the old tortoise exchanged glances.

Both saw a spark of delight in the other’s eyes.

The old man clapped his hands and laughed: “Hahahaha! Brilliant! You want a title? What title could possibly match your fortune?”

Gongwu Wumeng’s face burned completely red.

She couldn’t even stammer anymore.

The gates of Changfeng Tower opened. The Qin Emperor shed his armor, wearing only a round-collar robe, jade belt around his waist, jade pendants jingling as he walked forward, adjusted his collar, mounted his horse, and sensed the Old Fatekeeper and Gongwu Wumeng.

He looked up and called: “Hey, General Gongwu Wumeng—the time has come.”

“Why aren’t you reporting to Tiance Prefecture?”

The Qin Emperor smiled. Gongwu Wumeng shrieked “Aaaah!” and bolted away, leaping down with transcendent martial arts—her form, in the Old Fatekeeper’s perception, was as ethereal as a startled swan, as graceful as a coiling dragon, as shimmeringly beautiful as a silver note worth one hundred thousand taels.

The Old Fatekeeper sighed: “Ah, what kind of fortune is this?!”

“If I had such fortune…”

“I’d gladly live in grand gardens, feast on rare delicacies!”

Li Guanyi smiled: “Rare delicacies may be few, but if you wish, I’ll build you a vast garden—no trouble at all.”

The Old Fatekeeper rolled his eyes and chuckled: “I know your nature. Your ‘vast garden’ is surely another trick like the one you pulled on Nan Hanwen—building a school to make me teach your students.”

“Indeed—the Qin Emperor of Jiangnan never takes a loss.”

“No wonder he was raised by Murong Qiushui.”

Li Guanyi laughed loudly: “Then let me thank my aunt on your behalf, Old Master.”

The Old Fatekeeper scolded playfully, then waved his hand: “I’ve no such ambitions—I prefer solitude. The current head of the Yin-Yang Sect still waits in the Xuegong. When the world is at peace, go find him.”

“If I can drink a cup of wine on the day the world finds peace…”

“That will be enough.”

“I’d rather wander mountains and rivers, roam the rivers and lakes.”

Li Guanyi watched the Old Fatekeeper’s retreating figure and nodded solemnly:

"Senior, you will see that day."

……………………

Tiance Prefecture was filled with many.

Except Yue Pengwu, who must remain to guard Zhenbei Pass, all core members of the Qilin Army had gathered and waited long—divided by civil and military ranks, each with solemn expressions, their brows faintly trembling with excitement.

With Yue Pengwu absent, Yue Qianfeng sat at the highest seat among the generals.

Among the civil officials, the first was Breaker, followed by Yan Daqing.

Li Zhao, Chen Wenmian, due to their unique status, did not sit with the civil or military ranks—they were given separate chairs.

In the past, when the Qilin Army summoned ministers and generals to Tiance Prefecture, there was always much talk—tense, yet with a touch of ease; though not laughing, they could still discuss matters.

But today was different.

None of them had the slightest desire to speak.

Yue Qianfeng’s eyes were shut like a tiger’s; Chen Wenmian’s expression was as grim as a wolf; Xiao Wuiliang gripped his sword hilt; Wang Shunchen lightly caressed his warbow; Yan Xuanji stood like a mountain; Qibi Li’s gaze was as heavy as a desert wolf; Fan Qing was calm and still; Ye Buyi and Zhou Liuying each radiated sharpness.

Breaker remained as arrogant as ever; Yan Daqing sat with eyes closed; Wen Lingjun’s smile had faded; Fang Ziqiao’s smile was quiet; Pang Shuiyun pinched his white beard; Yuan Zhi still looked like a wandering swordsman; Feng Xiao drank alone; Zhou Pinglu flipped through scrolls; Xiao Zhixiang studied lists; Wei Xuancheng and Du Keming wore solemn faces.

Even now, the Seven Kings under Ashina led generals guarding the northern steppes; Yue Pengwu led Ling Pingyang, Han Zaizhong, Yang Xingshi, and others guarding Zhenbei City; and Wen Qingyu had become the Northern Sai Bei Yan Daqing, stationed with Yuan Shitong and Xue Tianxing at the northern frontier.

Yet the assembly remaining in Tiance Prefecture could still be called: generals like clouds, strategists like rain. Beneath them stood other young, fierce warriors—yet they had not yet earned great renown across the land.

They waited only for this great battle—to step onto the stage of history.

Li Zhao sat to the side, his phoenix eyes sweeping over the assembly, silently admiring: each here was a famed general who had left his mark in this chaotic age. Now gathered, their goal was no ordinary war.

Only one kind of battle could make them so silent.

Only this great war.

The breathing in the hall grew deeper, finer—no one spoke. All remained calm, tranquil. In this silence, a faint aura of lethal intent slowly accumulated, thickening.

Footsteps suddenly echoed.

Li Zhao noticed—the eyes of these fierce generals and famed ministers suddenly brightened.

In an instant, the atmosphere sank even lower—like a pack of tigers, dragons murmuring low. All turned toward the doorway—their combined aura was enough to shatter the spirit of any ordinary warrior.

With a clatter, the great door swung open.

Civil and military officials rose in unison.

The military officers bowed their heads; the civil officials bowed in salute.

They chorused: “Your Majesty!”

Li Guanyi wore only a plain round-collared robe, walking through this gathering of the realm’s most powerful civil and military officials, his expression calm, and said: “Gentlemen, please rise.”

“Yes!”

Li Guanyi took his seat at the head of the hall; Li Zhao’s chair was lower than his, yet he merely smiled and said: “Guanyi.” Li Guanyi nodded in greeting and sat down.

His gaze swept the room and said: “You all know why you’re here. Jiang Gao has slain Jiang Yuan, and the tide of change in Ying State is surging. Since Jiang Gao’s ascension, he has overhauled every policy Jiang Yuan once enacted—soon, a great war looms.”

“What do you all think we should do?”

The ministers exchanged glances; Yue Qianfeng said: “At this point, we all know war is inevitable. Ying State knows it too. The real question is when to strike—and how.”

“We are mere generals. Only Your Majesty can make this decision.”

“Wherever the Qilin Banner points, we will charge ahead without hesitation.”

Li Guanyi said: “Good. Then I say—”

“Attack in three days!”

Even Yue Qianfeng had not expected such speed; his expression flickered with surprise, and he blurted: “Three days?”

The Qin Emperor said: “Master Pojun has already moved troops. It is sufficient.”

“Light cavalry, swift advance—catch them off guard.”

“This war differs from all past ones. Former great battles were contests of balance among many powers—slow, deliberate. This is not. This is the final war—life or death. It must be swift, not slow; early, not delayed.”

“Yes, as you all imagine, if we continue to build, our grain and military supplies will grow even stronger than they are now.”

“But Ying State will also recover from the losses Jiang Yuan inflicted.”

“How long must we hoard grain, armor, and manpower before it’s enough?”

“Should we wait a hundred thousand years?”

The expressions of the ministers and generals grew solemn. They understood the Qin Emperor’s resolve. The sovereign rose, his youthful radiance now transformed into a quiet, all-seeing calm, and said:

“Armor and grain—only what we need for this one battle.”

“The tide of the world is against us. Everyone believes we will grow stronger in five years, in ten. But that is an illusion. Under our pressure, under this looming future, Jiang Gao and Ying State will also undergo a sudden surge of strength.”

“The future holds too many variables.”

“We must act now.”

“When Jiang Su and Ying State believe we will rest and recuperate—that is when we strike, seizing the initiative. Now, Ying State’s people are in turmoil. We hold Heaven’s Timing and Human Harmony. Our troops are ironclad. This is our best chance.”

Li Zhaowen saw a faint flame slowly kindling in the eyes of Yue Qianfeng and the others—flames kindled by this young sovereign. The Qin Emperor gripped the hilt of his sword, his voice steady:

“When I was young and first studied military strategy, I merely memorized famous sayings of ancient masters and thought I understood warfare—laughable then. Now, after countless battles, I’ve begun to understand.”

“The Buddhist and Daoist schools speak of three levels of cultivation.”

“I see three levels in military strategy. The first: knowing your enemy, reading his moves on the battlefield, countering each tactic, leading your army to maneuver freely—that is the first level.”

“The second: knowing yourself.”

“Knowing your goal, understanding the grand strategy—winning without greed, losing without despair, remaining cold and calm. In the past, figures like Yuwen Lie sought battlefield victory but lost strategic judgment.”

“To know both yourself and your enemy—this is nearly invincibility.”

“But recently, I’ve come to understand the third level: guiding your enemy.”

“Guiding his thoughts, shaping his judgments, creating openings for your own strategy—only then can you survive against all odds, overcome lesser numbers, and achieve great victory!”

“Now, the whole world believes we will rest and recuperate.”

“Yet we will use that belief to strike swiftly.”

Li Guanyi lifted his gaze ahead, and before him, all seemed to dissolve into illusion—transforming into the world itself, crisscrossed with paths, heroes riding across it like black and white pieces, swords clashing, ringing endlessly.

Tujue, the Western Regions, the Southwest, the Central Plains, the Wolf King, Chen Huang, Ying Di, Chi Di.

Heroes rose and fell in turn.

The entire grandeur of the world unfolded before him.

He seemed to see Jiang Gao. He seemed to see Jiang Su.

The sword’s cry exploded. The Qin Emperor drew his blade; the edge sang as it rose from its scabbard, shattering eight centuries of glory. The Lord of War’s divine weapon lifted, pointing forward, its sides reflecting the blazing pupils of the civil and military ministers.

The Qin Emperor said: “Heaven’s Timing, Earth’s Advantage, Human Harmony.”

“We hold two of them. Across this vast world, eight hundred years of Chi Di, three hundred years of chaos—this time, we shall sweep it all away with one sword!”

His voice paused. “All things rise through contradiction and turmoil.”

“All things return to the void, cycle endlessly—eternal peace is impossible. But we must leave behind the spark of eternal peace, a flame no one before us ever left. This time, let us set an example for those who come after.”

The ministers instinctively raised their heads, gazing at the Qin Emperor.

The Qin Emperor smiled: “The ancestors of those we’ve conquered in these past years were once heroes too. Our descendants… no, they will surely decay. That is the law of all things—we cannot escape it.”

“But do not fear, gentlemen. They may become what we despise—but this world will always hold countless souls who understand our ideals.”

“The Dharma Form is the resonance between will and heaven and earth.”

“Those who inherit our will—they are our successors!”

“Gentlemen, march forward without fear.”

“Our will shall be carried on. See—the generations to come are endless!”

The Qin Emperor’s expression softened, gentle, and he whispered:

“Even if, eight hundred years from now, our last rulers have fallen into chaos, there will still be those who pick up our sword and forge a new age. I believe—that is true [Opening Eternal Peace].”

“But that is too distant. Ten thousand years is too long—we fight for today.”

“Let us be the ones to open heaven and earth!”

“Will you walk with me?”

“Will you do this—the greatest, most glorious deed in all history?”

Yue Qianfeng and the others felt their hearts pound violently.

One nation, one world, peace across the four seas—this magnificent, absurd, impossible dream, as irresistible as moths to flame, now lay before them, within reach.

Will you walk with us?!

Will you walk with us!!!

Faced with this invitation—from this man himself.

He asked: Will you join hands to forge this absurd, beautiful dream?

Who could refuse?

They felt the vastness swell in their chests. Instinctively, they rose as one, stepping forward in perfect unison. In that instant, dragon roars and tiger howls shook the void; a chilling aura surged skyward.

Their faces solemn, they struck their chests with their palms.

In perfect unison, they bowed their heads: “Yes!”

The wave of chilling aura struck like a wind. Li Zhaowen instinctively gripped her sword, her phoenix eyes narrowing, sensing an indescribable convergence and impact. Then she saw it—the humble, gentle Qin Emperor, who never wielded power to intimidate.

For the first time, he gave the ministers exactly what they had longed for.

Five Dharma Forms appeared, then dissolved into pure golden dragons, coiling around the Qin Emperor. His sleeves fell, his hands pressed upon the hilt of a dark-golden longsword, his gaze lowered.

He stood atop his age—but from Li Zhaowen’s view, he seemed to stand before the tide of history, solitary, lonely.

With unyielding courage, facing an invincible foe, he launched his resolve and charge.

He whispered:

“I, the Emperor, walk with you all.”

And morale soared.

Cheers rang out without end.

“Honor the Emperor’s Edict!”

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