Chapter 450: The Court and the Realm Are Shaken

Inside the grand hall, several Grand Masters were still discussing.

Li Yuan gnawed on a fruit, pondering inwardly.

Two Dharma Lords could bury and kill a Dao Lord—what of the Grand Dharma Lord, plus the Dharma Youth, the Four Golden Ones of Blood, Flesh, Tendon, and Bone, the Five Kalas of Heart, Liver, Spleen, Lung, and Kidney, and other deities?

The Cult of Evil Deities' power was far more terrifying than that of the imperial court and the Five Great Dao Sects.

But in truth, as far as he knew, for over a thousand years—even longer—the Cult of Evil Deities had always been suppressed, pinned down in this very role.

This made him feel strangely off.

His inner doubts waited until Fang Sanyun, Chan Master, and others had left before he finally asked: "What do you think the Cult of Evil Deities is?"

Hearing Li Yuan's question, Long Yingchan countered.

"This…"

"Stop playing riddles!"

Long Xixiang frowned and interrupted; Nie Xianshan also felt displeased—they both deeply despised the old man's way of speaking.

"Cough."

Long Yingchan cleared his throat, slightly embarrassed.

"The deities of the Cult of Evil Deities—whether Dharma Lords, Youth, Golden Ones, or Supreme Masters—are fundamentally human."

Nie Xianshan spoke up: "The core doctrine of the Cult of Evil Deities is the Worship of Deities Method, which grants extended life, absorbs incense offerings, and protects the spiritual soul."

Thus, over millennia, countless top experts, before or after their natural deaths, joined the cult, accumulating over time into the vast number of minor deities today.

Li Yuan nodded in understanding.

Most of the Cult of Evil Deities' experts came from outside the sect—traitors like the Crimson Flame Dragon King were countless over the millennia.

"You ask: if the Cult of Evil Deities has so many minor deities, why is its power so weak, why is it suppressed by us and controlled by the court?"

Seeing Li Yuan nod, Nie Xianshan didn't drag it out.

"Simply put—incense offerings!"

"Incense offerings."

Li Yuan's heart stirred slightly.

"Reversing life and death is no simple matter."

Nie Xianshan sneered: "Rituals, life extension, maintaining existence—even manifesting in the mortal realm—each and every one requires incense offerings."

"Vast quantities of incense offerings!"

Long Xixiang added: "Due to the scarcity of incense offerings, the hundreds of minor deities of the Cult of Evil Deities are mostly in a state of neither-living-nor-dead slumber; only a handful can walk the mortal world."

Unable to walk among mortals yet dependent on incense to survive—that is why the court can control the Cult of Evil Deities. "No wonder…"

Li Yuan's mind grew clearer.

He thought: the minor deities who walk the world are always the same few.

"Hundreds of minor deities, but only a handful are usable."

Long Yingchan spoke calmly: "The Thousand-Eyed Old Ghost calls himself a Dharma Lord, yet for over a thousand years, he has always had to fight in person."

Hmph, now that he thought of it, the old ghost really lacked dignity—Li Yuan felt somewhat relieved.

"Without the court, even a hundred more deities wouldn't matter—seal their temples, and they'll all starve to death without lifting a finger."

Long Xixiang sat down and idly picked up a fruit from the table to gnaw on: "If the Cult were truly powerful, we'd be the ones hiding underground right now."

Nie Xianshan paced a few steps.

"The court raises the deities, and these deities, in turn, are utterly suppressed by the court. Most of the dynasties before the Great Destiny fell due to the Cult of Evil Deities."

The Cult of Evil Deities is both strong and weak.

The thought flashed through Li Yuan's mind—strange, yet oddly apt.

The court is raising deities.

But fundamentally, all these temples lie within their sphere of influence—sealing them is possible; wiping them out is also possible.

Yet unless absolutely necessary, the Five Great Dao Sects avoid touching incense offerings; decades ago, over temple-building tied to incense, the Dao Sects and the court nearly plunged into all-out war multiple times.

"It may not require any explanation."

Long Xixiang wasn't optimistic: "The Thousand-Eyed Old Ghost is the chief Dharma Lord, and all minor deities answer to him—can the court really hand him over?"

"Then fight!"

Nie Xianshan's tone was sharp—his forging had been troubled, affairs had piled up, and his temper was high.

"Easy to say."

Long Yingchan glared at him.

The court isn't merely a nominal overlord—it's also the largest sect in the world. Whether victory is likely is uncertain, but even if you win, how many will die? And who knows if the other sects even want to fight.

"Disperse!"

Nie Xianshan wanted to say more, but Long Yingchan waved him off, beginning to shoo them out—he too was annoyed.

"Disciple takes his leave."

Li Yuan bowed and withdrew.

Nie Xianshan and Long Xixiang also bowed, then turned and left.

Shortly after they departed, Long Yingchan exhaled deeply and suddenly bowed to his back.

From the side hall, the little tiger cub strolled out slowly and lazily—she had been inside for half the day, listening to these old men chatter endlessly.

At first she'd been annoyed, but then her mood had suddenly improved.

It wasn't just Star-Picking Tower that acted this way—the Five Great Dao Sects weren't any better…

"Forgive me for letting you see this, Lord Qin."

Long Yingchan invited her to sit—well, to crouch.

"If there's a fight, count me in."

Qin Shixian was direct and decisive—whether the court or the Cult of Evil Deities, she'd always fought whoever crossed her path.

She'd killed court Grand Masters; she'd killed Cult of Evil Deities' minor deities.

"Thank you, Lord Qin."

Those two junior brothers were already reckless—this one was even more formidable. Long Yingchan barely held back his eyebrows, steadied himself, and asked: "Lord Qin, may I ask if your ancestor still lives?"

Qin Shixian glanced at him: "Dead."

"Ah—my condolences, Lord."

Long Yingchan couldn't read any expression on a tiger's face, but such a blunt answer seemed clearly false—Qin Yun was still alive. "A Dao Lord, assassinated in the wilderness, nailed to a cliffside… The Five Great Dao Sects have no such spirit at all—it truly disappoints me!"

Qin Shixian shook her head, losing all desire to linger.

She had no patience for these dawdling old men, yet couldn't help feeling a pang of sorrow.

How had those legendary heroes of old, who raised their arms and drew the whole world to follow them, managed it? Long Yingchan bowed to see her off, inwardly amused.

This one had improved since last time—she'd learned to provoke.

"If Qin Yun hadn't died…"

The thought crossed Long Yingchan's mind, and his thoughts stirred—if he were still alive, many problems would vanish.

He was the legendary brute who had fought through nine Dharma Lords, Wan Zhuliu, Wu Yingxing, and slaughtered his way three times in and out of the imperial capital.

After that battle, the world remained peaceful for fifty years.

If only he could do it again…

"Aren't you going to meet Long Yingchan?"

In the night, the little tiger cub strolled slowly, inwardly asking.

"Not yet."

The old man was still pondering something, and replied offhandedly.

"Not yet?"

Qin Shixian frowned.

"These old ghosts of the Cult of Evil Deities can't scare Long Yingchan—he's a deep one, and his martial skill is decent enough."

The old man looked back at the main hall of Longhu Temple, his gaze dark and deep.

"He's not much stronger than Wei Tianzuo, is he?"

Qin Shixian resented it—in the old man's eyes, she hadn't even reached "decent enough."

"You underestimate him."

The old man sighed inwardly—this girl, aside from her martial talent, simply couldn't compare to Long Yingchan.

"Hmm."

Qin Shixian's heart stirred slightly.

"Of this generation of the Five Great Dao Sects, only two are decent—Yuan Qing is one, Long Yingchan is the other."

The old man paused: "Long Xixiang also seems passable."

"Really?"

Qin Shixian doubted it—she hadn't seen anything remarkable about these two monks beyond their shamelessness. "Wait a bit longer."

The old man didn't explain further, leaving Qin Shixian fuming: "What are you waiting for?"

"No rush."

The old man smiled: "Wait until he comes begging me—probably not many days left."

"Hmm."

Qin Shixian frowned inwardly—who could scare someone who wasn't even scared by the Cult of Evil Deities? "Wan Zhuliu"

She asked tentatively.

The old man said nothing.

Danshan Prefecture, Bama Mountain.

A gale howled, whipping sand and stones for dozens of li; the massive Dun Tian Boat loomed across the sky, its immense shadow cascading down to cover vast stretches of mountains.

Wan Zhuliu walked through the air.

He glanced at the earth, now a ruin, then fixed his gaze on the cliff face.

Sword qi had leveled every nearby peak; an old man with disheveled hair was pinned to the cliff, strangely, not a single drop of blood.

"Wei Tianzuo, is this how you die?"

Wang Jin walked forward slowly, scanned the surroundings, and frowned: "Such intense incense energy—how much incense did this old ghost burn?"

"Wei Tianzuo had some skill; killing him wouldn't be so easy…"

Wan Zhuliu lightly pressed his brow, merging his spirit with heaven and earth; in a haze, he seemed to witness the epic battle that had once occurred here.

"So much incense… just to kill Wei Tianzuo."

Wan Zhuliu also frowned.

That's enough incense to power the Dun Tian Boat for half a year…

"Damn it! Damn it!"

He merely frowned, but Wang Jin could no longer hold back his curses:

"When we return to the capital, I must petition His Majesty to cut these old ghosts' incense offerings!"

Wan Zhuliu said nothing, still sensing the presence of a malevolent deity. Wang Jin vented, then felt something odd: "Why did he kill Wei Tianzuo? For the Chang Hong Yi Qi Sword?"

Vast quantities of incense, the sword spirit's severe injury, his own wounds compounded—all for a heavenly fate weapon too unstable to suppress for long, too unwilling to submit to a dead man. A weapon does not recognize the dead—that is common knowledge in the martial world.

"He must have another purpose."

Wan Zhuliu's heart stirred slightly; he shook his sleeve and withdrew the Great Sun Mirror of Heavenly Oversight. A mist of light rose, and images formed.

"Your Majesty!"

The two men bowed in salute.

"Zhuliu, Commander Wang."

From the bronze mirror, the voice of Emperor Gan came: "Wei Tianzuo is dead."

A cold wind swept over the cliff; Wei Tianzuo's body trembled, then turned to dust, crumbling away in a soft shower.

"Dead."

Wan Zhuliu replied.

"Damn it!"