Chapter 147 – One Move Shakes the World, A Meeting with True Person Qi

“Elder Brother has left?”

“So abruptly?”

The Fourth Prince was visibly surprised upon hearing that the Crown Prince had already departed. After all, he was well aware that his brother had come to Zhongzhou with more than just the pretext of that Great Roc Ode or the Qiong Yu siblings. There was another, more secretive reason behind the journey—one he himself had also come for.

In the heart of the realm, hidden from the mundane world, lived the one hailed as the foremost among all the world’s scholars—the reclusive Drunken Scholar, once self-styled as “Peerless(Wushang)”. Alongside two kindred spirits, he had long withdrawn from worldly affairs to dwell in seclusion here.

They were the kind whom all men of letters revered, lofty and aloof, unbending in pride. The Crown Prince, seeking the support of scholars from humble origins due to his own unstable foundation and strained relations with the great clans, had hoped to earn their approval and invite the three to reemerge into the world. Yet those three looked down upon him, and the Fourth Prince had already surmised that his brother’s efforts were doomed to fail.

What he did not expect was that the Crown Prince would depart with such haste.

In quiet contemplation, the Fourth Prince paced back and forth in the courtyard of his residence, fingers tapping lightly against a jade talisman.

“It seems that the ‘ambush’ from several days ago did in fact inflict real harm upon my brother.”

“Zhou Nuchang was not mistaken.”

“My brother’s fate—something must have gone awry with his qi fortune… Hm. The message left by the one who slew Zhou Nuchang claimed to be an old acquaintance from Jinzhou. Which means the events in Jinzhou have already unfolded. For years, the affairs of Jinzhou have been shrouded in silence by the noble clans across the realm—for they, too, hold positions within the court and require Father’s decree to marshal the flows of fate.”

“Yet the hearts of men breed resentment, unfathomable and fierce. Just as some will stop at nothing for profit, so too will others risk their lives for justice. The world teeters on the edge of great change—something unnatural stirs.”

“My brother’s position is no longer secure.”

After a long time spent pacing and with his eyes closed in thought, the Fourth Prince finally reached a decision.

“Attend me.”

“We return to the capital!”

His gaze, always gentle and composed, now held a calm yet unshakable weight.

“Bring with us all the records detailing the Crown Prince’s recent actions.”

“When the time is right, I shall pay a visit to the former Grand General of the Xuan Armor Army.”

“The three gentlemen may be invited another day—but as for the matter of my elder brother’s unstable position, an opportunity like this may not come again for several years. It must be investigated.”

“What? Fourth Brother has left as well?”

“How amusing… how very amusing.”

The Seventh Prince reacted in an entirely different manner. Instead of surprise, he simply burst into hearty laughter and said, “What is this, if not a case of the grass startled and the snake fleeing? All it took was the killing of a single Hidden Dragon Guard, and look at the panic it caused. Judging by Brother’s reaction to the matter of those ‘Old Friends from Jinzhou’, it seems to have struck a deep nerve. Amusing indeed… truly interesting.”

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

The Seventh Prince was known for his blunt and fiery temperament.

He had been dispatched to the borderlands even before the current Emperor had ascended the throne, and thus knew little of the events of those early years. But now, his interest had been piqued. With a wave of his hand, he ordered: “Go investigate. What exactly happened in Jinzhou?”

“And what shall we do? Hahaha—naturally, we pack up and head back as well!”

“Zhongzhou is fine and all, but it’s no match for roaming with the brothers of the martial households—watching singing girls and dancers, playing polo, taking up the sword for daily practice. These sights of worldly splendor are pleasing enough, but it is with blades in hand, clad in armor, galloping across the steppes—that is what true men of the human race were born to do!”

“You’ve never seen what it’s like to ride across the vast desert, the blazing sun wheeling overhead, heaven and earth compressed to a narrow seam. You’ve never known thirst like swallowing burning coals, and then plucked a cup-shaped grass, torn it open, and raised your neck to drink the fresh water within, tinged with the taste of bean pods.”

“You’ve never seen the foreign women, balancing clay jars atop their heads, swaying their hips as they work beneath the oasis sun.”

“You’ve never seen how we greet each other with laughter, blades hooked to the saddle—and those foreign girls friendly to the human race, singing as they smile.”

“You simply wouldn’t understand.”

“When those women’s faces are tanned dark by the sun, and they smile shyly as they offer clay jars filled with water—that is a kind of beauty far more stirring than the famed courtesans of Zhongzhou’s city pavilions.”

“Zhongzhou may have the finest qin players under heaven, but they cannot compare to the battle songs I’ve heard on the frontier—where the clash of sword against saddle becomes the rhythm. I couldn’t understand the words of those songs, but even so, they struck more deeply than all these elegant, meandering melodies of Zhongzhou.”

The Seventh Prince, coarse and unrefined in manner, his foundations appearing the shallowest of all the princes, laughed aloud:

“We’ll make a quick trip back to the capital—and then turn back for the border.”

“Eldest Brother rushed back in such a hurry—something must have happened. That right there is a [chance for battle]. Fourth Brother went back too, which means there’s profit to be made. Whether it’s just to join the excitement or to take the chance to squeeze a little out of our two elder brothers, there’s plenty to gain from it.”

“No matter who ends up on the throne, someone has to stand guard over the empire’s mountains and rivers.”

“Those two, they’re not like our uncle, who would abandon the borderlands and the people just to claw at the dragon throne like some wretched coward!”

The Seventh Prince frowned, spat onto the ground, and cursed: “If one accepts the people’s offerings, then when the moment comes, he must charge at the fore! To think that in the matter of Jinzhou, someone dared issue an order forbidding the Xuan Armor cavalry from advancing—hmph! If I find out who it was, I’ll take my Seven-Star Blade and strike them down myself—haul them from the throne and take their head in a single stroke, offering it to the people as a sacrifice!”

“Even if it costs me my life, I will not hesitate.”

“What of it? At worst, it’s just assassinating the king.”

“Father probably knew I had this kind of temperament.”

“That’s why, before the Jinzhou affair erupted, he sent me out to the border to train under my teacher in martial technique and the arts of warfare.”

“…Forget it. Forget it. This fine little performance—best we simply watch from the sidelines.”

“We return!”

As he rose to his feet, the Seventh Prince lowered his gaze, and in that moment, it was as if a great, heavy saber had been drawn from its sheath—revealing the edge of the current generation’s future Warlord. At the age of sixteen, he had defeated his own master, the previous head of the Military School. When the old man passed down the position as the supreme strategist of the martial lineage, he once cast a divination—but never revealed what it foretold. He only sighed with sorrow for the fate that awaited his disciple.

This was a man destined to gallop across the battlefield—yet equally destined never to perish upon it.

“Seventh Brother, Fourth Brother, and the Crown Prince. They’ve all left.”

“Ahh… at last, I can breathe…That’s great…”

The young Qin Wang let out a long sigh, eyes full of feigned sorrow and reluctant farewell as he watched his elder brothers depart. But as he turned back, the relief on his face could no longer be hidden—he was entirely at ease now.

I’m truly saddened by their departure…

…Sike. I was faking it.

They’re finally gone. Good riddance. Not seeing them off.

Back in the temporary courtyard where they were staying, the young Qin Wang had already run off to his elder sister’s side, curling up beside the warm brazier. After writing for a while, he grew drowsy and slackened his posture, reclining with his neck tilted back, eyes fixed in a daze on the dangling ornaments above. Suddenly, he asked: “Big Sister, do you think this whole affair might have been Teacher’s doing?”

Qiongyu lowered her gaze slightly. “Hm?”

“What makes you say that?”

The young prince spoke with a brush between his teeth: “Something so deeply tied to Jinzhou, and with such profound and unfathomable consequences—who else could it be but Teacher?” He paused for a moment, then added: “When he acts, he never does so lightly. But when he does move, it startles the four corners of the world. The realm trembles, and the princes grow fearful. I think Teacher is indeed someone who could stir such a storm.”

Li Qiongyu was silent for a time before softly asking: “Then what do you think happens next?”

The young Qin Wang replied: “I’ve no idea.”

“It feels like maybe it’s best to hold back and stay out of it. But if one were a bit bolder, it might not be a bad time to sneak into the capital and fish in troubled waters.”

He sighed. “But where is Teacher now, I wonder?”

“Him?”

Li Qiongyu replied mildly: “He’s probably somewhere he can finally relax.”

Somewhere deep among the mountains, the sound of joyous laughter echoed.

“Great! Charge, charge, charge!”

“Ahhhhhh!”

It was the gleeful shouting of children, voices still tender with youth, yet brimming with uncontainable delight. The young Daoist sat quietly on a stone ledge, watching as the little peacock and the small herb spirit frolicked together—not far from the place where the Hidden Dragon Guard had been slain. After veiling the movements of fate, Qi Wuhuo had come here to visit the little herb spirit.

It was the herb spirit who, all those years ago, had dragged the peacock egg out from danger.

And it was because of that gift to Qi Wuhuo that the young peacock had its fortune today.

Perhaps for that very reason, the still-young and utterly naive peacock—who viewed the world in the simplest of terms like “can I eat it,” “is it tasty,” and “how should I cook it”—was especially affectionate toward the little herb spirit. So much so that it even allowed the herb spirit to lie sprawled across its back, wings outstretched against the wind, both of them wearing expressions of solemn dignity.

The little herb spirit also wore a look of solemnity.

“We set out!”

“Set out! Set out!”

The young peacock spread its wings wide, trotting forward with wobbling steps against the wind.

It was still too young—unable to fly well.

And lazy.

So it simply carried the little herb spirit on its back, running along like a strutting village chicken. Yet despite this, the two played together with boundless joy. When they tripped and fell, they froze for a second, then met each other’s eyes—and burst into laughter, collapsing into a heap together.

Beneath a pine tree, the young Daoist slowly tuned his qin.

The sound of the qin rang clear and sharp, like the wind sighing through pines. Even after the slaughter, his expression remained calm. Yet to fully still the stirrings of his heart, something had to be done. The music of the qin began with a solemn, killing intent, then gradually slowed and softened, finally flowing like wave upon wave beneath verdant pines—gentle and serene to the extreme. Within it seemed to echo the profound principles of Daoist law, drawing the two little ones into quiet attentiveness.

The little Herb Spirit stood up, picked up a stone, and sat down on it, resting his chin on both hands, listening with all seriousness.

The Little Peacock couldn’t manage as much. It could only squat obediently to the side, wearing an expression that said, “I’m listening very seriously—wow, that sounds delicious—no wait, I mean it sounds really good.”

Even though, in truth, it couldn’t understand the music at all.

When the piece ended, the little Herb Spirit clapped earnestly, “ya-ya”-ing to express its admiration.

Then it leapt up, placed a pine nut it had saved into the young Daoist’s palm, patted his hand in admiration, and gently folded his fingers closed over it. With that, it plopped down on the ancient qin, raised a paw to wipe its own forehead, and let out a long sigh—wearing an expression that clearly said: “What hard work!”

The young Daoist smiled faintly and put away the pine nut. “Many thanks to you.”

“There’s osmanthus cake here.”

He took out some osmanthus cake and offered it to the little Peacock and the little Herb Spirit.

But when he once again placed his hands on the strings, only a discordant jumble came out—the strings had snapped. This qin, after all, had been gifted to him beneath Helian Mountain by Li Puyu. It was one Li Puyu had used to practice with, and it could not withstand the circulation of Primordial Qi, nor endure the touch of a Daoist’s hand. In the end, it still broke. Qi Wuhuo only felt regret. Just as he attempted to repair it, he suddenly heard a burst of chaotic noise.

The little Peacock sensed it an instant later, turning its head.

Even the feathers on its crown trembled.

Only the little Herb Spirit remained unaware, hugging it osmanthus cake and battling it with all its might.

Qi Wuhuo heard the sounds of shouting and cries for help. Rising to his feet, he identified the direction and, with a sweep of his sleeve, drew both the little Herb Spirit and the little Peacock into his robe with a pull of Innate Qi, temporarily placing them within its folds to guard against any feint or diversion. Only then did he stride directly toward the source of the cries.

Yue Shiru staggered in his steps.

He had already been wounded. One hand pressed to his abdomen—he could vaguely feel that a rib might have been broken. Circulating his vital energy, he forcibly suppressed the pain and pushed his body to move swiftly through the forest at a speed beyond that of ordinary martial cultivators. The sword in his hand had already been broken; from its jagged end, threads of black qi coiled and writhed, faintly exuding a foul stench.

His breath had grown ragged, hard to restrain.

Within the mountain woods, the figure pursuing him was nowhere to be seen.

Yet Yue Shiru was certain—that thing was right behind him. The moment he so much as let his guard down, disaster would strike. He could only cry for help while forging ahead, deliberately choosing narrow paths. Suddenly, a foul wind surged toward him, and a massive round boulder—at least two meters high—hurtled straight for his face at terrifying speed.

Yue Shiru’s expression shifted slightly.

His talismans had already been exhausted. As a Daoist who cultivated in all three aspects of the Three Talents, every method he practiced required setting up a ritual altar.

This kind of sudden, frontal assault by a boulder gave him no time to react.

He stepped into the Seven-Star Step and barely managed to dodge to the side. He tried to deflect the stone with his sword, channeling the intent of flowing water. But “four ounces to move a thousand pounds” was a principle—not something achievable without true force behind it. The instant the longsword made contact with the boulder, Yue Shiru felt a monstrous force reverberate through his body. His grip broke; the ritual sword was flung from his hand by the shock and sent flying.

Then came a burst of sharp, piercing laughter—so grating it didn’t even sound human.

A shadow nearly three meters tall lunged at him.

It brought with it a cloud of black, foul, turbid miasma.

Despair surged in Yue Shiru’s heart. He thought only: My life ends here. He was resigned to death—when suddenly, a sweeping wind surged forth. That towering black shadow was caught in a current of qi and hurled away, smashed into the distance.

Yue Shiru froze. Then his eyes lit up with wild joy. He called out, “I am Yue Shiru, disciple of the Daoist Sect. May I ask which elder of our Daoist line is present? This junior pays his respects!” Even as he bowed, his eyes searched around—and he saw a young Daoist, about sixteen years of age, dressed in blue Daoist robes. His features were delicate, and he cradled a qin with broken strings. Standing between mountains and rivers, he carried an air all his own.

Just as Yue Shiru was wondering where this young man’s master might be, the black shadow suddenly let out a roar and violently burst free from the restraints of Innate Qi.

Yue Shiru’s face changed drastically. He shouted in alarm: “Senior, beware! That creature is a shanxiu! (mountain wight)”

“I don’t know why, but in recent days, the miasma, demonic aura, and evil qi of the mountains and rivers have grown severalfold!”

“Strange aberrations have begun to breed!”

“The demonic qi, miasma, and monster essence have fused to give birth to this thing—not demon, not spirit, but a creature of aberration. Its skin is thick, its flesh tough—extremely difficult to deal with!”

He then turned and shouted to Qi Wuhuo: “Young brother, fall back! Let your master deal with this!”

That shanxiu had already pounced toward the youth at terrifying speed. Yue Shiru, seeing that he seemed unable to dodge, feared the boy would perish and rushed to retrieve his sword.

But what he saw next stopped him cold.

The young Daoist still held the broken qin in one arm. With the other hand, he simply raised a single finger and pointed it forward in a mudra.

In that instant, Yue Shiru felt his breath catch—as though the very air before him had been drawn away.

A mighty current of flowing wind gathered.

Before the mountain wight, covered in foul qi and demonic miasma, could even get close, it was once more swept up by that fierce current and hurled violently away, smashing into the mountainside. The very mountain seemed to shudder. Rocks came crashing down in torrents, all striking the shanxiu with deafening booms.

But it knew neither pain nor fear. Not knowing life or death, it raised its head and roared again, shaking off the rubble, rallying its strength, and once again charged.

Qi Wuhuo showed a trace of surprise.

Then he recalled Yue Shiru’s words. He raised his right hand—and thunder exploded within his palm.

It was the utmost yang, the utmost firmness.

It came from his insight into the Five Thunder Judge Seal of the Central Heaven Northern Pole Exorcism Institute.

He pressed his palm forward and spoke a single word:

“Thunder.”

Thunder roared with savage violence. With that single motion, it blasted forth in an instant—rending everything in its path.

The mountain wight was struck head-on.

It was obliterated on the spot.

Even as it was being destroyed, it seemed unwilling to yield. Thunder surged through the air, dispersing dozens of zhang outward, casting a pale light across the dusky mountains. Amidst that gloom, only the thunder’s radiance remained.

It was blindingly white—so bright it hinted at streaks of violet and azure light.

It lingered for a few breaths, then gradually faded.

Yue Shiru’s vision went completely blank from the blinding light. He had meant to say that this creature was incredibly difficult to deal with, and that even conventional thunder techniques had little effect—but then he witnessed this scene. The shanxiu that had pursued him for nearly a hundred li, toying with him rather than killing him outright, had been utterly annihilated beneath that single thunderbolt. Flames still flickered in the air. Heat waves rippled through the void; even the air itself seemed to warp.

Yue Shiru’s mouth went dry.

His heart pounded with fear.

What kind of thunder art is this?!

Could it be even more powerful than the orthodox techniques of the Daoist Sect Shenxian Mountain’s thunder lineage?

Shaken to his core, he watched as Qi Wuhuo turned to look at him. Yue Shiru immediately stepped forward, cupped his hands and bowed deeply. Steadying his spirit, he said:

“This humble one, Yue Shiru, disciple of the Daoist Sect’s Luoxia Peak—pays respects to the True Person!”