Chapter 175: All Causes and All Effects—Settled by the Sword!

Though the world is full of suffering, the sun and moon continue their ceaseless turning, and time flows on as before. No matter how much death there is, life must still go on. 

Under this sudden calamity, the Central Plains welcomed the most difficult and bitter New Year it had ever seen. The entire region was suffused with a stifling and deathly still atmosphere. Yet, because of the decisive judgment made in the face of the disaster, its main scope had been contained within a radius of a thousand li centered on the prefectural city of the Central Plains(Zhongzhou). 

Beyond this range, the people, after their shock and fear, all devoutly gave thanks to Heaven’s protection. 

They said it was the immortals in the heavens who had protected them, allowing them to avoid such a terrifying calamity. 

But there were always some loose-tongued people who claimed that those in the Central Plains prefectural city must have done something to offend Heaven, which was why disaster had befallen them. One must not offend Heaven. Such people were usually scolded a few times. At present, during the New Year, with the city lord dead, matters were difficult to handle. Even the grand sacrificial rite, in which the imperial court and the people would renew together, was postponed by a full seven days. 

The Sage declared that this grand rite would be conducted in a simplified manner. 

To show shared hardship with the people. 

What was saved would be converted into silver and sent to the Central Plains. 

The Empress also donated a considerable amount of silver from her own ornaments. 

This, in turn, led to the consorts of the inner palace offering quite a bit of gold and silver as well. 

The Sage-Emperor ate only vegetarian food and observed a seven-day fast to express mourning. 

Yet these things, for that young Daoist and for the people of the Central Plains, had little to do with them—at least, for now, they had little to do with them. 

The young Daoist, his temples already streaked with white, still walked the streets of the Central Plains as before, carrying a medicine basket on his back. The subdued sorrow within the city had not yet dissipated; yet even though it had not faded, it was gradually beginning to recover. 

The young Daoist relied on gathering herbs and refining medicinal pills to help tend to the people’s injuries. 

“Mm, your injuries have already recovered quite well. Take one more dose of medicine, then move your body more, and get some sunlight.” 

“You will gradually recover.” 

The young Daoist raised his hand, wrote down the medical instructions, and then took out some medicine and handed it over. 

The one assisting at his side was not the little Daoist Mingxin, but Yue Shiru. Within the entire city, there were many Daoist temples and Buddhist monasteries. Some had chosen to preserve themselves alone, while others had descended the mountain to attempt to resist the calamity. Among them, some suffered heavy losses; even many of the backbone forces at the level of Innate One Qi had perished. 

The old Daoist of Lianyang Temple was somewhat more fortunate. He had not died in this incident, but he had still suffered rather serious injuries. The little Daoist Mingxin was now taking care of him, while Qi Wuhuo had descended the mountain to treat the sick and save the people. 

The elderly man nodded repeatedly, expressing endless gratitude before leaving. 

He spent the entire day treating patients without rest, only taking the time to eat some flatbread with cold water in between. 

Yue Shiru stood at the side helping, yet his gaze would always, unconsciously, fall upon the white hair at the young Daoist’s temples. 

For one at the Daoist Path Innate One Qi, unless some price had been paid, it was impossible to turn white-haired in a single day. 

“Little Daoist, thank you. I’ll remember to take the medicine.” 

“This old woman is already over sixty, not exactly a short life. Forgetting a dose now and then isn’t such a big deal.” 

“By the way, Little Daoist, how old are you?” 

The young Daoist replied, “Fifteen…” His voice paused. Thinking of how the New Year had already passed, he smiled slightly, continued writing the medical instructions, and answered: 

“Sixteen now.” 

“Oh, oh, sixteen, is it? About the same as my grandson.” 

“Then you’re still so young.” 

“Don’t exhaust yourself. Look at this—your hair has already turned white. I’ve heard people say this comes from overtaxing the spirit.” 

“You must take care. Where are your parents? They don’t look after you properly.” 

She had the same kind of chatter common to elders of her age, pointing at the young Daoist’s temples as she spoke. The youth raised his hand and pressed lightly against his temple, only smiling gently before replying:  “Thank you for your concern. It’s nothing—probably just that I haven’t slept well these past few days. It’s not a serious matter.” 

“As for me?” 

“…It’s fine.” 

Only by night did things finally calm down. There were far fewer pedestrians. The young Daoist stood up, carried his medicine basket on his back, and returned to the Daoist temple. Throughout the entire Zhongzhou Prefectural City, there were far fewer people on the roads. Clearly, it was not yet the time for the final evening drum, and in the past, there would have been countless vendors, from where Qi Wuhuo had been sitting all the way to the great bridge, with people everywhere and lights bright as day. 

Now, looking again, even when there were passersby, they hurried along and quickly left. 

In the past, at every fifth watch, there would be monks carrying iron plaques as they walked about, reminding people that the time had come and the morning bell would soon be struck. That Buddhist chant, tinged with a rustic, colloquial flavor, mixed with the clanging of the iron plates and the sound of wooden fish, had not been heard for a long time now. By the roadside, there were no longer those who distributed porridge, nor those who added medicinal herbs to it. 

The gray-robed gentleman was nowhere to be found, and that plain and gentle monk had also disappeared without a trace. 

Yue Shiru watched as the young Daoist walked forward step by step. 

The youth had his hair bound with a wooden hairpin, yet amidst the black strands, the white was especially glaring. Only a few days had passed since the events in the Central Plains, yet he could clearly sense the changes in the young Daoist’s aura—it had become more settled. Not heavier, but something more complex. 

Ahead, there was the aura of Earth Deities, and a Land God revealed his form. 

Though it was said that Earth Deities did not concern themselves with mortal affairs, when their hearts softened, they would lend a hand in passing. 

That did not count as violating the duties of the Earthly Officials. 

Many Land Gods had gone to various places to gather medicinal herbs or fruits from the mountains and sent them into the city. After all, these lands had watched these people be born, watched them grow old, and watched their children also turn gray-haired. Though there was a distinction between humans and gods, there was, in the end, still compassion. 

Taking the form of an old man, he sorted out these items. Then he lifted his gaze and saw the young Daoist approaching from this side. 

Yue Shiru recognized him as an Earth Deity and stepped forward, intending to pay his respects. 

Yet he saw that the Land God only cast a distant glance at the young Daoist—casual, indifferent—and let out a cold snort. 

He directly burrowed into the earth and departed, too lazy to even offer the slightest greeting. 

It was because of what the youth had done that day—there was resentment, yet nothing could be said. 

Yue Shiru had already been about to speak, but he froze. The hand he had raised could neither fall nor continue the greeting. Left with no choice, he awkwardly turned back, only to see that the young Daoist showed no change in expression. Carrying the now-empty medicine basket on his back, he walked past him, reached out, and lightly patted his shoulder, smiling gently:  “We’re returning to the Daoist temple.” 

“…Mm.” 

“Yes, True Person.” 

Yue Shiru’s address of “True Person” this time was far more sincere than before. 

When they returned to the Daoist temple, they could already hear the clucking of the three-yellow chickens from outside. Pushing open the temple gate, everything was as before. The little Daoist Mingxin frowned as he looked at the old Daoist in front of him, holding a wine flask in his hand, and said:  “Master, Martial Uncle said that you injured your foundation when circulating your Qi earlier, and also fought someone with the sword, suffering a wound to the lungs. You can’t drink alcohol anymore.” 

The old Daoist said awkwardly, “J-just a little.” 

“Not even a little!” 

“Besides, I only took one sip—just one sip…” 

“It’s the New Year, you even let me eat meat, what’s a little drink?” 

“No!” 

The young Daoist Mingxin set the wine flask down beside himself. 

In the past, it had always been the old Daoist admonishing his disciple, yet now it seemed to have reversed. The little Daoist Mingxin was extremely serious—over these past few days, whether it was sweeping, meditating, and cultivating Qi, or the morning and evening recitations, he carried them out meticulously. He no longer needed to be reminded, as though he had suddenly grown up. 

The three-yellow chicken strutted past with chest puffed and head held high, proud and imposing, like it was inspecting its own territory. 

From time to time, it would lower its head and peck at a few leaves. 

Everything was as before. 

After eating, the young Daoist washed the dishes and chopsticks, then went alone to sit within the Scripture Pavilion. Leaning against the wall, moonlight fell upon his face, his brow clear and bright, yet within his heart there remained a knot unresolved. The matters of Jinzhou, the matters of the Central Plains, the people he had seen, the things he had experienced, and the decisions he had made—all tangled around him. 

At present, it all seemed to have been resolved. 

But had it truly been resolved? 

From where had the blazing heat of Jinzhou arisen? The Star Lords who had guided the seven major nodes within the Central Plains had already been slain, and the derelict deities had also perished. Yet Qi Wuhuo still felt unease within his heart. This was merely a false resolution. 

He held his sword. The blood-colored blade gave a long, resonant cry—when all things are unjust, they cry out. But what was unbalanced—the sword, or his state of mind? 

Suddenly, the token at his waist faintly lit up. This time, it was the token of the Northern Pole Exorcism Court. Qi Wuhuo recalled what Taibai had said earlier about merit and virtue, and guessed that since the matter of restoring order had been settled, there were still some finishing matters to attend to. 

Thus, he closed his eyes, and his primordial spirit fell into the token. It was like a medium, somewhat similar to the method used by the Mingzhen Dao Alliance to step upon water and enter. 

Before his eyes, everything brightened, as though he had appeared within a great hall. 

The hall was not large. Aside from him, all present were divine generals who had charged at the very frontlines of this incident. Qi Wuhuo suddenly noticed that Taibai was absent, and the Thunder General beside him also seemed injured. Unable to help himself, he softly asked about it. 

The latter fell silent for a moment before replying: “Five days ago, we led forces to capture the Great Sun Emperor. He fiercely resisted and refused to be taken.” 

“In the ensuing battle, seven divine generals, including Taibai, blocked his escape with their own bodies, using themselves to withstand his divine abilities. They were heavily wounded by the Great Sun Golden Flame. Three died on the spot, while Taibai has now been sealed within profound ice. Under careful nurturing, there may yet be a slim chance of survival.” 

“The Northern Pole Exorcism Court has always been like this.” 

“But you are not a martial general. You need not take such risks.” 

Qi Wuhuo felt somewhat relieved and asked, “The Great Sun Emperor?” 

The Thunder General replied slowly:  “Yes. The foremost of the Eleven Luminaries, now the head of the Dipper Department—also the Solar Emperor. The chaos that destroyed the grand formation this time was caused by him. After interrogating the primordial spirit of Rahu, and then interrogating that of Ketu, we obtained answers, sought out evidence, and confirmed it beyond doubt before moving to capture him.” 

The Sun… 

The young Daoist suddenly felt his blood surge violently, his body instinctively tensing as he said:  “The Solar Emperor… the strange drought in Jinzhou—was he connected to it? And to what happened seven years ago?” 

The Thunder General frowned slightly and said: “Seven years ago? Jinzhou? At that time, we were pursuing another demonic god. Matters of that sort should have been handled by the Shangqing Heavenly Pivot Institute and the Judicial Heavenly Venerable.” 

“As for the records from the interrogation, I have not seen them.” 

“But with the interrogation methods of those fellows in the Northern Pole Exorcism Court, they should have already gotten the answers.” 

“I can ask on your behalf.” 

His primordial spirit seemed to depart briefly, then quickly returned, speaking concisely: 

“There is a connection.” 

“Jidu and the others all regarded him as their supreme leader. The purpose of these two incidents was to disrupt order, and then, under the intent of [Great Sun Dispelling Evil], illuminate the Six Realms. By doing so, he sought to take a further step above the Great Sun Emperor and thereby prove the honored position of [Taiyi].”

“In other words, these two calamities were ritual acts meant to allow the Eastern Radiance Emperor to take a step forward upon his Dao path.” 

“It’s just that back in Jinzhou, they were still cautious—didn’t dare go too far.” 

“But in the Central Plains, their courage swelled, becoming increasingly audacious. That is why we had to step in.” 

“You, Dangmo…” 

The Thunder General noticed the stiffness of the young Daoist and the changes in his aura, yet did not say more. 

Because another powerful presence had appeared. 

It was not the Great True Lord Tianyou. 

To guard against the possibility of a feint, Tianpeng had not moved. Previously, those responsible for capturing the Eastern Radiance Emperor were the Northern Pole Saints Tianyou and Yisheng. Tianyou had also been injured, and now it was True Lord Yisheng who oversaw the final matters. 

He spoke indifferently: “This matter is something all of you should understand. The Eastern Radiance Emperor, in his pursuit of the Dao, possessed an extremely firm Dao heart. He did not hesitate to recreate the ancient state, seeking to use the Great Sun to dispel evil.” 

“A firm Dao heart—very good, very good.” 

“All the more reason he must be cut down and executed.” 

“To die upon the Immortal-Slaying Platform would be too lenient for him. His death should serve as a warning to all under Heaven.” 

“For now, he has not yet been executed. He has only been imprisoned within the Heavenly Prison. His Three Flowers atop the Crown have been severed, and the Five Qi within his chest have been stripped away. The Northern Emperor has already issued a decree—tomorrow, before the assembled gods of Heaven, he will be beheaded.” 

The Northern Pole Exorcism Court, beyond punishment, also bears the duty of deterrence. 

Yisheng lowered his gaze and swept it across them: 

“Gentlemen—who is willing to take the blade and serve as the executioner?” 

A trace of hesitation appeared among the war generals of the Northern Pole Exorcism Court—just for an instant. 

The Eastern Radiance Emperor governed the registers of immortals, which also meant that those on friendly terms with him were numerous and widespread. His status was exceedingly high, and he had many close associates. If one were to take on this role, they would surely be targeted—and danger would likely follow. 

There are always those who, in following their own Dao, will go to extremes regardless of the cost. 

Yet almost at the same moment, they steadied their Dao hearts, dispelled their hesitation, and prepared to answer. 

The name of the Northern Pole Exorcism Court was the same—its bottom line could not be provoked. 

But in that very instant, someone had already spoken first: “I am willing!” 

The many divine generals were startled and all turned to look in that direction. It was that Daoist—the only one involved in this matter who was not even counted among the celestial officials—and also the one who had responded without the slightest hesitation this time. 

Yisheng raised his eyes to look at him and said calmly: “Do you know that behind the Eastern Radiance Emperor, the entanglements are vast, and the karma is great?” 

The young Daoist replied: “I know.” 

This time, Yisheng looked at him a bit more seriously and said: “You are Dangmo?” 

“Yes.” 

“Very good. I have already read your record, and I also know the reason for your choice. Although the matter of Jinzhou was not submitted to the Exorcism Court, nor was it under our jurisdiction, Heaven and Earth have cause and effect—this, I have always believed.” 

“The affair in Jinzhou began with the Eastern Radiance Emperor, and ended beneath your sword. One cause, one effect. You come now for vengeance, yet do not go against our judgment. In that case, there is no reason it cannot be allowed!” 

Yisheng, being of the demon race, possessed a fierce yet upright temperament. Regarding this matter, he was not as stern as Tianyou but rather showed appreciation, laughing several times loudly. Suddenly, he raised his hand, and a command token bearing the character Slay flew directly toward Qi Wuhuo. 

The young Daoist caught it. 

Yisheng rose and said coldly: “All generals, receive the order.” 

“Tomorrow at noon, when the Great Sun is at its peak—” 

“Dangmo, execute the Eastern Radiance Emperor!” 

The young Daoist gripped the command token in his hand. 

Then he answered slowly— 

“Dangmo, accepts the command.”