Chapter 176: Dangmo True Lord?

Within the mortal world, inside the Scripture Pavilion of the Lianyang Temple, the young Daoist opened his eyes as his Primordial Spirit returned. His five fingers spread slightly—accompanied by flowing golden radiance shifting and changing—starlight naturally crisscrossed and interwove between his fingers. In the end, it evolved into a uniquely shaped command token, emanating a chilling, awe-inspiring authority. This was the Northern Emperor Token representing the power of Slaying an Emperor. 

The Four Great Emperors stand above all Heavenly Emperors and Heavenly Venerables, beneath only the Three Pure Ones and the Jade Emperor Great Heavenly Venerable. 

Let alone the foremost among the Four Great Emperors. 

This Northern Emperor Token itself could already be considered an extraordinary immortal artifact. 

Even if one were not its designated target, casting it out in battle would allow the divine intent within to suppress ordinary True Lords. 

Qi Wuhuo gazed at the token for a long time. His five fingers closed, gripping it. The token then transformed back into strands of starlight, thread by thread, flowing into the young Daoist’s Primordial Spirit, where it simply sat upon the spiritual platform. 

That night, he did not sleep. He merely sat there in meditation, concentrating his mind into unity with an unprecedented focus—so intense it could rival the time he had once meditated without rest for an entire year upon the Heavenly River. 

When Yue Shiru came out during the night, he saw that the light in the Scripture Pavilion had not been extinguished. 

He opened his mouth, as if wanting to say something, but in the end only let out a long sigh. 

“True Person Qi still has matters in his heart that he cannot let go of today.” 

“He is from Jinzhou and has also experienced what happened in Zhongzhou.” 

“In seven years, two great mortal calamities—and yet he does not know from where these disasters arose. Walking within them, it is only natural to feel lost… ah, this is difficulty, this is tribulation. Even for people like us, what can we do?”  Yue Shiru shook his head. When he went to find the old Daoist, the latter also sighed deeply. 

Having stayed in Zhongzhou for so many years, he knew some of the inside story. He knew that terrifying sword strike had been executed when Qi Wuhuo raised a ritual altar. 

It had been extremely effective in restraining the spread of the calamity across all of Zhongzhou. Yet because of this, the young man’s Innate One Qi had consumed its very foundation—perhaps leaving him without any chance in the future to step into the level of a Daoist True Person. 

In his view, Qi Wuhuo had already done everything to the utmost limit. But for the young Daoist himself, perhaps it would still take time to walk out of it. 

This was tempering and cultivating the Dao heart. 

A period most difficult to endure. 

By the next day, the continuous rains between late winter and early spring finally came to a halt, and—most rarely—a brilliant sun appeared. 

The radiance of the great sun manifested its own existence, shining over all things. At this time, the sunlight carried a faint chill, not like the scorching heat of summer, making it far more comfortable for people. Under the sun, more figures appeared outside—some to bask in the warmth, to ease the suppression and grief in their hearts from this period; others who had escaped disaster felt less sorrow, merely remarking that it was fine weather. 

When Yue Shiru went down the mountain, he saw that people had begun selling vegetables again. These greens, under the sunlight, still held a fresh verdant hue—winter cabbages and the like, and some were even sent by the Earth Deities. Yue Shiru also saw the Land Deity presiding over the vast region of Zhongzhou Prefecture—the very one who had previously shown Qi Wuhuo a rather poor attitude. 

He hurried forward to catch up, exchanged a few pleasantries, and asked the reason. 

The Land Deity had been one of the main forces in this calamity, striving with all his might to stabilize the earth veins, preventing the ones beneath Zhongzhou Prefecture from rupturing. He had thus obtained Northern Pole merit. Hearing the question now, he merely sneered coldly and said: “Cold and unfeeling, impartial and selfless—such is the bearing of one at the highest Dao. I, an old Land Deity, am nothing. That judge wouldn’t even spare me a glance—what is there left to say?” 

“He was not wrong. In public matters, I acknowledge him. But in private sentiment, we can no longer be on good terms with him!” 

“Farewell!” 

These words left Yue Shiru rather puzzled. He bought some vegetables and returned up the mountain under the warm sunlight. Yet when he lifted his head, he faintly sensed something amiss— 

In winter, the sky should be high and pale, the sun but a distant point. Though there is sunlight, it should only carry an icy thinness, at most warming the body slightly. 

But today’s sun seemed… somewhat too large. 

The Daoist did not pay it much mind, only smiling as he said: “Today we have good vegetables, and I even bought a few eggs. Haha, the Three-Yellow Chicken can’t lay eggs—later we can buy a few young hens. That way, from now on we’ll have fresh eggs every day.” 

The little Daoist Mingxin’s eyes lit up. “Sounds great!” 

Then he looked toward the old Daoist and said, “Master, bask in the sun—but no sneaking alcohol!” 

Only then did he rise, pat the dust from his Daoist robe at the knees, turn, and trot over to the front of the Scripture Pavilion. Carefully, he pushed open the door, but paused in slight surprise—he saw the young Daoist lying on his side upon a wooden bed that had been added inside the pavilion, one hand propping up his cheek, holding a scroll of Daoist scripture, peacefully asleep. The sunlight was just right, so he quietly withdrew again. 

“Martial Uncle Qi is sleeping. That’s strange—usually he’s always the earliest to rise every day.” 

“And he doesn’t have a habit of resting at midday either.” 

Yue Shiru said, “During this time, the True Person has indeed been exhausted.” 

The old Daoist sighed with emotion. “He should be allowed a good rest.” 

“No need to wake him. Let’s cook first.” 

The voices were all deliberately lowered, gradually softening and fading, dispersing into the wind. Sunlight poured gently through the window lattice. The young Daoist’s breathing was slow and steady, his brows calm. Holding a Daoist scripture in hand, he seemed to be peacefully asleep—yet his Primordial Spirit had already been drawn by the Northern Emperor Token. In an instant, it rose from the mortal world straight toward the Heavenly Court. 

Qi Wuhuo only felt starlight guiding the way, vast and indistinct. 

Yet his steps were firm. In but a short moment, he arrived before an enormous structure. What he saw before him were colossal pillars like white jade—each one as wide as the walls of Zhongzhou Prefecture, their height immeasurable. They formed a massive gateway, faintly flowing with rosy radiance, inspiring awe at a glance. Already, a group of immortals clad in civil official robes stood there waiting. 

Many were of other realms’ races, while others were formed from innate essence. 

As the young Daoist looked around, he suddenly sensed something moving on his shoulder. Glancing over, he saw that the little peacock had followed along as well?! Looking again at his waist, his sword was still there, too. As he hesitated, someone laughed and said: “Dangmo, there is no need to mind it. When True Lords and True Persons ascend into the heavens, their distinctive mounts and weapons are often drawn along as well.” 

“However, these exotic beasts and mounts are also in the form of Primordial Spirit.” 

“Please, follow me.” 

Qi Wuhuo turned and saw that the speaker was an immortal official radiating faint starlight, his face indistinct. This was an immortal official of the Northern Pole Exorcism Court, here to receive Qi Wuhuo and guide him into a side hall of a palace. Inside were already several immortal officials and palace attendants. Most of these attendants were formed from residual innate essence—though born with natural divine abilities, they found it difficult to cultivate further. 

Thus, they served within the Heavenly Court, seeking opportunities for breakthrough or enlightenment from immortals. 

Qi Wuhuo lifted his eyes and saw trays placed nearby, upon which were several items: armor, a battle robe, and war boots. 

The guiding heavenly official said, “Though this is an execution, it is also a grand ritual. It cannot be treated casually. Dangmo, please change attire.” 

Within the Northern Pole Exorcism Court, aside from a group of unparalleled fierce figures both in heaven and earth, there was also a large number of supporting immortal and heavenly officials. At this moment, the official from the Forging Division glanced at Qi Wuhuo, then suddenly frowned, sizing him up several times from head to toe before bursting into curses: “Those brutes who only know how to draw their blades and hack wildly! They can’t even handle such a small matter!” 

“If he’s only a True Person, why wasn’t it written clearly?!” 

“I, this old man, stayed up through the night rushing the work, not closing my eyes day or night, and forcibly finished a full set of True Lord armor!” 

A string of furious scolding followed! 

All because the dossier those martial officials had given him had only written the two characters—Dangmo. 

But when this Forging Division heavenly official took a glance, long-ingrained habit made him subconsciously add the two words True Lord at the end. After all, the one to be executed today was none other than the Solar Great Emperor, the Eastern Radiance Emperor, head of the Dipper Division—how could it possibly be an ordinary person?! Thus, the Forging Division under the Northern Emperor had rushed the work with all their might.

“My True Lord armor is forged with the myriad stars of the heavens as its guide, interwoven with the radiant threads of sunrise and moonfall. Upon it, the scales of the armor accord with the number of the Zhou Tian Star Gods. A fierce tiger guards the waist, an azure dragon devours the shoulders, the Black Tortoise stands as protection, and the fire phoenix crowns above—corresponding to the Azure Dragon, White Tiger, Vermilion Bird, and Black Tortoise, the Four Constellations and Twenty-Eight Star Lords!” 

“And look at this battle robe of mine—it was obtained only after I personally sought out the Weaver Maiden Star Lord!” 

“Today I’ll give it to him—no… to you!” 

The old heavenly official looked at the young Daoist before him, who possessed a bold and valiant spirit, daring to use a mere mortal body to execute an Emperor. In the end, as one under the Northern Emperor, after thinking for a long while, though he had initially felt pained and wanted to put it away, he instead set it down and said: 

“Fine. A bold and reckless fellow like you—there’s no harm in letting you wear it. Today, try on this True Lord armor used for grand rites of Heaven and Earth. Heh, this is no ordinary immortal armor—it must be worn layer by layer to form an array!” 

“Spread your arms and prepare to be armored.” 

The young Daoist did as instructed, removing his Daoist robe. Because today was one of solemn execution, he changed into a black garment. 

Spreading his arms, heavenly officials stepped forward on either side, fastening bracers forged from Taibai refined gold onto him. 

Then came the greaves—since this was for execution, it was not the usual golden armor of heavenly generals, but black in color. 

After that, the first layer of lamellar armor and arm guards, followed by the dragon-scale skirt armor, were put on one by one. 

Then two mighty attendants had [Dangmo] spread his arms again, dressing him in black-gold chainmail. On both shoulders, they bound shoulder-guards engraved with mountain patterns, and placed upon his chest a beast-devouring breastplate. At his waist was a devouring design corresponding to the seven lodges of the Western White Tiger. However, instead of placing upon him a winged purple-gold crown, when a heavenly official reached to remove the young Daoist’s hairpin, he suddenly felt a sharp pain in his palm, followed by numbness, forcing him to step back again and again, his expression uncertain:

“This hairpin—I can’t remove it.” 

“What are you saying? How could there be something that can’t be removed?!” 

When the old heavenly official from the Forging Division personally reached out to take it, he too felt a faint numbness in his palm. His brows furrowed slightly, as if he had guessed something, and he said:  “Dangmo, you should remove it yourself.” 

The young Daoist nodded, raised his hand, and took down the wooden hairpin himself. He merely kept it on his person without letting it leave him. Then a female immortal official stepped forward to tie up his hair, using only a black jade crown as part of the attire for a divine general’s ceremonial form. 

The old heavenly official looked him up and down several times, yet always felt that something was still lacking. After pondering for a while, he suddenly came to a realization and said: 

“You wait here for a moment!” 

He hurried off again, then returned shortly after, taking out an item—it was a faceplate—and said: 

“Dangmo, your face is too youthful. You won’t be able to suppress that crowd. Come, wear this!” 

“Here.” 

The young Daoist saw that it was a faceplate capable of concealing aura and heavenly secrets. This entire set of armor, being at the Primordial Spirit level, carried no weight. He raised his hand, pressed it against the mask, and slowly fastened it onto his face. The faceplate had an extremely smooth form, with openings only at the eyes and nose; the rest was covered in profound patterns, cold and composed, concealing the youthfulness of the boy. 

“Time was too short, everything rushed. Even this battle robe was obtained in haste from the Weaver Maiden Star Lord of the Northern Black Tortoise Seven Mansions.” 

“So it is not of the Central Pole, but bears the aspect of the Black Tortoise.” 

“Dangmo, don’t mind it.” 

The many heavenly officials draped the final battle robe over the young Daoist. He then placed the little peacock beneath the wide robe, and the officials stepped back slightly, sighing in admiration. 

“Even though it was rushed, it still does not disgrace the reputation of our Forging Division.” 

“Hahaha—Dangmo True Lord, go on!” 

The young Daoist rose and stepped out. The guiding heavenly official lifted his gaze—and saw a figure approaching head-on. 

Clad in black-gold chainmail, wearing golden-thread cloud-treading boots, his entire armor forged from three thousand six hundred scales, each one refined from the stars where the Zhou Tian Star Gods resided. His hair was bound with a black jade crown; one hand rested upon his sword. The battle robe lay seamless upon him, and above the vast river of stars lingered the aura of the Black Tortoise. 

With a faceplate covering his features, his eyes were calm. White hair fell from his temples to his shoulders—yet he bore the decisive killing intent of a Star Deity. 

The guiding heavenly official inwardly praised him and said: “Dangmo, proceed to the execution grounds. I still have other matters to attend to. I have already used the Northern Pole stars to guide you—just follow and go!” 

[Dangmo] nodded and stepped forward in the direction indicated. Because of the guidance, his speed was extremely fast, sweeping across the heavens.

But for some reason, the sword at his waist suddenly let out a cry, trembling faintly. It reversed the direction given by the heavenly official, pulling Qi Wuhuo elsewhere. Before the young Daoist could react, the stars scattered—and before his eyes, a river of blood suddenly appeared. 

Or rather— 

Half a river. 

Yet even half of it was vast and immense, stretching across his vision, flowing slowly, as though it would never come to an end. 

The longsword, meanwhile, continued to cry out—its sound carrying both joy and sorrow. 

Qi Wuhuo recalled what Yue Shiru had once said—this sword had originally been a blood-colored river in the heavens, but one day it had been severed. Half of it fell into the mortal world, forming the embryo of this blade. Then the remaining half of that river must be what still lingered here? 

This sword, borrowing the Northern Emperor’s guidance, had come to this place. Instinctively, it trembled and cried out, yearning to return to the Blood River— 

Yearning to make itself whole once more! 

Qi Wuhuo grasped it in his hand. The sword instinctively reacted with fierce resistance, like a tiger whipping its head around, baring fangs, ready to devour. But when facing Qi Wuhuo, it paused slightly— 

It had followed Lü Chunyang and been imprisoned for several hundred years, then starved for several hundred more. Once released, following this Daoist, it had first eaten its fill! 

So full it nearly vomited. 

Then, before it could even process that, it had eaten another great meal— 

The blood of a Star Lord! 

Let alone those centuries with Lü Chunyang, even before that, it had never received such treatment. 

Now, though it was still a fierce killing sword with baleful qi surging to the heavens, it hesitated. Between one full meal and endless full meals, placed before it, the sword shifted from its ferocious, bristling state back to a more natural one. It let out a soft cry, as if asking for Qi Wuhuo’s opinion—indicating that it would not leave forever, but if he did not agree, it would still return. 

Just asking. 

The young Daoist thought for a moment, knowing the sword’s nature, and said: “Go on.” 

Then he added a restraint: 

“You have only the time of one cup of tea. Otherwise, it will delay matters.” 

The sword cried out several times in response, transforming into a streak of sword-light that shot directly into the slowly flowing, seemingly endless Blood River. 

And then—it began to devour wildly! 

The Blood River surged violently, as if trying to smash and swallow the sword, restoring itself into a complete river. The sword, unwilling to be broken and reclaimed, cried out incessantly, instead attempting to swallow the river into itself—to make itself the core and return to its original foundation. The Blood River sought to consume the sword; the sword cleaved through the Blood River. The clash was fierce and unrestrained. 

At that moment, the young Daoist suddenly heard a familiar voice: 

“Hey—hey—HEY?!” 

“What’s going on?! Why is this river exploding?!” 

The young Daoist—Dangmo of the Northern Pole—instinctively lowered his head and saw a young girl in light green robes and white garments leaping up from the riverbank, at what seemed to be an excellent scenic spot. She was now staring blankly at the churning Blood River before her. 

Qi Wuhuo recognized her at once: 

“Yun Qin?!” 

The girl, who had come to one of her own secret hideaways to slack off—only to find even this place in chaos—also lifted her head. She saw the young Daoist clad in the armor of a divine general True Lord, draped in the Black Tortoise battle robe. 

“Hm???”