Chapter 115
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Such an imposing display of heroism stunned all the members of the Mingzhen Dao Alliance into silence. Yet when the elder caught sight of that jade-green thumb ring, he seemed to realize something. He received it with both hands, examined the hidden patterns etched within, and only then said, “So that’s how it is. I understand now.” He returned the thumb ring to the young girl dressed in azure robes and wearing a white fox mask, his manner now exceedingly courteous.
The girl’s eyes shimmered with mirth. She cupped her hands toward the young Daoist in salute, then departed gracefully.
She had already gone far.
The elder was still sighing in admiration. “What spirit. Truly, what heroic spirit.”
“Still, in the pursuit of the Dao, those willing to spend a fortune just for a moment of guidance are not few in number.”
“Come, little Daoist. Follow me.”
“Since that honored guest has paid on your behalf, this old man may as well bring out the original scrolls for your perusal. But mind you, there’s quite a lot—might take you some time to get through.”
And indeed, there was a great deal.
The scrolls were jade books, carved directly from gold-tinged jade, filling an entire bookshelf from end to end.
As the elder activated the seals and spells guarding the shelves, he explained: “Though storing spiritual resonances within jade slips saves space, should they encounter spiritual turbulence or chaotic flows, the contents within would be lost entirely—not a single word could be read. So we use these gold-jade tomes, layered with spiritual resonance—far safer. Please, little Daoist, sit for a moment. Sit.”
“Let this old man fetch the scrolls for you.”
“Speaking of which, the events in Jinzhou back then—one jade slip alone wouldn’t suffice to explain them all. Besides our own records, we’ve gathered numerous letters and correspondence to support our inferences and ensure the accuracy of the information.”
“Here—this is the first volume.”
“The beginning of the Jinzhou incident.”
The elder placed a jade book as thick as a man’s waist upon the table. With a gesture and an incantation, the jade book slowly unfurled. Upon it, the landscapes of Jinzhou were exquisitely rendered in the finest detail. The young Daoist caught sight of his own hometown within it. In his memory, that town wasn’t small—it held over ten thousand households.
In childhood, he had strolled among spring blossoms and chased butterflies in the summer.
And in autumn, he would nap amidst the wheat fields.
It had always been lively.
Yet amidst the vast jade book that covered the entire table, the record of it was but the faintest trace.
From that, one could glean the sheer size of Jinzhou, the multitude of its people, and the splendor of a land as flourishing as brocade.
The elder sighed with emotion, “It was because its landscapes were as picturesque as a painted scroll that it came to be called [Jin]—brocade. And now, what has it become?”
He pointed toward a location on the scroll, then swept his finger sideways across the map. “It was likely sometime in the summer, when a sudden upheaval occurred.”
“A searing energy emerged here, then swept across all of Jinzhou with irresistible force. Vegetation withered, rivers dried up—that was the beginning of the calamity… Later, entities from the Demon Kingdom appeared and tore this mortal prefecture directly into the rift of the demon realm.”
“Countless demons devoured human flesh and drank human souls.”
“People said it was the Demon Race’s kingdom—but they were wrong.”
The elder himself seemed somewhat astonished as he pointed to the scroll’s annotations.
“Just like the mortal realm, the demons are fractured into myriad states and domains. The demon forces that wreaked havoc in Jinzhou back then came from no less than three factions.”
“Three great demon kingdoms, all descending upon a single prefecture, slaughtering the innocent—what hope could remain in such a blood-soaked land?”
“But the circumstances back then were far too chaotic. Even our Dao Alliance could not discern exactly which demon states descended upon Jinzhou. Still, such a calamity… Jinzhou, vast as it was, had endured only a few days before what remained was already a human tragedy.”
With a long sigh, the elder handed Qi Wuhuo a stack of thick letters. The pages had yellowed with time, soaked through with blood. He said:
“These are the records from the very heart of the disaster.”
“At the center was the provincial capital—the most prosperous place in all Jinzhou, perhaps in all the land. When disaster struck, the spiritual resonance of heaven and earth was thrown into chaos. All long-distance means of communication were severed. It was at great cost that this letter was even sent out.”
“The blood upon it belongs to those who made their final stand in Jinzhou.”
“Not all of them were cultivators.”
“There were coachmen, there were dancers, there were scions of noble houses—and even prisoners.”
“A pity… even the condemned gave their last drop of blood for the sake of this city, just to see this letter delivered.”
Qi Wuhuo looked upon the bundle of bloodstained missives in his hand. Upon unfolding them, he found their contents tragically simple. Only six stark characters: ‘Disaster in the Capital. Request Aid.’ Each and every letter was identical—these six words alone. The elder gestured toward the thick stack, his voice concise yet heavy:
“The matter was of utmost urgency. Over three hundred parties were dispatched, numbering in the thousands.”
“All were bold, sharp-witted, and courageous.”
“In the end, only three groups reached other cities.”
“The rest—all perished.”
The old man shook his head and retrieved another jade slip. “This is the intelligence later gathered by the Alliance Master himself.”
“It can be confirmed that the borderland’s General’s Manor did, in fact, receive the missive. This can be verified through the records preserved within the manor.”
“However, the frontier soldiers never received the message.”
“This matter, to this day, has never been made public.”
Qi Wuhuo continued leafing through the archives. It was as if he could already witness the calamity that had taken place all those years ago.
At that time, he had been but a child of nine, swept into the tides of fleeing people—like a lone leaf caught in a raging current, tossed to and fro, without any idea of where he was going, or what place he was seeking. Now, through these accounts—whether letters or jade slips—told from the differing perspectives of those who had lived it, he could begin to piece together the truth. And the more he saw, the more suffocated he felt.
Heaven’s wrath. Man-made disasters.
The chaos of the demon kingdoms.
“How could the common folk of that time possibly escape from Jinzhou…?”
The old man seemed to receive a voice transmission and quietly took his leave. The person who stepped forward to take his place was a middle-aged man—the one charged with overseeing all affairs of the Dao Alliance in Central Province(Zhongzhou). He approached carrying a jade box, a slight hesitation in his expression. Yet in the end, he still placed the box on the table, lifted the seal upon it, and rested his hand gently atop it as he spoke:
“This is the most significant piece of intelligence we have concerning Jinzhou. All who have seen it have had their very spirits shaken.”
“Several millennia ago, in ages past, the Human Sovereign once briefly unified the mortal realm. Together with the Heavenly Court, an accord was established.”
“Mortal affairs would henceforth be judged by the Human Sovereign alone.”
“The many immortals and gods would only maintain the order of Heaven and Earth.”
“This pact bore binding force upon all parties.”
“Later, due to countless causes and complications, that Human Sovereign perished. His sword and imperial seal were scattered across the world. The mortal realm once more splintered into many nations. Yet this land upon which we now stand—vast and resplendent—remained the mightiest of them all. And so, it still bears the title of Human Sovereign’s domain. What he cultivated was neither Qi refinement nor the tempering of flesh and bones, but the power of destiny itself.”
“Layer upon layer of fortune, gathered upon one man alone—thus is the Human Sovereign born, wielder of immense might.”
“As for the legions of the human empire, they cultivate the power of blood and qi, and are capable of bearing the weight of fortune. When they form their battle arrays, they can meet the demon tribes head-on in blood-soaked combat.”
“This is the reason humanity is still able to hold its ground in the mortal realm.”
Qi Wuhuo nodded slightly. He had long harbored suspicions of such things.
If there were cultivators in the mortal world, yet imperial dynasties still stood firm, then things could never have been as simple as in his dreams.
At the very least, the factor of cultivation must have been involved.
The man rested his hand atop the jade box, his expression deeply conflicted. He handed the dossiers, along with the letter within, over to Qi Wuhuo and said:
“Many things happened back then, and no one could clearly see the changes in the situation. It was only after the dust had settled that we realized—the disaster in Jinzhou… could have been avoided. This land held the greatest imperial dynasty of the mortal realm, different from all the other minor nations. At that time, six hundred thousand Ironclad Xuan Troops had already arrived in Jinzhou in battle formation.”
“Leading them was a famed general of the realm, one who had spent half a lifetime clashing with the demon clans.”
“Later, the present emperor—who was then the second prince—took advantage of his elder brother’s move, which had deployed his trusted Ironclad Xuan Troops to Jinzhou to battle the demons. He colluded with the court and seized the opportunity to overthrow the crown prince, and took his place in the Eastern Palace.”
“After becoming crown prince, he feared the aftermath—worried that the current unrest would allow his elder brother to suppress him once more.”
“So he issued an order: the Ironclad Xuan Troops were to halt. They were forbidden from setting foot into Jinzhou.”
“At the same time, he sealed off all information. That is why, despite the desperate efforts of many to send word out, the messages could go no farther than the Border General’s Manor. And the orders received by the Xuan Troops—were forged. The second prince had mimicked the handwriting of the crown prince and used his seal. All the Xuan Troops believed the commands had come from the First Prince.”
The middle-aged man took out a letter and handed it to Qi Wuhuo. “This was the order they received at the time.”
Qi Wuhuo remained silent.
He unfolded the letter and read the words written there:
[Among the fleeing commoners, demons have mingled. They seek to sow chaos in our land.]
[If any approach the border while Xuan Troops are in formation…]
[Kill without mercy.]
The young Daoist stared at the final three words, wordless for a long while. In that moment, he understood why he had wandered, swept along by the tides of people, lost for so long before finding a sliver of life.
“What irony… So many of the people died beneath the crossbows of the very Xuan Troops who once protected them. And the most ironic of all—was that even as they loosed their bolts, the Xuan Troops believed they were defending the nation.”
“In the end, this matter was exposed.”
“And because the military orders bore the seal of the elder prince, the second prince’s position as crown prince became ever more secure.”
“As for how the deception was carried out—we don’t know. But it succeeded. And it was vicious.”
“The lives of the people of one entire province… traded for the chance to utterly crush his elder brother. Traded for the title of Human Sovereign.”
“Heh… such a deal, even our Mingzhen Dao Alliance wouldn’t dare make.”
Qi Wuhuo’s gaze fell. He had never met the Human Sovereign of this realm. But once, within that Dream of Yellow Millet, he had come into contact with that emperor—so strange and ineffable. Though the dream world ought to have been constructed from his own memories and experiences, the nature, temperament, and methods of the imperial family and high officials all felt eerily authentic.
That emperor from within the Yellow Millet Dream appeared once more before his eyes.
Qi Wuhuo still restrained himself—but the little peacock suddenly stirred uncomfortably in its sleep, as if some chilling, oppressive aura were swirling through the air. The young Daoist asked: “With Xuan Troops at the borders, and monsters in Jinzhou—how did the people escape?”
“Please wait a moment, Daoist. This touches on other matters.”
“I’ll look for them…”
The middle-aged man went back again and returned carrying many tomes, stacking them high before the young Daoist. After carefully examining them, he finally let out a sigh of relief and said: “Nothing’s missing. Just now, I used a teleportation array to bring these from the hidden library within our Dao Alliance’s secret realm. These are all records, some containing fragmentary techniques.”
Qi Wuhuo flipped through the pages and found therein both Buddhist monks and Daoists.
The man stood up and pointed at the titles on the scrolls, answering: “Ordinary commoners, of course, were no match for the monsters—only slaughtered and devoured for their flesh and blood. But the mortal world still had its cultivators. The Buddhist sect had the Thirteen Branches of Dharma; in those days, it was the Heavenly Mercy Temple. Among the Daoists, there was the Song-Stepping Sword Sect. Beyond that, there were countless lesser sects, stray paths, and minor schools.”
“After the incident in Jinzhou…”
“There were 3,600 and some monks within Heavenly Mercy Temple. The eldest was three hundred and thirty-one years old, the youngest only six.”
“All perished.”
“In the end, the fleeing people surged like a tide.”
“Thirteen staff-wielding monks broke through the demon clan’s blockade, but were slain under a volley of arrows from the Xuan Troops at the border.”
“Even in death, they were indignant—they still spoke of subduing demons.”
The middle-aged man unfurled several documents before Qi Wuhuo and said:
“When we later investigated, we found that all of Heavenly Mercy Temple’s relics had been depleted. It was only after reconstructing the events through divination that we realized—they had smashed open the Buddha Hall, ground their ancestral relics into powder, and mixed it with their own blood to inscribe scriptures, which they distributed among the people. They had already prepared for the end.”
“We saw the monks’ skulls piled high into a watchtower.”
“The lineage of the Tiantai branch of the Buddhist sect—was severed then and there.”
“Their Dharma was gone. Their relics were gone.”
“Their disciples—gone.”
“And so… that branch was no more.”
The man drew out another scroll and continued: “As for the Song-Stepping Sword Sect—they were proud beyond compare. Always the master choosing the disciple, never the disciple seeking the master.”
“Thus, they had very few disciples in their ranks. Yet along the road, as they escorted commoners, over six hundred sword immortals met their end by dissolution of form.”
“The roads were filled only with broken swords.”
“Later, there was a single cavalry unit that defied military orders. It seemed they could not bear to stand by, and so they opened a breach within the blockade. A Patriarch of the Dao Sect, who had been seated in prolonged meditation, emerged from seclusion and, with a single sword strike, tore apart the formation. Only then were the common people able to enter Central Province(Zhongzhou), allowing the people of Jinzhou to escape calamity.”
“It is said that the Dao Sect Patriarch’s cultivation was damaged as a result. As for that cavalry unit, they were ultimately charged with defying military orders and thrown into Jinzhou to battle the demon race. In the end, they were all slain—only twenty-seven survived.”
“When the Alliance Leader led members of the Dao Alliance into the region, this was what they found.”
“We lack the resolve of sword cultivators, and we lack the enlightenment of the Buddhist Sect. So we could only watch as the sword cultivators chose dissolution, and the disciples of the Buddha perished to the last. We could only trade with the demon race, offering the profits of one hundred and fifty years in exchange for one hundred and fifty thousand lives, and recorded what transpired in those years.”
“The Immortal Path values life, yet without killing, life cannot be preserved. The Buddhist Sect speaks of compassion, yet without righteous wrath, how can slaughter be halted, and compassion truly proven?”
“Thus it was.”
“One hundred and fifty years of gain, in exchange for one hundred and fifty thousand human lives.”
The man clasped his hands and said: “The Alliance Leader said—it was a great profit.”
“Among those hundred and fifty thousand, there will surely be some who one day walk the path of cultivation. In this way, we [form good karma].”
“We too are of the human race. To see kin perish and feel nothing is to be unworthy. This is to [seek peace of heart].”
“There are many cunning and conniving among the Alliance. To act thusly is to [straighten my spine].”
“While all others stood by and watched, I alone moved westward. This is to [make my name known].”
Qi Wuhuo asked: “Your Alliance Leader…”
The man replied: “Upon entering Jinzhou and investigating the truth, he discovered that [one in black robes and red dragon garments had lured the demon kingdom]. On his return, he was ambushed and gravely wounded. He passed away six months later by way of dissolution. Before his passing, he said: ‘A great profit. A great profit.’”
“Merchants have their trades, but cultivators have their Dao. We must not forget—we are seekers of the Dao, not seekers of profit.”
“This is the Dao Alliance, not a Merchant Alliance.”
“Thus may our Dao be righteous!”
“Let the world know that the words ‘Bright True(Mingzhen) Dao Alliance’ are without falsehood.”
“That is what happened back then…”
The young Daoist flipped through all the records and books. He pondered for a long time, and when he finally spoke, his voice was hoarse and heavy:
“In Jinzhou… how many people died?”
The man replied: “…The Dao Alliance estimates—more than three million seven hundred thousand, but fewer than five million four hundred thousand.”
Qi Wuhuo staggered slightly.
He was, after all, still a youth. That number struck him like a heavy hammer, leaving him momentarily dizzy.
He continued reading the chronicle.
“Three years later, the Crown Prince ascended the throne and issued the [Proclamation of the Virtuous Ascension].”
“He took the title of Great Sage, Great Compassionate, Benevolent, and Filial Emperor.”
“Proclaimed himself the Human Sovereign.”
“Praised as the Ennlightened Sage.”
The youth placed his palm on the table. His Primordial Spirit, Primordial Qi, and Primordial Essence began to circulate rapidly without his noticing, faintly converging. Rage, killing intent, and countless other emotions surged like a mighty flood beneath calm jade waters—violent and turbulent, yet not revealed on the surface. The man said: “This matter is known only to you, fellow Daoist. I ask that you do not speak of it to others. After all, it counts as classified intelligence. I still don’t know your honored Daoist title.”
The young Daoist softly recited his Daoist name and wrote it down, saying:
“This matter, this humble Daoist now knows.”
Yet the middle-aged Daoist couldn’t comprehend the name he spoke.
Even when it was written, the characters were unfamiliar to his eyes.
But he could sense that the aura imprinted upon the paper was indeed that of Qi Wuhuo, and so he set his doubts aside. Just as the youth rose to leave, the man suddenly asked:
“Among those iron cavalry who once fought in the Battle of Jinzhou, one still resides in Zhongzhou.”
“Daoist… would you wish to meet him?”
