As One Exits the Stage

The moment the gates of the sacrificial temple opened, it was as if a grand curtain had slowly parted upon a stage. The long-awaited spectacle had finally begun. Costumed and painted, the characters took the stage, and the show was on! It was not even just Shehri. The instant Shehri thrust the first blade, a second stabbed into Duke Wuyou's neck from behind. Then came a third, a fourth... One by one, allies who had encircled him without his notice violently thrust forth their weapons. There was only a momentary stupor. Yet why had this sudden numbness struck him so abruptly? In a flash of realization, Duke Wuyou looked up beyond the crowd, gazing at the elderly monk who chanted scriptures with lowered eyes. Then, he could not help but laugh in sheer fury. "A pack of wild, treacherous wolves—untrustworthy to the end!" "Did your Grace not plan to break our covenant from the very start? Why put on such a fierce display now?" Shehri sighed softly. "A lord's mind is fickle, and your Grace was never a wise ruler. We consumables merely wished to save our own lives." "Ha!" Duke Wuyou bared his teeth, coughing and vomiting blood as his eyes bored into the faces before him. "I'd like to see how you intend to enter the sacrificial temple without me—" No one replied. There was only a gentle sigh. Right beside Duke Wuyou, his sole surviving subordinate began to twitch violently. As the man stood frozen, distinct seams surfaced across his face, fingers, and joints. Wood grain seeped through beneath the skin. Finally, the hollow eyes lifted, glimmering with a vitality that even Heavenly Work could scarcely duplicate. The puppet grinned at Duke Wuyou. "Old thief Wuyou, long time no see." "Insolent brat Changle, how dare you!" Struck as if by lightning, Duke Wuyou was consumed by incandescent fury. Yet amid his disbelief, realization dawned on him. No wonder these wicked heretics dared openly breach the covenant without bringing down the Tower's Absolute Sentence—a fellow Sin-Bearer belonging to the Shadow of the Tower was working behind the scenes to resolve their troubles. Through methods far outstripping Duke Wuyou's attainment, the bindings of the covenant had been completely severed. Free of all shackles, Duke Changle had orchestrated the scene now unfolding. The puppet sneered in malicious delight. "My apologies, Duke Wuyou, but heavenly treasures belong to the virtuous. The Imperial Seal of the Realm is not something a corpse-guarding wretch like you is fit to touch." Duke Changle smiled and cast a sidelong glance toward the sky. "Besides, as things stand, that Saint seems to have no further need of you." "Sower—!" Duke Wuyou gritted his teeth, roaring in rabid fury. By now, how could Duke Wuyou not realize who was pulling the strings behind the curtain? After pocketing such an immense payment from him, that demon had colluded in secret with this brat Changle to ruin his great undertaking. A demon of Great Sin truly could never be trusted! At that moment, as the curtain of betrayal fell, the subordinates originally loyal to Duke Wuyou were swiftly slaughtered to the last. Even those quick-witted enough to attempt jumping ship were mercilessly decapitated. "What use is there in sparing turncoats who betray their master?" Changle's puppet stepped across the pool of blood, looking down with disdain. "Fret not, Duke Wuyou. I have sent them ahead to blaze a trail for you. The road to the Yellow Springs will surely be smooth, and you need no longer trouble yourself with the worldly turmoil." "A wretch spawned by a slave girl is crude and disgraceful to the end—usurping a dukedom, stealing legitimacy—and still babbling about some Yellow Springs. In an Empire glorious for eternity, where would such nonsense exist?" Duke Wuyou gave a contemptuous sigh and closed his eyes. His body swelled abruptly. Explosion! Expressionless, Changle lowered his gaze. The instant a fierce glare flared in his eyes, the swelling darkness violently contracted, dissolving into nothingness. "Tch..." A wily old fox after all—he had actually abandoned this physical husk and fled. A duke's contingency plans were endless and their reach too vast; snuffing them out completely was exceedingly difficult. Still, it was unexpected that he could retain a sliver of life under the erosion of the Rotting Scale poison. No—perhaps from the very start, he had never trusted his so-called allies. From beneath the shredded black robes tumbled a dagger that made one's scalp tingle. It was what Duke Wuyou had been clutching in secret. Shehri's expression darkened. At a glance, his eyelids twitched wildly. Thank goodness he had struck first—otherwise, who knew whose throat that dagger had been meant to slit! After that brief upheaval, the situation shifted radically. Everyone turned toward the puppet inhabited by Changle, their expressions markedly deferential. Pressing his palms together, the guru bowed his head and asked, "Duke Wuyou plotted endlessly, outsmarting himself in defiance of heaven's mandate, and brought about his own doom. The mantle of succession rightfully belongs to Duke Changle now. But what are our next orders, your Grace?" "Rest assured, gentlemen. I am not a tyrannical, incompetent fool like Wuyou; naturally, I have no intention of exterminating you all. Since you follow that Saint's orders, you are naturally worthy of trust." Changle's puppet smiled faintly. "With that fool Wuyou acting as the vanguard, he has opened another path for us. Forgive the long wait, everyone—you may enter now." With that, he flicked his fingers and waved a hand. In an instant, a luminous trajectory manifested amidst the storm within the Border Realm, marking out a path. No sooner had his voice fallen than streaks of brilliant light surged outside the rift, plunging inward in a frantic scramble. First to arrive was a haze of phantasmal light, emitting fevered gasps and murmurs that brought a flush to the cheeks. It converged into a peach-pink silhouette, neither distinctly male nor female, giggling with boundless allure. "Forgive us for keeping your Grace waiting." Then, from meandering pools of blood, a bizarre figure rose like an armored skeleton, ferocious and rabid. Immediately afterward, eyes of the wind coalesced out of thin air, and several withered figures stepped forward, bowing respectfully. Beside Shehri, another eerie figure hovering between presence and absence appeared without uttering a word. Tianxin Society, Blood Eye, Decaying Wind, Wolf Den—the notorious Sin-Bearers from numerous organizations had long been waiting. Yet it was far from over... Startled, Changle turned his head. A blast of a horn shook heaven and earth, echoing through the cosmos. Then, one after another, pitch-black vessels three hundred paces long broke through the barrier of the Border Realm, surging forward with unstoppable momentum. Sheltered beneath magnificent yet bizarre banners, they ignored every peril and hazard, advancing relentlessly until they hovered high in the firmament. The black sails of sixteen colossal ships unfurled, blotting out the sun and sealing off the heavens. Massive cannons took aim from afar, locking onto their coordinates. The color drained from everyone's faces. Then, amid the black sails, shifting clouds wove together into a blurred, aged face, looking down with lowered eyes. Just like Changle, he had manifested an incarnation using the myriad warships as his fulcrum! Looking down, the colossal face demanded in a raspy voice: "Changle, it was bad enough that you presumed to seize a ducal title. With the state frail and declining, We had no leisure to deal with you. But to covet the Imperial Seal of the Realm—do you truly intend to usurp the reins of state?" That old dog Anguo! Changle's puppet remained expressionless, but the gloom and fury in his eyes could no longer be suppressed, flashing with cold malice. In an instant of realization, he whipped his head around toward Shehri, who stood at a distance as if none of this concerned him. Shehri still stood with his hands tucked into his sleeves, completely impassive. Sensing Changle's gaze, the rotting face beneath the bandages seemed to offer a faint smile. "Duke Changle misunderstands," he said with regret. "The Imperial Seal of the Realm is of paramount importance. According to the Holy Lord's will, thoroughness is naturally the highest priority." Which naturally meant: the more people, the better. To restore the Empire, how could they not gather the Empire's Three Dukes together and let the realm's heirs fight it out? The losers would bite the dust, and the victor would take all. Then, legitimacy would naturally be secured. At this moment, Anguo's frigid voice echoed from the sky full of warships. "Changle, the Imperial Seal of the Realm is of grave significance. Surely you don't intend to hoard it for yourself like that fool Wuyou?" "Duke Anguo worries overmuch." Changle chuckled good-naturedly. "For the grand scheme of restoring our nation, one naturally requires multiple plans and methods. Now that the obstacles have been cleared away, what we lack most is a seasoned, steady pillar of state like your Grace to preside over the grand design." In less than a few minutes, clouds and winds had churned across the Border Realm, banners shifting in rapid succession. As soon as one actor exited, another took the stage; the rapid changing of protagonists left the head spinning. Yet even as Changle and Anguo stood at a stalemate, probing one another, someone nearby was grinding his teeth to powder! On the outskirts of the city beyond the sacrificial temple, a mangled corpse convulsed violently in the shadows. Immediately after, the complexion and features across the body shifted. Opening his eyes once more, Duke Wuyou gazed up at the spectacle in the sky, his eyes bloodshot. He had exhausted every scheme and calculation, only to find that the very rivals he guarded against day and night had been trailing right on his heels. He had racked his brains and sacrificed so much, only to weave a wedding gown for someone else. Fortunately, he had prepared contingencies and still possessed countless precious treasures; his efforts had not fallen short of the final basket. As for the developments before him... His expression gradually chilled. Brat Changle, old dog Anguo! A bastard born of a slave girl and an old hound lurking like an oriole behind the mantis—detestable, hateful wretches! Thinking themselves clever, won't you still end up clearing the path for me? Could the centuries of accumulated resources and scheming of the Wuyou lineage be so simple? The Jade Edict and Precious Mandate are still in my hands; I'd like to see how you fools plan to open the sealed coffer! Now, letting these two dogs tear into each other will create the perfect opportunity for me to reap the spoils. Having extricated himself from the chaotic fray to watch the tigers fight from the hilltop, he actually found himself with some spare leisure. As he looked on with cold eyes, his foot suddenly caught, nearly tripping him. Startled, he looked back and spotted fissures exposed in the flagstones after the quakes and collapses, along with a metallic gleam churned up from beneath the buried soil. A brass-like sheen flowed across it. Exquisite craftsmanship. Yet its style was entirely at odds with that of the Eternal Empire era. He froze in place, instinctively bending down. Seeing the signs of excavation and upturned soil, he was utterly baffled. Was this something native to the Border Realm? What in the world was this? Cold sweat broke out unaccountably on Duke Wuyou's forehead. When he reached out and touched the exposed metal on the ground, what he sensed was an immense subterranean network—like the intertwined roots of an ancient tree, spanning out at some unknown point to encompass the entire sacrificial temple and Border Realm within its grasp— Horrified, he spun around. In the distance, amid the unquenched fire and billowing smoke, a vaguely familiar humming rang out once again. Between the roiling smoke and the city, bizarre animated machineries sprouted sharp, spider-like limbs, scuttling nimbly throughout the ruins. Excavating, rummaging, locating positions. Limb after limb shoveled the soil, burying the machines beneath the stone flagstones until they vanished without a trace, like corpses laid into graves. Machine after machine, unit after unit. Attaching and parasitizing the sacrificial temple's overarching system, spiritus circuits snaked and coiled recklessly like ivy and parasitic vines. Taking root right where they fell, they merged into one with the entire Border Realm. Growing in silence.