Dawn broke.
After simply enduring a single sleepless night, Li Zhi felt an overwhelming exhaustion. The appointed hour had come and gone, yet the Martial Ancestor's true spirit had not appeared, nor did the terrifying contingencies spoken of in whispers seem to manifest.
Just then, a maidservant crept into the room on tiptoe and murmured softly, "Milord, Her Highness summons you. This is the Fierce Dragon Pill; she urges you to take it at once."
Li Zhi's brows twitched, and fury flared within him, but he suppressed it. The King of Ji was dead and the appointed time had arrived, yet none of the portents had shown themselves. Could it be that the so-called Martial Ancestor's restriction did not exist at all?
He swallowed the medicinal pill. Heat flushed his body, kindling wicked desires at the mere sight of the young maidservant, and he hastened toward the rear palace. The halls there were brilliantly illuminated, silhouettes thrashing amid an unbroken din of wanton cries and licentious moans.
Four hours later, Li Zhi entered the court to hold audience. The assembled ministers had already waited in vain for two full hours.
The overall situation in the State of Ji was settled now, save for a dozen or so commanderies in the northwest and the east that refused to submit. Li Zhi had already dispatched generals and troops to assault the six rebellious eastern commanderies, planning a pincer attack from north and south alongside Southern Qi's army. Suppressing them would pose no challenge; the real issue lay in who would claim those six commanderies afterward.
Li Zhi had sent a secret order to his frontline commanders, commanding them to advance at all costs and seize as much territory as possible before linking up with Southern Qi's forces. Once the two armies converged, his troops were to dig in on the spot, using the actual line of control to demarcate the boundary.
To the west and southwest, eleven commanderies refused to surrender. Remnants of the regular army and various insurgent forces within the region claimed a strength of one million. While fighting desperately against the two-pronged assault of Southern Qi and Zhenshan, they were secretly negotiating with Qingming, preparing to defect.
Learning of this gave Li Zhi a splitting headache. The purpose of this court session was precisely to deliberate on how to deal with the western commanderies.
Yet as Li Zhi took his seat upon the throne, a dead silence fell over the hall. Not one of the dozens of civil and military officials uttered a sound. After a silence that lasted the burning of an entire stick of incense, a scholar finally stepped out from the ranks.
This man was named Zhou Jinkang, a genius of the Academy. Barely past a hundred years of age, he had already attained Scenery Command. In matters of scholarship, he had earned high praise from Duke Yansheng and Master Gu, hailed as a talent of state-pillar caliber. He served as the Academy's right-hand man at Li Zhi's side.
Zhou Jinkang spoke in a grave tone. "Though our forces have taken the greater part of Ji, public order remains unsettled, with bandits and rebel bands everywhere. Having conferred with several generals, this subject calculates that eight hundred thousand troops will be required to garrison the captured commanderies; three hundred thousand at least must guard the newly fallen royal capital; four hundred thousand are committed to the assault on the eastern commanderies; and our southern border defense currently holds only one hundred fifty thousand, leaving a shortfall of at least three hundred thousand.
"Merely maintaining the status quo without reinforcing the southern front would allow us to free up only three hundred thousand men to march southwest. Yet the rebels claim a million, and on the King of Qi's side..."
He trailed off, but everyone understood. The King of Qi had deployed a total of 1.2 million troops, plainly intending to swallow the eleven western commanderies in a single gulp. The disparity in military strength was too vast; there was no competing with him.
Zhou Jinkang continued, "Though our army occupies vast territory in the State of Ji, most of it is ruined and desolate, yielding almost no tax revenue. Our military funding deficit has already reached forty percent. Many units have gone months without pay, and the stockpiled ammunition of nearly half the army is sufficient for only a single battle. Without replenishment, I fear we cannot sustain this."
At this point, he spoke no further, nor was there any need. Short on soldiers, short on men, short on grain—the war plainly could not continue. Yet this was the most crucial moment of all. The colossus of Ji had collapsed with a thunderous crash, and the hour to carve up the meat had arrived. Southern Qi ought to have been their closest ally, yet now it bared its fangs: taking seven commanderies in the north was not enough, and it refused to let go of either the east or the west.
Li Zhi glared fixedly at the map hanging in the hall. If Southern Qi took half the eastern commanderies and all of the western commanderies, it would claim over twenty in total. Up to this moment, Li Zhi had captured only nineteen commanderies of Ji.
He had braved immense peril to slay the King of Ji and shatter the Martial Ancestor's grand design—so how could the greatest bounty not belong to him?
Rage burned like wildfire, turning Li Zhi's eyes faintly red. Yet years of rigorous training kept him from losing his temper. He sat erect upon the dragon throne, pondering a countermeasure.
There was no countermeasure.
Li Zhi knew this, and so did every official present.
The reason matters had come to this pass was that conquering Ji had cost a staggering 1.1 million casualties, practically replacing the entire original force of the Zhenshan Fief. Furthermore, military expenditures had run nine times higher than estimated, completely hollowing out the fief's once-prosperous coffers in one stroke.
If the Zhenshan Fief could purchase guns and cannons, the State of Ji could do the same. As one of the Nine States, Ji possessed accumulated reserves far richer than Zhenshan's, allowing it to purchase more weapons and more advanced models. Had Ji's troops not been utterly pathetic and devoid of an immortal to oversee them, who knew whose hands victory would have fallen into?
Why did Qingming insist on selling arms to Ji...?
This question had lurked like a venomous snake in the shadows for a very long time.
Li Zhi suddenly caught the scent of rot. The odor was overwhelmingly thick, yet he could not tell where it came from; it seemed to emanate from his own person. He raised a hand to sniff his clothes, but found no such smell on the fabric, nor on his skin. Yet as he moved, a putrid stench blasted directly out of his sleeve.
It was the stench of a corpse!
Li Zhi looked up. The ministers remained quiet, none of their expressions amiss. Evidently, none of them could smell it.
Unsettled, Li Zhi was about to dismiss the court when, all at once, heaven and earth plunged into utter stillness. The royal audience hall vanished without a trace, and the ministers disappeared as well. Li Zhi stood alone upon a barren plain. Behind him stood the Ancient Hall of the Human Sovereign; before him walked a solitary figure.
To look upon the newcomer, his appearance could only be described as somewhat handsome, bearing no outward aura. In his hand, he carried a three-foot green blade that looked rather archaic, yet its material was merely common iron.
Yet the moment Li Zhi saw that man's face clearly, his whole body stiffened. Gripped by overwhelming terror, he could not move an inch!
The Martial Ancestor!
Li Zhi had already been on edge. Master Gu and Duke Yansheng had both claimed their arrangements were foolproof, insisting that when the Martial Ancestor reappeared, he would see Li Zhi as nothing other than the next Sovereign of Men. But seeing the Martial Ancestor approaching sword in hand, feeling the murderous intent that filled the world, this looked nothing like a succession to the grand throne.
Historically, more than one immortal had been slain for triggering the Martial Ancestor's restriction. Li Zhi was not even in Scenery Command—how could he possibly compare to an immortal?
The Martial Ancestor cast a single glance at Li Zhi. Without a word, he struck downward with his blade!
The strike was plain and unadorned; the strike was entirely irresistible.
Li Zhi froze where he stood. All thoughts of the Ancient Hall of the Human Sovereign, all visions of imperial golden swords, dissolved into foam. He could only watch helplessly as the blade descended upon his head.
Right at that instant, a mottled, yellowed book page suddenly manifested between heaven and earth. As the page flipped, Li Zhi vanished, reappearing a hundred paces away. In the spot where he had just stood, a naked woman appeared—none other than Princess Wancheng!
Terror consumed her as she struggled and screamed with all her might, yet no matter how she fought, she remained rooted to the spot, and her screams produced not the faintest sound.
As the blade descended, Princess Wancheng was cleaved in two, transformed in an instant into Li Zhi, then shifted back into herself, turned into Li Zhi once more, and reverted to herself again. In the brief moment it took for the strike to run its course, Li Zhi felt as if he had died dozens of times over.
The yellowed page burst into flame without wind. Fortunately, before it burned to ash, the blade reached the end of its stroke.
Princess Wancheng's horror froze upon her face, and she slowly fell forward. Her alluring silhouette remained flawless, devoid of a single wound, yet all spark of life was gone.
Li Zhi felt as if waking from a nightmare, cold sweat instantly drenching his clothes. He dared not move a muscle. Even as the Martial Ancestor sheathed his blade and prepared to turn away, Li Zhi did not dare shift in the slightest, dreading that he might squander the chance to alter his fate bought with a page of a saint's personal script.
The Martial Ancestor sheathed his sword and was about to depart, but suddenly halted in his tracks!
Behind Li Zhi, the central doors of the Ancient Hall of the Human Sovereign swung wide open, revealing a seat of profound antiquity carved from a single slab of rock. Leaning beside the chair was a golden sword, and resting upon the armrest was an ancient tome.
The sword was the State-Guarding Sword of the former Great Li emperors; the book was the ceremonial registry used by ancient emperors when performing the Fengshan sacrifices to famous mountains and great rivers. Both relics were supreme treasures of the Son of Heaven, second only to the Imperial Jade Seal passed down through successive dynasties.
The Martial Ancestor ignored both the golden sword and the ancient tome. His gaze fell squarely upon that archaic stone chair, and upon his placid face, fury unexpectedly surfaced. His brows shot up as he snapped, "Insolent! How dare you steal My ancient fortune of the Human Sovereign! This fortune was left by Me for the future shared ruler of the realm. What kind of creature are you to dare steal My supreme treasure?"
Blazing flames erupted along the Martial Ancestor's blade as he cleaved downward once more toward Li Zhi! The moment the sword moved, sword intent flooded heaven and earth; even had Li Zhi fled beyond the Immortal Heaven, he could never have evaded this strike!
"Hold!" Duke Yansheng manifested at this critical juncture, holding aloft a volume of *Elegance of Poetry* penned in the Saint's own hand to parry the sword light!
This was a treasure of the Saint, as well as the paramount heirloom of the Academy. Li Zhi had only heard of it, never laid eyes upon it.
At this life-and-death crossroads, Duke Yansheng, in his capacity as the Saint's scion, finally brought forth this treasure to block the Martial Ancestor's lethal strike.
"A pedantic trinket hopes to block My Sword of the Son of Heaven? The Saint's accomplishments were passable, but you descendants fall far short." The Martial Ancestor sneered, his longsword descending. The pages inscribed by the Saint began to burn sheet by sheet, turning into a blazing torch in the blink of an eye!
"I shall aid you!" Master Gu stepped out from the void as well, wielding the Gewu Ruler to join in bracing against the Martial Ancestor's sword.
The Martial Ancestor merely sneered and brought his sword down. The green blade shattered, yet *Elegance of Poetry* burned to ashes, and the Gewu Ruler snapped in two.
The Ancient Hall of the Human Sovereign collapsed with a roar. The archaic throne carved from the great rock shattered into a spread of rubble, from which a beam of radiance shot straight into the heavens, vanishing without a trace.
Faced with such an outcome, the Martial Ancestor seemed somewhat surprised, not understanding why the ancient fortune of the Sovereign of Men had not returned to his hands. Looking thoughtfully in the direction where the fortune had disappeared, he tossed the broken blade to the ground, turned, and strode away, vanishing into the fabric of heaven and earth.
Only after a long silence did Duke Yansheng and Master Gu exchange glances, discovering that sweat had soaked through their garments.
It was Master Gu who spoke first, his voice trembling faintly. "I-is this the Martial Ancestor's contingency? Formidable beyond measure indeed. Fortunately, it was merely a remnant true spirit; had he been here in person..."
Master Gu said no more. Duke Yansheng remarked, "His true spirit appeared somewhat worn down. Could it be that it had already stirred before?"
Master Gu replied, "Have you forgotten the three immortals who triggered the Martial Ancestor's restriction and perished? Naturally it stirred long ago."
Duke Yansheng's expression darkened several shades further.
There was a realization neither spoke aloud, but Li Zhi had already worked it out. In that clash just now, a mere casual blow from a remnant true spirit left behind by the Martial Ancestor had destroyed a relic of the Saint and the sole immortal treasure left by the Heart Saint. Did that not mean that even if both Saints joined hands, they were still no match for the Martial Ancestor?
Yet there was one more matter. He had been unable to voice it earlier, and though he could speak now, it was already too late. Still, it weighed so heavily on Li Zhi's chest that leaving it unsaid felt intolerable: "That ancient fortune of the Sovereign of Men was plainly something I picked up! Since I could find it, did that not prove it chose me as its master? Why did the Martial Ancestor insist I stole it?"
Master Gu's expression turned quite unsightly as well. Frowning, he said, "The Martial Ancestor's contingency was merely a remnant true spirit without true sentience. Perhaps it was mistaken."
Even if the Martial Ancestor's true spirit had made an error, the ancient fortune of the Sovereign of Men was lost. A supreme treasure of that caliber truly belonged only to those fated for it. Having obtained it once and lost it, Li Zhi would likely never encounter it again.
A boundless panic rose from the depths of Li Zhi's heart. He knew that without the ancient fortune of the Sovereign of Men, the way these two Academy patriarchs viewed him would inevitably undergo a subtle shift.
The scenery shifted, and Li Zhi found himself back in the court of Ji, as though nothing had ever happened. With no heart for affairs of state, he cursorily dismissed the court and hurried straight to the rear palace.
Inside the Hall of Mental Cultivation, the lamps still burned brightly, the fragrance of wine hung thick, and all manner of decadent sounds grated upon the ear.
Hearing Princess Wancheng's wanton laughter, Li Zhi was startled at first, then overjoyed as he rushed into the hall. Within the once-solemn chamber, exposed flesh was everywhere; bodies writhed together in tangled heaps, rubbing and pressing against one another with fervent abandon.
Princess Wancheng sat on a chair to the side holding a wine cup, her foot resting atop a fair-skinned, tender young boy. Seeing Li Zhi enter, she smiled and teased, "Oh, unable to hold back again so soon? Very well, go over there and lie flat—arch it higher!"
Li Zhi said nothing and did not move, merely staring fixedly at Princess Wancheng.
Princess Wancheng's expression darkened. "Why aren't... you... go... ing... o... ver..."
Her voice grew slower and slower, interlaced with hissing static. Then the scene within the hall shifted, turning gloomy and deep. The scent of wine morphed into the stench of a corpse, with only a few lamps remaining lit. In the center of the hall lay a floor of dead bodies, most rotted beyond recognition.
Princess Wancheng sat upon the chair, still holding the wine cup in her hand, but the vessel was bone-dry. Her skin was a bruised purplish-black, covered in corpse spots, and chunks of rotting flesh were peeling away from her face.
Chapter 1367