Two hours later, Wei Yuan departed, leaving behind Su Xuejing, whose sword heart lay shattered across the floor, and Shangguan Qianmo, whose sword heart had become clearer than ever.
Su Xuejing kept his eyes tightly shut, his mind brimming entirely with the records of the games they had just played. In total, they had played seven matches, and not one had lasted more than a hundred moves. Wei Yuan's style of play was exceptionally brutish and unreasonable; he instigated fights right from the opening, never yielding an inch, slashing and brawling all the way to the end.
After seven games, Su Xuejing felt as if he had just engaged in seven street brawls—the kind where no martial arts or Dao techniques were used at all.
In truth, Su Xuejing had sensed something was amiss by the second game. But with Shangguan Qianmo egging him on from the side, and with the way Wei Yuan placed his stones never once resembling someone formally trained in weiqi, his stubborn pride refused to accept it. Bullheaded as he was, he had played seven games in a row before he even realized it.
Now that Wei Yuan was gone, the more Su Xuejing thought about it, the more wrong it seemed.
Wei Yuan played without standard joseki or ancient record patterns, so at first Su Xuejing had subconsciously assumed he was a novice. But after seven consecutive defeats, Su Xuejing finally understood: comparing their respective skills on the board, he would probably need a handicap against Wei Yuan.
Su Xuejing considered his skill to be merely a hair's breadth shy of a true grandmaster, yet facing Wei Yuan, he would actually need a handicap?
He suddenly looked up and asked Shangguan Qianmo, "The last time you played Wei Yuan, did you actually win?"
Shangguan Qianmo flashed a radiant smile. "Of course not. But none of the games went to the end, just like with Martial Uncle this time."
Su Xuejing instantly realized what had happened. His face grew as dark as the bottom of a wok, and he barked, "What else are you hiding from me?"
"Martial Uncle has a discerning eye! There is indeed one more thing: this Wei Yuan is the very person who played the Ten Doodle Matches."
A bolt of lightning flashed through Su Xuejing's mind, connecting every piece of the puzzle! No wonder Wei Yuan could effortlessly crush him with a barrage of clunky moves, bad shapes, and unreasonable plays. No wonder he needed a handicap.
At the thought that he had just offered to play three instructional games with the living Immortal of Weiqi, Su Xuejing felt a sudden urge to undergo corpse deliverance right then and there. His sword heart felt as if smeared with a layer of lard.
He glared fiercely at Shangguan Qianmo, and his figure faded like wind sweeping over drifting sand, vanishing completely.
Clutching her bolster, Shangguan Qianmo flopped backward onto the bed. Her sword heart was clear today—perfect for sleeping.
Wei Yuan sensed Su Xuejing's disappearance, though he couldn't tell for a moment whether the man had genuinely departed or simply hidden away. But playing weiqi wasn't something Wei Yuan could hold back on anyway; there were currently a full four hundred thousand mortals inside the Smoke and Fire of the Mortal World, and the number was still growing. His calculation power in weiqi had grown vastly, far surpassing the time of the Ten Doodle Matches.
With some time left, Wei Yuan inspected the camps one by one to check on the training of the displaced refugees. Just as he reached the second camp, his heart stirred, and he looked east.
Four streams of purple qi arrived at near-untraceable speed, falling directly into Wei Yuan's sea of consciousness!
Four streams of Scenery Command karmic luck at once?
Wei Yuan's painstaking preparations had finally borne fruit. Barring any accidents, it would not be long before Qingming gained four powerful Scenery Command reinforcements.
Though they could not stay long, Wei Yuan could always find ways to make them linger a few more days. Just like that previous game that stopped at the one hundred ninety-ninth move, he could simply play one more move, and it would become an entirely new manual.
Of the four streams of purple qi he had received, two were noticeably thick, while the other two were somewhat faint and dim. For now, Wei Yuan naturally could not tell which karmic luck belonged to whom, so he set them aside for the moment.
After inspecting all the camps, Wei Yuan looked up at the sky and frowned. Normally, dawn should have broken by this hour, but today, night remained deep and heavy.
Within the thick blackness, some immense peril seemed to be brewing.
Across Qingming, people continually looked up at the sky, the smiles on their faces gradually fading. One by one, everyone noticed the abnormality in heaven and earth, dread creeping into their eyes.
An enormous iron curtain had formed at some unknown point, continually spreading in all directions. It blocked out the sun, moon, and stars, while also shielding them from the gaze of extraterrestrial monsters, leaving the world only with a deepening, despairing darkness.
This was a transformation on the level of the Great Dao, leagues above ordinary dark clouds veiling the sun or blood staining the heavens. Though temporary, such a method was far beyond what an ordinary immortal could wield.
With a shift of Wei Yuan's intent, bells, drums, and horns resounded throughout Qingming. Large numbers of mortals who had just been preparing to train received orders and set out for their designated battle lines, bracing for combat.
Cultivators from the Palace of Grand Beginning took flight one after another, soaring into the dimness in all directions. Yu Zhizhuo rushed about wildly, directing cultivators to urgently deliver cartloads of flare shells to various battlefronts while swapping conventional warheads on flying missiles for illumination warheads right on the spot.
By now, the Shamans had dug their canal to within one hundred fifty li of Qingming. At this distance, a marching army could reach Qingming in just two hours on a forced march.
Scouts sent ahead on reconnaissance sent back word: the Shaman army had mobilized in full force, wheeling out ten sacrificial altars simultaneously.
In the sky, the iron curtain continued to expand, while on the earth below, the Shaman forces advanced at a measured pace. The world was plunged into near-total darkness, with only the eastern horizon still faintly glowing.
In Ganzhou, the youth abruptly set the hook. The fishing line pulled taut as an iron wire. He lifted the rod twice in succession, yet failed to haul the thing out of the water.
He did not lift the rod a third time. Instead, a scene surfaced before his eyes.
A plainly dressed boy of barely ten was practicing martial arts, drenched in sweat. Several youths of similar age, dressed in fine silks and lavish robes, strolled over, saying conspiratorially, "We found a precious herb that can bolster the primal spirit! We're going treasure-hunting tonight—do you want to come along?"
The boy was initially reluctant, but under their persistent coaxing, he ultimately agreed.
The scene shifted to the dead of night. Several youths moved silently through a mountain forest. Suddenly, a cavern appeared ahead, with the precious herb growing right at its entrance. The plainly dressed boy crept forward, keeping a wary eye out for any guardian beasts, completely oblivious to the fact that the other youths had vanished.
Just as he smoothly reached the mouth of the cave, brilliant light from spells flared all around him, illuminating the area as bright as day. The scenery warped; this was no wild, barren mountain at all, but a meticulously cultivated herb garden!
The vision suddenly blurred. Torches swayed wildly, figures cast chaotic shadows, and countless voices blended together.
"Why would he steal spirit herbs?"
"His family is so poor, what wouldn't he do?"
"With such great talent, to do something like this... what a pity..."
Dazed and numb, the boy caught sight of his three companions in the crowd, one of whom was his best friend. At this moment, their eyes gleamed with excitement and triumph.
As the boy was escorted past them, a quiet whisper drifted into his ears: "Lu Changhe, don't blame me. As long as you're here, I will never become a direct disciple."
The vision froze, only that final sentence echoing over and over.
Deep in his heart, the fishing youth sighed. This was the greatest temptation he had ever faced back then, and the first indelible memory of his life. That day had buried all the innocence, friendship, and sunlight of his childhood.
He suddenly set down his fishing rod and murmured to himself, "It seems this fish is not for me to eat."
Dismissing the image, he summoned an attendant and ordered, "Mobilize our second-line forces and deploy them entirely to the southern border to keep an eye on the Xu family. Leave only forty percent of our troops in the north."
The attendant took the order and departed.
The youth gazed in the direction of the Jin capital, remarking indifferently, "You really are coming up with more and more petty tricks. Very well, I'll give you one more chance to see what kind of storm you can stir up."
Time crept toward midday, yet Qingming remained trapped in deep night. Torches and lamps glowed everywhere now, with several winding dragons of fire coursing across the ground, leading all the way to the front lines.
A massive boulder seemed to weigh on everyone's chest. The alteration of the Great Dao governing heaven and earth made even the cultivators' dharmic power unstable.
Two Shaman armies set out first on the left and right flanks. After advancing a hundred li over two hours, the Shaman central army formally marched out; in four hours, it would arrive at the walls of Ding'an City. This time, the Shamans had likewise dispatched an army of one million, their military qi surging forth to blanket the sky.
Yet the Qingming Domain had not fully recovered, leaving half of Ding'an City exposed outside its boundaries.
With the battle imminent, Wei Yuan was inspecting the combat readiness of his reserve forces when a shrill, bizarre voice suddenly echoed from the distant horizon:
"Wei Yuan! I have three thousand years of lifespan to burn, and I've come to face you!"
Chapter 510