Lively

The southward cold wave had ultimately reached the Hongnong region. A curtain of rain veiled the thousand-li expanse of the Xian'ai Mountain Range. Inside the mountain city, blue flagstones paved every street. Canopies of colorful silk umbrellas moved to and fro across the market streets. As the brilliant lanterns were lit, the vibrant scenery resembled a painting—yet compared to the misty rains of Jiangnan, this rain-veiled mountain landscape carried a sharper, bleaker chill. The Tianyuan Grand Gathering remained bustling and lively, the sounds of laughter and cheerful talk filling the entire city. Yet this had already become a privilege reserved solely for mortals, for the ignorant. With word that the Chancellor's Manor—a behemoth born for war from its very inception—had quietly begun turning its gears, the dark clouds of war had already engulfed the entirety of Great Yan, stretching from Beifeng City in the far north to the Giant Overseeing Heaven Tower on the southern border, and from Zhenxi Prefectural City in the Western Regions to the Jiangnan Region by the Eastern Sea. The Tianyuan Grand Tournament, an arena meant for the younger generation, had lost its former significance. Like an uncompromising declaration of war, it delivered this reality to every sect gathered here. The martial might of the Sect Alliance was beginning to converge around Hongnong. Iron hooves braved the rain, soaring eagles pierced the clouds, and mountain-high stockpiles of war materiel were slowly trundling in under the command of this colossal entity. The long night had fallen; war was at hand. The cultivators' quarters near Changming Street had grown far bleaker and quieter compared to when the tournament first began. The sect disciples who had once gathered here in droves to celebrate the grand occasion had, for the most part, already departed. Some had traveled day and night under starlight and moon for the sake of the Sect Alliance, sleeping with weapons in hand for its war of survival; others chose this precise moment to flee the Tianyuan Mountain Range, a land destined to bear the brunt of the Prime Minister's Manor's blade. By and large, however, the latter formed the majority. Human nature was ever driven to seek gain and shun danger—especially within a colossus like the Sect Alliance, cobbled together from individual factions of self-interest. Yuan Hao gazed out the window at the rain-washed green mountains. In the banquet hall, the hushed whispers of the mere six or seven young men and women remaining left him somewhat lost in thought, until a laughing inquiry beside him pulled his mind back to reality. The man asked, "Mr. Zhou, aren't you leaving?" Yuan Hao looked back to find the chubby man surnamed Ning, an avid frequenter of gambling dens, gazing at him with small eyes crinkled in a fawning smile. Yuan Hao had heard that not long ago, this fellow had gone to the Mingxuan Gambling Den to place a bet on the Third Young Master winning the tournament, claiming he wanted to gamble on a long shot, which was why he had stayed behind. A fat man who loved money more than his own life. Thinking this, Yuan Hao kept his expression unchanged. Yet as the topic of departure was raised once more, the murmuring crowd around the banquet table fell involuntarily silent again. The young were always like this: after a few drinks and a few moments of open honesty, they fancied themselves bosom companions—and bosom companions naturally loathed to part. The buxom woman surnamed Luo, who had sat beside him earlier, had not left yet either. Still seated in the place next to Yuan Hao, she said softly, "I heard from my sect elders that in the high-level meetings, they've already narrowed down several locations where the Prime Minister's Manor is most likely to strike first. Among them, the Sword Sect's gates will bear the brunt of it. With Brother Zhou's talent, you shouldn't remain here." Her words seemed to treat it as a foregone conclusion that the Sword Sect would soon face the flames of war. Yet Yuan Hao felt no surprise at the Sect Alliance's preparedness. Warfare was complicated, yet fundamentally simple. Vast though the world was, strategic chokepoints were few. Where the first blow could land and where it would land would be analyzed thoroughly by the vast advisory councils on both sides before the war even began. The keys to victory lay in the execution, the timing, the contest of national strength, and the valor of soldiers. Of course, strictly speaking, there was another scenario: one side simply refusing to believe their enemy had the audacity to make such a bold move, remaining defenseless until they collapsed. But the Sect Alliance clearly did not fall into that category now. From what Yuan Hao had seen and heard with his own eyes over the past few days, the entire Tianyuan Mountain Range had entered a state of full wartime readiness inside and out, backed by the hidden sects and numerous other sects. They had already foreseen that the Prime Minister's Manor's first strike would fall upon the leader of the Sect Alliance. This was the outcome Yuan Hao was least willing to see, yet also what he hoped for most. The former was for the public interest; the latter was out of personal motives. A stronghold with this level of investment would rarely surrender. Sipping the coarse yellow wine, Yuan Hao said in an unhurried voice, "Since I have stayed until now, I naturally won't leave. However, my reasons for staying aren't as profound as you all might think. It's purely for myself. Life has been quite meaningless, so I merely wish to stay and witness history." Hearing this, the woman surnamed Luo fell silent for a moment before saying in a hushed tone, "Everyone, I'm afraid I will have to leave today or tomorrow. Word came from my sect that the imperial garrison troops have begun massing at the foot of our mountain gates. Several skirmishes involving hundreds of people have already broken out. Once we part this time, I don't know if we'll ever meet again." Ever since the Equal Tax Immortal Method was proclaimed across the realm, though an all-out civil war had yet to erupt, fragmented clashes between the imperial court and the Sect Alliance had already begun. In regions where the Sect Alliance held sway, imperial court officials were slain, and commanderies and prefectures were directly taken over by local sects; where the court held power, the reverse occurred. By now, the territories controlled by the imperial court and the Sect Alliance had gradually become clearly delineated. The only areas locked in endless conflict were those commanderies and counties where court and sects stood side by side. These borderlands suffered the most. Both the Sect Alliance and the imperial court continuously poured fuel on the fire in these areas. Reinforcements—garrison troops from surrounding counties and Sect Alliance disciples from the rear—poured in unceasingly, escalating the clashes. While on the grand scale of Great Yan these were merely considered skirmishes, for an individual county or commandery, they were already wars in their own right. The Luo woman's words cast an even heavier gloom over the gathering. Most began drinking in silence, until someone spat out a curse: "Fucking war." Yuan Hao glanced at the speaker with a faint smile. "Fucking indeed. But such is the truth of this world—it's just that this time, war has fallen upon our own heads." "Brother Zhou... you see through things quite clearly." "I've been to the Northern Border and read the history books thoroughly. Having seen much, one naturally sees clearly." Yuan Hao sipped the yellow wine, his delicate scholar's face flickering between light and shadow in the winter rain's candlelight. "Our human race has been like this since ancient times. Ten thousand years ago, hundreds of alien races inhabited the Fourteen Provinces of the Central Lands, yet today only humanity stands supreme. Bellicose, adept at war, and capable of fighting—these traits run through our entire history. Thousands of years from now, everything I am experiencing today will also become part of that history." The fat man surnamed Ning listened in silence, then downed an entire pot of wine in one breath. "The realm Brother Zhou perceives is beyond the comprehension of a fat man like me. Since we live in the present, there must be some meaning to it, and we must do something meaningful." Hearing this, the woman surnamed Luo teased with a smile, "Fatty Ning, your realm isn't so low either. But didn't you say you only wanted to make money?" "Uh..." Having intended to echo Zhou Chen's high-minded words to sound profound, he had not expected to be punctured so bluntly. Fatty Ning's face flushed crimson. Stuttering through a few syllables, he stammered, "My money... it's earned for my sect! It's... it's for armaments, for the pensions of our Sect Alliance soldiers! It's my coffin fund saved up to drag that dog of a villainous chancellor down from his high perch!" Yuan Hao's eyes narrowed slightly in an amused smile as he set down his wine cup. "Then Brother Ning, you truly ought to stay in the Tianyuan Mountain Range. After all, if your gamble pays off and that Third Young Master really does come here, your wish just might come true." At the mention of this matter again, the woman surnamed Luo took on an odd tone. "Brother Zhou, do you truly believe the Third Son of the Xu family's destination is our Sword Sect's gates?" Word of the Prime Minister's mobile palace leaving the capital was no longer major news among the circle of noble disciples in the Tianyuan Mountain Range, but the widespread consensus was merely that Xu Changtian was acting as an army supervisor in the capacity of the 'crown prince.' Thus, Yuan Hao did not answer the question. Instead, a quirky, crisp female voice answered for him: "Brother Zhou probably thinks so." The people at the banquet jumped in fright at the sudden voice. Instinctively looking toward the sound, they saw a woman from Miaojiang with bright eyes, pearly white teeth, a bare waist, and a voluptuous figure, who had appeared on the window sill of the warm pavilion at some unknown moment. She sat with legs crossed, her lotus boots hooked lightly onto her toes, gently swaying. At the sight of her appearance, everyone fell silent. The newcomer was famous. Though the dark clouds of war hung heavy and people had lost their refined interest in watching matches, the competition among the younger generation at the Tianyuan Grand Tournament continued. Many unfamiliar faces had shone brilliantly upon the stage, and the woman before them was one of them. Jin Pingyue. Her bizarre, insidious poison arts virtually reigned supreme among the younger generation. More importantly, at such a young age, this woman had already reached the Origin Realm. She was almost destined to stand as one of the few at the pinnacle of the realm in the future. Yuan Hao showed no surprise at her arrival. Glancing at her sideways, he asked mildly, "I recall Miss Jin had a match today, didn't you?" Jin Pingyue looked at the man cloaked in monstrous baleful aura and sighed softly. "Brother Zhou clearly said he wished for me to take first place, yet you haven't come to watch this humble maiden even once. That truly breaks my heart." Yuan Hao slowly rose to his feet. "Isn't that because I haven't yet prepared a reunion gift?" With that, he cupped his hands to the young men and women at the table. "My apologies, everyone. It seems I must take my leave for a moment." "No need. The more the merrier—livelier is better, as long as you don't mind me arriving uninvited." Jin Pingyue, however, had no intention of speaking with Yuan Hao alone. "..." The crowd remained silent. Men were divided into ranks, and geniuses into strata; when confronted with those far superior, they could only nod along. Jin Pingyue had no intention of usurping the host's place. Hopping down from the window sill, she naturally took a seat at the foot of the banquet table and said softly, "Isn't Brother Zhou curious about the outcome of my match today?" Yuan Hao cast a cursory glance over her voluptuous curves and noticed faint ice crystals that had yet to dissipate upon her form. He sighed. "It seems you lost." "Indeed, I lost." Speaking of this, Jin Pingyue showed no dismay. "I was defeated in fewer than a hundred moves. How can such an abnormal freak exist in this world?" Yuan Hao smiled and shook his head. "Miss Jin's Gu arts were never meant for frontal combat in the first place." "You certainly know how to comfort someone." Jin Pingyue's tone was breezy and carefree. "The trouble is, I could even refine my Gu arts in advance specifically to counter her. So a loss is a loss; there are no excuses to make." Hearing this, Yuan Hao raised his cup in salute, and the group drank together. Setting down his porcelain cup, the fat man surnamed Ning asked rather hesitantly, "Fairy Jin, may this humble one... ask who your opponent was today?" Spells and techniques had their counters. The Tianyuan Grand Tournament had always used round-robin lots, and to protect the secrecy of the contestants' arts, once the matches entered the later rounds, uninvited spectators were no longer permitted. The results were only announced directly at the conclusion of each day's schedule. Thus, outsiders merely knew certain people were fighting today, but had no idea who their opponents were. Jin Pingyue looked back, her eyes curving like crescent moons, and uttered three words: "Ran Qingmo." "..." The drizzle pattered outside, and a dead silence filled the hall. Hearing this name from the heavenly palace so abruptly, everyone was struck with horror and awe. They did not know just how formidable the supreme beings of the heavenly palace truly were, but for someone as strong as Jin Pingyue before them to be vanquished in under a hundred moves still exceeded their imagination. Even as feelings of inadequacy welled within them, a faint sense of joyful solace emerged as well—for that Fairy Ran was the Eldest Disciple of the Sword Sect, the one destined to lead them in the future. Yuan Hao's soft chuckle broke the silence. He asked, "It seems this tournament will ultimately be decided between those two Eldest Disciples. Miss Jin, have you encountered the Saintess before?" Jin Pingyue gave a slight nod. "I have." "And?" "I surrendered immediately." "..." Yuan Hao was speechless. Jin Pingyue shrugged her fair shoulders. "Don't look at me like that. She's at the Transcendent Realm. Fight her my ass." A fairy uttering profanity left everyone with rather peculiar expressions. Jin Pingyue, however, appeared nonchalant and continued, "Still, during our match today, I did ask Ran Qingmo about her attitude. She said she wouldn't concede defeat to that Saintess. If Brother Zhou is interested, this humble maiden could secure an invitation for you to spectate. It will be within ten days." Yuan Hao shook his head without the slightest hesitation. What a joke. With a match between those two, Saints would certainly be present. He was mentally twisted, not mentally deficient—how could he possibly throw himself headlong into such a place? Jin Pingyue raised a shapely eyebrow and did not press him for reasons. With such a heavy baleful aura surrounding him, he surely harbored secrets that could not see the light of day, naturally unfitted for refined stages. The newcomer's arrival undoubtedly injected a spark of lively vigor into this increasingly deserted circle formed around Yuan Hao, and her noble status brought many pieces of news unknown to the rest of the table. For example, on the first day of the general assembly, Ran Qingmo had struck out with her sword directly at Tianyan. For example, the friction between the Sword Sect and the hidden sects. And further, yesterday, six thousand li north of the Tianyuan Mountain Range, someone had spotted the towering, majestic mobile palace of the Chancellor. As she reached the end, the banquet plunged into dead silence. Even the fat man surnamed Ning, who had wagered on Xu Yuan winning the championship, wore an unsightly expression. Though most present held middling statuses, their knowledge and experience far exceeded those of ordinary commoners. They understood full well what the appearance of the Prime Minister's Manor's Third Young Master here signified. A figure of such stature would never place himself in harm's way. Therefore, when he arrived at the Tianyuan Mountain Range, would the iron hooves of the Prime Minister's Manor follow at his back? The answer was obvious. None discussed guaranteed victory in the war, nor did anyone pontificate on their own grand insights. In this era of fractured information, most of the sects behind those present had little idea of just how advanced the war machinery at the pinnacle of the imperial court had become. Voicing opinions on such matters would only invite ridicule if overheard by Yuan Hao and Jin Pingyue. Night deepened. Cups were raised and exchanged, one after another. A hazy drunken stupor began to surface in the eyes of these young men and women, alongside an undercurrent of romance that began to permeate the banquet. Such was the elegance that belonged to this moment. Love in a time of war was ever precious. Yet unfortunately, the people from the heavenly palace gave this nascent romance no chance to unfold. Rumble— A roll of thunder echoed from the horizon. The gazes of Yuan Hao and Jin Pingyue snapped in unison toward the sky beyond the window, shrouded under ten thousand li of dark clouds. Yuan Hao, guided by an instinctive realization in his heart, even rose to his feet to show deference. Within the churning, ink-black clouds, thunder fell like pillars, and lightning dragged across the sky like startled swans, repeatedly illuminating heaven and earth. The wind and rain seemed dense with something ominous, and the dark silhouette of a colossal beast loomed indistinctly within. Atop the summit of the Sword Sect, several figures silently appeared and stood still. Yet there was no anticipation—only grave, solemn tension. "Roar—!" A stupendous bellow sounded from above the clouds. Accompanied by the simultaneous crash of thunder and flash of lightning, the silhouette of the monstrous creature hidden within the dense clouds was illuminated completely. It was an aerial behemoth. The startling lightning cast its magnified shadow across the clouds, nearly engulfing the entire mountain gates of the Sword Sect. Amid this abrupt wave of dread, someone inside the warm pavilion gradually noticed that the mist rising from the blue flagstones outside was turning crimson. The clear rain grew dyed with red, descending as a rain of blood that soaked everything in an eerie, bewitching hue... "Fuck..." Witnessing this strange phenomenon, Fatty Ning, who had heard rumors of it, muttered subconsciously, his voice trembling and stammering: "This blood color... it's... it's him! How... how does he dare come here..." No one replied. In the dead silence, the curtain of rain was suddenly torn open by some force. In the instant the lightning flared and dimmed, a figure with long, sleek hair appeared above the Sword Sect like a ghost. Amid the downpour of blood, he looked down at the mountain gates below, and his warm, teasing voice, laced with a smile, resonated throughout the entire Sword Sect: "Ha... You're having quite the lively time here. Why not count this young master in as well?"