Early the next morning.
The sky was overcast, heavy clouds piled like splashes of dark ink. Dim daylight filtered through the rifts in the overcast sky, and the air hung damp with an impending winter rain, casting an inexplicable gloom over people's hearts.
It was early January, and the southern damp chill was like a stealthy knife, always finding a way to slip past collars and ankles to strike a biting blow.
On the streets, commoners wrapped in thick winter clothes tucked their hands into their sleeves. Hunched against the cold, they surged toward Tianji Tower with somber expressions.
Today was the day of the imperial court's sacrifice to Heaven. Three hundred young boys and girls, rounded up from across the capital by drawing lots, were to be burned to ashes in holy fire as an offering to Sovereign Haotian.
Perhaps even Heaven could not bear to watch, for the sky hung thick with gloom.
Wang Beiwang wore thin martial attire, his weapon wrapped in cloth and slung across his back. He followed the crowd toward Tianji Tower to observe the sacrifice.
This was by order of the imperial court.
The court wanted officials and commoners alike to witness the ceremony, believing it showed reverence and devotion to Sovereign Haotian.
"I heard Yang Er snuck out of the city yesterday to join the Northern Dynasty army," Wang Beiwang's ear twitched as he overheard two men in front of him whispering.
The speaker was a tall, thin youth.
The shorter one paused for a moment before muttering, "If my son were chosen for the sacrifice and dragged to the plaza to be burned alive, I'd defect to the Northern Dynasty army too."
The tall, thin youth gritted his teeth and cursed, "Sacrificing children to Heaven defies human decency. That foolish ruler will get his retribution sooner or later."
The shorter youth sneered. "He's already getting it. The Southern Dynasty is finished sooner or later. The rich have all fled south. Once Linxia City falls, it'll be the capital's turn. Us poor folks can only wait for the northern barbarians' butcher knives."
The tall youth gritted his teeth again. "I refuse to die for a foolish ruler and a court like this. I'm thinking of heading to the front line to join the Northern Dynasty army... Well, I'll wait a few more days, after I watch this sacrifice."
He seemed to need this spectacle of burning young boys and girls to steel his resolve.
*Alas, the mansion is on the brink of collapse...* Wang Beiwang sighed inwardly as he walked behind the two.
He remembered when he was a boy, people of the Southern Dynasty—especially those in the capital—carried immense pride in their hearts, possessing a fierce sense of belonging and national duty. The greatest dream of both court and commoners had been to march north on an expedition to reclaim their lost homeland.
*Longing for the King's troops in the north, longing for the King's troops in the north...*
In little more than a decade, public morale had withered. The youth of this generation no longer had that integrity or grand ambition. Besides toiling to survive each day, all they did was curse the court and the foolish ruler.
Once Linxia fell, the Northern Dynasty would not even need to bring in fresh troops; recruitment in the South alone would draw swarms of refugees.
The Southern Dynasty had reached a perilous precipice.
He wondered if that foolish ruler could truly turn the tide at this critical juncture.
He walked in silence, watching more and more people appear ahead: vendors and laborers in padded coats, women in simple skirts. They converged from every street like countless small streams, ultimately swelling into a surging sea of humanity in the plaza before Tianji Tower.
At last, Wang Beiwang caught sight of the towering Tianji Tower and saw hundreds of armored soldiers forming a human fence to hold the commoners outside the plaza.
A raised platform had been erected, dried firewood stacked beneath it. Three hundred young children sat cross-legged atop the platform, their expressions dull, devoid of grief or joy, as motionless as stone statues.
Below the platform, two rows of civil and military officials stood tall and straight in their court robes, holding ivory audience tablets and waiting in silence.
Two-thirds of the court officials had shown up. The remaining third were staunch opponents of the sacrifice, expressing their protest by refusing to attend.
Grand Secretaries Zheng Wenhan and Yang Zheng stood at the heads of the two rows of ministers, one on the left and the other on the right.
Yang Zheng glanced around and remarked impassively, "His Majesty organized such an elaborate sacrifice to Heaven, yet claims illness and does not appear. Is he not afraid of offending Sovereign Haotian?"
He did not look at Zheng Wenhan, who stood a few paces away, but the latter seemed to know the words were aimed at him and replied just as calmly, "The Imperial Preceptor comprehends the heavens above and the earth below; the trends of the realm are entirely within his grasp. He can communicate with Heaven and Earth, so his presence alone is more than enough. His Majesty's thoughts are with the front lines, and worry has worn him into illness. Moreover, the residual poison has not fully cleared, so it is naturally best for him to recuperate in the palace."
Yang Zheng scoffed, his mockery unmistakable, but said nothing more.
Zheng Wenhan did not continue the conversation either. He turned his head, scanning the dense crowd, searching both for the foolish ruler Zhao Shun, who might appear, and for the remnants of the Shenrui Army.
For this sacrifice, Zheng Wenhan and his trusted advisors had planned and rehearsed over and over, drafting a foolproof strategy.
If the foolish ruler dared to show his face, the Shenrui Army remnants concealed in the crowd would strike to assassinate him, while the city guard on site would seal off the streets under the pretext of protecting the emperor, barring the Yang family's forces from intervening.
They would then covertly sow chaos and let things slide, ensuring the foolish ruler died at the assassins' hands.
To leave nothing to chance, Zheng Wenhan had also stationed many elite martial artists from the army disguised as assassins throughout the crowd.
If the foolish ruler did not appear, that was even better. Once the ceremony concluded, the Zheng family would proceed with their plan to purge the court.
Zheng Wenhan had even accounted for the worst-case scenario. If the Zheng family's conspiracy to assassinate the emperor was exposed on the spot, he would strike Zhao Shun down then and there, take advantage of the chaos to halt the sacrifice, deliver an impassioned speech before the people, secure the Imperial Preceptor's support, and openly rebel.
Unless pushed to the brink, Zheng Wenhan preferred not to take that route. No matter how incompetent Zhao Shun was, the court and commoners only loathed the man himself; in their hearts, they still recognized the legitimacy of the Zhao clan.
Throughout history, rebels had always been branded traitors. Those loyal to the Zhao clan and those harboring wild ambitions of their own would seize the moment to rise up. If the Zheng family suffered heavy losses, Tuoba Guanghe might take the opportunity to tear up their agreement.
***
In a private room on the third floor of a restaurant a hundred paces from Tianji Tower, Gang Leader Duan and Elder Xu stood by the window, gazing out over the bustling plaza.
Elder Xu chuckled. "Gang Leader, booking a private room so early in the morning—it seems you hold some expectations for that foolish ruler."
Gang Leader Duan said calmly, "I only came to see."
*To see if there is still any hope of saving the Southern Dynasty!* he added in his heart.
***
Outside the crowd in the plaza, a carriage stood parked by the roadside. Guan Ya stood at the driver's box, her gaze calmly sweeping over the throngs of people.
"Empress Niangniang, you are of noble birth. Don't stand in such a prominent spot—it makes you an easy target for assassins," Xie Lingxi poked her head out of the carriage, tugging anxiously at Guan Ya.
"The carriage is surrounded by guards. What is there to worry about?" Guan Ya replied flatly. "Even if assassins come, I have nothing to fear."
Xie Lingxi muttered under her breath, "Well, I'm afraid. I'm only a Level 1 Transcendent."
Guan Ya simply ignored her.
The Palace Master of Halting Slaughter's languid voice drifted from inside the carriage. "So, our great swordsman, spot any enemies yet?"
Guan Ya ignored her as well, continuing to search the crowd for potential assassins.
The moment Yuanshi showed himself, mortal peril would surely follow. She needed to identify the assassins hidden among the spectators in advance, just in case.
Furthermore, Yuanshi had not shared the details of his plan with them, fearing that the Imperial Preceptor might detect ripples in the river of destiny from the 'minor players' and see through their moves.
As such, Guan Ya and the others had no idea whether Yuanshi could succeed. If he failed, they would strike immediately to kill Zheng Wenhan—capturing the ringleader first.
At that point, the Imperial Preceptor would likely intervene. With no Dominator on their side, his involvement would send the situation spiraling out of control.
***
Time ticked away, second by second. Commoners and ministers waited in silence, turbulent undercurrents churning beneath the calm surface as everyone awaited that pivotal moment.
At last, a middle-aged Daoist priest emerged from the towering Tianji Tower. Dressed in robes and cradling a horsetail whisk, he swept his gaze across the dense sea of people and called out loudly:
"The auspicious hour has arrived! Welcome the Imperial Preceptor!"
The Imperial Preceptor commanded immense prestige among the populace. The commoners outside the plaza and the ministers within bowed their heads in succession.
Zheng Wenhan raised his voice. "Welcome the Imperial Preceptor!"
The crowd behind him followed suit instinctively, chanting in unison, "Welcome the Imperial Preceptor!"
Amidst the echoing cries of thousands, a bright, gentle golden light surged from the observation terrace at the very top of Tianji Tower. It drifted outward slowly, coming to hover above the plaza.
The golden light was luminous without being glaring. The commoners below could clearly see that the radiance formed a halo behind the head of an elderly Daoist priest who radiated the aura of a transcendent immortal.
With his long beard drifting in the wind, his robes billowing, his features gaunt, and his whisk resting in the crook of his arm, he carried the otherworldly grace of a banished celestial.
The commoners prostrated themselves in reverence, venerating him as an immortal.
The two rows of civil and military officials were likewise filled with heartfelt awe. As high-ranking court ministers, they naturally knew the Imperial Preceptor was not a true god but a cultivator. Even so, for an Earthly Immortal whose cultivation reached to the heavens and earth, calling him an immortal was hardly an exaggeration.
Inside the spacious carriage, Sun Miaomiao poked her head out, caught sight of the Imperial Preceptor, and quickly pulled back in fright. "Primordial spirit leaving the body, turning illusion into reality... The Imperial Preceptor is an 8th-level Day Wanderer."
Eighth level?
Inside the carriage, Xiao Yuan and Xie Lingxi, along with Guan Ya looking down from the driver's box and Brother Red Chicken disguised as a guard outside, all felt their hearts sink. Daunting as it was, it made perfect sense.
After all, among their teammates in the capital, there were two Dominator-level Spirit Realm walkers.
If the final boss were not at least eighth level, it would have been a letdown.
"If Yuanshi blows it this time, we're all dead meat. My main quest was already finished this morning. Sigh, if I'd known, I would've returned to reality," Brother Red Chicken grumbled with regret.
His main quest had concluded that morning. Because this was a story-driven large dungeon, the Spirit Realm had offered two choices: leave the dungeon and return to reality, or remain to complete side quests.
As a soup-cooking hunk who had always lived by the creed of 'putting loyalty first and casting life and death aside,' Brother Red Chicken had chosen the latter.
Now he kind of wanted to bail.
None of the women in the carriage paid him any heed, their attention riveted on the celestial-looking Imperial Preceptor.
The Imperial Preceptor's resonant voice rolled across the plaza:
"The Sovereign cleaved yin and yang, unfurling creation; the gods brought forth the seven regulators, radiance shining bright. The circular canopy overarches, the square expanse supports; myriad things thrive in peace. Your humble servant dares reverently report, presenting to the Emperor named Sovereign... The descendants of Zhao, their splendor numbers not tens of thousands. The Lord on High having ordained, Shun clad in imperial robes..."
Brother Red Chicken stared blankly, turning toward the carriage. "What does that even mean? Every word sounds like human speech, but put together, I didn't understand a damn thing."
The women inside still ignored him. In truth, they didn't understand it either, and whoever replied would only embarrass herself.
Xie Lingxi whispered, "I only understood that last part. It probably means: Zhao descendants number in the millions, but Heaven uniquely bestowed the throne upon 'Shun'—Shun refers to Zhao Shun."
Having recently graduated from high school, she was at the peak of her academic knowledge.
The Imperial Preceptor spoke at length, concluding with the words, "Offering three hundred children to the Lord on High, to protect the Southern Dynasty's reign for five hundred years."
All at once, an impassioned shout rang out from the crowd:
"Imperial Preceptor, absolutely not! This act defies human decency and is intolerable to Heaven! The foolish ruler acts against the natural order and will surely suffer retribution! You are the teacher of the nation—how can you aid this tyrant in doing evil?!"
The speaker was a young scholar, overcome with emotion, looking as though he had cast all thoughts of life and death aside.
With that opening, the capital's commoners, who had been bottling up their fury, erupted in response.
"Human sacrifice to Heaven cannot be allowed! The foolish ruler acts against nature and will surely face retribution! Imperial Preceptor, you must uphold justice for us!"
"Imperial Preceptor, three hundred lives! Three hundred children!"
"Please, Imperial Preceptor, save the children!"
"Please, Imperial Preceptor, save the children!"
The dense crowd began to drop to their knees. In their eyes, there was no emperor, only the Imperial Preceptor.
Where the hearts of the people lay was plain to see; what the people willed was unmistakable.
High above, looking down upon the entire scene, the Imperial Preceptor let out a grand, helpless sigh and said slowly:
"The Lord on High having ordained, Shun clad in imperial robes. Shun is the Son of Heaven; his word carries the weight of nine tripods."
The implication was clear: *Whatever the emperor insists on doing, I am powerless to stop. If you must blame someone, blame him.*
The Imperial Preceptor finished chanting the brief remainder of the prayer, then proclaimed in a clear, carrying voice:
"The auspicious hour has arrived. Let the sacrifice to Heaven begin!"
With a flick of his fingers, a beam of golden light shot out, landing on the dry firewood stacked beneath the high platform.
The wood caught instantly, bursting into roaring flames.
The crowd surged violently. Commoners cursed the foolish ruler, wailed in grief, or threw themselves desperately against the city guards, trying to breach the plaza.
Zheng Wenhan could hold back no longer, turning to scour the crowd.
*Found them...* At that very moment, amid the sea of faces contorted with emotion, Guan Ya finally spotted the hidden assassins.
Just then, a sharp roar tore through the air: "Stop!"
A figure shot toward the high platform, sweeping wide sleeves with a surge of formidable qi that scattered the blazing firewood in all directions.
Zheng Wenhan, who had been waiting eagerly for the foolish ruler to show himself, froze, turning in astonishment toward his side.
It was Yang Zheng!
Zheng Wenhan flew into a rage.
"Lord Yang, you dare defy imperial orders and disrupt the sacrifice to Heaven?! Men, seize him!"
Chapter 869