Under the barrage of more than a dozen spiritual impacts, the dense, curdled mist over Youdu seemed instantly eaten away, riddled with rapidly widening breaches.
Faced with an assault of such scale converging from multiple directions, the ritual fields densely blanketing the capital were stirred awake one after another. Beneath the violent collisions of overlapping fields, the earth shuddered violently.
Deep beneath Youdu, massive golden pillars stood erect, their bases submerged in a viscous silver fluid. As the shockwaves and tremors penetrated below, the pillars suddenly began to turn with a heavy rumble. The fluid circled slowly around them, swirling in glowing, dazzling brilliance.
These were ritual artifacts designed to absorb and distribute the force of an attack. Any power the outer fields could not immediately disperse was channeled down here, absorbed into the pillars, and vented into the slurry of esoteric ritual materials blending across the subterranean floor.
By nesting multiple fields inside one another, the capital’s defensive barrier prevented its perimeter from being shattered in a single blow.
Even so, the tremendous pounding shook the entire city to its core. In districts where ritual reactions concentrated, the ground undulated like waves, and buildings swayed precariously.
Yet the difference between the two successive waves of attacks was readily apparent.
Though both were spiritual impacts, the combined onslaught of the group seemed at first glance to cause far greater devastation.
In reality, Chen Chuan’s single strike had been tightly focused and concentrated. After punching through the black mist, it had slammed directly into the ground below.
Although somewhat blunted along the way, it had forced the mobilized ritual power to violently contract and converge, compelling the ritual core itself to endure and process the brunt of the collision.
By contrast, while the shockwaves from the group assault inflicted considerable surface damage on the city, what had actually crumbled were merely inconsequential buildings.
The meticulously laid ritual fields distributed and redirected the pressure into those designated buffer zones through their layout, effectively diffusing the impact with minimal toll on the ritual structure itself.
Outsiders might not have grasped the distinction, but the Dongxuan View martial artists on the scene saw it with absolute clarity.
They could not help but marvel inwardly. Chen Chuan’s strike was not merely a display of brute force; it was a demonstration of peerlessly nuanced control over his spiritual fire.
Even as they marveled, they did not pause their bombardment. After a brief lull, another wave of spiritual impacts rained down. For Dongxuan View martial artists, such expenditure was negligible.
So long as their spiritual connection to the heavens above remained unbroken, they could sustain the barrage indefinitely. Here in the convergence zone, that communion with the heights was smoother than ever.
Meanwhile, in four distinct quadrants of the city, Great General Yuchi Bin and the three Dongxuan View xuanji martial artists remaining on the former imperial household's public register were garrisoned at the central pivots.
Each had unfolded their personal field and spirit, working in concert to shoulder a portion of the incoming force.
Yet despite their assistance, the relentless shelling from over a dozen Dongxuan View martial artists—even without any of them going all out—inflicted unavoidable wear and tear upon the ritual framework.
The esoteric rituals accumulated over more than a century were like a massive sand dune, steadily being shaved away.
Before long, certain localized structures inscribed with rituals collapsed under the violent shaking and abrasion, leaving behind nothing but mounds of crushed ritual powders on the pavement.
Enfeoffed ritual officers led large cohorts of ritualists stationed at critical junctures. Whenever they spotted broad swathes of ritual materials peeling or burning away from walls and pavements, men rushed forward with pre-prepared ritual boards, while others feverishly touched up the inscriptions from behind.
They were still relying on outdated repair methods from over a century ago. Esoteric rituals were the imperial clan's very foundation, and because ritualists had long been strictly controlled by the palace, there had been almost no exchange of knowledge with the outside world.
From time to time, discordant resonance within the destabilized ritual fields jolted several repairing ritualists to death on the spot, sending them stiffly to the ground.
Yet overseeing guards dragged their corpses away immediately, replaced by hollow-eyed men stepping forward in numb succession.
How long such attrition could be sustained was anyone's guess.
Materials were not the problem; backed by the vast resources of the convergence zone, they had supplies in abundance.
People, however, were another matter entirely. When the roll had been called before the battle, they discovered that genuine, qualified ritualists accounted for barely a third of the names on the roster; the remaining two-thirds were mere ghost entries.
The corruption ran far too deep. The supervising palace eunuchs had no time to launch an inquiry now; they could only press apprentices into service and requisition hands from various noble houses.
Yet this remained purely passive defense. Even if Great Shun possessed no secret schematic, they could theoretically pinpoint Youdu's vulnerabilities through systematic probing; it would simply take a little longer, with the ultimate outcome remaining unchanged.
Youdu's best recourse would have been to venture out and harass the attackers, denying them the leisure of bombarding at will. Unfortunately, the steady loss of their core fighting strength had made hunkering down behind their walls almost their only viable option.
Hovering in the sky above Youdu, Chen Chuan had stayed his hand after that opening strike, keeping his gaze fixed on his visor display.
Before him was the complete ritual layout of Youdu. Wen Mingzhong had correlated the schematics with real-time field reactions and transmitted the data directly to him, allowing Chen Chuan to observe every shift in the defensive fields with utter clarity.
In the rear, five active conscious entities were assisting Wen Mingzhong in analyzing the shifting field dynamics. Within moments, faint wisps of heat began to rise from their bodies.
Chen Chuan did not press them. He knew that locating a breach in the field required first identifying individual active nodes, and then tracing the intersecting seams between them to piece together an infiltration corridor.
It was no easy task, demanding vast amounts of deduction and computation. Nor could it be resolved by raw processing power alone; the defensive field was suffused with highly volatile spiritual force, injecting tremendous uncertainty that hard numbers could never fully capture. It could only be chipped away through patient calculation.
In truth, such archaic defense systems could probably only be found within the former imperial household nowadays. Modern nations across the globe used esoteric rituals solely to cordon off high-value facilities, keeping them far smaller and far more refined.
For metropolitan defense, contemporary powers relied on massive field organisms, each approach having its own merits and drawbacks.
Yet without question, sinking the entire wealth of a nation into fortifying a single city was an anachronism ill-suited to the present age.
Inside the Yunzhi Pavilion, the five Grand Secretaries wore grim expressions as they listened to the rumbling thuds outside and felt the pavilion shudder around them.
Far more than the noise, they feared internal collapse. Enduring a one-sided beating without the ability to strike back was devastating to morale. If the people broke, Youdu would become nothing more than a hollow shell.
Grand Secretary Fang could not help speaking up: "Senior Grand Secretary, gentlemen, are we truly to sit here and watch helplessly?"
Grand Secretary Shi chimed in, "His Majesty still has two sons, both fierce, robust, and possessing the caliber of senior commanders. Might we petition His Majesty to order the two princes out of the palace to assist the defense and bolster the troops' morale?"
The other two Grand Secretaries nodded in agreement.
One added bluntly, "What we defend right now is the Yuan clan's empire! How can the younger scions of the Yuan house cower inside the deep palace, looking on with folded hands?"
With disaster looming, the ministers' words grew increasingly sharp.
They had not risen to their stations through Emperor Wenguang’s favor alone. To reach their current positions, every one of them had received the approval of the powers above—the two enshrined Yuan ancestors.
In ordinary times, they observed the proprieties of sovereign and subject. But facing the imminent fall of the realm, they were no longer inclined to mince words.
Grand Secretary Hong said in a heavy voice, "I shall enter the palace to seek an audience with His Majesty." He cupped his hands. "I must ask you gentlemen to preside over matters here."
"Very well."
The four Grand Secretaries solemnly returned the salute.
Leaving the Yunzhi Pavilion, Grand Secretary Hong did not even bother with a carriage. He mounted a horse and rode straight toward Yunmeng Garden. Arriving before the Changlun Pavilion, he found the elderly eunuch standing atop the stairs before the entrance.
The old servant bowed with hands clasped, addressing Grand Secretary Hong as he dismounted. "Senior Grand Secretary, please return. His Majesty is currently cultivating and will receive no ministers from without today."
Grand Secretary Hong frowned. "Does His Majesty truly believe he can hide from this? The situation outside hangs by a hair! The pretender army could breach the city within days! When that moment arrives, will His Majesty still turn a blind eye?"
The elderly eunuch remained stooped, replying in an unhurried drawl, "The Senior Grand Secretary speaks too harshly. His Majesty has entrusted all external affairs to your care; is that not proof enough of his trust in the Grand Secretaries?"
Grand Secretary Hong retorted, "I have served His Majesty as sovereign and subject for many years, and I know well that His Majesty possesses far-reaching foresight and great breadth of mind. In this hour of peril, nothing short of His Majesty’s decisive word will suffice! I beg His Majesty to hand down his strategic directives, so that the ministers may be reassured and the hearts of our soldiers and people steadied!"
Inside the hall, Emperor Wenguang reclined upon a daybed, holding a scripture scroll. He seemed utterly deaf to the voices outside, turning a page at an unhurried pace.
Only when the clamor outside died down did the elderly eunuch step in, bowing low. "Your Majesty, the Senior Grand Secretary says that if Your Majesty will not see him, he will not leave."
Emperor Wenguang set down the scroll. "The Senior Grand Secretary is advanced in years. Go, bring him a chair, and serve him a cup of ginseng tea to revive his spirits."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Grand Secretary Hong waited a moment before two junior eunuchs emerged carrying a round, brocade-draped stool. He did not refuse; gathering his robes, he sat down squarely, accepted the ginseng tea, and took a sip.
He meant what he said. If he did not see Emperor Wenguang today, he would not move a step.
Emperor Wenguang continued leafing through his book, occasionally penning a few comments in the margins.
Yet the rumbling from outside grew louder and louder, reaching even this sheltered retreat. The brush rest and paperweight upon his desk began to tremble.
He glanced toward the pond beside the pavilion. Concentric ripples shot across the surface, the drooping willow branches swayed, and the golden carp in the water leapt about in panic.
He asked quietly, "What hour is it?"
The elderly eunuch replied, "Your Majesty, it is a quarter to four in the afternoon."
Emperor Wenguang asked again, "How fare things with Prince Yong?"
The old servant murmured, "Your Majesty, Prince Yong reported just moments ago that the fissure beneath the lake has been opened. It remains slightly unstable at present, but should be fully ready within an hour. He will surely come to attend Your Majesty then."
Emperor Wenguang considered this, then closed the scroll. "We will not wait. Change my robes; prepare the imperial carriage for Lüjing Lake."
……
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Chapter 1424