Murong

The Great Jiang surged and billowed. On the northern shore, dazzling brilliance shone as rows of monks stood silently. Amid the cloud layers, golden bodies loomed indistinctly, varied in form and appearance, ranked according to cultivation and status, drifting into sight and fading away in midair. At the very apex, a gush of vivid red true fire surged ceaselessly, converging into a long arched bridge. Spiritual fire rose, creeping along both flanks of the bridge to condense at the midpoint into a pavilion perched atop a bridge tower—hexagonal in shape, billowing with crimson flames. A long-faced man in golden robes sat within the pavilion, leaning against a table. His hands rested together, his right hand loosely holding a pair of jade chopsticks as he idly tossed about the four small dishes of appetizers on the table. Armored soldiers knelt on both sides of the arched bridge. Astonishingly, they were not living men, but figures sustained purely by blazing fire, resembling flaming suits of armor suspended in midair. Their pairs of golden fire-eyes hidden beneath the helmets looked eerie and grim. After a brief wait, someone came up from the mountains. Burly and thickset, with a waist like a barrel and an unruly tangle of facial hair, his cheeks bore a purplish-black hue. He strode in without the slightest courtesy and plopped down before him. Flicking his thick, stubby fingers, he conjured a pair of silver chopsticks and immediately reached for the dishes. This annoyed the long-faced man so much that his expression changed, and he slapped his chopsticks down with a sharp clatter, cursing: "What crude, barbarian habits!" "What of it?" The thick-waisted burly man glared at him sideways without the least respect, replying: "Are you not a barbarian, or am I not one?" That single retort choked back the thin-faced man's retort. He gave a soft hmph and replied: "Nowadays, you are masters of the central realm under heaven, and the Murong family has no shortage of handsome men. How did they end up with a boorish, filthy lout like you, Murong Yan? What a waste of that name! Coming to the south, you'll just invite mockery... bringing up the northern barbarian past." The thick-waisted burly man sneered: "Jiangnan is half the realm as well; back then, it was by no means inferior to the north. You Central Plains folk constantly sneer about 'southern barbarians,' but back when True Monarch Shangyuan journeyed north and Duanmu Kui acted with unrestrained tyranny, did anyone dare peep a word? Even Jiang Boqing dared to toy with princes and dukes... What dignity do you have to speak of?" Shangyuan was now a True Monarch, so even when mentioning him, they could only refer to his 'northern journey,' whereas they were far less polite toward Duanmu Kui. Squabble as they might, the two shared a deep private friendship after all. Murong Yan took a couple of bites from the dishes with his chopsticks and merely said: "The White Qilin is right on the opposite bank. If Fellow Daoist Yingge cannot set aside your pride, or if you're fearful and intimidated, let me test him once more first." "I hardly fear him." Shilou Yingge narrowed his eyes slightly, not easily provoked by the other's words, his tone flat: "'Mingyang' is a lineage that favors grand culmination and supreme authority—the strong grow stronger, and the weak grow weaker. I won't say he has all five methods complete, but even if he had touched upon the Canzi stage or carried a hint of minor culmination, not to mention myself, even Qi Lanyan would have to deliberate carefully upon arriving here... "As for now... he has only just broken through to Violet Mansion, his life essence incomplete. In the end, he is merely an early-stage Violet Mansion cultivator with a few mystical tricks. You alone would be enough to give him a miserable time, to say nothing of having me as well." Murong Yan laughed heartily, the thick flesh on his face bunching together, and replied: "Your calculations are sound. When I heard of him some days ago, I was still rather dismissive... They said he has a karmic mandate upon him, but Mingyang has been battered into such a wretched state; how much empowerment could it possibly grant him? Having a mandate on you doesn't mean you don't need to cultivate secret techniques or cultivation methods. Emperor Wei didn't rely on mere mandate to suppress the world either... Back then, few Crown Princes of Wei could claim to suppress their peers, let alone today. "It was only when I heard that Tiefu's genius, the recently risen Helian Wumeng, fought him—and even while catching him without a spiritual tool in hand, still couldn't easily take him down—that I began to regard him with a bit more respect." He, Murong Yan, was also a genius of the Murong family. The north was vast, and its population far exceeded that of the south. Royal clans, imperial descendants, and immortal bloodlines gathered here, intermarrying across lines so that lineages were widely spread. To fight one's way out from among so many bloodlines and ultimately achieve Violet Mansion naturally made him a first-rate figure. What was rarer still was that northern lineages held sole possession of the rich inheritances left behind by numerous shattered heavenly dynasties, immortal sects, and immortal schools from ages past. Whether in spiritual items or bloodlines, how could disciples recruited by the Taiyang lineage—which had fled far to the south to develop the barbarians—ever compare? If not for the Taiyang lineage's origins in Qingsong Abbey and the few dharma treasures and spiritual treasures it obtained through ancestral connections, coupled with the north's lack of unity, there would have been no need for all this turmoil over the years. After so many years of friction and warfare between north and south, plainly speaking, it had only ever been a few Buddhist sects in the north that eyed profits and marched south individually. There had barely even been grand battles between Violet Mansions, and the forces employed were mostly rogue cultivators from the region, yet they had already forced nearly all lineages in the State of Yue into an alliance. There was an immense disparity in strength to begin with... 'Aside from the Yuzhen sovereign seat and inhuman existences like Duanmu Kui... the Three Yuans and Two Purples were passable, but as for nowadays... there really are few in the south worth looking at!' Shilou Yingge moved his chopsticks no more, merely pouring and drinking by himself as he replied: "Helian Wumeng is indeed a genius, but his wings are likewise not yet fully fledged. If one day he crosses the threshold of immortality, dons the Daxia Ying Copper Armor, takes up Wancheng Pingyu, and swallows the Iron-Decreeing Elixir refined by Helian Fan, perhaps only that young master of the Tuoba family could compare to him. When that time comes, you and I... neither of us will be his match." These words made Murong Yan glare wide-eyed, yet those spiritual treasures were simply too famous. Once spoken, he truly had no easy retort, and could only narrow his eyes as his ferocity subsided, saying coldly: "His ancestors were magnificent, but now they've fallen on hard times; he simply has no rival geniuses alongside him to share the spiritual items. If the many treasures of my Murong family were concentrated in one person's hands, who could withstand them?" "That is meaningless talk!" Shilou Yingge shook his head and said: "If you argue like that, why not ask why you were born into the Murong family instead of some common tenant-farmer household? Furthermore, that your Murong family enjoys such glory today is solely due to the legacy of Emperor Xuan; it cannot be compared to his clan at all!" His Murong family was one of the clans among the Northern Di that gained the most. In the past, they lost to the paternal-consort clan in the struggle over the heavenly dynasty and were once in dire peril, left at a total loss during the Chaos of the Three Teachings... Fortunately, the mandate of heaven brought revival, and Emperor Xuan of Yan, Murong Jie, arose. This emperor took command in times of crisis. He first suppressed the Three Teachings by force, then promulgated an imperial decree: "Buddhism follows the stages of cultivation and realization—this is the Great Dao. Demonic arts preserve nature while executing techniques... Immortals refine methods of divine abilities, tracing back to the origin, and thus forfeit no honorable seat." This decree was known as the Decree of Emperor Xuan. It redefined the immortal and demonic paths from sovereign lineages into exalted arts, while Buddhist cultivation was deemed the true 'work of cultivation and realization,' turning reverence toward the Compassion Path. From then on, the lineages of the State of Yan possessed clear order. Those of fine talent cultivated immortal or demonic paths; when their lifespans drew near an end, if they possessed a measure of divine ability, they could turn and enter the Compassion Path. Though success was not guaranteed every time, they reaped considerable gains, and their accumulated experience grew richer and richer. Once the Buddhist path became a viable avenue for Violet Mansion and foreign mansion cultivators, the internal contradictions eased rapidly. After all, no matter how exacting the path, nobody minded having an extra way out when driven into an impasse. Moreover, the Compassion Path took 'a belly broad enough to contain all' as its doctrine, enabling mutual fulfillment. From then on, there was no stopping it; the Buddhist Land expanded with extraordinary speed, developing wonders along its path distinct from other Buddhist cultivators, and faintly showed signs of vying for leadership among the Seven Aspects. Although overexpansion made competition within the Buddhist Land fierce—lacking the stability of the other six aspects, which remained virtually unshakeable for centuries—the Murong family turned misfortune into fortune, rising step by step to the pinnacle. Today, they possessed achievements across demonic, Buddhist, and immortal paths, with the demonic and Buddhist complementing each other even more. Murong Yan naturally had the right to make such claims. Shilou Yingge shifted the subject, saying: "Helian Wumeng penetrated deep into the hinterlands, so he certainly didn't use his full strength. His Tiefu ranks last among the princely states, so he wouldn't dare act rashly either. As I said earlier, his wings aren't fully fledged, so fighting to a draw was only natural. "With no worries behind you now, it is the right time to clash with him! You have broader divine abilities than he does, and more spiritual tools. I hear he doesn't even have a handy weapon. Just keep in mind... the situation is unclear at present, and we are both testing the waters. Harbor no killing intent, and do not pursue too deep." He said faintly: "Helian Wumeng has already reached Xuanmiao Abbey, probing that Zhugong woman from the vicinity of Xuanmiao Abbey... To say nothing of her injury, even if she were completely unharmed, she couldn't gain any advantage before Helian Wumeng. Yi Shu... Tinglan will definitely go there." When he mentioned Real Person Tinglan, a complex look flashed in his eyes. After all, she was also of Qi, and they had known each other in their earlier years... At this moment, he merely brushed it aside on the surface and answered: "Even so, I will still hold the line for you, to prevent the remnants of the Taiyang lineage from pulling any tricks." Murong Yan's expression remained unchanged as he nodded: "The forces of the various paths haven't arrived yet; we're just testing the waters first." He dissolved into demonic smoke and dispersed, leaving Shilou Yingge sitting alone within the pavilion, his expression gradually flattening. 'Luoxia acts as though washing its hands of the matter, maintaining a truly ambiguous stance... Though Murong Yan claims the Wuguang lineage doesn't want to fall into passivity... however one looks at it, there's a hint of disdain in their attitude. 'Meanwhile, interests in the north are tangled and deeply rooted, a chaotic mess. Even if consensus is reached... in the end, there is ample room for maneuvering... Regarding the matter of Li Qianyuan, the various factions hold differing stances: some radical, some moderate, and even one harboring a slight favor... Yet delaying the fall of Emperor Wei is something everyone quietly agrees upon... If the Wuguang lineage continues to look the other way, the various clans won't stop at merely squeezing out profits...' He raised his cup. He seemed to harbor no great aversion toward the Li family across the river, nor did he look like someone obsessed with restoring the Shilou name as rumored. All his actions resembled nothing more than a political stance, with only a faint chill in his eyes: 'The Great King doesn't care... but I cannot afford not to care. The future of the Gao family rests in our hands... Now even the Cui family is looking out for itself. Continuing to stubbornly cling to so-called ancestral debts of gratitude will inevitably plunge my Gao family into the abyss... 'In the chaotic era of the late Liang, my clan already lost once... leaving behind only superficial glamor... If we lose this time as well... the Gao clan will cease to exist!' ... The Great Jiang. Chilling demonic qi surged incessantly in the air, transforming into gusts of freezing wind. The thick-waisted burly man appeared. With only a slight pause, the demonic qi transformed into gleaming, lustrous armor, fitting onto his body piece by piece. Yet his expression showed none of the excitement of an impending duel, nor did the eyes nestled between his folds of flesh carry their earlier insolence and recklessness. Instead, they were as calm as water, filled with meticulous calculation. 'What a rare opportunity...' He stood thus above the river waters. Ceaseless demonic qi, mingled with colorless, hazy light, swirled around him and soared skyward, quickly dyeing the northern sky a pale gray. Earth-shaking cheers erupted from below, yet Murong Yan's gaze stared straight ahead. Almost instantly, a man clad in golden qilin scale armor with the Huayang King's Battle-Axe slung at his waist stood atop the towering cliffside mount on the riverbank. Looking across from afar, his pair of golden pupils pierced through, bringing a noticeable smirk to Murong Yan's face. The demonic smoke along the riverbank grew denser. Without a word, he slowly raised his hand and withdrew a long weapon from the Great Void. The implement resembled a sword, yet above a hilt shaped like a gaping iron dragon was a single solid, rounded iron column, segmented as though spliced together from white bones. Roughly four feet long, it was a good bit longer than ordinary swords. Waiting only a brief moment, his figure vanished from the spot. As if in response, billowing demonic smoke surged up along the riverbank like a tidal wave, howling forward, before a thunderous voice exploded in midair: "Murong Yan of the State of Yan comes to seek instruction!" Simultaneously, the invisible, hazy water rapidly gathered, casting a vast luminescence like a watery veil across the sky, flickering in and out of view. Divine ability—Ningwuchen! Murong Yan was by no means benevolent. Even though he estimated that his opponent was no match for him and that he possessed one more divine ability than the other, since he lacked absolute certainty of overwhelming him, he showed no courtesy from the outset. Even as his spiritual tool struck, the rolling power of his divine ability enveloped the area in an instant. The brilliance between heaven and earth dimmed in an instant. The forces on both banks looked up thoughtfully. Even though a bright sun shone high in the sky, its dazzling radiance could not reach the earth, leaving both shores plunged into dim gloom. This gloom was unlike darkness; though gray and hazy, everything remained visible, yet all color was drained of vibrancy, dull and lusterless. Only that pair of golden eyes upon the cliff remained bright. Standing within the divine ability, Li Zhouwei felt the deepest impression of all. The moment his opponent unleashed full power, the rushing moisture blowing against his face made everything clear: 'Female Water... It is a Female Water divine ability.' Amid the murky dimness, the divine abilities and dharmic power within Li Zhouwei's body grew sluggish. Female Water was a path manifested in the mortal world, and his opponent was a direct-line Violet Mansion of the Murong family; this divine ability sealed and suppressed, seizing the initiative! The golden-eyed man was a fraction of a breath slow in evoking his divine ability. Murong Yan's spiritual tool was already bearing down before him, the bizarrely shaped iron weapon surging forward amidst billowing demonic smoke. Yet Li Zhouwei had only enough time to tilt his body slightly and step back a pace. Murong Yan was not surprised. His Ningwuchen was inherently a divine ability meant to seize the initiative, and the deeper an opponent fell into his rhythm, the more effective its influence became! The spiritual tool in his hand did not miss entirely, only angling slightly aside. Not only had Li Zhouwei traded a retreat for reaction time, but Murong Yan's other hand had instantly begun forming an incantation seal! Yet in that split second, Li Zhouwei halted his retreating step. Raising a hand, a large palm tore through the billowing demonic wind swift as thunder, reaching directly to seize him by the neck. 'Such audacity! With my demonic cultivator's body, why should I fear trading injuries with you!' Colors flashed in Murong Yan's eyes. Halting the spell in his hand, he immediately turned his palm to intercept, driving his divine ability all the more intensely. Yet he saw the man before him raise his other hand, using his wrist to block before his spiritual tool. From within his vambrace, brilliant radiance shone; at his wrist sat an inconspicuous golden ring. He had not unleashed the spiritual treasure's power, meeting it solely with the physical form of the Qianyang Bracelet! Bang! A dull metallic collision rang out, and a spark of brilliance shot forth with bursting embers. Jolted by the impact, the spiritual treasure released myriad rays of radiant light. The murky dimness suddenly lit up, and the frozen daylight finally resumed its flow. Li Zhouwei's form dispersed and reformed right in front of him. The demonic wind blowing against his dharmic body dissipated on its own, and a radiant light already gleamed between his brows. Yet Murong Yan did not pause for an instant, nor did he show the slightest surprise. Looking straight into those golden pupils as billowing demonic wind blew toward his face, a hissing sound came from his lips and tongue, where something strange could faintly be seen squirming. 'Decree!'