He did not exist solely in this dream, after all, and the Gold-Armored Bronze Automaton Technique would be immensely valuable in reality. As for wujin and the other materials, he could always purchase more from Songyang Mansion—Li Fubo might even secure him a friendly discount.
Mhm, perfect!
Gripping the jade slip containing the secret manual of the automaton technique, a massive flood of information naturally etched itself into He Lingchuan's mind, vivid as an engraving. Refining bronze automatons was delicate work that brooked not the slightest error. Fortunately, while this method of learning could not make him an instant master, it at least ensured his memory would never fail him.
...
Stepping out of the Pengcheng Office, the two set off for the God-Descending Platform.
Back then, the site where Zhong Shengguang had performed the deity blood sacrifice was not within the city walls, but rather on the northwest highlands five li behind Panlong City. That place saw few visitors on normal days, yet right now carriage and foot traffic bustled along the road, everyone heading toward the high ground.
He Lingchuan and Sun Fuling hired a spacious horse carriage.
Looking out, the travelers on the road were all common folk of Panlong City. Those who could not afford to hire a carriage simply walked.
The dirt roads outside the city were bumpy and uneven, some stretches still laden with snow, nowhere near as easy to traverse as the paved city streets. Moreover, the sky was dim and brooding, dark clouds hanging low as though about to collapse, threatening a blizzard at any moment.
Yet the Panlong citizens around them chatted as they walked, as though none of them worried about the weather.
"It won't snow," Sun Fuling said, noticing his frequent glances toward the sky and reading his concern. "On every Heavenly Sacrifice Day, the sky is just as oppressive. Everyone is used to it."
He Lingchuan rubbed his hands together eagerly. "I'll finally get to see Commander Zhong." By the calendar of this dream, he had been here for months, yet he had never laid eyes on either Zhong Shengguang or General Red.
He had toasted before Zhong Shengguang's grave and had seen the commander transformed into a black flood dragon, but what did the living Zhong Shengguang actually look like?
"I'm afraid you'll be disappointed," Sun Fuling chuckled softly. "Commander Zhong doesn't come here."
"Eh?" He Lingchuan was baffled. "It's the anniversary of his own daughter's sacrifice, and he doesn't attend?!" What kind of heartless father was he?
"Commander Zhong holds his rites at his residence. He said he failed his daughter, having neither the face nor the right to preside over the Heavenly Sacrifice, so he has Wen Daolun take his place."
"If he feels so guilty toward his daughter, why didn't he build a shrine in the city for Zhong Wuhan?" Panlong City had a temple to Mitian Niangniang, as well as living shrines for Zhong Shengguang and General Red.
Sun Fuling was amused. "Who builds a shrine for a sacrificial offering?"
He Lingchuan raised a brow. "So in his eyes, his daughter was still just a sacrificial offering, rather than a heroine who saved the entire city?"
Sun Fuling glanced at him and said leisurely, "Are you feeling indignant on her behalf?"
"Who the hell am I to care?" He Lingchuan grinned self-deprecatingly. "My thoughts don't matter." Even now, he was nothing more than an ordinary patrol guard, not even having scraped his way up to squad leader.
Before long, the carriage reached its destination.
Ahead lay the God-Descending Platform. The crowd was so thick that carriages could go no further, and everyone dismounted to proceed on foot.
Fortunately, the path was not rugged. For one thing, Panlong City had sent laborers to level this mountain road; for another, the God-Descending Platform sat right on the edge of the Chipa Plateau.
The terrain of the Chipa Plateau was peculiar, rising several dozen zhang above the Panlong Wasteland. Looking down from the cliffs at the plateau's edge, one saw a treacherous expanse of jagged, tooth-like crags.
Yet for people walking across the plateau itself, the journey took little effort.
As He Lingchuan walked up with the crowd, he realized that the God-Descending Platform was an enormous ledge jutting outward, hanging solitary over the precipice of the Chipa Plateau. One leap down, and a person would land in the Panlong Wasteland.
Of course, while the body went down, the soul would ascend to heaven.
When He Lingchuan and Sun Fuling arrived at the God-Descending Platform, it was already packed with dense rings of people, layers deep. Yet every person knelt with eyes lowered and brows dropped. If any child dared make a fuss, furious glares immediately turned upon them, and the parents had to cover their mouths at once—lest someone else step in to teach the brat a lesson.
On the way here, Sun Fuling had cautioned He Lingchuan never to show disrespect to the Zhong family's daughter upon the God-Descending Platform. An outsider had once spouted arrogant nonsense here and had been beaten to death on the spot.
It turned out the Heavenly Sacrifice rite had already begun. Currently, only a single voice resounded across the grounds: Wen Daolun chanting the sacrificial eulogy.
Four-and-six parallel prose, crafted with elegant phrasing.
His voice was measured and harmonious, rising and falling in cadence.
He Lingchuan listened to a couple of lines, which amounted to praising Zhong Wuhan for sacrificing herself for her homeland, her devotion moving heaven and earth. Since ancient times, sacrificial eulogies were ornate tapestries of rhetoric, piling on lavish praise until the sky seemed to rain flowers. He Lingchuan only listened up to the part where the deity Mitian called down thunder to accept the offering before shifting his attention to the platform itself.
The God-Descending Platform must originally have been roughly the size of two soccer pitches, but a corner was missing from its foremost edge.
The shape of this missing corner... how to describe it? It looked as though someone had traced it with a pair of compasses and cleanly sliced it off.
As a result, the outermost edge of the God-Descending Platform had become a circular arc, neat and smooth, bearing no resemblance to a natural formation.
Beside this colossal indentation, the sacrificial altar built of blue square-cut stone looked positively miniature.
A pointed stele stood atop the altar, shaped like a sword thrusting straight into the sky, bearing no inscription.
Upon the offering table before the altar lay the three sacrifices: pig, ox, and goat.
For the daughter of a commander to receive such offerings went against the rites of the Xiluo Kingdom. But Zhong Shengguang clearly did not care, and neither did the people of Panlong City.
What He Lingchuan wondered, however, was why Zhong Shengguang had chosen this place for the deity blood sacrifice in the first place.
Others performed deity blood sacrifices covertly, desperate to keep them hidden from the world. Yet he had chosen an open, level expanse capable of easily accommodating thousands of spectators.
Beyond Zhong Shengguang no longer caring about Xiluo's prohibitions, beyond holding absolute power in Panlong City to the point where he could perform a blood sacrifice in broad daylight, were there further political calculations at play?
Such as letting the people of Panlong City witness with their own eyes the immense sacrifice the Zhong family had made for the city's safety and the well-being of every resident?
The hearts of the people had to be won.
If that were truly so, then even if Zhong Shengguang's grief over losing his beloved daughter was genuine, it had still been meticulously weighed and calculated.
A formidable hero indeed—one who could turn even his own agony into a bargaining chip.
For some reason, He Lingchuan suddenly thought of He Chunhua, and he sighed softly.
Beside him, Sun Fuling turned her head at once, her bright eyes clear as water.
She brought a finger to her lips without shushing aloud, then pointed upward toward the sky.
To describe the sky right now as tumultuous and foreboding was by no means an exaggeration. It was not yet the hour of Shen—three in the afternoon—yet the heavens and earth were devoid of light. At the same time, violent winds raged, and the black clouds hung so thick they seemed about to crush the mountain peaks. Looking up, everyone could see terrifying waves surging across the underside of the cloud layer, as if an ocean had been flipped upside down and plastered against the vault of heaven.
The commoners prostrated themselves, not daring to breathe too loudly.
Just then, Wen Daolun finished chanting the eulogy and released his grip. The gold-and-red paper bearing the sacrificial words was swept into the sky by the gale, spontaneously combusting midair and burning to ashes within a few breaths.
He Lingchuan watched the flecks of ash drift into the clouds and vanish.
Then brilliance erupted between heaven and earth as a bolt of lightning crashed down.
Before He Lingchuan shut his eyes, he only caught a glimpse of its root-like forks striking straight beneath the God-Descending Platform.
Then came a second thunderbolt.
That made no sense. Shouldn't lightning strike high ground? Why disregard the pointed stele atop the cliff and strike straight into the gorge instead?
As if answering his contrarian doubts, twenty breaths later, just when he thought it was over, yet another bolt crashed down.
Its shape differed completely from the previous ones—it was an enormous circular pillar of light that struck squarely into the God-Descending Platform's missing corner, fitting it perfectly without a seam!
No living creature dared keep their eyes open; even Wen Daolun, who presided over the rite, turned his head away.
Heavenly might was irresistible.
When He Lingchuan opened his eyes, he smelled a heavy stench of smoke and scorching. The dark clouds in the sky gradually receded, and before long, a ray of sunlight broke through the gap, piercing down from high above in a focused beam that fell squarely upon the God-Descending Platform.
Its magnificent solemnity defied description.
He Lingchuan looked around; the commoners of Panlong City were prostrated upon the ground, muttering prayers, their expressions far more devout than before.
The gods still favored this place—who would dare doubt it?
Wen Daolun stepped down from the altar and stood to the side.
Now that the main sacrifice was complete, solemn silence was no longer required. Commoners stepped forward one after another holding baskets to present their offerings and pay their respects. Those of stricter tradition pressed their children's heads down to knock three loud kowtows against the ground.
When the tall incense sticks burned low, Wen Daolun would step up to offer fresh incense.
City guards maintained order along the perimeter, keeping everything running smoothly.
Looking closely, He Lingchuan noticed that the commoners mostly offered fruits, vegetables, and pastries. In this season woven with wind and snow, fruit was genuinely expensive, and good-looking specimens cost even more.
Life for the people of Panlong City was still quite far from affluent.
Some children even placed their beloved toys upon the altar.
He Lingchuan even saw a youth take fresh flowers from beneath his coat, peel away the outer oilpaper, and carefully set them below the stele.
The blossoms were not crushed, but their tender petals were instantly coated in a layer of white frost.
Fragile things truly could not survive in Panlong City.
Only at this moment did He Lingchuan truly feel the genuine affection and devotion the residents of Panlong City held for the Zhong family.
It needed no words to express.
Those who sacrificed themselves for all living souls in the city deserved remembrance and respect above all else.
Sun Fuling tugged at his sleeve, divided her prepared offerings to give him half, and walked forward with him.
Looking down, He Lingchuan found that besides several large crystal pears, she had brought a box of meat pies.
The box was elegant, bearing a brand name: Wenxiang Post.
These meat pies were actually from a renowned old establishment.
There were far too many commoners attending the Heavenly Sacrifice; the offering table had long since run out of room, so the fruits and pastries were laid around the stele.
He Lingchuan set down the offerings and bowed respectfully alongside Sun Fuling, then walked toward Wen Daolun.
The personal guards behind Wen Daolun immediately stepped forward to intercept them.
However, Sun Fuling called out beforehand, "Mr. Wen."
Wen Daolun turned to look. "Isn't this Xu Shichu's female disciple? Come over, come over."
Only then did the guards let them pass.
Knowing his time was precious, Sun Fuling skipped unnecessary pleasantries and got straight to the point. "Mr. Wen, I've come to call in a favor."
Wen Daolun looked blank. "A favor?"
"Two months ago, when you and I played chess at Shumin Academy..."
Wen Daolun instantly let out an "Ah!" "All right, all right, I remember now. Go ahead and speak."
"A fortuneteller read disaster in my friend's fate, so I would like to ask Mr. Wen to point him toward a way out." Sun Fuling gestured toward He Lingchuan, who immediately cupped his hands in salute. "I ask Mr. Wen to enlighten me."
Chapter 282