The Wheel of Fate Set in Motion

"Is that so?" He Lingchuan picked up the Fusheng saber, turned it over, and held it before his eyes. "Take a closer look." Fu Shanyue did not hold back. Drawing the saber from its sheath, he widened his eyes and inspected it thoroughly. "Both ring pommels are shaped like flood dragon heads; that part looks very similar. Mm, but the hilt length is different, and so is the curvature of the blade." It was plainly not the same weapon. "Where did you get this saber?" He Lingchuan shrugged. "A family heirloom. You'd have to ask my ancestors that question." How could there be such a coincidence that the treasured saber given away by the King of Yuan just happened to be in the hands of this unknown kid? Flood dragon heads were common decorations for blades anyway; it wasn't as if he had never seen them before. Besides, blades everywhere were adorned with lion heads or Yazi heads—did that mean they all came from the same forge? Fu Shanyue inwardly laughed at his own paranoia. He Lingchuan asked him again, "What is the elixir of immortality?" Fu Shanyue scratched his head. "You can tell what it does just from the name, can't you? It's only produced in Lingxu City. I haven't paid much attention to anything else about it." "You're someone about to inherit the throne, and you still don't know?" He Lingchuan hadn't missed a single word earlier. "It sounded like every newly ascended demon king must take it, but doing so puts them under the thumb of the gods. So, will you drink it?" Fu Shanyue seemed troubled by the question as well. "Ah, we'll cross that bridge when we get to it!" In the end, he waved his hand dismissively. "Let's head back. Daybreak is almost here." In two quarters of an hour at most, the eastern sky would begin to pale. He Lingchuan had no objection. Though they had been busy the entire night, their cultivation kept fatigue at bay, and witnessing such strange sights had kept their spirits high. When they returned to camp, dawn had indeed broken. The caravan packed their gear and set out. He Lingchuan and Fu Shanyue returned to their respective groups, tacitly keeping silent about what they had witnessed during the night. Second Master Shi asked He Lingchuan, "Was there any strange phenomenon in that city last night?" "Quiet as could be, nothing strange happened," He Lingchuan replied with a shake of his head. "We wandered all over the place, and the people in the phantom city were snoring louder than any of you." "Good, that's good." The journey had been nerve-racking, filled with more unforeseen mishaps than he had encountered in years combined. Second Master Shi sincerely hoped the road ahead would be smooth and uneventful. The caravan pressed on. The road grew flatter. He Lingchuan rode on the back of his ram, uncharacteristically quiet. Second Master Shi glanced over at him several times, noticing that he seemed to be staring into the distance, lost in thought. He Lingchuan's mind was consumed by the illusions of Thousand Stars City from the night before. Clearly, the Dafang Pot, the divine bone necklace, and the Fusheng saber had all originally belonged to the King of Yuan. The King of Yuan had even believed that Beijia's fierce onslaught against the Yuan Kingdom was primarily because of the Dafang Pot. Unfortunately, the black casket had only opened a sliver, and it had been angled toward Shao Jian, so neither he nor Fu Shanyue had gotten a clear look at what the Dafang Pot looked like. Yet the King of Yuan had desperately wanted to destroy it and failed. Left with no choice, he had kept it in his possession, ultimately bringing disaster upon himself. In other words, "not having it" was of utmost importance. As someone from a later era, He Lingchuan naturally knew that after the Dafang Pot reached Zhong Shengguang's hands, it was not destroyed either, but put to another use. To this day, the treasure still remained in the Panlong Wasteland, untouched by anyone. Was it that Zhong Shengguang truly couldn't destroy it, or that once he had it, he harbored his own plans and put it to other purposes? Yet this contradicted what He Lingchuan knew. The information he had obtained from Sun Fuping, the former National Preceptor of the Yuan Kingdom, was that when the Panlong Wasteland once again became an isolated enclave and millions of inhabitants were cornered with no way out, Zhong Shengguang held a deity blood sacrifice. In response, the god Mitian bestowed the Dafang Pot upon him and sent an avatar down into the mortal realm. Yet as he had seen last night, the Dafang Pot had already been in the mortal world all along, passed from the King of Yuan to Zhong Shengguang, who later brought it to Panlong City. Which version was true? Combining this with what the King of Yuan had said earlier, a flash of insight struck He Lingchuan's mind. He suddenly recalled the ferry ghost whelp lurking furtively in Panlong City, and how Wen Daolun had stood by and watched his own son die without saving him. He even remembered the tribe in the Demon Nest Swamp that had been completely devoured by the divine child. The hidden thread connecting these events was gradually becoming clear. Anyone else could only sigh in helpless resignation; after all, the people and events involved had long since scattered like dust in the wind, lost beyond verification. But He Lingchuan was different—he had people he could ask. He could go back and trace this obscure secret to its roots. However, right now he had to face another suffocating reality: The King of Yuan possessed the triad of the Dafang Pot, the divine bone, and the treasured saber; in the end, the King of Yuan was defeated, and Thousand Stars City was destroyed. Zhong Shengguang also possessed the triad of the Dafang Pot, the divine bone, and the treasured saber; in the end, Zhong Shengguang slit his own throat, and Panlong City was destroyed. It was practically a curse with a hundred percent mortality rate. And now, this three-piece set had fallen into his hands. With this curse clinging to him, how long would it take before it struck? After seeing the fate of the King of Yuan earlier that night, his heart felt chillingly cold. It felt as if his destiny were held down by an invisible hand, dragging him toward an unknown abyss—or rather, a predetermined fate—with these three items serving as the grip. Why had the King of Yuan and Zhong Shengguang failed? Without a doubt, both had faced an invincible enemy— Beijia. Though he had not yet witnessed the final chapter of Panlong City's history with his own eyes, judging from the demon kingdom's increasingly frequent and blatant interference, Panlong City's ultimate downfall was inextricably linked to Beijia. Even the King of Yuan and Zhong Shengguang had fallen. If acquiring this three-piece set meant he would have to face the same enemy in the future, what was he supposed to do? What fate awaited him? Would he meet a tragic end like the King of Yuan and Zhong Shengguang, or could he carve out another path and forge his own destiny? He Lingchuan harbored yet another doubt: The existence of the Dafang Pot was an extraordinary secret, yet how had the demon kingdom discovered back then that it had fallen into the hands of the King of Yuan, and then into the hands of Zhong Shengguang? Just what method did they use to track the whereabouts of this divine artifact? Most importantly— According to the King of Yuan, Beijia would surely be able to locate the bearer of the Dafang Pot, even at the ends of the earth. The pot wasn't physically on him, but under current circumstances, he could barely be considered the pot's... Bearer? He Lingchuan instinctively pressed his hand against the necklace over his chest. He had no wish to die a violent death, but this divine bone necklace... he couldn't throw it away! Recalling his strange fate, the two consecutive worst lots he had drawn at the Water Spirit Temple of Xianling Lake, and the secret lore he had just learned earlier that night, all of these matters seemed inextricably tangled together. What should he do next? Drifting along aimlessly and wandering wherever he pleased was no longer an option. Who knew when the gods and the demon kingdom would turn their eyes upon him? Crisis always struck when one least expected it. To know your enemy and know yourself, one had to start with knowing oneself. He had to find a way to uncover the secrets of the Dafang Pot. What in the world was this thing? What purpose did it serve, and why were even gods searching desperately for it? The demon kingdom was favored by the gods and claimed to be the land closest to divinity. Perhaps he could find some clues here. One way or another, he was already here. If escape was impossible, knowing earlier was better than knowing later, and preparing early was better than preparing late. Of course, his connection to the Dafang Pot was a secret—one that could not be known by a second soul. He had to keep it locked down tight! ... Two shichen earlier. Lingxu City, Mount Xu Heavenly Palace. At the highest point of the Heavenly Palace, inside Zhaixing Tower, sixteen vats of eternal lamps burned through the night; no matter the hour, the light here remained soft and bright. Yet mortals required rest. All was quiet, without so much as a single spark popping from the wicks. The two lamp wardens standing beside the eternal lamps had rubbed their eyes several times. Though both possessed cultivation, they were not permitted to close their eyes and regulate their breathing during their watch; they could only yawn incessantly or inhale peppermint oil through their noses to keep their minds clear. Tonight felt extraordinarily long. Unable to fight off the drowsiness any longer, one lamp warden slumped against a pillar and drifted off. Watching someone else sleep always looked so sweet, making it even harder to stay awake. The other lamp warden yawned until tears welled in his eyes. Just as he was imagining how satisfying it would feel to slap his companion across the face, he suddenly heard a rustling sound. To a lamp warden of Zhaixing Tower, this sound was intimately familiar—yet how could it sound in the middle of the night? Opening his eyes wide, he saw the eternal flames flare wildly, while crimson light erupted from the altar. Upon the white jade platform in the center of the hall, the Celestial Book gave off a lustrous glow, turning on its own without any breeze. This was no silk or parchment, but carved from a slab of white jade, becoming soft as paper only at specific times. The lamp warden hurried over to look. Across the previously blank Celestial Book, crimson characters slowly materialized: "Resonance across the ten directions; Tianluo stirs in unrest." The lamp warden struck his companion awake with a slap. "An oracle has descended! Quick, go report it!" Startled awake, his companion didn't even have time to curse at him. Glancing at the Celestial Book, he dashed out of Zhaixing Tower. ... Less than half a shichen later, armored guards kept tight, heavy security below Zhaixing Tower. The two lamp wardens had long been sent far away. Inside the main hall stood only a single person. Suddenly, all the eternal lamps dimmed. The three-inch-tall pure white flames were squashed into pea-sized flickers, tottering on the verge of extinction. Fortunately, this sight lasted less than two breaths before returning to normal. Upon the pure white drapery, an enormous silhouette was cast, advancing toward the depths of the hall before coming to a stop in front of the altar. The person in the hall dropped to his knees before it, calling out, "Your Imperial Majesty." The tall, elongated figure rose, looming above the white jade platform to stand level with the altar. A voice laden with majesty sounded: "Why has Tianluo stirred?" "Reporting to Your Imperial Majesty: the Tianluo Star shone brilliantly two shichen ago and persisted for over half a shichen. We have just entered the eighth month, and ordinarily it should not occur at this time. The last time the Tianluo Star flashed abnormally..." "I remember; there is no need for you to remind me," the Emperor cut in. "I wish to confirm: the Sacred Venerable believes the disturbance sensed by Tianluo this time originates from—" Upon the Celestial Book, three large characters swiftly appeared: Dafang Pot. The moment these characters appeared, their blood-red hue oozed a heavy, ominous dread. Silence fell across the hall; the atmosphere congealed. "Hasn't that thing always been in the northwestern part of the Yuan Kingdom? You told me it had long fused as one with the entire Panlong Desert and could not be extracted at all." If it could have been taken, the Beijia Kingdom would have claimed it long ago. Why would they have waited until now? The Celestial Book gave no response. Evidently, even the god could not answer this question, which was why an oracle had been handed down. The Duyun Emissary said, "It has been detected that this divine artifact has appeared within our borders, located north of Twilight and east of Mount Xing." Only now did the Demon Emperor show surprise. "Within our borders? Is there no error in the divination?" "It has never been mistaken before." A faint trace of mockery laced the Demon Emperor's voice. "It seems someone was capable of taking it out after all." None could answer this censure. The Demon Emperor asked again, "'North of Twilight, east of Mount Xing' encompasses the southern region of the Chiyan Kingdom and the Twilight Plains. Can the Sacred Venerable not be more precise?"