The Storm Gate Slowly Opens

"Well..." The mirror pondered, at a loss for words. Matters on both sides had clearly been settled, but it didn't feel right to say they could simply walk away as total strangers either, did it? Finally, it let out an "oh": "Are you worried he'll kill you to tie up loose ends?" "It's not that simple." He Lingchuan's voice was like the hum of a mosquito, audible almost to the mirror alone. "He spent years laying this scheme and finally used Xi Yunhe to achieve his aim. So why is Xi Yunhe still alive instead of having his mouth silenced? Killing Xi Yunhe would be the best way to cut all ties, far more effective than silencing me. Ha, what threat could I possibly pose to him?" The mirror grew even more puzzled and pressed for answers. He Lingchuan offered only a single sentence: "Because Xi Yunhe is useful." After that, he said no more, leaving the mirror itching with unbearable curiosity. Xi Yunhe was alive because he possessed genuine capability and could truly get things done for National Preceptor Shuangye. To the National Preceptor, he was worth far more alive than dead. Xi Yunhe knew this full well, which was why he never worried his superior would suddenly turn malicious. "Besides, wrapping up loose ends has optimal, middling, and terrible options. Silencing witnesses by murder is the absolute worst. A figure like National Preceptor Shuangye wouldn't stoop to such a crude move lightly." National Preceptor Shuangye had sparred with National Preceptor Qingyang for over a century. Were they competing in cultivation and martial arts? Of course not. They were competing for *shi*—influence and momentum. Influence was power. Influence was not merely resources; it meant having countless people deeply bound to your interests, willing to serve your cause. If National Preceptor Shuangye discarded and killed people like dirty rags the moment he was done with them, he would be tearing down his own standing with his own hands. Inferiors serving superiors, superiors bestowing favor upon inferiors—that was how this system properly operated. Silencing someone by murder? That was utterly beneath him. Who would do that unless driven into a corner? Earlier, while Li Qingge and Nian Zanli were striking their bargain in National Preceptor Shuangye's tent, He Lingchuan had been thinking a great deal. Back in Baishaqu, he had worked secretly alongside Mai Xuewen and Xi Yunhe to kill Zhongsun Mou, the Inspector from Lingxu City. From that point on, his path had crossed with National Preceptor Shuangye's faction. After arriving in Lingxu City, he had made a deal with National Preceptor Shuangye to repay Li Qingge's favor. In this give-and-take, they had coordinated once again, whether intentionally or not. As the saying went, strangers the first time, friends the second. Seeing Li Qingge emerge earlier in high spirits, He Lingchuan had suddenly realized that he and National Preceptor Shuangye had not cleared their slate; rather, their entanglement had only grown deeper. Without realizing it, he had been dragged deep into the struggle between the Autumn Palace and the Azure Palace. He knew National Preceptor Shuangye's secrets, and National Preceptor Shuangye knew he hadn't betrayed Xi Yunhe to Bai Ziqi. Yet after seeing National Preceptor Shuangye in person for the first time today, He Lingchuan was no longer worried about being silenced. The National Preceptor's gaze upon him had been warm and approving, as though saying: *Well done, young man.* Moreover, the meticulous and thorough way he arranged troops for Li Qingge showed genuine sincerity rather than perfunctory duty. In short: National Preceptor Shuangye had very likely come to view him as one of his own. He hadn't spoken with He Lingchuan directly, nor had he dropped hints through Xi Yunhe to recruit him, yet their ties were already tangled enough. As long as He Lingchuan remained in Beijia, he would tacitly be counted under National Preceptor Shuangye's sphere of influence. With the terrifying status and network the National Preceptor commanded, he didn't even need He Lingchuan's explicit consent to cement this relationship. If He Lingchuan wished to shake off that label, he would have to resort to drastic measures—such as selling out or outright betraying National Preceptor Shuangye. He Lingchuan believed no sane person would dare do that. And well, he didn't want to either. By comparison, his foolish brother Fu Shanyue only knew how to repeatedly extend olive branches. Earnest as he was, his methods simply couldn't compare to an old bureaucrat like National Preceptor Shuangye. He Lingchuan made his way through the crowd, striding back to the Chiyan Crown Prince's carriage. Meeting Fu Shanyue's expectant eyes, he said, "The handover is complete." Fu Shanyue slapped the small table and laughed. "Splendid! Light at the end of the tunnel! Come, a toast to you!" If He Xiao had not been so meticulous as to seize upon such an imperceptible flaw, Kong Jiaxiang would have slipped through the net. Now that the elixir of immortality case had seen new progress, it was fantastic news for Chiyan. The two raised their cups, preparing to drink them dry, when the wine within suddenly condensed into beads and floated waveringly into the sky. This time, the beads of wine rose far faster than before. "The signs repeat. The Gate of the Grass Sea is about to open." Sure enough, the clear, bright sound of a jade chime rang out ahead. Seemingly distant yet remarkably close, it resonated beside everyone's ears. The whispering crowds and the worshippers prostrated before the Heavenly Palace tents all looked up together. The sunlight had vanished at some point, and the sky had long been blanketed in dense overcast clouds. Now the clouds pressed ever lower, swirling tighter and tighter until they formed an enormous spiral! It looked like an inverted swirl of soft-serve ice cream, its tapered point hanging downward. He Lingchuan drew in a soft breath. What a massive cyclone. It covered almost the entire expanse above the Grass Sea, spanning dozens of li. In his previous world, this phenomenon went by the name of a supercell, or what some called a rotating thunderstorm. Here, however, it was far more than mere convective weather. The thunderstorm initially appeared over the water of the Grass Sea, churning up countless aquatic weeds like a leviathan drawing in water, before slowly drifting toward the sandbar. Its might was peerless, as if doomsday were descending. How did that line of poetry go? *Black clouds weigh down, pressing the city to collapse.* Applied here, it was not an exaggeration in the slightest. If it caught them dead on, the tens of thousands gathered here would likely all be swept into the sky. Its scale was far larger than the Wind Demon that had haunted the Piaomiao Sect grounds half a year ago. Yet facing such extreme convection, the people of Lingxu City did not scatter in panic. Instead, they stood where they were, craning their necks, pointing and chatting about the storm. Some said it was smaller than the one two years ago. Others claimed it was moving slower than two years ago. None of them paid this lethal storm any heed. If the storm possessed human nature, it would surely have longed to teach these little ants a harsh lesson. Of course, the people of Lingxu City had good reason to remain so composed. After all, this storm occurred once every two years, and Lingxu City had dealt with it for more than five centuries. They were so thoroughly accustomed to handling it that they could have managed it with their eyes closed. He Lingchuan noticed two figures taking the stage: National Preceptor Qingyang. National Preceptor Shuangye. Fu Shanyue said to him, "The Storm Gate to the Fu Realm opens once every six hundred and eighty days. The National Preceptors take turns in pairs, holding the staves to frame the storm's entrance." Beijia had four National Preceptors. The last time, the National Preceptors of the Summer and Winter Palaces had held the staves; this time, it fell to the Azure and Autumn Palaces. He Lingchuan had already seen National Preceptor Shuangye moments ago. Today, National Preceptor Qingyang wore an exquisite, gold-flecked robe of celadon blue. Her demeanor remained dignified and graceful, but her cheekbones were slightly prominent, and He Lingchuan couldn't shake the impression that she looked even thinner than a few days prior. She walked side by side with National Preceptor Shuangye, the two seemingly in conversation. Talk about enemies bound to meet on a narrow road. He Lingchuan knew full well how much effort National Preceptor Shuangye had expended trying to bring her down. Could National Preceptor Qingyang really be blind to Shuangye's schemes? Yet both National Preceptors advanced with smiles amid the cheers of the populace, showing not the slightest sign of displeasure. To those in the know, the dynamic was extraordinarily delicate. Together, the two had lived nearly four hundred years, their depths unfathomable. After exchanging a few brief words, National Preceptor Shuangye continued forward, walking around to the other side of the storm. The storm, after all, took the shape of a stout funnel, wide at the top and narrow at the bottom. The tip of the funnel at its base measured roughly eighty zhang across. National Preceptor Shuangye strolled casually beside the storm and soon reached the opposite side. National Preceptor Qingyang raised a hand to brush back her hair before the storm—a gesture that would have enchanted countless men. Yet from observing Sun Fuling, He Lingchuan had once arrived at a conclusion: When a woman made this motion, she was usually trying to conceal a preoccupied mind or an emotional stir. Whether openly or in secret, the elixir of immortality case pointed straight at the Azure Palace. Countless voices in both court and country were murmuring against her, plunging National Preceptor Qingyang into a whirlpool of public opinion. Even if she were innocent, she would have shouldered tremendous pressure. What was more, He Lingchuan knew she was indeed the true mastermind. Her true feelings were surely far from as calm as her outward poise suggested. Fu Shanyue exhaled a breath, his voice nearly drowned out by the storm. "Could this be the last time National Preceptor Qingyang holds the staff?" "Perhaps." If the elixir of immortality case were ultimately traced back to her, the sensation it would cause across Beijia would hardly be smaller than today's storm. By then, both National Preceptors had taken their positions, standing directly opposite each other across the storm. Then, almost in unison, they raised their long staves and planted them heavily into the ground! The head of each staff was carved into a strange beast of unrecognizable origin. As the staves struck the earth, each beast's maw exhaled a beam of light—one gold, one silver. They sped in circles around the mouth of the storm, but in opposite directions. Soon, they fused into a single hoop of light. The golden light spun clockwise on the inside, while the silver light spun counterclockwise on the outside. Fu Shanyue explained to He Lingchuan, "These two wind-calming staves were forged by celestial gods specifically for the Storm Gate of the Grass Sea, channeled by the National Preceptors using origin power. The light hoop they project stabilizes the wind gate—the golden light fixes its position, and the silver light regulates the wind speed. Only then can disaster be averted." As if confirming his words, the moment it was encircled by the light hoop, the wildly raging Storm Gate came to a virtual standstill, and the rotation of the whirlwind slowed considerably, no longer appearing so terrifyingly ferocious. So these two light hoops were meant to stabilize the wind gate? He Lingchuan looked at the two staves and asked, "Has no one ever tried to sabotage them?" If someone pulled them out, wouldn't the wind gate run wild? No sooner had the words left his mouth than the two National Preceptors pulled up their staves and turned to walk away without looking back. They had performed this routine several dozen times; there was no hesitation in their movements. The hoop of light did not vanish, remaining clamped tightly around the Storm Gate. "Of course they have. In the centuries since Beijia was founded, what strange occurrences haven't we seen?" Fu Shanyue laughed. "But this is a divine miracle! People have tried to cause trouble in the past, but none ever succeeded." Fair enough. He Lingchuan couldn't conceive of any method to break the two hoops of light either. Moreover, the sight struck him as oddly familiar. After thinking about it, he realized the binding cuffs on the forelimbs of Mount Xu's mountain spirit, Juju, bore an uncanny resemblance to this. He wondered which deity's handiwork this was—to have such an obsession with crafting restraints. Then again, only Beijia's ocean-vast origin power could contend with natural phenomena and the forces bridging two realms. Witnessing such mighty power and grandeur, the devout among the crowd knelt once more to pray. Restrained by the hoop, the ring of wind grew increasingly stable, its center gradually expanding until it finally revealed what was known as the Storm Gate.