Disillusionment

Taking advantage of the corpse puppets driving the surrounding enemies back, He Jing spun around and dashed toward the grave. After being hacked and chiseled by so many blades and axes, General Red's armor had already loosened; one more hard tug might just do it. He hadn't forgotten his primary mission—it was still the Dafang Pot! Sure enough, General Red's gauntlets were drooping. The cenotaph was dim, forcing He Jing to poke his head forward to look. In the next instant, his pupils contracted sharply. Empty? It was empty! The gauntlets still held their original clutching posture, yet between them lay nothing but a few crushed flecks of ice. Where was the Dafang Pot? Where was the vessel everyone had their eyes on? Everyone had clearly seen just moments ago that the Dafang Pot was right here... Before the thought could finish, He Jing's peripheral vision caught a faint glint of light. That light was like the frost he had glimpsed on the ground through a door crack in his childhood—unobtrusive, yet chill and desolate. When it touched his neck, it was just as cold as frost. Damn it, He Jing cursed inwardly as strength suddenly drained from his body. His very last thought was regret. Having already resolved to retreat and unleashed the corpse puppets, why had he come back to seize the pot? Wasn't it just harboring that sliver of wishful thinking, wanting to take one final gamble? Greed. That unwarranted greed! It was too late for regret. To onlookers, a faint gleam of light seemed to flash within the cenotaph, and the Duyun Emissary froze in mid-motion. Bao Guanjie was just rushing over, raising his blade to strike, when he saw a fine line of blood appear on the back of He Jing's neck— Someone had ambushed him from the front, slitting his throat with a single strike—severing the neck bone clean through, so fast that blood hadn't even had time to spurt! Most terrifying of all, the blow had landed soundlessly, like wind brushing parasol trees, without a shred of killing intent beforehand. Bao Guanjie also vaguely sensed that something seemed to have leaped toward the back of the cenotaph. Then the Heavenly Palace Duyun Emissary's head tumbled to the ground, and blood from his neck jetted three feet away! Quite a few nearby onlookers were splattered with crimson specks. The galloping corpse puppets lost the red glow in their eyes and collapsed in a heap—with their manipulator dead, they too could no longer stir. From the rear, someone yelled at the top of their lungs: "He Jing is dead! The Baling men killed the Heavenly Palace Duyun Emissary!" The resounding roar carried several li away. Bao Guanjie was beside himself with rage. "Who? Who's spewing nonsense?!" He spun around to search, but could not spot the shouter. Yuezheng Qing ran up to the cenotaph and extended his blade to pry up General Red's gauntlets. With He Jing's fate fresh in their minds, nobody dared stick their neck out to look anymore. "Empty!" General Red's gauntlets were empty; the Dafang Pot had vanished without a trace. Evidently, whoever killed He Jing had also taken the Dafang Pot! In an instant, everyone's eyes locked onto Bao Guanjie. Just now, they had all seen with their own eyes Bao Guanjie charge behind He Jing, after which the Duyun Emissary lost his head and the Dafang Pot disappeared. If not him, who else could it be? Bao Guanjie's eyes went bloodshot as he growled in frantic exasperation, "It wasn't me! I didn't kill the Duyun Emissary!" Someone had assassinated He Jing right before his eyes and framed him for both murder and theft? How could anything be so absurd! At that moment, an earth-shattering beastly roar sounded, very close now. The Que Beast King had arrived. The crowd exchanged glances, let out a shout, and turned to flee! Even a squad as formidable as the Heavenly Palace's had been wiped out by the Que Beast King. How could they possibly take on this colossal monstrosity? Besides, the Dafang Pot was gone. What reason did they have to stay—to throw away their lives? Run! Everyone ran without looking back. Only after the various squads sprinted over a hundred zhang away did the commotion behind them gradually fade. Bao Guanjie stopped to catch his breath. A subordinate couldn't help asking, "Sir, did you really... with that Duyun Emissary and the Dafang Pot...?" "I didn't kill him! I didn't take it!" Bao Guanjie roared. "Even you don't believe me?!" No sooner had the words left his mouth than a flicker of red light flashed before their eyes. Everyone within the Panlong Realm discovered that every patch of ground, every building, every city wall, and every pool was glowing with a thin sheen of crimson light. Then, the red light receded swiftly, as though a whole carpet were being yanked away from behind. The men jogged a few steps, but couldn't keep pace with the receding light, watching helplessly as it contracted toward the south-central portion of Panlong City. That was where Mitian Temple stood. Finally, the crimson glow morphed once more into a pillar of light, shooting straight into the heavens. This time, the pillar lasted only two or three breaths before dissipating into nothingness. People looked at one another in bewilderment. Strange occurrences in the realm were far too numerous; no one could tell what new spectacle this was. Bao Guanjie casually pressed against an earthen wall beside him; the clattering roll of crumbling dirt carried far through the quiet night. "Listen. The beast roars are gone." The low growls of the Que beasts had once filled the entire realm, yet now the city was utterly still—no beast roars, no footsteps. Only the wailing of the wind remained. Bao Guanjie led his subordinates through several alleyways to an open area. "Huh?" The men instantly noticed something wrong. "Where are the corpses?" A quarter of an hour ago, a melee had unfolded on this very clearing, with casualties on both the Que beasts' and humans' sides. Yet the ground before them was spotless, littered only with rubble. Far from any corpses, there was not even a speck of blood. Seeing this, Bao Guanjie finally let out a long breath and halted. "We've left the realm!" "What?" The others had not yet caught on. "That red light just now marked the disappearance of the realm," Bao Guanjie said with a tinge of melancholy. "Someone must have claimed the Dafang Pot and broken the realm!" Everyone tilted their heads toward the sky to see that the thick clouds had dispersed at some point, leaving a bright moon slanting westward. Dawn was approaching. Just like that? They had entered the realm inexplicably, and now they had left it just as bafflingly? "Sir, what do we do now?" The relief of surviving a calamity only now began to well up. They exchanged glances, sighing in disbelief. In that damnable place swarming with monsters and devoid of escape, how on earth had they made it out alive! Before Bao Guanjie could reply, a scout from their ranks rushed up. "Sir! Two of the Heavenly Palace guards are still alive, barely thirty zhang ahead, running west!" Two survivors? A fierce gleam flashed in Bao Guanjie's eyes. "Chase them down and kill them!" If they eliminated these two, the Heavenly Palace would have to expend considerable effort to investigate He Jing's cause of death. If nothing else, the various factions who had joined the battle tonight might keep their lips tightly sealed once they returned. After all, they had all suffered setbacks here and offended the Heavenly Palace. If those two weren't eliminated and returned to Lingxu City to file a formal complaint, Bao Guanjie and the Baling Kingdom would both be in terrible trouble! ... Zhao Qinghe and He Chunhua emerged from their hiding place and advanced with caution. That earlier shout of "He Jing is dead!" had indeed come from Zhao Qinghe. He Chunhua was exceptionally quick-witted: A Heavenly Palace Duyun Emissary dying in the Panlong Desert was a matter of monumental consequence. The Yuan Kingdom could never endure Beijia's wrath; it was best to divert the disaster elsewhere as quickly as possible. Every wrong had its perpetrator, every debt its debtor. Let the Heavenly Palace take its vengeance on Baling instead. They, too, watched the red light recede. A thought struck He Chunhua, and he immediately said to Zhao Qinghe, "Slash me with your blade. Quick!" Zhao Qinghe thought his ears were playing tricks on him. "My Lord?" "Avoid vital spots, but make it heavy!" Seeing the resolve in his expression, Zhao Qinghe drew his saber and ran it completely through his right shoulder. Blood burst forth; this strike had indeed pulled no punches. He Chunhua curled inward in agonizing pain. Zhao Qinghe sheathed his blade and supported him. "My Lord, forgive me!" "No, this is just right!" He Chunhua knew his subordinate had shown proper restraint, deliberately bypassing bones, tendons, and meridians. Gritting his teeth through the pain, he said, "Not a word of this to a third party!" "Understood!" Immediately afterward, the red light swept away from beneath their feet. Zhao Qinghe gave the wound some basic dressing, then helped him continue south. Their journey went smoothly; they did not encounter a single Que beast along the way. He Chunhua remained silent, his mind adrift in endless doubt. The realm had indeed vanished, but had everyone made it out? Before long, a flurry of rapid footsteps sounded ahead. The two ducked into a low house on high alert. Sure enough, dozens of men approached, and the one sprinting at the very front was He Chunhua's personal guard, Hu Xuan. Huh? The two immediately emerged to meet them. "Why are you here?" "My Lord!" Hu Xuan said, his face beaming with joy. "The South Gate has opened! Wait, you're wounded!" Though he had already guessed as much, He Chunhua still let out a long sigh upon hearing the good news. "How did it open?" "A flash of red light swept by just now, and the South Gate returned to its original state—the outermost entrance still had one door leaf standing and the other collapsed," Hu Xuan said, moving to support him. "We sent men in and out several times; there was nothing unusual." "The realm has vanished; we've returned to reality." He Chunhua cast a glance toward Mitian Temple, feeling no small measure of emotion. Twice now. He had entered the Panlong Realm twice, and both times he had returned empty-handed. Zhao Qinghe asked him, "My Lord, should we go take a look?" "No." The gloom in He Chunhua's heart gradually receded, replaced by a touch of relief. "If we go now, there will likely be nothing left." How the Panlong Realm had vanished last time was still vivid in his memory. Rushing to Mitian Temple now would be nothing more than a futile effort. Yet he had survived once again—far better off than the crowd from the Heavenly Palace, where everyone from the Duyun Emissary down to the lamp wardens had perished here. He had watched the chaotic battle at General Red's Cenotaph from beginning to end, and at the final juncture he had kept his wits about him, choosing not to step forward and fight. Otherwise, wouldn't he have lost his life long ago? "Where are the Mount Rong men?" "After stepping down from the city wall, they passed through the South Gate and left." Hu Xuan looked left and right, noticing no sign of He Lingchuan, but dared not ask. Though He Chunhua asked about the Mount Rong men, his thoughts were fixed on He Lingchuan. Ever since Nailuotian's failed divine descent, He Lingchuan's whereabouts had remained a mystery; he had not shown himself again. Yet He Chunhua was inexplicably certain that he was still alive. Was he truly the malignant spirit of Panlong City? Of everything that occurred in the realm tonight, how much of it was tied to him? Shrewd and steady as He Chunhua was, his mind was currently in utter turmoil, tangled in countless loose ends he had no way of unraveling. He only knew one thing for certain: The Dafang Pot had been taken. By whom? Impossible to say. Neither he nor Zhao Qinghe had approached General Red's Cenotaph, only watching the battle from the shadows. From their vantage point, they couldn't see clearly how He Jing had died, nor how the Dafang Pot had disappeared. Was the one who took the treasure Bao Guanjie, or someone else? Zhao Qinghe asked for instructions: "My Lord, should we search for the Baling men?" In truth, he was asking He Chunhua whether they should try to seize back the Dafang Pot. He Chunhua looked back at the way they had come. The vast Panlong City lay quiet and soundless in the darkness. In a city this immense, where would they even begin searching for the Baling men? He sighed and shook his head. Suddenly, a warmth bloomed against his chest. He pulled out the statuette of Nailuotian, only to find it pulsing with light.