Chapter 320: Chapter 312: Fall of the True Lord
"How can I help you?"
Zi Chen asked, "Do you trust me?"
"Hehe, the resources I can mobilize are just a matter of lifting a finger, and besides, I have no other choice; it’s worth a try. However, I remind you, although I don’t understand the method Old Lord cultivates, it differs from Hong Jun. Perhaps everything you’re doing now is within his expectations."
Nezha laughed, "You’re mistaken there. I don’t think Hong Jun told the truth. He created a version of me with the Netherworld Venerate’s cells. With his firm understanding of world ascension, how could it all just be for exploring the methods that the Netherworld Venerate pursued back then? The Saints can control everything about the Heavenly Dao in the Fengshen World, but they cannot control the Heavenly Dao of the Earth World. Master Hong Jun threw me into the Fengshen World, intending to use me to deal with them."
The Heavenly Emperor nodded, "Who do you plan to help?"
"Those who gain the path have many allies, those who lose the path have few."
"Ambiguous."
"First, lend me a hundred thousand Heavenly Soldiers to sweep through the Human Realm."
"A minor issue." The Heavenly Emperor’s mood showed little fluctuation, "I’ll lend you this Array Flag and have Li Qiong accompany you, but there’s one condition."
"Speak."
"First, kill Yang Jian."
...
The siege had lasted for thirty-seven days.
Yin Jiao’s army surrounded Xiqi City like an iron barrel, leaving it completely impenetrable. Dry bloodstains marked the city walls, and the tattered array flags fluttered powerlessly in the wind. Inside the city, clothing and food were scarce; the once-bustling streets were now deserted except for the occasional soldier hurrying by, their faces shadowed with despair.
Deep within the Royal Palace, however, was a different scene.
The grand hall was brightly lit, dozens of whale oil lamps illuminating every corner as if it were daylight. The air was filled with the scent of alcohol, meat, and an indescribable cloying sweetness. The floor was covered with silk transported from the East, already stained with grease and wine.
Ji Fa sat on a high platform, his hair disheveled, his royal robe hanging loosely and exposing much of his chest. He was no longer the spirited Heir of Western Bo, nor the diligent New King he aspired to be when he first ascended the throne. Years of warfare, failures, and escapes had long drained him.
At this moment, he held a golden cup, his eyes unfocused as he gazed below.
Surrounding him were dozens of women, naked, some dancing, some drinking, others simply sitting numbly. Smiles graced their faces, but their eyes were void of spirit, like exquisitely crafted dolls.
"Minister Yang Jian, victory again today—what great joy!"
Indeed.
Yang Jian was present.
Many Heavenly Soldiers and Generals came to capture him, but he killed them all cleanly. However, now his reputation was ruined; from once being the number one among the Chan Sect’s third-generation disciples, he had fallen to a pariah hunted by all.
Ji Fa.
Yang Jian looked up; the face before him was swollen, pale, bloodshot eyes staring back. Yet, somehow, Yang Jian felt that this face overlapped with another in his memory.
That was King Zhou.
What am I doing?
The thought suddenly flashed through Yang Jian’s mind.
He gripped the wine bottle tighter, his knuckles turning white.
How did I end up like this?
Memories surged like a tide. Becoming Master Yuding’s disciple, learning the Nine Revolutions Profound Skill, aiding the Zhou in fighting against Zhou, the Divine Enthronement War... What followed?
Where exactly did it go wrong?
Princess Long Ji?
But desire is the essence of humanity.
That was indeed wrong.
But it wasn’t my fault; it was Princess Long Ji, she shouldn’t have seduced me!
If not for her, I wouldn’t have ended up like this!
Moreover, she shouldn’t have been the Heavenly Emperor’s daughter!
This thought gnawed at his heart like a venomous snake.
If she were merely a mortal or a simple Loose Cultivator, even if I had raped her, it wouldn’t have had any consequences, and no one would have criticized me, chattering away! Also, I wouldn’t have killed her.
Yang Jian drank another bottle, pulling a woman over without caring whether she was a palace maid or Ji Fa’s concubine, placing his hands where any normal man would.
If I were wrong, how would my cultivation grow stronger day by day?
Clearly, it was the teacher and others who were mistaken. What Clear Heart and Calm Desire? Cultivators should act according to their nature—only this is true to oneself.
Ji Fa.
Blabbering nonsense, if he keeps it up, I’ll cut him down and make myself the emperor of Xiqi.
What does a mortal emperor count for?
How many days do I have left to live?
Yin Jiao has countless capable people under him, I may be powerful, but how can I fight against hundreds alone?
Perhaps if I rush to Xian Yang to kill Yin Jiao, causing chaos in the world and rival factions vying for power, there might be a slim chance for survival.
Yet the Supreme leaves no calculation unconsidered, how could one succeed?
No, the change of mortal emperors, the rise and fall of the world, are but trivial matters to the Saints, there is still great opportunity in the scheme of things.
"Brother Yang is in good spirits."
I turned around and saw the newcomer, with sword-like brows and starry eyes, clad in black. I didn’t recognize him at first, but the Fire-tipped Spear in his hand revealed his identity.
"Good Nezha."
Yang Jian’s mind was unwavering.
However, Ji Fa, now middle-aged, recognized Nezha at once and was stricken with terror. He stumbled back, knocking over several tables, spilling wine and dishes everywhere.
"My loyal official, quick, apprehend this villain! Do not let him approach me!" Ji Fa’s voice was sharp and piercing, filled with fear.
Yang Jian didn’t even glance at him, just slowly set down the wine jug and stood upright.
"Noisy."
As Yang Jian’s words fell, Ji Fa turned instantly into a pool of blood, yet strangely the surrounding naked women were surprised but showed little fear in their eyes.
"Foolish people invite demons." Nezha scanned the room, his gaze lingering briefly on the women, then looking at Yang Jian, "Brother Yang, since when did you become entangled with demons."
"Who cares human or demon, as long as they’re beautiful." Yang Jian grinned, a reckless madness in his smile. He lifted the skirt of the person in his arms to show Nezha, "Look, how beautiful, I adore this pink the most."
The woman let him manipulate her, her eyes still numb.
"If you don’t want to die, get out." Nezha said flatly.
As his words fell, the women in the hall exchanged glances, then turned into wisps of smoke and fled through the door and window gaps. In the blink of an eye, only Yang Jian and Nezha were left in the grand hall, amidst the chaos and the glaring blood puddle.
"I’ve been entrusted by the Heavenly Emperor to kill you."
"Who is this Heavenly Emperor?" Yang Jian swayed as he got up, "Everyone says the Heavenly Emperor is a True Dragon in the Dao, so Princess Long Ji knows the art of cloud manipulation and rainmaking, but I killed Long Ji and she reverted to her original form, which was not a True Dragon, obviously she was a demon too."
"What, did I hit the mark?" Yang Jian laughed heartily, "This so-called Heavenly Emperor, this orthodoxy, are all just demons usurping the high seat! I killed Long Ji, hence I’ve carried out the Heavenly Dao!"
His voice echoed in the grand hall, carrying a hint of hysteria.
Of course, the Heavenly Emperor is just an empty shell, naturally without daughters.
Though 0743 was able to drive the Heavenly Emperor’s shell and oversee all matters of the Singer Civilization in the Fengshen World, it did not even have the qualification for cultivation within the Singer Civilization.
Princess Long Ji could cultivate.
Clearly indicating a not-so-low status within the Singer Civilization, no wonder the Heavenly Court or rather the Singer Civilization was bent on killing Yang Jian.
"Now that it has come to this, saying more is pointless."
Yang Jian’s Heavenly Eye opened, his face ashen: "I can see you’ve formed an alliance with the Heavenly Emperor, and now your cultivation far surpasses mine. It seems I’m certainly doomed today. I’ve committed many sins, long fallen into the abyss, worse than death, if you kill me, I won’t resent you, I ought to thank you instead."
Nezha’s eye twitched: "That’s for the best."
"But at this point, I can’t even utter a word of thanks."
"That’s fine too."
Before the words were finished, Nezha moved.
The Fire-tipped Spear transformed into a crimson stream, piercing straight at Yang Jian’s heart. This spear seemed simple, yet it locked all the space around Yang Jian, leaving him no room to escape.
Yang Jian was prepared, his figure flickered and transformed into thousands of mosquitoes and flies, scattering in all directions. This was an exquisite transformation from the 72 Transformations, helping him escape death countless times before.
However, this time, it was futile.
The Fire-tipped Spear seemed alive, turning in mid-air to pierce one of the flies precisely. The spearhead went through, nailing it to a pillar in the grand hall.
The fly struggled a few times before reverting to Yang Jian’s original form.
He looked down at the blood gushing from his chest, suddenly burst into laughter. His laughter echoed in the grand hall, piercing and despairing.
"So it is! So it is!" Yang Jian laughed while coughing blood, "It turns out the Supreme decides what level of cultivation one can reach! Hence, all cultivators striving painstakingly, are indeed a joke!"
His voice gradually sank, yet his eyes shone with a sudden enlightenment.
Perhaps many things were jokes all along. Cultivation is a joke, the Heavenly Dao is a joke, righteousness and evil are jokes too. All are but toys in the hands of the powerful, illusions in the eyes of the weak.
"This world was left by Pangu." Nezha suddenly whispered.
Yang Jian struggled to raise his head, confusion in his eyes: "What?"
He thought Nezha was offering some parting words, or revealing some great secret of the heavens and earth.
"Nothing." Nezha shook his head, his arm trembled.
Power transmitted along the Fire-tipped Spear, Yang Jian’s body instantly turned into a pool of blood, mingling with Ji Fa’s, indistinguishable.
The grand hall returned to silence.
Nezha withdrew the Fire-tipped Spear, its tip unstained by a trace of blood. He stood there, looking at the glaring red on the pillar, unmoving for a long time.
The sky outside gradually darkened, the setting sun like blood, casting its light through the broken window lattice into the grand hall, dyeing everything red. Faint sounds of fighting could be heard distantly, Yin Jiao’s army had resumed its siege.
Xiqi City would fall, this very night.
