Chapter 254: Chapter 243: Nanyin Bears Down
Nanyin Camp, Central Army Main Tent.
The atmosphere inside the tent was heavy, a stark contrast to the grim scene outside, with its fluttering banners and rows of armored soldiers.
On the main seat sat a man, dressed in a crimson Python Robe embroidered with a ferocious python pattern. His expression was solemn and naturally imposing, and a faint draconic and tigerish aura coiled around him.
This was none other than the grand marshal of Nanyin’s northern expedition army, the current Grand Protector—Li Xuanqing.
His gaze was serene, his fingertips tapping lightly on the rosewood armrest.
The scene of the four Great Masters from the Northwest joining forces to expose the spies and make them public had just been projected here via a Secret Skill.
"Quite the move." Li Xuanqing spoke slowly, his voice low and unrevealing of his emotions.
"The Northwest Demon Cave is truly not to be underestimated.
Our pieces, painstakingly placed over many years, were uprooted by them in one fell swoop with such a method."
In the first seat to his left sat an old man with a peculiar face.
His hair and beard were gray, yet he had the ruddy, cherubic face of a child. His eyes were clear and sharp, as if they could see through a person’s heart.
He wore a simple cyan robe, and a sheathed Ancient Sword lay across his lap. Though the sword was not drawn, it naturally emanated a sharp intent that seemed capable of cutting through all things.
This was the representative from the Celestial Sword Pavilion for this campaign—Lingxu Master.
Hearing this, Ling Xuzi’s childlike face showed a faint, detached smile that didn’t match his appearance, his voice clear and resonant:
"Grand Protector, you worry too much.
That land of demons is a wretched hive. These Demons are born insidious and cunning, skilled in trickery. Backstabbing and scheming are their daily bread.
If we judge them by normal standards, it’s only natural they would be on guard, or even bite back.
It’s nothing more than a few underhanded tricks, unfit for a grand stage."
His tone was filled with a deep-seated contempt for the Northwest Cultivators, as if the spies’ exposure wasn’t due to the enemy’s skill, but was simply the nature of the Demon Dao at work.
In the first seat to the right was a young scholar dressed in a moon-white Confucian robe, wearing a square cap, and holding a scroll.
His features were handsome and elegant, his bearing gentle, like a talented scholar steeped in literature. Only when his eyes opened and closed could one see the Vast Righteousness that flowed within.
This was Wen Zaidao, the current envoy from the Vast Sacred Land.
Wen Zaidao lifted his gaze from the scroll in his hand and looked toward Li Xuanqing on the main seat. His tone was calm, yet carried a hint of inquiry:
"Li Taibao, while there is some truth to what Daoist Lingxu says,
now that our spies have been eliminated, we are like blind men feeling an elephant in the Northwest, having lost our eyes and ears.
The ’Four Imperial Heavens’ gambit has already been seen through.
This northern expedition... should we still proceed as originally planned?"
Wen Zaidao had pointed out the crucial issue.
This northern expedition, though conducted in the name of "Subduing Demons and Defending the Dao," had gathered the forces of the Nanyin Dynasty and several major Righteous Sects.
But the true main force was, without a doubt, the Nanyin Dynasty.
The final strategic decision still had to be made by the high-ranking and powerful Li Taibao.
The other representatives from various Sects in the tent also turned their gazes to Li Xuanqing.
Li Xuanqing fell silent for a moment, and the tapping of his fingertips stopped.
He raised his eyes, his gaze sweeping over everyone in the tent, seeming to pierce through the canvas to see the vast and chaotic land to the north.
"The Northwest Demon Path... though we have lost our eyes and ears, their foundations are deep and tangled, not something that can be destroyed in a single day.
Now that they are alert, they will surely be prepared." His voice was steady, filled with unquestionable decisiveness.
"A rash advance would risk falling into their traps and only lead to needless casualties."
He paused, then continued:
"Relay my orders to the three armies and our allies from the various Sects: for now, we will hold our position and fortify our existing encampments.
Send out more scouts, cast a wide net of observers. Even without spies inside, we must do our utmost to probe the Northwest’s movements."
"At the same time," Li Xuanqing’s eyes narrowed in thought, "send an urgent report to His Majesty and message the various Sects.
Mobilize more War Magical Artifacts and High Tier Cultivators.
Wait for the follow-up forces to finish gathering and establish absolute superiority.
Then, we will strike with the force of a thunderbolt,
sweep through their dens, and finish the job in one decisive battle!"
He shot to his feet, his crimson Python Robe stirring without a breeze. An aura of iron and blood filled the air, and his voice suddenly rose, ringing like clashing metal:
"The northern expedition to subdue the Demons is imperative!
Relay my command!
All units are to be on high alert and await the opportunity for a general assault!"
"As the Grand Protector commands!" Everyone in the tent, including Ling Xuzi and Wen Zaidao, responded with solemn agreement.
...
The grand army of the Southern Orthodox Dao was amassed on the border, like dark clouds pressing down on a city.
The heavy, oppressive feeling of an approaching storm plunged the entire Northwest Land into an indescribable state of depression and agitation.
Without any need for Qi Yun’s urging or any mobilization orders, construction on the Northern Defense Array had entered an unprecedented state of frenzy.
Every Cultivator involved, regardless of their Sect, erupted with astonishing potential and efficiency.
Laying the Array Foundations, engraving runes, connecting the Earth Veins... the progress on every task was several times faster than before!
The reason was simple: the pressure of life and death hung over their heads.
The four Great Masters’ thunderous methods in exposing the traitors, along with the southern army’s unconcealed, chilling military might, all clearly pointed to one fact.
The south was really coming to attack.
And it was no mere skirmish—it was a disaster of annihilation!
If they couldn’t complete the construction of the Northern Defense Array before the southern army breached the border,
once the defensive line was broken and iron hooves trampled the Northwest, the first to suffer, the first to be crushed, would undoubtedly be them—the low-level Cultivators without backing or top-tier Cultivation.
The instinct for survival drove every single person to give their all.
Yet, against this backdrop of feverish, full-scale war preparations,
Qi Yun, who should have been the person in charge and under the most pressure,
was instead in his quiet Palace, looking unusually carefree.
He was reclining on a Cloud Bed, engrossed in an ancient tome he had found somewhere, his aura peaceful and his expression serene.
It was a stark contrast to the extremely tense atmosphere outside.
This abnormal scene made Yang Cuan Master, who had been urgently summoned and was nursing a headache over a huge pile of densely packed supply ledgers, finally unable to resist. He looked up, rubbed his throbbing temples, and asked in confusion:
"I say, Nephew Qi, the south is about to attack any day now, this is a crisis! How can you be even more relaxed than before?
Everyone outside is frantic."
He had been at a Marketplace controlled by the Cyan Sect, where he had just discovered a few Spiritual Treasures that resonated with his own path of cultivation.
He was just about to use his authority to "reasonably" acquire them for himself when he was summoned back by an urgent order from Qi Yun.
Then, he had been saddled with this mountain of ledgers.
He was required to sort through and balance all the accounts of various materials that had been "skimmed" and "diverted" over the past few years, as quickly as possible, leaving no obvious evidence behind.
Qi Yun’s gaze did not leave the ancient book as he replied faintly:
"If the sky falls, the tall ones will hold it up. What is there for me to be anxious about?"
"That’s one way to put it..." Yang Cuan was choked by the response, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. He pointed at the dizzying ledgers before him.
"But these accounts... isn’t this too rushed?
Even at the fastest pace, the Grand Array will still need several years to be fully completed.
If we wipe all the accounts clean now, what do we do in the coming years?
Are we not going to ’allocate’ any more materials?"
He really didn’t understand why Qi Yun was in such a hurry to deal with these "lingering historical issues" at this critical juncture.
At that moment, Qi Yun finally lowered the ancient book, raising his eyes to look at Yang Cuan. His gaze was deep and calm:
"We don’t have several years."
Yang Cuan’s brows furrowed instantly. The hand holding the brush froze in mid-air as he slowly looked up at Qi Yun:
"Nephew Qi, what do you mean by that?
The Grand Array is only about half complete at most. Even if we work on it day and night, without two or three years of patient, grinding work, it’s simply impossible..."
Qi Yun didn’t answer directly. Instead, he rose and paced to the window.
He gazed at the multicolored spiritual lights soaring into the sky in the distance, shining ceaselessly day and night, and listened to the faint rumbling of the Array.
"Junior Martial Uncle Yang, do you think the four Great Masters, and those people from the south, will really give us two or three years to calmly and safely build this turtle shell completely?"
Qi Yun’s words made Yang Cuan’s heart tighten.
He vaguely grasped something but didn’t dare to think further.
Walking slowly over to Yang Cuan, Qi Yun tapped his finger lightly on the pile of ledgers:
"That’s why these accounts must be settled now.
And they must be settled cleanly, leaving no future trouble."
Listening to Qi Yun, Yang Cuan suddenly realized that his young nephew saw things from a higher level, that the issues he pondered were far more profound than his own—more profound, even, than those considered by most of the busy Masters outside.
He asked no more questions. Taking a deep breath, he picked up his brush again and said in a low voice:
"I understand. I will handle it properly as soon as possible and leave no evidence for anyone to find."
Qi Yun nodded, sat back down on the Cloud Bed, and picked up the ancient book again, as if their conversation about life and death had never happened.
The Palace fell silent once more.
All that remained was the rustling of Yang Cuan rapidly flipping through ledgers and recording with his brush, and the faint sound of Qi Yun occasionally turning a page.
...
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