Chapter 41: This Life is Like Walking on Thin Ice

"The Azure Sky is dead, the Yellow Sky shall rise..."

The moment these words left his lips, the entire city of Qingpu erupted into a frenzy.

Over recent years, the Demon-Qing court's grip on the provinces had been steadily unraveling.

Natural disasters, man-made calamities, demonic incursions, and ubiquitous oppression and discrimination—countless grievances meant the fertile Central Plains were never short of rebels defying the regime.

Yet prior to Li Chang'an, even when uprisings occurred, leaders merely lorded over their own meager territories.

None had dared to proclaim their rebellion so brazenly to the world.

This marked the very first time an insurgent army stepped forward with such high-profile defiance, broadcasting their treason with a slogan so grand and profound that anyone could see they were a force to be reckoned with.

Gazing up at Li Chang'an, who hung in midair like a deity or a specter, every witness bore an expression of sheer, unadulterated astonishment.

However, Li Chang'an afforded them no time to dote in a daze.

His blade, drenched in dragon blood, tore through the darkness, cleanly severing the neck of the sergeant guarding the city gates.

With the deed done, he did not hesitate for a heartbeat, throwing his weight toward the winch that controlled the portcullis and pulling hard with his left hand.

A bone-jarring screech echoed out.

The winch, which normally required the combined strength of five or six burly men, yielded to his grip as easily as a child's toy, its locks snapped open.

Aboard the ramparts, the Magistrate of Qingpu looked at the still-bleeding dragon head nearby, initially failing to comprehend the unfolding chaos.

But in these dark times, what official could climb the ranks without being the shrewdest of the shrewd?

After his eyes flashed with frantic calculation, realization dawned upon him, turning his face deathly pale as he shrieked at the top of his lungs, "Enemy attack! Enemy attack! Stop him at once, do not let him open the gates!"

Two thousand imperial troops were stationed within Qingpu.

By all rights, whether in a siege or brutal street-to-street bayonet fighting, the Magistrate should not have feared what a mere rebel army could do to them.

Yet at this very moment, instinct screamed at him that if Li Chang'an opened those gates, the consequences would be catastrophic.

At the sound of his frantic cries, the soldiers finally shook off their stupor.

But Li Chang'an moved with such terrifying velocity that his silhouette vanished and reappeared like an erratic phantom.

Coupled with the psychological horror of the severed dragon head, the surrounding guards failed to mount any resistance in those crucial seconds.

Fortunately, at the absolute precipice of disaster, the ever-vigilant members of the Demon Prison Division stepped forth, lunging at Li Chang'an from every angle with a murderous intent that pierced the clouds.

But Li Chang'an, now bolstered by his divine martial cultivation, was no longer the man he once was.

The descending executioners could not even breach a radius of thirty feet around him; with a violent surge of his materialized inner energy, several low-ranking officers were sent flying, their heads and limbs neatly severed into dozens of pieces mid-air.

A Martial King was a powerhouse capable of dominating a region; how could a mere rabble of lackeys pose a threat to him?

To put it bluntly, even if Li Chang'an stood perfectly still and let them strike, no ordinary martial artist could harm him until his internal reserves were thoroughly depleted.

Watching the elite officers of the Demon Prison Division—men usually seen as untouchable lords—slaughtered like cattle, the soldiers of Qingpu could only gape in horror.

In their limited worldview, the wardens of the Demon Prison Division were paramount figures, yet here they were, being harvested like common weeds.

The spectacle completely paralyzed them, and for a long moment, none dared to take a single step toward Li Chang'an.

A deafening crash shook the earth as the drawbridge separating the wall from the moat slammed down, splashing rainwater and mud in every direction.

Surrounded by an army of thousands, Li Chang'an moved as if walking through an empty field, physically forcing the winch down to drop the bridge.

Sensing the shift, the rebel forces hidden in the darkness, who had long bided their time, felt their morale surge as if injected with a potent stimulant, rushing from the shadows to storm Qingpu.

The bloody slaughter raged through the entire night, a nocturnal hunt where Li Chang'an cut down anyone in his path, focusing particularly on those in lavish robes who bore the mark of officialdom.

Subjected to his relentless, unreasonable onslaught, the soldiers of Qingpu failed to organize a single coherent counteroffensive.

Whenever a defensive line began to form, Li Chang'an would charge through it, shattering their lines completely.

Eventually, Li Chang'an discarded his battered, ruined blade and casually declared, "Surrender and live," prompting the majority of the surviving garrison to wisely throw up their hands.

He was too terrifying, possessing a martial might that transcended humanity.

This was the indelible impression left upon every soldier and martial artist who faced him—he was a living Yama emerged from the depths of hell.

Li Chang'an had always operated on the philosophy of being as still as a mountain, yet striking like thunder.

When his strength was insufficient, he preferred to lay low, quietly nurturing his power until he could strike with a force that would upturn heaven and earth.

This campaign was no exception.

Thus, a mere few days after taking Qingpu, Li Chang'an led his forces to ambush the neighboring Pingdong County before they could even formulate a response to the news.

The battle for Pingdong was slightly more arduous, but under the absolute threat of Li Chang'an's overwhelming personal might, the stronghold fell into his hands with relative ease.

With this, the Demon-Qing court trembled, and the eyes of the world turned toward them.

The realm watched in shock as the Red State rebellion, thought to have been extinguished, flared back to life like an unquenchable wildfire, claiming three counties and pointing its vanguard directly at Fengzhou Prefecture.

"The Azure Sky is dead, the Yellow Sky shall rise; the cycle turns in the year of Jiazi, bringing great fortune to the world!"

The slogan Li Chang'an shouted during the fall of Qingpu spread across the Central Plains like a spring breeze after rain.

Traveling alongside it was the renown of his insurgent force: the Taiping Army.

System notification: Fate defiance successful.

Eight years old: The rivers ran backward and floods returned; you walked upon the waters to slay the wicked flood dragon, its blood dyeing the river red, successfully averting a catastrophe that would have devastated Fengzhou.

In the same year, relying on your supreme martial prowess, you conquered the counties of Qingpu and Pingdong, shaking the Central Plains and earning the title of the 'Taiping Immortal Master.'

The trajectory of fate has updated; your existence has thoroughly alarmed the Demon-Qing court, and the age of ten shall mark the hour of your death.

Staring at the floating text blinking against his retinas, Li Chang'an's expression shifted through a kaleidoscope of emotions.

This time, the reincarnation imprint had not even detailed the nature of the trial, simply passing a death sentence upon him. He had walked this life as if treading on thin ice; would he truly fail to reach the far shore?