Chapter 483: War Begins

Chapter 483: The War Begins

"Because Your Majesty has resolved to accept the disbandment, the Ming King has handed the authority of choice to the Ten Cities Garrison, leaving him no hope of commanding the entire Wokou Embroidered Uniform Guard; thus resentful, he conspired with Xu Haichao and others, preparing to assassinate you in secret."

Su Ce paced toward the map of the Wokou region that covered the entire wall, his gaunt five fingers slowly tracing the intersecting ink lines upon it.

Few knew that this antiquated paper map, now faded, was drawn by his own hand when he first entered the Wokou lands as a vanguard.

Beneath his fingertips every rise and fall, every river and valley, he had once trod upon them himself.

His finger slid from the western coastline eastward to Edo, deep in the heartland, then pressed down firmly before he slowly turned.

"In the imperial courts, many know that I hang this map in the Thousand‑Household Office. Some mock me behind my back, claiming I dare not face the grim reality after the decline of the Martial Order, so I linger in past glory, unwilling to move on. Others curse me, saying this gesture tells them that the Great Ming can still employ so many penal districts, and that I, Su Ce, am indispensable."

Su Ce settled into the chair that symbolized supreme authority over the Wokou Embroidered Uniform Guard, his arms resting on the armrests, his eyes lowered, his gaze sweeping over Ran Deng.

"They are all mistaken; what I behold is not my present self, nor past achievements, but this killing heart of mine—fixed upon this place, refusing to look northwest, refusing to gaze upon the Taoist temples and Buddhist monasteries, refusing to regard the noble clans."

Looking northwest from Edo brings one to the Northern Zhili of the Empire.

"It seems, after all, that a man bears no ill will toward a tiger, yet the tiger harbors intent to harm. Still, having come this far, I feel I have fulfilled the late emperor's dying wish. Am I right, Your Majesty?"

Su Ce sneered, "Or perhaps, having reached this point, you still dare not bare your claws before me, hiding behind petty tricks, lacking even the courage to confront me through this puppet."

His words fell; Ran Deng's trembling body gradually steadied, his forehead, pressed to the cold floor, slowly lifting.

"Thousand‑Household Commander, I only seek one answer."

"I know what you wish to ask; the answer is simple."

Su Ce's voice turned icy: "You are unworthy."

"Why am I unworthy? When the Wokou Guard was first founded, with no one else to employ, I willingly relinquished my identity as a child of Hanshan Temple's Buddha and threw myself into your service. These years I have broken the Buddhist precepts and my own genetic cravings, transforming from a scholar‑monk destined for enlightenment into a blood‑thirsty warrior monk, suppressing the Wokou pirates and exterminating the Honghu, step by step securing your throne."

"Ran Deng," or rather the Ming King, now knelt on the ground, spine straight, unafraid to meet Su Ce's gaze.

"In merit, who among the nine other city captains could rival my standing? In ability, during your inattentive governance, when have I ever allowed Edo to fall into disorder? Since you no longer desire this thousand‑household post, why should it not be mine? Besides me, who else is fit to sit here, and who could hold it steady?"

The Ming King's visage twisted with ferocity as he cried, "Give me the post, and I can even persuade the New Donglin Party to rescind the disbandment, leading these brothers back to the Northern Inspection Office to reclaim what is ours."

"Are you not trying to give them a good refuge? I can do the same! Were I to become commander, they would no longer need to haggle with the Confucian aristocracy, nor become mere meat on the chopping block, at the mercy of others!"

"What you refuse to do, I will do; what you cannot achieve, I can."

Only now, at the brink of exposure, did the Ming King finally vent the long‑suppressed dissatisfaction and hatred within him, his voice trembling with excitement as his ten fingers, pressed to his knees, dug almost into his thighs, and he bellowed.

"The thousand‑household command of the Wokou Guard rightfully belongs to me, the Ming King!"

"It appears you still lack the courage to speak the truth to my face."

His calm words struck like a biting north wind, snuffing the fire blazing in the Ming King's eyes.

Su Ce shook his head, speaking lightly: "You intend to use the lives of over a thousand Wokou Guards as bargaining chips, aligning with the Buddhist faction behind you to thwart the New Donglin reforms, preferably reducing the Wokou to a worthless ruin, smearing Zhang Fengyue with blood. Once done, the bald monks of the Buddhist Order will naturally grant you a Sumeru throne for Buddhahood, letting you ascend Ling Shan, gild your form, and feast on incense."

Su Ce lit a cigarette, pinched it between his fingers, and tapped it lightly against the Ming King, as if sealing a coffin: "This is your true aim."

The Ming King, his lie exposed, chewed his lip with his teeth; milky synthetic blood dripped from his chin, staining his flying‑fish robe.

The Buddhist aura faded, and his malefic aspect surfaced.

"You see no sign I would yield the post to you; you know you cannot wait any longer. If the Wokou Guard were disbanded entirely, you would lose your foothold at Hanshan Temple, and all the thought you've wasted here would be for naught. Thus you resort to betrayal, cutting your losses. And if your greed ran deeper, you would likely seek to forge my corpse into a dharma protector, for only then could you justify the sacrifices you claim."

"Men die for wealth, birds for food; I stood in your way, so killing me is only natural. Yet I never imagined I would give you ample time to prepare, to let you scheme, only for you, when swords are drawn and blood spilled, to remain this timid, soft‑hearted wretch!"

Su Ce sneered contemptuously: "After following me all these years, you lack even the slightest daring; even if I gave you this post, you would surely fail to hold it."

"Since you know everything, why not kill me beforehand?"

The Ming King stared blankly, then after a long silence murmured, "Could it be because of that lone Martial Order? So you deliberately gave me a chance—no, you gave them a chance."

"I won't play your petty games; who among you dares to enter my Wokou domain?"

Su Ce's visage faded into the drifting smoke, and he chuckled coldly: "They have wanted to kill me for a long time. Well, so have I!"

As his words fell, the map of the Wokou region hanging on the wall was torn to shreds by the surging killing intent.

Wave after wave of inexplicable throbbing suffused the Ming King's heart, as if someone were urgently urging him in his ear.

Those behind him could wait no longer.

"You are too arrogant, Su Ce."

At last, the Ming King cast aside all pretense and laid bare his true thoughts.

"You are right; I truly intend to forge you into a dharma protector—that was the condition of my pact with them. Thus, once you are dead, I will personally come to collect your corpse."

These are my due, the Ming King added silently to himself.

"Very well, but remember to forge me youthful when the time comes—hahaha!"

The Ming King stared coldly at the wild‑spirited Su Ce; his lips twitched, yet what emerged was a sharp, piercing woman's voice.

"Buddha‑realm, unfold."

An intangible ripple spread at incredible speed, engulfing the seated, unmoving Su Ce and swallowing him whole.

The transformation was not yet complete!

At the instant Su Ce's gaze dimmed, Ran Deng—now occupied by the Ming King's body, become a Buddha‑realm anchor—slowly pressed his palms together in a kneeling posture, murmuring sutras, the gold in his eyes flaring brighter until it burst forth.

"To feed the hawk with oneself is sweet as nectar."

Boom!

Ran Deng's body exploded in a blast; the raging flames consumed everything inside, overturned the roof, and sent billowing smoke skyward.

Countless shards scattered across the ground; the thunder of their impact was instantly drowned by the deafening crack of gunfire and cries.

Once comrades‑in‑arms, now foes, the two guards tangled together, turning the street before the Thousand‑Household Office into a gruesome melee of blood‑slicked alleys.

"Ghost King Da, see? Su Ce is dead!"

Lu Yu roared, his finger never releasing the trigger; the muzzle spewed fury, heating the barrel to a glow.

Dense streams of bullets raked the street from end to end, mercilessly harvesting living lives.

"Shut your mouth, I'll cut you down first!"

The enraged Ghost King Da, heedless of danger, hoisted a fire‑dragon‑emerging‑from‑water and charged from cover; the dragon flew but a dozen paces before detonating mid‑air, and the pursuing explosive bolts tore his body asunder, rending flesh from bone and shattering his cyber‑skeleton.

"Charge! Leave none alive—kill them all!"

Lu Yu's face split into a savage grin, golden light flickering deep within his eyes.

Boom!

At that moment, a piercing sonic boom split the air above the street; amid countless astonished gazes, a figure shot like lightning, streaking into the towering smoke column above the Thousand‑Household Office.

Clang!

The metallic clash rang out across a mile, gunfire ceased, voices fell silent, and all stared upward in stunned silence.

The turbulent wind cleaved the soaring smoke pillar, revealing two towering figures suspended in opposition.

A tiger of dark‑gold lacquered armor stood half‑aloft, its plates studded with ancient beast motifs, cyan‑bound straps, embroidered waist‑guards, crowned with a golden pho helm, lion‑toothed demon horns, eyes blazing like flame. Its chest plates slowly closed, inch by inch, drawing the falling Su Ce of the Buddha‑realm into its form.

"Chi You, long time no see."

The speaker's stature matched that of the Chizhu, his arms wrapped in countless black patterns that ran from his fists to his shoulders.

“Are you Bado of the Six Strategies? I recall in Liaodong, Su Ce smashed your mechanized heart with a single punch—I never thought you’d still be alive.”

Having been exposed by the Chizhu, the man's face twisted into a grim grin: “I am alive, and thriving. It was thanks to you that I earned the chance to rise to the rank of Soldier Three, so today I have come expressly to the Wa district to repay you.”

“Since you’ve snatched life from the jaws of fate, you ought to tuck your tail and live modestly—or have you grown weary of living?”

The Chizhu sneered: “A mere Soldier Three thinks he can duel me single‑handed? He’s still far short.”

“Is that so?”

As Bado’s sarcastic words faded, the air around the Chizhu shuddered inexplicably; four chains as thick as sea‑bowls materialized out of nowhere, snapping like lightning around his limbs.

“Moxu?”

The Chizhu’s heart lurched; he prepared to shatter the eerie bonds, yet the chains began to glow—azure Dao sigils intertwining with golden Buddhist motifs.

The two stark colors interlaced, each invading the other, and at their points of contact flared with pallid shards.

Immediately, thunder roared, echoing throughout Edo!

Innumerable bolts of lightning wove a prison, engulfing the Chizhu’s form; each taut link dragged him down, slamming him hard to the ground.

“Bado, our business is finished. Don’t forget—we must retrieve the core; the remaining armor parts can be handed over to your Six Strategies conglomerate.”

A hoarse, aged voice drifted from somewhere unseen.

“Ha ha ha ha, then I, on behalf of the Six Strategies, thank you, Master Meng, for your generosity.”

Bado replied in a ringing voice, his body drifting down from mid‑air to the earth, his gaze fixed upon the bound silhouette kneeling on one knee, shackled by thunder‑forged chains.

“It’s still just me versus you. Though this time, Chizhu, you’re the one who’s lacking.”

A blissful grin spread across Bado’s face; the black tracings coiled around his right arm flowed together, instantly coalescing into a blade of icy light—a massive horse‑cleaving saber a zhang in length.

“I shall personally see you off—this ought to repay the debt of your past kindness!”

“I thought you’d actually dare to show yourself before me, but it turns out trash remains trash.”

Amid the lightning, the Chizhu bore the searing agony to his soul, his hands winding the chains into a reverse grip; with each resonant clang he slowly straightened his stance.

“Not one of you will escape today—yes, even you, Moxu Mengxi!”

“Bado, strike now!”

The instant the old man’s furious roar rang in Bado’s ears—though he had already been on edge—he flashed forward before the Chizhu, blade aimed at those flame‑blood eyes and slashing downward!

Clang!

A spear of daring courage caught the falling chill, while a banner of blazing fire drank in the blinding lightning.

Standing before the Chizhu was none other than Li Jun, who had finally reached Edo!

Mountain Bone!

Devour Dragon Tiger!

Hibernating Official Arts, ten layers!

Penetrating the Five Spirits, all five arrive!

Clang!

The spear shaft bowed like a fully drawn war‑bow, and at the instant before it would snap, it finally pried open the blade that loomed like a collapsing mountain range.

Yet the price was a face streaked with blood from seven orbs beneath reddened eyes, and the shattered gauntlet revealing white bone at the tiger’s maw!

“Even a insignificant wretch who knows not life or death dares to block me?”

Bado’s expression was contemptuous; he did not retreat half a step, raising his blade for another strike.

Li Jun clenched a mouthful of blood, raising his spear to meet the blade, when suddenly a sharp metallic snap rang out behind him.

Clang!

A dark‑gold fist wreathed in thunder shot forth, smashing into the horse‑cleaving saber and hurling both wielder and weapon airborne.

“Lord Horse, you once taught me how the Ming Gui speaks of love; now I show you how the Mo Jia fights!”

Li Jun jerked his head back in shock—only to see the chain that the Chizhu’s right arm had shattered restored to its original state, coiling like a serpent around his wrist once more.

But just as his right arm was about to be bound again, the Chizhu clenched his fist; his right arm exploded into countless plates, screaming forth on the lightning to envelop Li Jun’s body.

[The Will of the Ming Gui ascends to the Eighth Rank, Perfect Completion!]

[The Will of the Ming Gui ascends to the Seventh Rank, Perfect Completion!]

[The Will of the Ming Gui ascends to the Sixth Rank, Perfect Completion!]

[The Will of the Ming Gui ascends to the Fifth Rank, Perfect Completion!]

[The Will of the Ming Gui ascends to the Fourth Rank, Perfect Completion!]

A cascade of information streamed like a waterfall across Li Jun’s vision—the Ming Gui Will, once shelved due to excessive point cost and negligible effect, now surged upward as if riding a rocket.

Simultaneously, the Chizhu’s dark‑gold plates fused into the Horse Lord’s form, reforging and strengthening every component.

The crimson fire‑cloak was steeped in ink‑black, while the silver‑white spear was shrouded in sable fury.

Within the lone eye, a scarlet glow spiraled into a vortex, and a deep, obscure pupil emerged—as if an eye opened.

The piercing suona blasted forth like a lance shattering gold and stone, while the high, impassioned drums howled like a gale.

The Horse Lord’s wild surges rose to the heavens, and the Courage‑Spear became like an abyss‑leaping evil dragon, lunging at Bado’s head.