The Ming Dynasty Sequence : Chapter 539: Wanderer

Chapter 539: The Ranger

The mastermind, Liu Xianzhou, has already been brought to justice, but his death alone cannot atone for the mistakes committed over the years by the artisans of the Central Academy's Mo Order; moreover, the Central Academy is now afflicted with a deep-seated malady, the disease incurable, and the conflict between craftsmen and knights can no longer be reconciled.

Mo Guhuang proclaimed loudly: 'Therefore, in my capacity as acting director of the Mo Order's Central Academy, I hereby announce that, effective today, the Central Academy shall be placed under the command of the Minggui Martial Corps, and Peng Ze, Shu Ye, and I myself will unconditionally submit to their investigation and judgment.'

Do you think this will be of any use?

On the outskirts of the crowd, Zou Jiujiu stood beside Shen Li, asking in a low voice.

It's no wonder Zou Jiujiu would ask such a question; know that the Central Sub-Academy, as the chief of the five Mo Order academies, including this academy itself, plus the other prefectures of Southern Zhili, boasts over three thousand Mo Order artisans.

The present situation is merely the result of the Minggui Martial Corps colluding with the Tianque from within and without, relying on a cunning surprise attack to decapitate the elders' council, thereby seizing temporary control.

Yet to think that this alone could dismantle the entire Central Academy and allow the Minggui to rise to power is utterly unrealistic.

Moreover, behind the Central Academy stands a towering tree; before long, the scattered artisans of the Central Academy from all over will, with the support of the Ru Order, return in force to exact revenge.

'It's utterly useless,' he said, 'merely buying time to ransack the blacksmiths' storerooms.'

Shen Li wore a smirk of mischievous delight: 'Besides, it will also irk that lofty Grand Secretary Zhang; that is the crucial point.'

Seeing that Shen Li had not lost his wits to profit, Zou Jiujiu finally relaxed.

'When did you Tianque infiltrate the Central Academy to this extent? You hide yourselves remarkably well.'

Zou Jiujiu resumed his usual carefree demeanor, pursing his lips at the still-eloquent Mo Guhuang, who was confessing his crimes, and teased him.

'Saying that, you look down on people a bit.'

Shen Li rolled his eyes arrogantly: 'We have no taste for playing the double‑agent game; this is live‑kill, live‑act, after all. And do you really think Zhang Fengyue is a fool? If Mo Guhuang were swapped out, he'd notice.'

Zou Jiujiu raised an eyebrow and asked: 'So, are the other two elders of the Central Academy, Peng Ze and Shu Ye, also dead?'

'No, not at all,' he replied. 'Such high‑order artisans are few, and those who fear death are even rarer; now they have been packed up with their project teams and sent out of Jinling.'

Indeed, we have come to ransack the place.

'So, was it because you knew the Tianque high command would intervene that you proposed splitting up in the safe house that day?'

Facing Zou Jiujiu's question, Shen Li laughed and countered: 'You didn't guess it, did you?'

'I guessed some of it,' Zou Jiujiu said bluntly, 'but according to my speculation, at worst a Fourth‑Order martial sect might show up—say, someone named Jiang Wei—I never imagined it would turn into a total nest‑overturning situation.'

'To be frank, I didn't foresee it either.'

Shen Li clasped his hands behind his head, gazing upward, and sighed: 'So back then I merely told Brother Jun that we could buy him some time in the Central Academy; it seems those old fogeys have finally seen the light.'

The meaning behind Shen Li's words was clear to Zou Jiujiu.

Having witnessed that farce in Liaodong, he understood perfectly the contradiction between sect martial orders and lone‑wanderer martial orders.

Nowadays, however, it appears that the sect martial orders represented by the Tianque are no longer obsessed with eradication or elimination; today's battle in the Central Academy is their way of expressing goodwill and reconciliation toward Li Jun.

'Actually, if Brother Jun had not chosen to come to Jinling, we of this gang would have arrived sooner or later anyway.'

As Zou Jiujiu fell into thought, Shen Li's faint voice drifted into his ears.

'Why?'

The instant Zou Jiujiu blurted out the question, a vague answer formed in his mind, and he immediately asked: 'Is it for Sergeant Su?'

'Old Zou, don't you dare disbelieve me; the martial orders that have survived to this day—whether elders who snatched a life from 'All Under Heaven Divided Martial' or we young newcomers of the new orders—truly have few who fear death. This is no boast; it is the present age: if one fears death, who would forsake a shortcut to cling to pure flesh and blood and leap into the pit of sect martial orders?'

Shen Li's expression turned solemn: 'Don't think that my constant cursing of the old fogeys of the Tianque as worthless is merely the grumbling of a junior; should any outsider dare to utter a single "not" about the Tianque in my presence, I, Shen Li, will be the first to step forward and send them westward.'

'This time I have come to Jinling not only to settle scores with those traitors, but also to draw near Brother Jun, to find an opportunity to tell him that we are not selfish cowards who forget gratitude; we simply have no other choice. Frankly, we are all able‑bodied men—who would not relish settling scores with vigor? But what then after the thrill? Shall we lie on the ground and wait for the newly promoted youngsters to be slaughtered?'

'Grandfather Su also understands our plight, which is why he himself is willing to stand at the forefront, probing the attitude of the Three Teachings toward the remnants of the martial orders.'

Shen Li bowed his head in fury: 'Still, grievance aside, I truly cannot swallow this anger; many in the Tianque, from top to bottom, feel the same as I. Su's death is our failure, yet we have not forgotten this debt, nor dare we forget it. Old Zou, do you believe what I say?'

'I believe it,' he replied. 'How could I not?'

Zou Jiujiu slipped his hands into his pockets and said slowly: 'Old Li also believes this; otherwise he would not have gone up Lion Mountain today, but would first finish business here, then turn back to kill Liu Dian. After avenging himself, if he can escape he will; if not, he will tear down Liu's manor, and as long as he can kill Liu Tu, it will not be a loss.'

'Was this your original plan?'

'What kind of fucked‑up plan is that?' he scoffed. 'It's just a matter of meeting moves with countermoves, ending up forced to play a deadly game with others.'

Zou Jiujiu gave a self‑deprecating laugh: 'Old Shen, let me speak from the heart. Before I encountered Old Li, that calamitous star, I considered myself rather clever—no boast of being able to pluck conspiracies and stratagems out of thin air, at least no one had yet managed to outwit me. But since that brute hurled me, the frog‑in‑the‑well who spoke of vast skies, out of the pit, I have been stripped down to my underwear along the way, living a miserable existence. Should there ever be a day when I am not taken in by others, I would have to divine whether recent fortune favors me.'

Shen Li, hearing this, shuddered suddenly, as if unable to imagine what the day would be like when he himself had been calculated against.

'So now I simply stop divining altogether; no matter how you calculate, it's always a damned omen of utter darkness before one's eyes. Better to shut your eyes, harden your heart, and charge forward—wherever you land, that's where you are.'

'If you don't divine, can you still be of the Yin‑Yang Order?'

Suddenly, a weathered voice interjected.

Zou Jiujiu followed the sound and saw a thin, long‑bearded old man approaching him.

At that very moment, Mo Guhuang, kneeling in the center of the crowd with his head bowed, remained motionless, alive or dead unknown.

'Can a Yin‑Yang Order that walks alongside martial orders still be calculated clearly?'

'A centipede with a hundred legs cannot match a snake; a rooster with two wings cannot fly past a crow; a horse may have a thousand‑mile stride, but without a rider it cannot go on its own; a person may harbor lofty aspirations, but without fortune they cannot be realized. Without divination, how can one know timing, luck, and destiny?'

'I am constantly striving to change my fate against the tide; even if my luck runs poor, nothing can stop my soaring ambition.'

Zou Jiujiu spoke each word with force: 'Therefore, there is no need to calculate.'

'Young friend, your spirit is grand!'

'Elder, your wisdom is profound!'

The two exchanged smiles, and Zou Jiujiu was the first to clasp his hands in salute.

Zou Zi Yilingba, Fourth Order Zhuang Zhou Die, Zou Jiujiu.

Zou Zi Weiwei, Third Order Dream Lord, Zhao Mengze.

No rank?!

Zou Jiujiu's face showed shock, yet the old man before him had already guessed his thought.

'Heaven may govern his unpredictable storms, but I oversee my own dawn‑and‑dusk fortunes. Life is like a dream, and I am its master—why then must we bother ranking the Zou Zi order?'

Zhao Mengze blinked and smiled: 'I, too, have not divined for a long while.'

'Many thanks for your guidance, Elder,' Zou Jiujiu said, thoughtful.

Zhao Mengze shot a disdainful glance at the curious‑faced Shen Li, then smiled narrowly at Zou Jiujiu and said: 'I have a small question I'd like to ask you, young friend.'

'Please speak, Elder.'

'What do you think of the Eastern Imperial Palace?'

'Meng Chong, take men at once to dismantle the Yellow Liang mainframe of the Minggui realm, watch them closely, act with utmost care, and do not damage the entry and exit ports.'

'Golden Beasts, go rescue the wounded; patch up those missing limbs or legs on the spot, and if the bodily damage is too severe, bring the core back for later repair. And for those brothers and sisters who have difficulty moving, as long as they are willing to follow us, make sure none are left behind.'

'Ao Hu.'

From the mechanical frame of Qing Si came the cold voice of the Long Sect: 'At present, every artisan within the Central Academy who has ever oppressed the Minggui shall not be spared.'

Ao Hu heard this, nodded silently, gripped his long blade tighter, turned, and strode away with long steps.

After the surrounding Minggui had received their orders and departed one by one, Qing Si finally turned to look behind him.

A severely damaged dark-gold ink armor sat on the ruined wall of the elders' hall gate, the red eye in its brow somewhat dim.

Still not dead?

You bastard, you're not dead—how could I possibly die?

The Horse King nonchalantly tore a cracked plate from his arm, flicked it with a finger against Longzong's mechanical body, producing a crisp 'clang'.

Longzong, without hesitation, bent down and picked up a shard of stone from the ground to retaliate.

Two ancient, awe-inspiring old Ming ghosts, now behaving like rambunctious children, tussled with laughter unusually bright.

We've already won—do we really need to exterminate them completely?

After the horseplay, the Horse King turned his head to the Dragon Sect seated beside him and asked softly.

Don't bother advising me on this—whoever tries will earn my enmity.

Hey, you old turtle who doesn't know a good heart, I'm worried you'll make too many enemies and end up with nowhere to bury yourself!

Anyone who wants to kill me, just come.

Longzong chuckled: 'But they'd better hurry, or once my soul scatters, they'll have nowhere to seek revenge.'

The Horse King's eyes flickered with relentless red light; after a long silence he asked, 'Isn't there still half a life left?'

We're practically elders ourselves—we can't just freely use some youngster's mechanical body. I intend to remodel this kid into a divine artifact, as a reward from his dragon grandfather.

Nonsense!

The Horse King snapped: 'What use is a newborn divine artifact? If you truly want to reward him, I have plenty of ways. Longzong, you've barely managed to turn things around—are you really just going to slack off and dump the burden? Have you considered what will happen to these kids if you die?'

Longzong replied coolly: 'If I don't die, the artisans of the other four institutes won't tolerate them.'

Then don't kill these surrendered artisans!

If we don't kill them, these little brats' spines will never straighten for life.

They're all damned Ming ghosts—what backbone could they possibly have left?

Longzong tapped his own helmet: 'The backbone is right here—you understand this better than anyone of us.'

The swearing Horse King fell silent, then after a while whispered low, 'No choice?'

No, we won't choose.

Longzong laughed: 'Back in the Ming Ghost Realm, we overthought and hesitated too much, letting you old thing constantly press down and bully me. Even now my occipital throbs—it's from when you clubbed me back then.'

Don't think that because you've done something impressive now you can slander me.

The Horse King scoffed: 'Back in the Ming Ghost Realm, among the five factions, I always took on whoever I wanted openly and aboveboard—never a sneak attack. Your sore occipital isn't because you fled at the sight of me; I had no choice but to strike from behind. Can that really be blamed on me?'

If not you, then who? Clearly the wandering Ming ghost with the best chance to ascend to Second Order, yet you only wanted to be a lecherous flirt. Had you stepped up to lead when the five institutes split, perhaps none of this would have happened.

Longzong's tone suddenly turned cold, catching the Horse King off guard.

He slammed his palm into the Horse King's back, as if venting hidden resentment.

I've wanted to curse you like this for ages—now that I've spoken, I finally feel relieved.

Longzong burst into loud laughter; the final pat landed surprisingly soft, more like an arm slipping around the Horse King's shoulder, his voice hoarse: 'I know this makes you uncomfortable, don't blame me, brother—I truly have no recourse, so I can only bind you this way, making you look after these little ones.'

I understand. Actually, you're right in your scolding.

Don't be like that—your sudden humility makes me feel unsettled.

The Horse King's words were cut off; he glared upward irritably: 'You're allowed to bare your soul, but I can't speak my mind?'

Longzong smiled: 'I'm a dying man—what do you compare yourself to me? Horse King, you need to straighten up, be tough, tougher than before—only then can they stand firm and steady.'

The demands keep growing—aren't you afraid you'll crush me too?

If you also break down, then just find someone to entrust your legacy to, like I did.

All the old-timers are nearly dead—who the hell am I supposed to turn to?

The Horse King gritted his teeth: 'These kids nowadays are nowhere near what we were—each one either lacks charm or lacks spine, fighting, drinking, chasing women; not one meets my standards except that clown, Chizhu.'

Having said that, the Horse King suddenly recalled something and asked puzzled: 'Chizhu is from your Middle Institute, right? Why don't you drag him into the fray with Liu Xianzhou and the others?'

Chizhu had already defected from the Middle Institute when he first rose to prominence, and he'd barely escaped that mire—why would I drag him back?

Well, you don't want to implicate anyone, yet you're not afraid to drag me in—I truly owe you.

The Horse King sighed: 'So what's your plan for them? You can't just let them wander the world as fugitives, can you?'

Heaven's Gap.

Longzong softly uttered the two words.

That's hardly a choice for a peaceful life. Though armored warriors can fight, even a mighty tiger can't withstand a pack of wolves—let alone when that tiger is reduced to mere skin.

The Horse King adopted a solemn tone: 'If your old habit flares up again—seeing someone help and feeling compelled to repay—then I'll play the villain and turn them down.'

That's exactly what I intend to do.

Longzong said slowly: 'Old Ma, think about it—aside from Heaven's Gap, who else would take in this bunch of brats? The other four branches? Impossible. Though they don't willingly degenerate into Zhang family's lackeys like Mogu Huang, they also don't want to offend the Zhangs. Apart from Mo Xu, the only option left is Wu Xu.'

Zhang Fengyue has kept a low profile for decades, now stirring, wanting to become a living sage; soon the three teachings and nine streams will surely clash, and the Wu Xu faction will surely leap out for revenge. If you hand them over to Heaven's Gap, I fear these youngsters will blame you.

Let them blame—standing in death is better than kneeling in life.

Longzong teased: 'Besides, with your little brother around, could Heaven's Gap still impose the impossible?'

Your skin is truly thick—can't you have a bit of backbone?

My backbone's been too heavy all my life—I'm exhausted.

Longzong let out a long sigh; the hand resting on the Horse King's shoulder grew heavier, yet the words that came out grew fainter.

Horse King, do you think our Ming Ghost Realm could ever be reunified someday?

The Horse King grabbed the slipping arm on his shoulder with his backhand, feigning ease: 'Isn't that nonsense? As long as someone becomes the pattern-master, who'd dare cause a split then?'

Then who will become the pattern-master?

Someone will always step up.

Then I probably won't see it, Old Ma—don't forget what I entrusted you with.

Got it.

Then until we meet again?

Yeah, see you later.

A faint laugh drifted from the drooping helmet, not loud or soaring, yet impossible to hide the man's heroic spirit within.

The Horse King sat on the ruined wall, deliberately weighing down his back. The thin mechanical body leaned against his shoulder, as if asleep.

Hmm.

Who knows how long passed—Qingqi awoke from a dream, slowly lifted his head, and found himself seated beside a battered ink armor.

For some unknown reason, Qingqi felt not the slightest fear, not even a hint of alarm.

The feeling was as if he had known the other for ages.