Chapter 634: A Troubled World of Strife

Chapter 634: Chaotic Times of Strife and Turmoil

How is it that all these people seem so afraid to associate themselves with their elders?

Perhaps they fear I’ll climb up the ladder and take advantage of them? Is my reputation really that bad?

Li Jun pondered this, his brow furrowed in confusion, and could only offer a reluctant smile as he asked, “Master Han, you’ve deliberately kept them at a distance—surely there’s something you wish to discuss with me alone?”

“Is it that obvious?”

Han Yang, his face bearing a faint smile that concealed his true intent, spoke plainly: “I’m curious to know how much you understand about the Mo Xing.”

“To be honest, I haven’t given it much thought.”

Li Jun answered truthfully. “If you have something to say, it would be better to speak plainly.”

“To speak too plainly would make me seem too hasty. If you’re patient, perhaps I can ramble on a while.”

Seeing that Li Jun harbored no objections, Han Yang raised his hand and gave a slight gesture. The falling light and shadows intertwined to form a strange scene resembling a shadow play.

The scene depicted a rather crude and primitive village, its architecture and the attire of its people long removed from the ways of the current Ming Dynasty. It was clear that this was a portrayal of events from a distant past.

“The birth of the Mo Xing sect began with a group of artisans and newly freed tenant farmers who had escaped from slave masters. Through years of lived experience, these members of the Mo Xing accumulated vast knowledge, systematically experimenting and summarizing the causal relationships between phenomena. Gradually, they formed a structured body of academic knowledge and a means of transmitting it.”

As Han Yang spoke, the projected scene evolved, shifting from the toil of farming to the craftsmanship of workshops. The shadow figures, mimicking natural phenomena, created various tools that aided in survival and progress.

“Yet constrained by the historical context of their time, the early Mo Xing primarily passed down their techniques and methods through secretive master-disciple transmission. Such ‘inherited secrets’ were fragile and inefficient. Should a master meet an untimely end, much would be lost.”

“Thus, throughout Mo Xing history, many techniques and methods experienced cycles of invention and loss, of loss and reinvention—painful processes.”

In the projection, shadow figures dramatized the trials faced by Mo Xing ancestors—sudden illness, experimental mishaps, vendettas, natural disasters, and other calamities.

Eventually, a great fire erupted from all directions, engulfing these ancestors in its blaze.

“But the greatest threat to the Mo Xing was always man-made warfare. Their cultural and philosophical ideas were distasteful to those in power, even seen as a harbinger of unrest. To protect themselves and spread their teachings, a new branch emerged within the Mo Xing: the heroes, or Xia.”

As Han Yang finished speaking, a sudden flash of white light illuminated the projection.

A shadow figure dropped his iron hammer, drew his sword, and cleaved a path through the raging flames.

“Thus, those who upheld the Mo Xing philosophy divided into two categories: one group of skilled craftsmen who excelled in research, invention, and creation; the other, a group of heroes versed in weapons and martial arts.”

The scene split into two halves—one side a blazing furnace, hammers striking sparks; the other, a chilling blade flash, the long sword drawing blood and rain.

Sometimes distinct, sometimes intertwined, they seemed to symbolize the divide and mutual dependence between the two factions of the Mo Xing.

“By the era of the Ming Dynasty, when Emperor Yizu declared the establishment of the sequence, the Mo Xing entered a period of rapid development.”

Han Yang’s eyes held a nostalgic gaze as he sighed, “At that time, the Ming Empire, the Mo Xing’s influence could be seen in every corner. The construction of any prefecture, county, or city in the Thirteen Provinces and the Two Capitals relied on the Mo Xing’s assistance. One could say that the Mo Xing were the undisputed leaders among the Three Teachings and Nine Schools.”

“It was during this period that countless techniques and methods surged forth like a geyser, elevating the status of the craftsmen within the Mo Xing.”

Han Yang’s voice dripped with melancholy: “But the decline was already lurking.”

In the projection, shadow figures wielding swords stood motionless amid piles of corpses and blood, turning to gaze at the bustling prosperity on the other side.

After a moment of hesitation, they decisively cast aside their weapons, picking up their discarded hammers and returning to the furnace’s flames.

Meanwhile, at the edge of the scene, shadows gathered, their eyes gleaming like wolves and tigers.

“Fewer and fewer people are willing to become heroes. After all, not everyone is willing to risk their life to safeguard others. The result was that the martial spirit of the Mo Xing evolved into indulgence and hedonism, while the code of chivalry became a tool for selfish gain.”

“Like a beast losing its sharp claws, it becomes tame in the eyes of others, soon to be served on a dining table.”

Han Yang chuckled dryly: “Sometimes I reflect on these events and feel as though someone deliberately nurtured the Mo Xing until we were fattened, only to slit our throats once we had no will to resist.”

At that moment, Li Jun noticed the shadow figures’ physiques had grown from their earlier lean and agile forms to plump and bloated. Their towering dwellings had become like carefully constructed hutments, caging these Mo Xing members.

Around them, the encroaching shadows emitted a piercing sound of whetting blades.

Li Jun, thoughtful, paused before asking, “Did the Mo Xing not resist?”

“Of course they did. The ‘Ming Guai’ realm we see today was born from that time. Their original intention was to create a batch of spirit warriors unafraid of death to replace the Mo Xing in their battles.”

“But this form of evasion could not save the Mo Xing. Only when some Mo Xing with martial blood in their veins sacrificed themselves, evolving into the first batch of Ming Guai, forming a new type of ‘hero’ in conjunction with the Mo Xing armor techniques, did they avert the disaster.”

Han Yang shook his head, a bitter smile on his lips: “Though they escaped death, the Mo Xing fell to new lows, becoming one of the twelve sequences that neither ascended nor descended, never to regain their former glory. In the end, it was all self-inflicted.”

Li Jun recalled his time in the Mo Xing’s inner chambers and nodded. “So the craftsmen and heroes of the Mo Xing, the Mo Zhe and Ming Guai of today?”

“Exactly.” Han Yang agreed.

Li Jun furrowed his brow, about to speak, when the rapidly shifting projection captured his attention.

In the advancing shadows like a tide, blade flashes emerged. Dark figures with obscured faces crept closer, wielding weapons.

A group of plump, pig-like Mo Zhe cowered in fear, squeezing into a tight cluster, believing that blending in would keep them safe.

As they pushed through the crowd, their ornate robes and jewelry—gold and silver—spilled onto the ground, blinding those who looked down.

Yet even in this moment of life and death, some Mo Zhe risked having their limbs severed to reclaim their fallen treasures from the throng.

Just as a bloody massacre seemed imminent, a few gaunt, pale figures burst from the crowd.

They let out a fierce roar and leaped into the roaring furnace.

A deafening crack echoed, and blackened corpses rose like iron skeletons, their bodies armored against molten lava, clashing with the ferocious enemy.

The battle ended with these brave Mo Zhe achieving a Pyrrhic victory.

But as they retreated, their eyes met not gratitude, but a chaotic scene of looting, and the disdainful glances of those who had been robbed.

“The Mandate of Heaven shifts, but human nature does not. Though the surviving Mo Zhe merely survived the underworld, they could not alter the ingrained greed and vanity that had taken root. If no one would become the new Ming Guai, the Mo Xing would inevitably repeat their downfall.”

“Thus, Ju Zi established a rule: every new Mo Zhe must link themselves into the Ming Guai realm. On the surface, it was said to awaken the slumbering Ming Guai, but in truth, it was to plant a seed of their consciousness within the Ming Guai realm.”

Han Yang laid bare this unglamorous chapter of Mo Xing history before Li Jun.

“The techniques involved are too numerous and complex. You need not concern yourself with them. Know this: whenever a Mo Zhe dies in the mortal world, their consciousness in the Ming Guai realm awakens, gradually maturing into a new Ming Guai with no memory of their past life.”

The scene shifted again, revealing a once-prosperous city now in ruins. A gaunt Mo Zhe lined up before a furnace, casting his final treasures into the molten flow.

In the crimson sea of blood, only a handful of charred skeletons remained, their eye sockets glowing with mocking red light.

Suddenly, Li Jun’s gaze fixed on one figure.

The disdainful yet aloof expression seemed eerily familiar, like the countenance of Master Ma.

“It was precisely because Ju Zi established this rule that the Mo Xing gained a measure of self-preservation.”

Han Yang’s words, like a narrator’s commentary, echoed in Li Jun’s ear.

“But it was only enough for survival. Often, the Mo Xing remained at the mercy of fate.”

The projection, calm moments before, surged again. This time, a vast, dark hand materialized, eclipsing the sun, hovering over the furnace representing the Ming Guai realm.

“The Ming Guai realm was discovered, and they forced the Mo Xing to reveal this technique, to build a more perfect and powerful Ming Guai realm.”

Li Jun raised an eyebrow, asking, “Huang Liang?”

“Yes. The Huang Liang, covering the entire Ming Empire and sheltering millions, is based on the Mo Xing’s Ming Guai realm. It is said that the construction of Huang Liang’s yin-yang order was an upgraded adaptation of this technique.”

As Han Yang spoke, Li Jun felt a stir in his heart, sensing something amiss.

Though he hadn’t delved deeply into the Ming Dynasty’s history, his many kills had given him some knowledge of hidden truths.

According to him, before Huang Liang began construction, the Mo Xing had allied with the Wudang sect, ensuring they could move freely within the empire, at least avoiding arbitrary interference.

How could one possibly bring out so easily the secret techniques hidden at the bottom of one's chest?

There must be more to the story than that.

Although Han Yang didn't spell it out, Li Jun could guess a thing or two.

It was nothing more than the Mo Xu being promised a grand pie by someone, and then, seeing a chance to turn his fortunes, he stabbed the martial sect's Wu Xu in the back.

If that were true, then after the ensuing 'World Divided Martial' outbreak, Mo Xu's desertion in the face of battle would have been a natural consequence.

Upon thinking this through, Li Jun suddenly let out a cold laugh.

"You guessed correctly; the Mo Xu indeed carried out some despicable deeds back then."

Han Yang sighed and said plainly, "But not everyone in the Mo Xu was willing to do that, especially the Ming Gui; the vast majority of them resolutely chose to fight shoulder‑to‑shoulder with the martial sect's Wu Xu, even unto death."

"It was also thanks to the lingering bond of incense they left behind that the martial sect's Wu Xu, even at its most frenzied before collapse, refrained from striking the Mo Xu with lethal force, thus escaping yet another reckoning."

Han Yang's words trailed off; he suddenly rose from his chair, clasped his fists toward Li Jun, and bowed deeply.

"This bow is for what happened in the central sub‑institute. Those ungrateful wretches, each forgetting that their survival today is owed to whose protection, dare to enslave the Ming Gui—truly damned! They deserve death!"

Han Yang spoke, word by word: "The Mo Xu owes a debt to the Wu Xu; when the chance arises, we will naturally repay it in full."

Li Jun sat firmly in his chair, unmoving, and steadily accepted Han Yang's apology.

"This is what the Wu Xu deserves; there is no need to yield, nor can we yield."

"Master Han, please rise."

After a moment, Li Jun spoke slowly: 'We'll talk about repayment later; you've gone to great lengths today—surely it's not merely to offer an apology?'

Han Yang straightened, flicked his sleeve to dispel the projections, and instead of answering Li Jun's question directly, asked, "Have you heard of the recent events within the empire, Lord Li?"

Li Jun shook his head; after a brief rest at the border, he had rushed nonstop to the eastern institute, traveling wind‑exposed and dew‑soaked, and truly had no clear picture of the empire's current state.

"Not long ago, the empire's premier minister Zhang Fengyue, without any warning, publicly announced in court twelve charges against the Dao Sect's Longhu Mountain, and proclaimed them to the world via the Yellow Liang."

Han Yang said solemnly: "The chief accusations include illicitly casting immortal ingots to replace paper money, arbitrarily expelling and killing court officials, misleading believers and spreading wicked ways, harboring ill intent. They demand that the current Celestial Master Zhang voluntarily come to the capital to confess his guilt, otherwise he will be severely punished without mercy."

Hardly had the border affair ended when Old Zhang immediately turned his gun toward Zhang Zijie.

Li Jun smirked inwardly and asked, "What reaction does Longhu Mountain have?"

"Not a single guilt admitted!"

Han Yang replied: "On the contrary, the Celestial Master issued an edict to all Dao followers, claiming that the late emperor, before his passing, had secretly sent a decree to Longhu Mountain, appointing him Guardian Grand True Person; in the empire's peril, he would muster the full strength of the Dao Sect to purge the court, slay treacherous ministers, cleanse the world, and restore order."

Upon hearing this, Li Jun couldn't help but laugh: "Are you planning to confront Premier Zhang head‑on? This Celestial Master truly harbors grand ambition."

Unlike Li Jun's gleeful, carefree expression at watching the spectacle, Han Yang's countenance grew solemn as he continued.

"Besides these two factions, the empire's coastal prefectures have repeatedly seen the appearance of the great Peng, gathering many rebel bandits, presenting a semblance of dying embers rekindled."

Han Yang's words did not cease: "Moreover, within several strongholds of the Han‑transmitted Buddha Sect, a great number of high‑ranking monks have mysteriously vanished, leaving no trace, causing widespread panic. According to our information, the hand behind this is likely that of the Yin‑Yang Sect's Eastern Imperial Palace."

"In short, the Great Ming Empire now lies amid storm and sway, its edifice on the verge of collapse."

Han Yang's words rang firm and clear, yet Li Jun remained unmoved.

"Master Han, you've said a great deal, but you still haven't made it clear—what exactly do you wish to tell me today?"

Upon hearing this, Han Yang's lips twitched into a bitter smile: "Whether it be the New Donglin Party, Longhu Mountain, or the Eastern Imperial Palace, none are powers we can provoke, nor do we wish to entangle ourselves with them. Yet we desire to keep to ourselves, and they may not let us be—so."

Han Yang again clasped his fists and spoke earnestly: "We hope Lord Li will grant protection to our eastern sub‑institute."

Having said this, Han Yang finally revealed his purpose.

Li Jun's face showed no surprise; he asked calmly, "This is a battle of immortals, and I now have only a few big and small fish—how do you suppose I possess the ability to shield you?"

"To outsiders, the empire now appears as a three‑way struggle for supremacy, but in my view it ought to be a four‑legged tripod."

Han Yang said solemnly: "Lord Li, you alone constitute a force!"