Chapter 663: The Four Academies Merge

Chapter 663: Confluence of the Four Academies

[Gained 70 Mastery Points]

[Remaining Mastery Points: 342]

[Consumed 320 Mastery Points, the martial art Eight Directions Thunderbolt has been upgraded.]

"Zhou Changji: sixty points, Zhao Yin: seventy points, plus the over a hundred points contributed by the slow-moving Six Strategies troop, we finally have enough points for a martial cultivation technique."

Li Jun glanced over the words on the screen, unable to suppress a sigh.

The young emperor Zhu Yiyan, though hesitant and vacillating when decisive action was required, proved remarkably resolute and swift when it came to fleeing; otherwise I would have surely managed to scrape a few more points.

Having gained these rewards, Li Jun felt fairly satisfied.

After all, that troop formation, combined with Zhu Pingxu, was no soft persimmon; to fight to the death alone, I might not necessarily win.

Moreover, there is that palace clearly hiding something nefarious.

"It seems the troop formations are not that simple after all."

The refinement of his inner force proceeded silently within Li Jun's body, while Yang Bai Ze, standing beside him, felt a prickling on his back, as if a black-red thunderbolt might strike at any moment, tearing him apart; he instinctively shifted his steps, distancing himself from Li Jun.

"Brother Jun, how are you now?"

Yang Bai Ze looked at Li Jun, a strange sense of alienation rising in his heart, forcing a bitter smile: "You keep getting stronger."

"You're not bad either; even the Nine Lords of the Eastern Palace personally dragged you into a dream, yet they failed to bewitch and control you."

Li Jun asked with a smile: "What stage are you at now?"

"Not worth mentioning." Yang Bai Ze shook his head: "If it weren't for someone protecting me, I'd have long returned to the Yang family to be a filial son and virtuous grandson."

Upon hearing this, Li Jun turned his head to the side and saw, in the distance, a black-clad Shang Lu, eyes observing nose, nose observing heart, brows lowered, gaze restrained, showing no intention to communicate with him.

It appears I am still not favored by the legal order.

"Elder Brother Shang doesn't know how to face you, Brother Jun." Yang Bai Ze whispered.

Li Jun raised an eyebrow, astonished: "What do you mean by that?"

"The core of the legal order is the Great Ming Code; if those articles were applied to you, Brother Jun, the charges could stretch from head to toe, with many omissions still."

Yang Bai Ze laughed: "But to judge you, Brother Jun, probably no one in the legal order could do it now. Yet if we don't judge, Elder Brother Shang's legal intent would remain restless and uneasy; better to pretend we didn't see anything."

"It's not that we dare not face you, but that law is inseparable from human sentiment. Li Jun, you are guilty before the law, yet innocent before the people; therefore the legal order will not act against you."

Just as Yang Bai Ze's words fell, Shang Lu's lowered head was followed by a cold, hard utterance.

No matter how one hears it, it always carries the air of someone desperately trying to save face after a blunder.

"Thank you."

Li Jun shouted loudly.

He held no ill impression of the legal order, naturally not bored enough to quarrel with Shang Lu over whether the latter truly fears nothing or merely pretends.

"How are things in Chengdu Prefecture?"

On his way back from North Zhili, Li Jun had received news from the Eastern Academy that the Dragon Tiger Mountain's Fu Li led a night raid on Chengdu Prefecture, overseen by Pei Xiongqian, hence his question.

"Both sides suffered heavy losses; over a hundred followers perished. The Chengdu Prefecture government offices within a three-li radius were flattened by the Celestial Orbit Stars, innocent civilians affected numbered over ten thousand, and the Daoist followers fleeing in chaos toward Dragon Tiger Mountain are too many to count."

Yang Bai Ze's tone was unusually grave; evidently the losses at Chengdu Prefecture exceeded his expectations.

Li Jun frowned: "Did Fu Li not die?"

"Almost. Zhang Shiyuan and Fu Li fought until both were gravely wounded and near death, then were dragged back to their respective camps."

"That shouldn't be. Given Old Zhang's cunning, how could he have failed to anticipate Dragon Tiger Mountain's sneak attack on Chengdu Prefecture?"

Li Jun wore a puzzled expression, muttering: "What exactly is he scheming?"

"The Northern Dipper Seven Stars of the new Daoist order have been utterly annihilated, not a single one remains."

Yang Bai Ze's firm reply dispelled Li Jun's confusion.

"Pei Shi's purpose in garrisoning Chengdu Prefecture was to intercept the believers of Qingcheng Mountain and lure Dragon Tiger Mountain into action."

Celestial Orbit Stars!

Li Jun suddenly recalled the fireworks he had seen at the border.

Having been bombarded by the Celestial Orbit Stars many times, he could do nothing against those Daoist artifacts floating high above, but that does not mean the Confucian order lacks the means to counter them.

Now it appears the results are quite significant.

"Brother Jun, are you heading to Dragon Tiger Mountain next?" Yang Bai Ze suddenly asked.

Facing Yang Bai Ze's question, Li Jun nodded and asked: "Do you think it's inappropriate?"

"Nothing inappropriate; I merely envy your ability to settle grudges swiftly and righteously, Brother Jun."

Yang Bai Ze wore a self-mocking smile: "Unlike me, who, even if someone were to rip my blood relatives from my mind and humiliate me, could only watch, utterly incapable of retaliation."

"You envy me, but I am no less envious of you."

Li Jun gazed at Yang Bai Ze, whose height now reached his shoulder, with a smile: "Since my days as a water‑robed brother in Chengdu Prefecture, I have felt an unseen hand pushing me forward; I lack the freedom to follow my whims, nor the luxury to take things as they come. Even if I wanted to rest and catch my breath, I could be stabbed in the heart from behind and die without peace."

"Even now, I still feel I have not fully grasped what I truly want. To receive a kindness and return a sentiment, to barely avoid owing or being owed, is already the utmost I can do. Unlike you, whose resolve has always been steadfast."

"Am I steadfast?"

Yang Bai Ze's raised head gradually lowered, his features betraying hesitation and struggle.

"Brother Jun, Pei Shi told me..."

After a moment, Yang Bai Ze, having made up his mind, finally spoke: "He said the Premier wishes to eradicate all orders from this world."

At a distance, Shang Lu suddenly lifted his head, his eyes flashing with sharp light, only to meet a pair of eyes brimming with ferocity.

In that instant, Shang Lu's heart was seized by intense fear, his body frozen, the rebuke rising to his throat caught dead in his teeth.

Li Jun shifted his gaze expressionlessly, then turned back to Yang Bai Ze.

"I know; that old man already told me."

Yang Bai Ze blinked in surprise: "Brother Jun, you know? Then why do you still..."

"Why still join forces with Zhang Fengyue, right? Because I also despise this damned, chaotic world; joining him lets us clear out some eyesores. As for the matter you worry about..."

"To claim kingship and hegemony holds no interest for me; to sacrifice oneself for others, I will not do. He saves his world, I avenge my grudge. If Old Zhang ever comes looking for trouble, we'll just see whose fist is bigger."

Li Jun laughed: "You have now entered the Eastern Palace's sight; those grandsons' tactics are vicious, adept at ambush—stay vigilant. If you ever reach a dead end, do not stubbornly resist; surrender when you must. As long as you live, there remains a chance to turn the tide."

The words settled, Li Jun turned to leave.

"Brother Jun! I will return to Jinling next, to cooperate with Liu Jingxun in mobilizing the Confucian forces."

Yang Bai Ze shouted at that tall, straight back.

At this moment his face flushed, his former youthful innocence faded, yet the determination in his eyes remained as before.

The youth clenched his fists, as if in a dream facing an elder's questioning, striving to prove himself.

"Do you still remember what I told you before? I am no longer that child; I will surely change this world—soon enough, just wait and see."

The Shu dialect cry seemed to pull the two back to that night in Mianzhou County.

Of course, old man I'm waiting!

Li Jun halted his steps, waved his hand without turning back, his voice booming and heroic.

Boom!

Thunder roared, a figure shot up into the sky.

"Is this the first time our four institutes have met via projection? Damn, the longer we live, the more stifled we feel."

Mo Xu's northern branch elder Song Mang let out a hey, his face, marked by a drunkard's nose, full of resentment.

"What's the situation inside the Yellow Millet, Old Song—you know it well. Over at the Eastern Emperor's Palace, who knows how many lie in ambush online; if we show our heads, we're likely to be surrounded. If we drown in the Dark Sea, that's truly suffocating."

Han Yang soothed: "The situation outweighs us; if we must endure, we endure."

"This Yellow Millet is clearly built by our Mo Xu, yet now we're forced not even to dare enter—what is this?"

Song Mang's anger showed no sign of abating, he bellowed with a cracked voice.

"Enough, Song Mang, what's the point of complaining now?"

The speaker had dark skin, a sturdy build, a head of black hair that stood out among the crowd, high cheekbones, triangular eyes; even as a mere projection, his fierce aura could not be hidden.

This man was the western branch elder of Mo Xu, deep in the Gobi of the Western Regions—Tao Tang.

"How is it meaningless?"

Song Mang, who lived for drink, was Mo Xu's foremost arms master; his temper was as formidable as the firearms he forged.

"If I may say, we should array ourselves four-four six-six and clash with the Eastern Emperor's Palace. To retreat without fighting now, to suffer meekly—does that still make us Mo Xu people?"

"What if we don't retreat?"

The southern branch elder Fan Xianjing, headquartered in the old port region, took up the thread, irritably: "Now all our Yellow Millet authority is used to conceal the Ming Gui realm's position—what do we have left to oppose the Eastern Emperor's Palace?"

"Truly, a dragon in shallow waters mocked by shrimp, a tiger fallen to the plains bullied by dogs."

Song Mang knew Fan Xianjing spoke truth; though unwilling, he could only sigh and shake his head.

"If Mo Xu also had someone ascend to Second Order and reclaim the Regulator's seat, how could we be bullied like this?"

As these words fell, the dim chamber plunged into deathly silence.

Mo Xu's predicament was clear to all.

"But how easy is it to birth a Second Order?"

Looking across the Great Ming Empire, the existing Second Orders are scarcely three: the Confucian Zhang Fengyue, the Daoist Zhang Ji extreme, and a hidden Eastern Emperor's Palace deity.

Besides that, only the lone martial warrior Li Jun, whose strength outstrips Third Order, can barely stand beside them.

"Yet whether they can truly be compared awaits Li Jun's duel with one of them."

As for Mo Xu, Third Order exists, but mostly elders; their potential to innovate new techniques and doctrines is exhausted, let alone leading a new wave.

"Among the youth, talent abounds, a few prodigies exist, but expecting them to break two orders in succession is pure nonsense."

"Moreover, Mo Xu remains divided, each clan cherishing its own sweepings; the chance of birthing a Mo Xu Second Order is slim."

"Actually, Old Song's words aren't without reason."

Han Yang broke the gloom first, speaking slowly: "The importance of Yellow Millet to Mo Xu needs no explanation; to abandon it thus is no different than having our hands and feet cut, our eyes gouged."

"Han Yang, you old softie, finally you've spoken a hardy word."

Song Mang's eyes lit: "Do you have any idea?"

"We must contend, but as I said before, the advantage is not ours; we must not rashly clash head‑on with the Eastern Emperor's Palace, we need long‑term planning, gradual progress!"

"Song Mang urged: 'Can't you stop being cryptic? We're all our own—what can't be said plainly?'"

"Elder Han."

The western elder Tao Tang mused: "You summoned us three other branches today—surely it's not just to discuss breaking the Eastern Emperor's Palace blockade on Yellow Millet?"

"Tao Tang, you're right; old me gathered you all today not solely for the Yellow Millet matter."

Han Yang, not hiding, smiled: "Rather, I wish to use this chance to discuss with you all how Mo Xu ought to overcome this present crisis!"

Tao Tang frowned: "Elder Han, you mean"

"Huddle for warmth, unite as one. Mo Xu shall merge, the four houses become one!"

Han Yang's words rang firm and strong, yet the assembly fell silent once more.

Even the hot‑tempered Song Mang was no exception; his thick, gray‑white brows knotted tight as he dragged a bottle from behind and gulped it down, glug‑glug.

"Mo Xu has been split for years; each branch migrated to the far corners—Old Fan, your southern institute lies beneath the old port sea; Song Mang, your northern institute rests on the Mongolian steppes; Tao Tang, your western institute dwells in the Western Regions Gobi, stretching across the empire's four borders. If we keep the status quo, any mishap will leave the others unable to rescue, their reach too short."

"Now the empire trembles in turmoil; Confucian, Daoist, and Yin‑Yang factions clash, the Zhu house stirs, ready to jump in at any moment—our time to hesitate is nearly gone."

Han Yang's visage solemn: "Thus, for Mo Xu to pass safely, merging and unifying is our only choice!"

Indeed, Han Yang's words are sound, truly the sole and best choice for Mo Xu now.

"But could Song Mang, Tao Tang, and Fan Xianjing not have thought of it?"

"Naturally not; each heads a branch, none are fools."

"Yet they indeed have not considered merging, for execution is fraught with difficulty and resistance."

"First, after merging, the four institutes must relocate, gathering personnel to a single site for joint defense; otherwise merging is pointless."

"This poses a grave problem: what must be abandoned, and where should the people concentrate?"

"Each is a long‑held nest; none would willingly relinquish the hard‑won land and populace, dragging family to live under another's roof."

"Second, how to handle the techniques and doctrines stored in each institute, and the research projects underway."

"These are more precious than life; after merging, should they be shared?"

"If not shared, internal grudges will fester; even without outside interference, the risk of renewed split remains."

"Moreover, thus the chief aim of merging—birthing a Mo Xu Second Order—would be but a flower in the mirror, a moon in the water."

"But if shared, how to gauge the extent? Exchange item by item, or throw open completely?"

"Though we are of the same order, after so long apart, hearts are divided; who can guarantee that in sharing, none will secretly hide a hand?"

"If these problems remain unsolved, the four institutes can never truly merge as one."

"Looking at each of your faces, I know what you're calculating—how boring."

Song Mang could bear the endless silence no longer; he flung up his empty bottle, spraying a mouthful of strong liquor.

"I'm blunt; I always speak straight, I hate hiding things."

Song Mang gazed at Han Yang: "As for the four institutes merging, from my personal view I agree. But old Han, you should know why Mo Xu split in the first place."

"It's simply because after the former Regulator died, Mo Xu had no one who could command obedience, hearts scattered, so each went their own way. Now Mo Xu still lacks a Second Order, the Regulator's seat remains vacant."

Song Ming turned, scanning the crowd: "So I ask one thing: if we merge, which branch shall take the lead?"

"Well asked—of course the eastern institute!"

A resonant, magnetic laugh suddenly rang out.

Shen Li pushed the door open and seated himself boldly in an empty chair.