Chapter 678: Kowtow and Offer Incense

Chapter 678: Clash of Hearts and Scents

“First, I killed Zhang Fengyue!”

The cold words of the sage echoed through the shadowy depths of this dark and chaotic sea, as if an endless chill spread across the waters, coating the entire expanse in a thin layer of ice.

The monk’s eyes drooped slightly, standing motionless.

“Jian Shou, you’re still so greedy.”

After some time, Zhang Xi’s voice emerged from the depths of his mouth, a smirk playing on his lips: “Your appetite can handle this peak, but don’t think you can push through without breaking. You’ll end up with a stomach full of trouble, struggling to stay alive.”

“If it were just the Jade Emperor’s palace, you could handle it. But if you could even dream of having the Dragon and Tiger devour it all, well… let’s not waste time.”

“Jian Shou, why did the Master help you today?”

“Not to help you, but to help the Heavenly Master himself.”

“Even the blood in the Dao Cave hasn’t dried up yet, and the ghosts of the Dragon and Tiger still scream in my ears. It’s a curse.”

Zhang Xi laughed coldly, his eyes narrowing. “If you’re so sure about this, then why do you think the three portions of the Jade Emperor’s authority are so important to you compared to Zhang Fengyue?”

Jian Shou frowned, his expression unreadable. “It’s not about you. It’s about the fate that awaits us all. The Master’s will is clear: if you want to see the true meaning of yin and yang, you must understand what I’m asking.”

Jian Shou, seemingly confused, furrowed his brow. “What does the Master mean by that?”

“You should know better than to challenge the will of the Dao. You’re just another pawn in a game you don’t understand.”

Zhang Xi’s voice sharpened, the air around him crackling with tension. “Then prove it. Show me what you’re capable of, or I’ll make sure you learn your lesson the hard way.”

With a sudden burst of force, the icy surface shattered, waves crashing against the shore. Jian Shou wiped the cold water from his face, his demeanor shifting from anger to a calm, unyielding gaze.

“You think you can outwit me? You’re just a pawn in my hands. The fate of this world depends on whether you follow the path I’ve laid out.”

The sea roared, a storm gathering. The waves surged, and the sky darkened with the promise of chaos.

Jian Shou’s eyes hardened. “Then let’s see how you handle the storm.”

The mist-shrouded depths carried the man’s cursing voices, drawing Chen Qisheng’s gaze downward.

Boom!

A colossal stone, trailing fiery tails, hurtled into the fog, its violent impact parting the mist to reveal a fleeting, indistinct figure.

The shadow stirred, as if lifting an arm, lightly waving a hand.

A surge of brutal gales slammed against the stone’s impact, the fog billowing wildly, dissipating without resistance.

Li Jun stood bare-chested, his muscular form heaving like armor, veins standing out sharply. In his right hand, he clutched a shattered skull, his palm streaked with blue veins, fingers dug deep into the flesh.

A crimson eye glowed at his brow, his jet-black hair whipping in the wind, his imposing frame radiating ferocious energy, his internal organs churned like a dragon’s roar. Blood surged, howling like a tempest.

His aura was overbearing, divine and demonic.

Plop.

The broken skull hit the ground, crushed beneath a descending foot.

Li Jun exhaled a mouthful of bloody vapor, arms spread wide, fingers curled tight.

A dozen li around erupted in sharp, resounding cracks.

Scattered shards of armor, as if drawn by magnetism, flew like black arcs from all sides.

The fragments coalesced along his body, cloaking his chest and head.

“Time to bring out the capital and challenge them!” Li Jun’s form materialized anew, gazing down at the falling Chen Qisheng.

“Last time I came here, I promised to trample his Dragon-Hu Mountain—but failed. Now I feel rather exposed.”

Li Jun’s grin widened. “You’ll have to help me salvage that face.”

Chen Qisheng nodded silently, his lips parting to utter two words.

“Don’t die.”

“We’re all iron-blooded brothers; whoever dares sever our necks must shatter his tusks first.”

Li Jun advanced, hand gripping Chen’s shoulder. “Remember this: ask Grandfather Sun to offer incense to the Taoist elder. Tell him it’s Li Jun, the martial hero of Great Ming, kneeling to pay respects.”

Great Ming martial order, Taoist elder.

Chen Qisheng’s eyes flickered, his heart a tumult of emotions. Yet he revealed nothing, storing every word in his heart.

“I serve the Taoist elder. Forgive me.”

No need for more words—such a reply sufficed.

Crimson lightning erupted, chasing the fading starlight.

Azure true qi spread, rendering the figures in the distance motionless.

“Senior brothers.”

Chen Qisheng raised his head in a long laugh, stepping his sword southward.

“Follow me to slaughter the Dragon-Hu clan!”

The towering palace city pierced the heavens.

Deep within the inner halls, the Heavenly Temple.

Emperor Jiaqi held three sticks of incense, his posture rigid, fragrant smoke brushing his face—but his eyes, sharp as blades, remained unclouded.

Countless tablets lined the walls, stacked like mountains, nearly touching the ten-foot eaves.

Over a hundred figures in bright yellow robes hovered before their tablets, mere shadows of their former selves, staring down at their descendants with cold indifference.

“Ancestors above, the realm lies in ruins, mountains and rivers in decay. Mad scholars run rampant, while foolish sectarians incite chaos. The realm is in turmoil. Prince Yu Yan, unworthy to tread the Heavenly Temple, has borne the burden of inheritance, walking a tightrope since day one. Though he has endured hardships, he has failed to restore the Ming. Yu Yan, ashamed.”

The cold words echoed in the vast hall.

Though each word confessed guilt, Yu Yan’s face showed no trace of shame.

“But!”

The single word fell like a thunderclap.

“Yu Yan has disturbed the ancestors not to complain of his own suffering, nor to admit the Ming’s impending doom. Rather, I warn the ancestors: the Great Ming shall rise anew from this day forward!”

“Zhang Fengyue, Zhang Xige, Zhan Shun, Li Jun—these four are the scourges of the realm.”

“The Dao Order, Zhang Xige: he slays his son, devours disciples, perverts the Tao, and tears apart the state. He has entangled himself in celestial grottoes, a rare breed of demon, and must die!”

“The Yin-Yang Order, Zhan Shun: he compares mortal hearts to heaven’s heart, steals heaven’s will with mortal wit, usurps the throne with hollow spirits, and trades the mortal realm for illusions. A rare breed of villain, and must die!”

“The Wu Order, Li Jun: he acts without restraint, unleashes violence with sword, murders royal princes and loyal ministers. His crimes are legion, a chronicle of infamy. A rare breed of villain, and must die!”

“The Ru Order, Zhang Fengyue…”

Yu Yan’s countenance grew heavy as he spoke the final name.

“Zhang Fengyue does not act for his ruler, but for his family; not for the people, but for the state. He is innocent, yet must die!”

“In the thirteenth year of Jiaqi, I, Yu Yan, declare to the ancestors: with Hongzu’s ferocious ambition, I will spill ten million gallons of blood, behead a million souls, exterminate the four villains, and establish the Great Ming’s eternal divine dynasty!”

As the words resounded, Yu Yan turned from the incense, facing a crimson figure standing behind him—High Sheng, some fifty years old, his beard and hair black, his prime years upon him.

“You’ve been my teacher for days. You have the right to repeat these words to the ancestors.”

Yu Yan handed High Sheng the incense. “Tell them: whether sun or moon, mountains or rivers, are all territories of the Great Ming, unchanging for eternity.”

High Sheng, barely conscious, gazed at him. “Your Majesty, your answer is written wrong.”

Yu Yan halted, “Is it right or wrong? I decide. The Master has no chance to judge.”

“Wrong is wrong.”

The moment the words fell, High Sheng’s clarity vanished, his body rebelling against restraint, he hurled himself to the ground.

“Ancestors above… the realm lies in ruins… mad scholars run rampant…”

A towering yellow-robed figure loomed above, gazing at the kneeling scholar.

The words repeated endlessly, from resounding to faint, from thick to hoarse.

The incense, nearly burned out, finally crashed to the ground, scattering sparks.

“Spill ten million gallons of blood… behead a million souls…”

High Sheng’s face pressed against the icy flagstones, his blurred vision following the crimson flow.

The dying flames flickered and winked out, one by one.

"Zhu Jia. Zhu Jia cannot endure."