Chapter 709: Lord and Servant, Master and Disciple

Chapter 709: Sovereign, Subject, Master, Disciple

Inside Jinling City, the fierce battle raged at its absolute zenith.

The bleak, murderous winter night was seared scalding hot by the residual flames of explosions, and the deafening roar of guns and artillery was interspersed with the rising and falling bellows of those on the brink of death.

In this battlefield, designated by imperial authority as a campaign to suppress rebellion, the Legal Sequence was in its element, haunting the ruins of the city like phantoms to track down lone rebels whose guilt was beyond pardon.

The Confucian Sequence of the aristocratic clans, left with absolutely no path of retreat, had likewise fought until their eyes turned blood-red, completely abandoning their wretched intentions of watching the fire from the opposite bank, casting aside their past stances and dignity to fight shoulder-to-shoulder with the Military Sequence, who had reclaimed their martial name; the grand, stately rites and music chimed in harmony with the humming of mechanical hearts, high-pitched and passionate.

The Political Strategists and Swan-Geese, once regarded as rats crossing the street, still hid in the shadows as before, exhausting their wits to instigate chaos and sparing no effort to preach death.

Existences above the Sequences were reduced to ants that could die at any moment, while beneath the Sequences, nothing remained but mountains of piled corpses and countless ghosts of the Yellow Millet.

Throughout the entire city of Jinling, not a single mortal remained at this moment.

And confronting this entire tide of enemies was only the Crimson Society, their robes dyed red with blood.

Boom!

Wang Xie’s figure flew out from the rolling gunpowder smoke, rolling forward the moment he hit the ground; the instant he bounced up, a glint of cold light was already in his hand, piercing through the chest of a Legal Sequence in front of him without mercy, completely tearing the heart to shreds.

Without needing to lift his eyes, he knew that everyone in all four directions was someone to be killed.

The persistence of the Political Strategist’s Royal Way and the judgment of the Great Ming Code clashed and countered each other in a realm invisible to the naked eye; both should have been abilities rooted in the common people, yet now they stood on opposite sides, turned into bitter rivals confronting each other point-blank.

Clang!

An embroidered spring blade severed a legal scale, its jagged, saw-like edge hacking into a shoulder and dragging open a hair-raising, bloody gash as it tore away.

The light of the blade spun ceaselessly, illuminating one murderous face after another in alternating flashes.

By the time the last enemy fell, the sparks of fire clinging to Wang Xie's body had only just been extinguished by the splashing blood.

"Hu..."

With severed limbs and broken arms carpeting the ground beneath his feet, Wang Xie finally gained a fleeting moment to catch his breath, looking up at the sky to exhale a mouthful of bloody, hot air.

Ever since he resolved to follow Pei Xingjian, he had joined the Crimson Society without a single shred of hesitation.

The various narrow escapes from death within it naturally went without saying; though perilous and fraught with hardships, Wang Xie’s mindset remained somewhat optimistic.

In his view, although the Crimson Society was at an absolute disadvantage in its confrontation with the imperial family and the Yellow Millet, and the situation was exceptionally grim, they could still barely maintain it as a whole, and it was not entirely impossible to snatch victory from the jaws of danger.

Yet in a mere, brief instant, what he saw as barely maintaining deteriorated into a comprehensive collapse.

It was only when the Crimson Society branches operating within the borders of Southern Zhili were thoroughly eradicated one after another that Wang Xie finally came to a sudden realization: their actions had been watched by others all along.

The previous stalemate was merely because the right moment had not yet arrived. Once it erupted, it was an irresistible, crushing slaughter.

"In the end, we still underestimated the other side."

Wang Xie sighed heavily and looked around; the sounds of slaughter drifting through the smoke were gradually growing weaker.

How to fight now? There was simply no way to fight!

The enemy was numerous while they were few; the disparity was too vast. The Crimson Society collapsed at the first touch, dispersing into various parts of the city to wage urban street warfare.

Under such circumstances, being able to break through the encirclement was already a blessing from Heaven, showing that one's life was not meant to end yet.

But having fought his way here, Wang Xie had received no orders to retreat, nor had he encountered a single member of the Crimson Society who fled without a fight.

It seemed that in this siege of Jinling, everyone who entered the field was someone determined to die.

"If I had known, I would have gone to Northern Zhili with that bastard He Cangjia to be a carefree proprietor. Wang Xie, oh Wang Xie, you really thought of yourself as a swallow before the hall, thinking you’d have a chance to fly into the homes of ordinary folk? Just an insignificant little character, yet you don't even know why you're risking your life."

Recalling He Cangjia’s resentful face at their parting—full of dismay at his failure to live up to expectations—and his endless, nagging curses, Wang Xie could not help but laugh out loud.

"But if I fucking hid, where the hell would a bastard like you hide, He Cangjia?"

Wiping the blood from his face with the back of his hand, Wang Xie took increasingly heavy steps, charging toward the nearest sound of commotion.

Since he was not dead yet, he could only keep on killing.

The Old Imperial City within Jinling had existed for over a thousand years, during which it had undergone multiple renovations and updates on its original foundation; its buildings were majestic, and its territory was vast.

Yet after the decline of the modern Zhu Ming imperial family, they no longer had the leisure to care for this place, and the Confucian Sequence officials holding nominal titles here similarly had no interest in managing it.

Desolate and ruined, a lingering breath of decay permeated everywhere.

Wang Xie sprinted along the long, dark corridor, dried bloodstains and rigid corpses visible everywhere beside him.

The clamor of human voices ahead already showed signs of settling down, indicating that his own side’s probability of survival was growing lower and lower.

Wang Xie pursed his dry lips, his running steps becoming more and more urgent.

At the end of the corridor, the towering palace doors resembled a starved, bloody, gaping maw, sitting and waiting for prey to throw itself into the trap.

Without the slightest hesitation, Wang Xie leaped forward like a swift arrow, crashing straight into the darkness of the hall.

Bang!

A violent gunshot exploded right beside his ear, but the power of the Political Strategist had already seized the opponent’s gun-wielding arm a step ahead, dragging the muzzle away.

A fiery bullet brushed past the side of Wang Xie’s face, carving another crimson line of blood across his scab-covered skin.

The blade flashed up and down, straightforwardly severing the opponent's arm; in the instant they crossed paths, Wang Xie’s left hand snatched the firearm falling along with the severed limb, pointing it behind him without turning his head, pulling the trigger all the way down.

Bang!

The rapid muzzle flash instantly illuminated a narrow area, and a headless corpse fell dejectedly to its knees.

The darkness that had just shown signs of settling became chaotic once more, as gunflames and blade lights rose and fell in alternation within the ancient hall.

The Six Arts, the Mechanical Heart, the Law, the Open and Close... intricate and complex Sequence abilities resembled a vast net, attempting to trap the rampaging Wang Xie.

Puchi!

The embroidered spring blade forcefully pried open the incomparably hard mechanical bone, piercing through that mechanical heart which had entered over-frequency.

With a face full of ferocity, Wang Xie twisted his wrist and turned the blade, causing the heavily scarred weapon to snap right then and there. Kicking away the Military Sequence who was still wailing in agony, Wang Xie spun around violently, throwing out a piercing chill of cold light with the remaining half-blade.

The figure behind him, who had intended to launch a sneak attack, froze in place; a horizontal line of blood slowly emerged across the center of his face, and the upper half of his skull gradually slid off, the cut as smooth as a mirror.

Boom!

The dying Military Sequence desperately ignited his mechanical heart, but the heart that had already been stabbed to pieces possessed no great power.

The aftermath of the explosion merely burst open the tightly closed doors and windows of the grand hall, allowing the long-waiting moonlight in the distance to finally find an opportunity to squeeze inside.

"Of the Jinyiwei hundreds I know, there really isn't a single one who isn't fierce."

A dry laugh rang out from a corner.

Yang Baize sat in a pool of blood, a long sword piercing through his abdomen, its tip already pinned into the ground.

Wang Xie looked down at the incessantly trembling broken blade in his hand, curled his lips helplessly, tossed it aside at random, and sat down with a thud beside Yang Baize.

"It's not that I want to lecture you, but you are at least Master Pei’s genuine last disciple. A child of a wealthy house does not sit beneath the eaves—you don't even understand such a simple truth?"

Listening to the other man’s words, which were full of complaints, a bitter smile squeezed onto Yang Baize's deathly pale face: "You're insulting me for holding you back."

"Is that not the case? If I had come a step later, you would be completely cold by now."

Wang Xie lay flat on his back, replying listlessly.

"I can't fight, but my luck is pretty good. Every time I'm about to die, I always happen to meet a benefactor who lends a hand."

"Then hurry up and think about it again—will there be another benefactor coming to save the two of us in a little while?"

"Are you finished?"

Wang Xie’s eyes remained tightly shut as he muttered a curse. "What do you think? I used to be a mere hundred-man commander, not a thousand-man commander."

"So, am I sending you off first, or are you sending me?"

Wang Xie cracked his eyes open a sliver, studying the serious expression on the young Scholar beside him.

"You really are a ruthless little bastard."

Yang Baize smiled. "We’re dead either way. Might as well leave with some dignity."

Wang Xie's tone turned surprised. "You're truly not afraid at all?"

"The first time I stood at the gates of hell, I was terrified. So terrified I fell to my knees and begged for mercy. But after going through it enough, you slowly stop caring."

Yang Baize spoke with absolute calm, yet Wang Xie knew exactly what the man had endured.

"Tying your head to your waistband every damn day... what kind of Scholar are you supposed to be?"

"Can't be helped. Who told the first person who spared my life to be a Martialist?"

Yang Baize's lips twitched as if he wanted to laugh aloud, but his utterly depleted body could only manage a deep, stifled groan.

"This debt of saving my life... I owe far too much of it. I probably won't get the chance to pay it back."

Yang Baize's voice turned grave. "Those clan Scholars are hell-bent on killing me. If you still have a breath left, get out of here."

The words had barely left his mouth when noise echoed from outside the hall once more.

Wang Xie bolted upward, trying to sit, but the next instant, blood erupted from his body like arrows, and he collapsed back down, powerless.

"Looks like I really can't leave now."

As a pool of blood spread beneath him, Wang Xie said, "The people you owe favors to aren't here right now, so you can settle mine first. Be decisive with the blade in a moment, don't act all hesitant and unsightly."

"Don't worry, killing my own is my specialty."

Yang Baize's tone was as light as a breeze. Reaching down, his hands gripped the sword blade skewering his abdomen and began pulling it out, inch by inch.

Wang Xie watched the scene in sheer astonishment, then burst into a helpless laugh.

As expected, anyone associated with that brat Li Jun wasn't entirely sane.

Nearby, the low hum of swords vibrated as the shouted curses outside reached the hall.

"Yang Baize," Wang Xie suddenly called out.

"Yeah?"

Wang Xie's gaze grew slightly unfocused. "What do you think it'll look like on the road ahead?"

"How should I know? But it should be pretty lively. After all, we know plenty of people down there."

"True enough."

Wang Xie smacked his lips. "It's just a pity I won't get to see Old Yan. That old man's temper was so stubborn; he'd rather go be some Lawkeeper than lose his dignity."

Like a hallucination born at the edge of death, a sharp, piercing screech rang in Wang Xie's ears.

The sound rushed closer from the distance, exploding overhead like a sonic boom in an instant.

Beside him, Yang Baize, who had been buried in the task of pulling the sword, froze instantly and abruptly snapped his head up.

Boom!

Amidst the swirling dust and smoke, a figure smashed through the roof of the hall, plunging down from the heavens.

Within the collapsing crater, the newcomer straightened his spine, his body clad in green armor, a tiger's head resting upon his shoulder.

"Shen Li? Well be damned, turns out there really are benefactors in this world."

The sudden, shocking turn of events made Wang Xie laugh in disbelief. Watching the one-sided slaughter unfolding outside the hall, his tightly strung mind suddenly relaxed. He could no longer resist the tidal wave of exhaustion crashing over him, and his eyes slowly drifted shut.

Squelch!

The longsword was ripped free from his body, and Yang Baize stood up unsteadily.

His gaze pierced through the shattered roof of the hall, looking toward the night sky that resembled a deep ocean. A colossal whale glided and circled above, the armor plating on its underbelly opening piece by piece as armored figures descended one after another.

Like a torrential downpour plunging into a citywide fire.

"Senior Brother, can you really hold out?"

Aboard the whale's head, Zhao Qingxia looked visibly worried, leaning down to ask.

"Even if I can't, I have to. The Mohist reputation can't just be carried by the Ghost-Revealers. Today, I'm going to prove that our lineage of craftsmen isn't a bunch of spineless cowards."

The voice sounded directly ahead as a projection materialized against the fierce gale of the high heavens.

With a wild mane of hair and a face covered in stubble, the already unexceptional-looking man appeared exceptionally disheveled, perfectly fitting the common outsider impression of a Mohist.

"How come everyone else can rattle off a whole grand speech when they're holding the line, but when it comes out of my mouth, it's just this dry sentence?"

The man raised a hand to scratch his head, muttering to himself, "Forget it, I really can't find anything else to say. This one line should be enough."

He looked up and saw Zhao Qingxia’s tense face, instantly laughing. "Why the long face, kid? Relax. Your Senior Brother has seen all kinds of grand storms; what's there to be nervous about in a small scene like this?"

"But if things go sideways in a moment, you absolutely cannot cling to your pride. If the wind blows too hard, you run. That's the rule of the underworld. If we can't prove it this time, we'll prove it next time. Don't hesitate for a single second."

The man who had just been racking his brain for grand words suddenly shifted his tone drastically.

"The old relics back home know your temper, so they specifically had me remind you that the burden on your shoulders right now isn't light. If anything happens to you, our Mohist faction will likely fall apart again, so you absolutely must stay safe."

"Also, they've already prepared to move. They're just waiting for you to return to the Mohist Academy, and then the entire clan can flee the Imperial mainland immediately."

Mo Qijing gave his meticulous instructions with tireless patience. "This sounds a bit disgraceful, but don't you dare look down on them. Living in shame is far harder than simply dying. If they hadn't shamelessly guarded this family estate, our Mohist faction would have been finished long ago."

Zhao Qingxia kept his head buried, remaining silent throughout.

"Alright, I'll stop nagging. Take this."

An object floated slowly into Zhao Qingxia's line of sight.

It was a miniature Kunpeng, barely the size of a palm. The craftsmanship was exceptionally clumsy, with a round head, a short body, and a pair of bare wings pressed against its back. It opened its mouth and stared, shaking its head back and forth at Zhao Qingxia.

Its childish appearance was clearly ridiculous enough to invite laughter, but Zhao Qingxia's gaze was locked onto the dense network of scars covering its back, unable to look away in the slightest.

"Laugh if you want to, what are you doing holding back until your eyes are red? Back then, when I hid it from Master and resolved to abandon my flesh to convert to a Mohist chassis, I secretly drank a bit of alcohol to bolster my courage. I ended up dead drunk. When I woke up, I discovered that I had already built the core at some point, and I had even molded it into this monstrous shape. I regretted it to death."

Mo Qijing said testily, "Fortunately, I don't usually have to bring this thing out. Otherwise, how would I keep face in the Mohist faction?"

"It's alright, not too ugly."

Zhao Qingxia wiped his face and finally looked up at him, a mischievous smile curling the corner of his lips.

"But... how do I remember Master saying that when you were a kid, the first gift he ever gave you was a model of a Kunpeng?"

"Don't listen to that old man's nonsense. He's got one foot in the grave, what could he possibly remember?"

Mo Qijing's old face flushed red, and he hurriedly waved his hand and turned away.

"Hold onto it tight. If I really can't hold out, detest it and blow it up. Don't you dare let your Senior Brother reduce into a Huangliang ghost."

Zhao Qingxia closed his palms, gripping the core tightly, and nodded heavily. "Understood."

"Good."

The projection turned to drifting sand, gradually dissipating in the howling wind.

Suddenly, the man looked back.

"By the way, how many days of craft points do I still owe you?"

Ang!

The giant whale let out a world-shaking roar of fury, and a continuous torrent of invisible sound waves rippled out under the night curtain, dispersing the Yellow Millet will that shrouded the entirety of Jinling.

Amidst the ruins of the city, countless figures froze in place, tyranny and madness gradually fading from the depths of their eyes.

These ordinary commoners, having regained their sanity, dared not linger for even a fraction of a moment, scrambling to flee out of the city.

"You owe far too much. Mo Qijing, if you cannot pay it back, you are not allowed to die."

Upon the back of the whale, Zhao Qingxia murmured to himself.

"To think they developed a technical method aimed specifically at the Yellow Millet rank so quickly; though it cannot be sustained for long, it is still rather interesting."

With just a single glance, Zhu Yiyan, clad in bright yellow dragon robes, averted his eyes and looked toward the majestic, ancient gate tower not far before him.

Every brick and every piece of wood bore the old appearance of the Great Ming from a thousand years ago, and beneath the gate tower, only a solitary figure stood tall upon a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood, holding the pass against all odds.

There could be no one else; it could only be him.

The Confucian Sequence, Zhang Siyuan.

Across the vast expanse of human figures, four eyes met.

Beneath the blood streaming across his face was a wild, arrogant sneer that did not lose an ounce of its bluster.

Zhang Siyuan carried his spear on his shoulder and raised his hand to point beneath his feet.

A single gesture eclipsed countless useless words.

"To be honest, We truly loathe you Confucian Sequences. The obedient ones are as cheap as ants, while the disobedient ones are as annoying as mosquitoes. With their mouths they speak of how those who understand the times are wise, yet behind one's back, there is always someone who, for the sake of so-called loyalty and righteousness, will perform disgusting acts that deceive the world and steal a hollow reputation."

Zhu Yiyan raised his hand and gave a casual wave, and the crowd crowding beneath his banner instantly surged forward like a torrential flood, charging fiercely toward the blocking pass.

Now possessing the Vertical and Horizontal rank, he was like an emperor personally leading an expedition; wherever the imperial decree pointed, countless people would throw themselves forward one after another, viewing death as a return home.

Amidst the sudden, roaring explosions, the gate tower that had stood tall through a thousand years of wind and rain collapsed entirely in the blink of an eye.

Individual strength appeared so pale and powerless at this moment, utterly minuscule; even a Confucian Sequence Three who was a master of 'Archery' was likewise insignificant.

Manipulating the universe, manipulating the vertical and horizontal.

The might of the Vertical and Horizontal Sequence was displayed to its absolute limit at this moment.

"However, We will not kill you. On the contrary, We will keep you well, taming you step by step into Our most loyal minister, to gather for Us all those who are still willing to follow your Zhang family, settling all troubles once and for all."

The Jiaqi Emperor, who had walked on thin ice since the day of his enthronement, finally tasted the wonderful flavor of the imperial power rank.

Zhu Yiyan's gaze was obsessed, and at this very instant, he completely forgot the terror and unease that had plagued his entire life like a mountain pressing down upon his body.

"The Teacher exhausted himself for Our Great Ming Empire throughout his life, accumulating countless merits; he should have received the posthumous title of 'Wenzheng' and had his name recorded in history. It is a pity that he became muddled for a time and forged a great mistake in his waning years. As his only son, it is precisely the right time for you to pick up his reputation of loyalty for the old gentleman. Within Our divine dynasty, there will always be a place for your Zhang family."

Trapped within the heavy siege, Zhang Siyuan was powerless to break free, able only to watch helplessly as Zhu Yiyan stepped into the air, walking past above his head step by step, before his vision was completely submerged by countless figures who feared not death.

The thousand-year silence locked away by heavy palace gates was completely shattered tonight.

The puppets of the vertical and horizontal bore the throne of imperial power, arriving once more at this imperial city.

"Pei Xingjian, are you here to seek death as well?"

The scene he had dreamed of for many years was already within arm's reach, causing Zhu Yiyan's patience to erode rapidly until next to nothing remained.

"There is no reason to let the teacher walk ahead of the student."

The white-haired old man blocked the path ahead, and the Confucian Sequences behind him were every one of them dressed in blood-dyed crimson robes, showing not the slightest fear of the enemy before them who outnumbered them by thousands and tens of thousands of times.

"Zhang Siyuan's archery can kill a hundred men. How many can your ritual arts kill? Ten men, or fifty? And how many men are under Our command?"

Pei Xingjian, who had once laughed, cursed, and acted willfully, was now expressionless, speaking only calmly.

"Though thousands and tens of thousands oppose me, I shall go forward."

"Thousands and tens of thousands are likewise within the palm of Our hand; you have no road to go!"

Zhu Yiyan's expression was contemptuous, and with a flick of his sleeve, the puppets beneath his feet surged silently forward, swallowing the crimson figures ahead one by one.

His gradually exciting genes urged Zhu Yiyan with all their might not to linger any longer, but to take the final step to complete the ritual.

His hurried footsteps stepped across the moonlight, and this time, no more annoying ants came out to block the way.

In the Wenyuan Pavilion of the old imperial city, Zhu Yiyan finally saw that figure he had thought of day and night.

Beneath a withered tree stripped of all its leaves and branches, the old man sat in a chair, his head lowered, appearing to have already fallen into a deep sleep.

Following the movements he had conceived countless times in his dreams, Zhu Yiyan adjusted his robes and straightened his crown, bowing respectfully to the old man with a reverent expression.

"Teacher, I have come."

Compared to high-handed cursing and ridicule, and wantonly venting his years of fear, at this moment Zhu Yiyan preferred to complete this grand ritual of ascending to the Lord of Ten Thousand Frontiers of the Vertical and Horizontal Sequence Two in the capacity of a disciple.

Arrogant but not overbearing; in Zhu Yiyan's view, this was the bearing that a monarch about to establish a divine dynasty ought to have.

It was also the final respect he left for this former imperial preceptor.

The intersecting and tangled branches tore the moonlight apart, scattering it gently upon Zhang Fengyue, whose slowly lifting eyelids revealed a pair of eyes filled with the vicissitudes of time.

Yet the moment their gazes met, the young emperor forgot all his previous intentions and plans, unable to control the excitement in his heart and the smile on his face any longer.

"Zhang Fengyue, how did you grow old into such a state?"

Zhu Yiyan was like a gambler who had seen through his opponent's hidden cards, holding the victory in hand and finally able to turn the tables, his speech rapid and carrying an irrepressible tremor.

"Because you have lost, lost cleanly and utterly, a complete and total defeat!"

Zhu Yiyan asked and answered himself: "The Confucian Sequence rank that you worked so hard to establish is now entirely held in Our hands. This is still the Zhu family's Great Ming; you cannot change even a fraction of a hair!"

"Do you truly understand?"

The old man's gaze was still filled with scrutiny as it had been in the past, and that tone of a strict teacher questioning an inferior disciple caused Zhu Yiyan to instantly fly into a furious rage. "We do not understand?"

Zhu Yiyan's expression turned suddenly ferocious, and a cold killing intent poured out and swept through, yet at the very instant the vertical and horizontal power was about to control the old man to pluck off his head, it was forcefully suppressed by him.

To kill Zhang Fengyue simply like this was no longer enough to make him feel gratified.

Zhu Yiyan wanted to tear open the other's feigned composure with his own hands, to witness the despair of this national traitor with his own eyes.

"You implemented the new policies to break through the shackles, to completely shatter the population base of the two capitals and thirteen provinces that had been consolidated for over a hundred years, to let the sequence genes begin to flow and blend once more, and to give other sequences that had nearly lost their footing a chance to sprout anew."

"You left the imperial city to stir up chaos. On the surface, it was to repay the kindness of the royal family, so you took the initiative to yield North Zhili, giving Us a chance to make a choice. In truth, you knew perfectly well that We would never be willing to sit still and wait for death, giving up the Great Ming empire for nothing, and so We would surely let go and fight you to the death. You wanted to use a chaotic world of precarious existence and the threat of death to force those ants to madly chase the power of the sequences for self-preservation."

"You plotted against the Dao Sequence to kill the chicken to warn the monkey, so that after witnessing Zhang Xiji's death and dissolution with Our own eyes, We would be terrified and anxious, taking the initiative to join forces with that Yellow Millet ghost Zhan Shun, ceding the Yellow Millet authority to unlock his chains in order to seek a counterweight for self-preservation."

"You laid a piece on the Yellow Millet to accelerate the transformation. You knew deeply of the Yellow Millet will's desire for the mortal world, so you deliberately lured it to establish the Yellow Millet rank, prompting the emergence of a transformation in new technical methods, so that linking to the Yellow Millet no longer required any medium, further lowering the difficulty of breaking the sequence."

"You established the Red Society to awaken resistance, gathering and spreading the rituals of the various sequences to completely tear down the threshold of the sequences, so that there would no longer be any talk of a 'Dragon Gate' in this world, and so that those ants would no longer fear the majesty of the empire and would birth the courage to resist the empire."

"You told the entire world that you wanted to completely eradicate all sequences, but in truth, this was nothing more than a towering lie you cast!"

Zhu Yiyan shouted aloud: "From beginning to end, what you sought was for every single person to enter the sequence, for every single person to be like a dragon!"

"This is the true severing of heaven and earth that you, Zhang Fengyue, truly want!"