Chapter 712: The Path of Sequence (2)

Chapter 712: The Path of Sequences (II)

Boom!

The majestic mountain gate symbolizing the Daoist Ancestral Courtyard was utterly shattered by thunderfire falling from the heavens.

The blaze that had consumed the mountaintop Daoist temples finally ran out of fuel, snuffed out by a biting cold wind, revealing the bluish‑green slopes.

The sudden eruption of azure true qi surged like a torrent, sweeping away the black fanaticism that blanketed the hills.

Drip‑drip!

Scarlet blood trickled down the armor, instantly pooling into a spreading crimson lake at his feet.

Beneath the battered true‑qi apparition pummeled by rain‑like thunder, Chen Qisheng’s head drooped, his sword’s glow dimmed, cracks spiderwebbing across it.

Above the heavens, Zhang Xiji’s fierce, manic features gradually lit with excited delight.

“The Dragon and Tiger are gone; you Wudang must come to be buried with them—everyone will die!”

Zhang Xiji raised his hand and pressed down; another seal‑law thunderclap crashed down.

Rumble!

The shattered apparition let out a reluctant howl, dissolving completely in the lightning.

Zhang Xiji’s Huangliang seal‑law continued unabated, as if he meant to cleave Chen Qisheng dead in one breath.

A blinding white light gathered above his head, yet Chen Qisheng, standing in the blood‑pool, showed no reaction, as if all consciousness had fled.

At the critical moment, the scarred black armor detached on its own, sword in hand, soaring skyward.

The thunder‑pillar, thick as a water barrel, slammed head‑on into the long spear; the already frail armor could hold no longer, shattering instantly under the lightning’s impact.

Fragments of the black armor flew sideways; a piece no larger than a fingertip—the core of the armor—fell from the sky and was gently caught in an outstretched palm.

“Chen Qisheng, even if you rise from a tempered novice to the elder Dao Sequence Three, you cannot escape this life’s miserable fate.”

As the battle’s outcome became clear, Shi Qing’s figure finally appeared in the illusion.

As the standard‑bearer of this “position‑enterprise,” he merely lifted a hand toward the sky; the frenzied Zhang Xiji was instantly bound by invisible shackles, and his gathered Huangliang seal‑law dissipated.

At the same moment, a domineering vertical‑horizontal force invaded Chen Qisheng’s body; his outstretched right hand grew uncontrollable, fingers curling one by one, as if to crush the long spear’s black‑armor core.

“The faith‑bound sequence binds itself with fate’s cocoon, yet the vertical‑horizontal sequence is born to shatter destiny. Destroy this armor, and take it as your token of allegiance; I will grant you another chance to surrender.”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than a surge of blood‑red flooded Shi Qing’s vision.

Pfft!

Chen Qisheng’s left hand, fingers pressed together like a blade, cleanly severed the right hand that the vertical‑horizontal force had controlled, at the wrist.

The hovering Zhang Xiji erupted in a furious low growl, like a beast robbed of its prey.

“Blabbermouth!”

Chen Qisheng’s obstinacy made Shi Qing’s brows knit, anger flaring; he swept his sleeve, and a thick, viscous black zealotry surged forth from the void once more.

Part of it coalesced into slender black whips, lashing at the restless Zhang Xiji.

The rest rushed toward Chen Qisheng, engulfing his form entirely, emitting a continual hiss of corroding flesh.

Shi Qing spoke coldly: “No matter how you struggle, at most you’ll make me expend a little extra effort; you cannot change your end—you will inevitably join this vertical‑horizontal position‑enterprise that sweeps the world. Not only you, but all the enlightened alike cannot escape.”

“The mighty tide flows; those who follow prosper, those who resist perish. Voluntary allegiance is your only choice. Otherwise, once the Sovereign fully masters the Huangliang position‑enterprise, you’ll become the next Zhang Xiji!”

“You speak ceaselessly of the tide, yet every word clings to position‑enterprise. You claim the vertical‑horizontal sequence seeks to break fate—yet isn’t it precisely your own sequence that has written the chains binding every enlightened soul?”

A voice, utterly weary, suddenly rose from the surging zealotry.

“What does any of this have to do with me, the Daoist? You want me to bow and accept fate? Impossible.”

Shi Qing snorted coldly, about to speak, when suddenly a flash of azure brilliance leapt from the black zealotry.

Crack!

The sound of shattering rose and fell; the ever more ferocious true qi dispersed the zealotry, and Chen Qisheng’s exposed skin resembled cracked porcelain, the spinning elixir of the Dao foundation emitting a piercing shriek that burst from every fissure in his body.

A wave of intense fear instantly enveloped Shi Qing; his pupils contracted, and in an instant he understood what Chen Qisheng intended.

He meant to self‑destruct!

Though he had anticipated this possibility, facing it head‑on still made Shi Qing shudder at Chen Qisheng’s resolve and ruthlessness.

There remained a hint of bewilderment and irritation.

Why do some always overreach, foolishly trying to block the tide, like a mantis halting a chariot or a moth flying into flame?

Without hesitation, Shi Qing withdrew and flew back, simultaneously releasing the bonds on Zhang Xiji, using his authority as standard‑bearer to drive him toward Chen Qisheng.

The zealotry stored within the Huangliang also poured forth without reserve at this moment.

But the next instant, Shi Qing’s countenance shifted dramatically.

He saw the zealotry of the Dao sequence pouring out, not docile as before, obedient as a hand to finger, but instead gathering of its own accord like a sentient intelligence, forming a black mire around him that trapped him fast.

“Zhan Shun?!”

No thought needed; Shi Qing guessed the mastermind behind all this.

Zhan Shun had turned traitor; Shi Qing was not surprised.

For everyone harbors ulterior motives, hides knives behind their backs. Yet he never expected this Huangliang specter to strike first, ahead of them.

“Your Majesty!”

Shi Qing cried out in his heart, but his vision suddenly collided with a ferocious, hideous visage.

Bang!

Caught within the position‑enterprise’s vertical‑horizontal struggle, Zhang Xiji—who ought to have become a puppet—smashed Shi Qing’s skull with a single fist.

The mangled corpse was gulped down by the zealotry, chewed into a pallid scatter of bone.

Zhang Xiji slowly turned to face Chen Qisheng, his pupils still swirling with deep darkness, no trace of white.

Yet in Chen Qisheng’s eyes, it was clear that this Zhang Xiji was utterly unlike before.

“You’re not dead?”

Chen Qisheng’s body blazed with fierce azure light, harsh cries ringing, the golden elixir spinning in his abdomen unable to cease.

“When the body perishes and the Dao vanishes, leaving no corpse—yet even so, many still think the Heavenly Master died too simply.”

Zhang Xiji self‑mocked: “Zhu Yiyan, Zhan Shun, Zhang Fengyue—the Heavenly Master himself merged with Huangliang to preserve life, never imagining it would hand others a lever, so that even death brings no peace.”

Chen Qisheng remained silent, gritting his teeth against soul‑rending agony, and took a step toward Zhang Xiji.

“In your present state, do you still wish to contend with the Heavenly Master?”

Zhang Xiji gave a contemptuous smile, flicked his sleeve, and saw a vast tide of zealotry surge forward, drilling into Chen Qisheng’s every crack, devouring the true qi he had expended with his life, draining the last spark of his Dao‑foundation elixir.

At the same time, it seemed to stitch together Chen Qisheng’s body, which was on the verge of falling apart.

“What does that mean?”

“Shi Qing did not deceive you; the vertical‑horizontal sequence now holds the position‑enterprise. Join them, and you will not only survive—you may yet rebuild the Wudang position‑enterprise and thereby break into Dao Sequence Two.”

Zhang Xiji asked: “Why did you not surrender just now?”

"What is an status of sovereign authority?" Chen Qisheng asked in return, offering no direct answer.

"The realm, the hearts of the people, the legacy of the ancestors, the imperial power, the divine mandate, and the orthodoxy of the sect."

Zhang Xiji replied without a moment's hesitation, yet beneath the unwavering gaze of the young Daoist, his voice gradually withered into nothingness, and his lips sealed shut.

A low, rumbling thunder shook the earth.

Behind Chen Qisheng, the battered and broken Mount Wudang had finally reached its end. Incapable of standing any longer, it collapsed amidst a roaring din that resonated between heaven and earth.

"Wudang has no need for reconstruction, and a status of sovereign authority is not something the Daoist Order should ever pursue."

The illusionary realm began to falter, and a biting blizzard came pouring inside.

"Only false gods require the recognition of outsiders; a true immortal never does."

Zhang Xiji remained silent for a long time, then suddenly threw his head back and erupted into a fit of wild laughter.

"I, the Celestial Master, have spent my entire life bleeding for the Daoist Order, walking a path fraught with hardships. If I am inferior to that Zhang Fengyue, so be it! But now, even a modified Daoist novice born within my own sect dares to lecture me to my face with such grandiose words! How utterly laughable!"

"Chen Qisheng, who do you think you are?!"

The old Daoist's tone abruptly turned vicious. His figure blurred as he brought his fingers together like a blade, thrusting them directly toward the space between Chen Qisheng's brows.

"Since you refuse to enter the realm of strategists alive, then die and enter the Yellow Millet Dream to keep this poor Daoist company!"

Thud!

The finger-blade struck hard between the brows, and within Chen Qisheng's mind, the resonant tolls of a great bell echoed repeatedly.

The poisonous fanaticism that had saturated his body and occupied his limbs and torso melted away rapidly under the chimes, like remnant snow exposed to a blazing sun.

Vanishing along with it were Chen Qisheng's fatal and grievous injuries.

"Hmph!"

An exceedingly annoyed grunt echoed from the void, and an even vaster wave of fanaticism surged forth from the omnipresent Yellow Millet Dream.

A tide of black light blotted out the sky, faintly threatening to coalesce into a human face.

"Stop crying! I, the Celestial Master, am already dead! Who are you still placing your faith in?!"

Zhang Xiji's words seemed to carry the weight of an absolute decree. The moment his voice fell, countless piercing wails and laments erupted from the black tide, as though within the Yellow Millet Dream, millions of followers of the new-school Daoist Order were falling to their knees in bitter weeping.

The Daoist parted his fingers, clawing Chen Qisheng's head, and flung him away with a whip of his arm.

"Zhan Shun, what kind of creature do you think you are to try and control me, Zhang Xiji?"

The man who was once the source of the Daoist Order turned to look at Chen Qisheng. The darkness in his eyes gradually receded, leaving behind a deep, meaningful gaze.

"Do not harbor idle illusions. I do not believe I was wrong, nor will I ever reconcile with you stagnant, stubborn traditionalists. If you had surrendered today, I would never have spared you, a remnant of Wudang. Rather than letting the Daoist Order become someone else's lapdog, I would rather sever this sequence with my own hands."

The fanaticism, shattered into fireflies, flickered out bit by bit, and Zhang Xiji's figure faded at a rapid pace.

"Zhang Fengyue, you scheming old bastard! You actually played me for a fool. What profound calculation indeed! If the world you envisioned truly comes to pass, then in the next life, this poor Daoist will duel you once more!"

Heroic laughter echoed across the vast, icy expanse.

Chen Qisheng fell backward onto the ground, gazing up at the moon that had quietly revealed a corner of itself in the night sky.

"Whether slaughtering countless lives or possessing a benevolent heart, those who wish to defy heaven and attain the Dao never experience sudden repentance..."

The young Daoist murmured to himself: "There is only an arrogant pride that looks down on all else."

"Hmph!"

Zhu Yiyan suddenly snorted in cold disdain, his face darkening visibly.

"To think you actually left a hidden hand within Zhang Xiji. Did you know all along that Zhan Shun would be able to replicate him from the Yellow Millet Dream?"

"I did not know."

Zhang Fengyue replied calmly, but to Zhu Yiyan's ears, it sounded like unadulterated mockery.

"Stop putting on an act! To bring about the balance you desire, you would actually lower yourself to collude with a Yellow Millet ghost like Zhan Shun! Zhang Fengyue, I truly underestimated your despicableness and shamelessness."

Zhu Yiyan's eyes were cold as ice as he said harshly: "But do you think the death of one Shi Qing will make me concede defeat and compromise with you? Wishful thinking! I tell you, before the great trend of sovereign authority, your mathematical arts are utterly fragile!"

The old man sighed softly without making a sound and offered no further reply. His gaze drifted past the contorted expression of the Jiaqi Emperor, looking toward the distant figure that loomed as massive as a mountain.

With every gesture of that entity, the entire city of Jinling trembled in terror.

Even at such a great distance, the blast of air sweeping over was still fierce, causing the withered tree behind the old man to rustle and shake violently.

"What I am best at has never been the mathematical arts."

"Zhang Fengyue..."

Amidst the torrential downpour of Chengdu Prefecture, Zhan Shun stood suspended in mid-air, his face twisted with venomous malice as he looked far toward the northwest.

Zhang Xiji was a crucial chess piece he had stolen from Zhu Yiyan's hands, and likewise the most powerful Yellow Millet ghost he had ever controlled.

In his plan, after killing Shi Qing, Zhang Xiji was supposed to use the fanaticism to capture Chen Qisheng, serving as a trump card to seize authority and threaten Li Jun.

Yet he had never anticipated that Zhang Xiji, whose very essence had clearly been reduced to a Yellow Millet ghost, would suddenly develop self-awareness at the final moment, choosing to obliterate his own existence just to resist the will of the Yellow Millet.

Without a doubt, this was absolutely a trap that Zhang Fengyue had set long ago.

It might even be a pit that he and Zhu Yiyan had dug together for him.

At this thought, the clouds in Zhan Shun's mind parted, and everything became crystal clear.

Zhang Xiji, who had once 'merged with the Yellow Millet,' had left behind many special believers across the various grotto-heavens of the new-school Daoist Order for the purpose of his resurrection. These believers lived within dreams structured after Zhang Xiji's personal experiences.

These believers, who also held the identity of the 'Celestial Master,' were identical to Zhang Xiji in every way except for their lack of a sequence rank, making them excellent vessels for possession.

Therefore, after instigating Zhang Xiji to intercept and kill Zhang Fengyue, Zhan Shun had staked out these grotto-heavens for a long time, merely waiting for him to walk into the net.

Although in the end, contrary to Zhan Shun's expectations, Zhang Xiji chose to forgo the chance of resurrection through possession, letting his original body dissipate into nothingness.

Nevertheless, all of these 'anchors' had still fallen entirely into Zhan Shun's hands.

And at that very moment, Zhu Yiyan had opportunely delivered the technical methods used by the new-school Daoist Order to manipulate fanaticism, granting Zhan Shun the capability to create a new 'Zhang Xiji.'

Now, the countless Yellow Millet ghosts he had meticulously nurtured had all suffered a collapse of faith due to Zhang Xiji's suicide, dying within various dreamscapes.

The entire Yellow Millet sovereign authority had been severely damaged as a result.

Reflecting on all these 'accidents' and 'coincidences' only made Zhan Shun more certain that he had been deceived.

Whoosh.

A violent wind suddenly whipped up behind him. His heart burning with rage, Zhan Shun turned and whipped out a leg, sending the approaching figure flying with a direct kick.

Thud!

Zou Sijiu's recoiling figure stretched into a blurry straight line, crashing heavily into a tall building.

Just as the dust and smoke threatened to rise, they were immediately beaten down by the dense rain.

Zou Sijiu pushed away the rubble weighing on him and sat up, looking at the figure in mid-air with an unvarnished, mocking smile upon his face.

"Hey, Zhan, do you feel like you've been played? Do you feel terribly wronged?"