Chapter 720: Extra 4: Directing the Spearhead

Chapter720, Extra Four: The Spearhead Points Directly

“Master Ma, please elaborate in detail.”

Zhang Siyuan's voice was urgent; although he had only recently completely shifted from the Confucian 'official career' to the 'academy' lineage, he was still merely a Third Order Mountain Chief, far from reaching the Second Order Sage, let alone pursuing the First Order Longevity.

But 'longevity' has always been a dark cloud hanging over the heads of all Ming earth order-followers, especially after the Zhu family, this 'originator of chaos,' was overthrown, making the quest for truth even more difficult.

Originally, after his father's death, Zhang Siyuan had given up hope on this matter; his inquiry just now was merely a passing whim.

Yet what surprised Zhang Siyuan was that Master Ma actually held clues about 'longevity,' which stirred his heart.

After all, 'seeking knowledge' and 'resolving doubts' are the core focus for advancement in the academy lineage; if we could start from this point, perhaps he truly stood a chance to rise to Second Order Confucian.

“I have no solid evidence; I am merely speculating based on the news Old Li brought back.”

Master Ma's brows furrowed slightly, as if organizing his thoughts.

Meanwhile, Lin Jinjiang, who could not interject, had sharp eyes and quickly filled his empty cup.

“As I understand it, the lifespan limitation of order-followers has existed for a long time, traceable even to the reign of the Yi Zong Emperor; when he established the ranks, he may have already begun laying out this scheme.”

Master Ma spoke slowly: “The Zhu family, wielding vertical and horizontal power, achieved imperial revival in chaotic times, and naturally they understood how great a threat the various orders posed to their rule. Emperor Chongzhen could suppress the myriad sects of Ming earth, but that does not guarantee his descendants possess the same ability. To secure the stability of the empire's rivers and mountains, he had no choice but to devise ways to weaken the other families.”

“The source of Ming earth orders' power lies in the bloodline; to suppress and weaken it, one must necessarily act upon the bloodline, and this is precisely where the vertical and horizontal order excels—or, more accurately, all orders capable of establishing a 'position and enterprise' are adept at this, including the Confucian order.”

Having said that, Master Ma gave Zhang Siyuan a meaningful glance.

“Master Ma, you should know what kind of person I, Zhang Siyuan, am.”

The current chief of the new Donglin Academy laughed: “I have no interest whatsoever in 'position and enterprise' that rides atop others' heads.”

“I certainly know that; otherwise I would not have told you this information.”

Master Ma continued: “To act upon bloodline genes, the best method is to start from the hundreds of millions of ordinary commoners. Thus, beginning with the Yi Zong Emperor, the Zhu family, through vertical and horizontal position and enterprise, implanted a certain shackle into their bloodline genes, gradually strengthening it across generations.”

“The Zhu family are clever; they know that if their deeds were discovered, the whole dynasty would instantly become a target for all. Hence the formation of this shackle was extremely slow, spanning a vast stretch of time; by the time other orders reacted, it was already too late, and lifespans had been suppressed to barely differ from those of ordinary folk.”

“I believe that in the deliberately erased history, each order must have staged some resistance; otherwise the Zhu emperors would not have ended up short-lived like us.”

Master Ma sighed: “Nevertheless, looking at the final outcome, it seems the Zhu family ultimately prevailed. I even suspect that the decline of the names, miscellaneous, and agricultural orders may be linked to this matter.”

After hearing this, Zhang Siyuan remained composed, but Lin Jinjiang could not suppress his palpitations and shock.

In his view, this was a thousand‑year‑spanning, earth‑shaking conspiracy, with dozens of Zhu emperors taking turns to push it forward, and all the beings of Ming earth were calculated into it.

Vast amounts of history were altered and concealed; constant clashes erupted among the orders, the population base was established, and the yellow‑rain dreams appeared.

Everything that seemed unrelated now appeared to have traces, a black hand pulling the strings behind the scenes.

“Doesn’t it feel unbelievable, a chill down your back?”

Master Ma seemed to hear Lin Jinjiang’s deafening gasp of shock and handed him his wine cup.

“When I saw this news, I too felt a chill run down my spine, yet I also felt fortunate that our group encountered Old Master Zhang and managed to escape under his guidance.”

Master Ma then picked up two wine cups from the table, handing one to the silently Zhang Siyuan.

“A toast to Old Master Zhang.”

“A toast to the peaks of the human world.”

“A toast”

Zhang Siyuan lowered his eyes, his lips trembling slightly, his voice so faint that nobody could make out what he said.

The wine cups were raised together, but not toward their lips; instead they were tipped and spilled onto the ground.

What had been a scene of continual laughter and merriment now, in this corner, grew unusually solemn.

Zhang Fengyue not only overthrew a dynasty, he tore down the cannibalistic shrines and Daoist temples, and shattered the shackles on the bodies of countless Ming people.

He left behind a spotless, pure Ming earth brimming with infinite hope.

Though the human world no longer has Fengyue, everywhere now there are green mountains.

“Master Ma, I still have something I don’t quite understand.”

Lin Jinjiang asked: “I can comprehend that the Zhu family used this method to suppress and weaken other orders to secure their rule; but since they themselves were also drawn into the scheme, why not simply lift the shackle instead of clinging to this path?”

“Life is short, the state’s mandate long.”

Master Ma said: “If they lifted it, the Great Ming Empire might have been overturned long ago; but if they do not lift it, the Zhu family gains ample room to maneuver—even if suppressed, they could endure a hundred years, with plenty of chance to turn things around. After all, imperial weakness usually signals the onset of chaotic times, and you know how strong the vertical and horizontal order becomes in such eras.”

“Moreover—”

Master Ma sneered: “Once someone of the Zhu family manages to ascend to the First Order, they will grasp the alluring chip of 'longevity,' turn every 'self‑seeking, not‑seeking‑others' order into loyal hounds, transform Ming earth into barbarian lands, and become true gods. Compared with that, do you think those Zhu emperors would possibly relinquish it?”

“Mandated by Heaven, forever prosperous.”

Lin Jinjiang murmured: “They are certainly not ordinary figures.”

“Master Ma, did Jun brother say what we should do now?”

Zhang Siyuan finally spoke.

Admittedly, the culprit Zhu family is gone, yet this batch of 'harmed' Ming people remains in a state of shortened life.

Moreover, even the newly initiated order‑followers still have their lifespans limited; the whole Ming earth does not know how many years it will take to completely erase the influence the Zhu family imposed on bloodline genes.

“The Zhu family’s demonic god‑play is nothing new in the barbarian lands; it is the mainstream of their order transmission, the originator proclaiming himself a god, controlling life and death of peers of the same order.”

Master Ma helplessly said: “You can let Li Jun kill, but asking him to devise a way to save people is too much for him; his message back was merely hoping we could think of a solution.”

Zhang Siyuan frowned and asked: “Did Zhao Qingxia and the others have any ideas?”

“After solving the problem of the Ming ghosts’ transformation, he has already mobilized the elite of the craftsmen lineage to tackle this field; but judging from the progress, the outlook is not optimistic.”

“If even the Ink order has no solution, then we must certainly make a trip to the barbarian lands.”

Zhang Siyuan suddenly cursed: “Damn it, if I had known this earlier, I would never have agreed to let that brat Yang Bai Ze act as interim head of the new Donglin Academy. No, I must find a way to shoulder this burden.”

“I have said all I know; can you two now entertain yourselves? My bullets have been chambered for a long time—if I don’t fire them soon, they’ll turn into duds.”

Master Ma was just about to shoo them away when the banquet hall’s doors were suddenly pushed open.

The newcomer strode in with dragon‑like steps and tiger‑like vigor, heading straight this way, shouting loudly.

“What a fine time—you three aren’t out seeking fun, just huddled together doing what? Are you feeling unwell? I’ve told you before: good steel belongs on the blade; usually you pour effort into rewarding yourself, but now at the crucial moment you’re at a loss.”

“Shen Li, you brat, you can’t spit out ivory from a dog’s mouth!”

Master Ma rolled his eyes, snatched the wine bottle from the table, and hurled it over.

“Thanks for the wine, Master Ma!”

The man seized the wine bottle with a free‑spirited, unrestrained motion, tipped his head back and drained it in one gulp, then took a embroidered stool and sat opposite everyone.

“Master Shen, long time no see.”

Lin Jinjiang greeted him.

“You are a matchmaker ghost?”

Shen Li recognized Lin Jinjiang; during their time in the Japanese district they had met once, though they had not interacted much.

“I hear you’re doing well these days, ‘Lin Jiang’s Miscellaneous Talks,’ right? When I was in Liaoning I often read it; when can you record an episode for me?”

“No problem—whenever Master Shen has time, I’m free. You gentlemen carry on chatting; I’ll go check whether the brothers have everything arranged.”

Lin Jinjiang, sensing the mood, rose to his feet, clapping his hands and shouted, "Ladies, don't be shy—show us what you've got!"

"You brat, you're still not dead?"

Zhang Siyuan gazed at the dust‑covered Shen Li, his eyes lingering on the scar across the man's face.

"You may be the master of Tianque now, a regional hero—why haven't you tidied up those marks on your face?"

"What kind of Tianque master am I? I'm just keeping watch for Jun‑ge."

Shen Li snatched the snacks from the table, shoved them into his mouth, gulped them down in a couple of bites, then downed an entire bottle of Jiannan Burning Spring, finally letting out a relieved sigh.

"These days I just take it one day at a time; who knows when I'll kick the bucket—why bother with all this?"

"Your troubles aren't settled yet?"

Zhang Siyuan's expression tightened suddenly.

"I took the wrong turn; there's no easy way back. Being alive till now is enough for me."

Shen Li, meanwhile, appeared remarkably composed, turning his head to look at the Horse Prince.

"Well, Horse Prince, you're quite handsome in that skin—who did it for you?"

The Horse Prince slapped Shen Li's oily hands away, irritated: "You brat, have you gone soft in the mountains?"

"Just joking."

Shen Li laughed heartily, smacking his lips in praise: "That said, Zhao Qingxia really has a couple of tricks up his sleeve—he managed to give the Ming ghosts flesh again, and crucially, without affecting their own rank. It's impressive."

The Horse Prince's face darkened: "Cut the jokes; I told you last year to come to the Mo Institute for treatment—why didn't you come?"

"I couldn't get away." Shen Li spread his hands, wearing a helpless grin: "You know those lone martial sect brats love to stir trouble; if I look away for a second, they'll stir up a catastrophe."

"Lone martial sects are just like that; if you could keep them under control, they'd never think of advancing in rank."

Zhang Siyuan cut in, coldly: "The sect martial sect ways don't suit them; the more you meddle, the slower they grow—don't you see that?"

Shen Li chuckled: "Of course I see it, but they're still seedlings, and Jun‑ge isn't here. If I don't shelter them, what if someone wipes them out?"

"Who dares?!"

The Horse Prince's eyes flashed, a chill spreading through his body.

"Never mind that—did the favor I asked you two for last time bear any fruit?"

Not long ago, Shen Li had sent separate messages to the Mo Institute and the New Donglin Academy, begging them to help find a martial‑arts infusion device, or at least a substitute.

"After the sect martial sects fell, infusion devices in Mingtu have grown scarce. The newly risen lone martial sects have few high‑rank members; even if we tried the old method of drawing martial arts, we couldn't satisfy these brats."

Shen Li's face fell: "If we can't find a replacement, this path will only get harder."

The Horse Prince and Zhang Siyuan exchanged a glance and both shook their heads.

"The infusion device was the last legacy the sect lineage left for the martial sects; as the older generation faded, replicating it has become nearly impossible."

"Moreover, given the temperament of today's lone martial sects, they're unlikely to willingly act as a dowry for newcomers."

"In terms of combat prowess, lone martial sects naturally outstrip sects by far; but when it comes to inheritance, even a lone martial sect can't out‑horse a sect martial sect."

"Even the present Tianque is more like a gathering place for lone martial sects to exchange ideas—many refuse to join Tianque altogether, preferring to roam Mingtu alone."

"Looks like we're completely out of options."

Shen Li let out a long sigh: "Well, children have their own blessings. When I depart west, Tianque can disband. I don't mind, but I fear that when Jun‑ge returns and finds Tianque gone, he'll feel heart‑broken."

"Kid, quit trying to needle us with words."

The Horse Prince snorted: "We can't solve the infusion‑device problem, but you lone sects could just take one, couldn't you?"

"You mean the Taotie? That's a route, but where in Mingtu would we find someone to rob?" Shen Li blinked.

"Little Zhang, look—he's still pretending. It seems the deep mountains of Liaodong didn't just addle him; they gave him a sharper mind."

The Horse Prince jabbed a finger at Shen Li; nearby, Zhang Siyuan chuckled: "A warrior who lays down his blade and takes up scheming—just not very upright, trying to plot against us."

"You don't know the price of firewood and rice unless you've run a household."

Shen Li, exposed but unashamed, chuckled and finally revealed his aim: "We can't rob Mingtu, but we can raid the barbarian lands—why not band together the three of us and have a taste of the barbarian women?"

The Horse Prince crossed his arms: "It's not that we can't discuss it."

"Sampling the flavor is fine, but there's a condition you must accept first."

Zhang Siyuan, leaning in, said: "You must first go to the Mo Institute and sort out your own troubles, or there's no way in."

"No problem—after I finish this wedding wine, I'll head back and keep dreaming."

Shen Li's agreement came unusually easy this time, as if he'd set down the weight on his shoulders; he turned and waved to the maidens still waiting behind him.

"Come over, Lord Shen—I don't pick and choose!"