Chapter 519: No Flukes

Chapter 519: No Room for Luck

Puyang.

“Boom!” A boulder crashed against the city wall, shattering bricks and sending fragments flying. Soldiers scattered in chaos.

The stone tumbled, about to crush a soldier, when a surge of purple energy erupted nearby. A palm struck the rock, blasting it into pieces.

The shaken soldier steadied himself, saluting in thanks: “Thank you, Young General.”

Cui Yuanyong waved a hand and barked, “Release!”

“Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!” Countless boulders from within the city hurtled beyond the walls. With several thunderous crashes, a battering ram approaching was smashed to splinters.

Some missed their mark, landing on soldiers and grinding them into pulp.

Yet endless troops surged forward, pushing all manner of siege engines desperately toward the city.

Standing atop the wall, watching arrows swarm like locusts above and boulders rain down, while below thousands of cavalry and infantry swept in like a tide, Cui Yuanyong felt a strange detachment. His mind was eerily calm, as if this were not his own battlefield but a scene observed from high above.

This was unlike the days at Yanmen, where blood had rushed to his head. Now he was the commander, responsible for all defensive operations, requiring absolute composure. A single wrong choice could lead to unacceptable consequences.

Long ago, during the decisive battle at Kuaiji in the south, when Wang Zhaoling had intended to move south, Cui Yuanyong had pressured Puyang to put pressure on the Wang family and never returned. His father had harbored no illusions, knowing that once the Wangs rebelled, this would be the first line of defense in the west. Thus, he had continuously reinforced troops and fortified the city, making its defenses arguably the strongest in the civil war.

Cui Yuanyong had once thought Puyang too tough a nut for the Wangs to bother with. But his father’s judgment proved correct. The Wangs had no interest in conquering the south; with the Cao Gang causing trouble there and the Tang family temporarily unable to meddle in northern affairs, they could march straight north to the capital. If they succeeded, the realm might fall with a single proclamation.

And the capital lay north. To reach it, the Wangs first had to pass through the Cui family. The marriage alliance between the Cuis and Wangs had partly been intended to facilitate this—united, they could march on the capital directly.

But now, Cui Wenjing refused even the standard aristocratic maneuver of feigning resistance while secretly letting the Wangs slip by. He openly and fully resisted. Within the Cui family, there were murmurs of discontent, with some arguing that this left the Cuis with no retreat, a highly imprudent move.

Yet no one could sway him. His resolve on this matter astonished even his own wife, who felt it was unlike him.

Cui Yuanyong recalled asking his father: “You once said that even in an age of gods and demons, there are families of gods and demons. If gods and demons ruled the world, it would be no different from the barbarians invading. Why are you so resolute now, a loyalist of Great Xia?”

His father had replied: “When barbarians invade, you can shave your head, change your clothes, alter customs—the Cui family endures. Even with other gods and demons, as long as they need the human world to survive, you and I have value. But the Sea Clan is different... Because they dwell in the sea, they have no need for land. I truly do not know their specific aims, but knowing that their conditions for survival differ from ours tells me there can be no room for luck.”

He had repeated emphatically: “No room for luck.”

Cui Yuanyong took a deep breath, raised his longsword, and shouted, “Prepare the rolling stones!”

“Boom!” A battering ram, braving falling rocks and arrows, reached the city gate.

A massive boulder rolled down, crushing both the ram and its crew into pulp.

Cui Yuanyong looked up at the sky, his mind still struggling to focus on the battlefield. He suspected Wang Zhaoling below felt the same... because the outcome of this battle depended less on field command than on the duel of the Heavenly Rankings.

In the first battle, Wang Daoning would surely lead personally, determined to make a statement. If he were repelled in the opening clash, it would be a colossal joke. He was set on victory. No matter how strong the city’s defenses, they could not stop a Heavenly Ranked warrior from breaching the walls and opening a gap with ease.

But Wang Daoning had yet to appear. There was only one reason: his father must have come as well.

...

By the banks of the Pu River, Wang Daoning and Cui Wenjing stood side by side, facing the river, like old friends reunited, admiring the scenery.

For a full hour, neither spoke.

The distant sounds of battle faintly reached them, oddly accentuating the stillness of the flowing water.

“Time flows like this, never ceasing day or night,” Wang Daoning said softly, gazing at the current. “How many years have we known each other?”

Cui Wenjing replied, “I left home at sixteen to travel and study. We met here on the Pu River, fought a duel... That was thirty years ago to this day.”

The so-called “Old Cui” was actually only forty-six.

“And now again on the Pu River, though a different stretch,” Wang Daoning chuckled. “Sometimes I think it’s fate’s design.”

Cui Wenjing said flatly, “You could have chosen not to come. What you’ve done—why call it fate?”

Wang Daoning shook his head. “When I visited Qinghe a few years ago, your attitude was different. Though you always leaned toward Xia Longyuan, you still cursed many of his deeds as inhuman. You suspected he had tampered with the Qinghe Sword, railing that if he kept up his tyranny, Great Xia would one day fall—those were your words. Our past conversations are vivid in my mind. Your choice today baffles me.”

Cui Wenjing said, “The moment you struck at the Yang family’s Lianshan Sword, you and I were destined to part ways. That is a line. You are shaking the foundation of our mutual understanding. No matter how inhuman Xia Longyuan is, he left that line intact.”

“Is that all?”

“That is all.”

“What if I give you my word?”

“Sorry, I don’t believe you,” Cui Wenjing said coolly. “I can’t even be sure how much of the Wang Daoning speaking to me now is truly Wang Daoning, and how much is someone else.”

Wang Daoning smiled. “No one can control me.”

Cui Wenjing said, “Shi Wuding thought the same.”

Anyone in the Heavenly Rankings who had met Shi Wuding knew his soul was altered. Cui Wenjing knew it, and Wang Daoning knew it too.

Wang Daoning asked, “Do I seem like Shi Wuding’s case?”

Cui Wenjing glanced at him. “I don’t know. But I won’t rely on luck. If there is something that can make even you not yourself, I don’t think I could tell. The Third Secret Vault is far from the end—you and I both know that.”

“Since you’ve lost all trust in me, there’s no point in talking further.”

“There was never any need to talk.”

“But you are no match for me, Wenjing. We’ve always been evenly matched, but my Zhenhai Sword has been restored, while your Qinghe Sword remains half-dead.”

Cui Wenjing smiled. “Perhaps. But you’re not certain you can emerge unscathed, so you tried one last persuasion.”

Wang Daoning said slowly, “But you will die.”

Cui Wenjing’s smile grew brighter. “If I die, and you return wounded, then the outcome falls to Yuanyong and Zhaoling... Once our song ends, it will be their turn to take the stage in this world.”

There was a hint of smugness in Cui Wenjing’s smile that Wang Daoning found exasperating.

If the older generation withdrew from the world stage and the young took over, one name would immediately flash through everyone’s mind—the one who made peers gasp for air. The Book of Chaos had just proclaimed: When my flower blooms, a hundred flowers wither.

That man was Old Cui’s son-in-law, though not yet married.

But still, Cui Wenjing’s resolve stirred something in Wang Daoning’s heart.

In thirty years of friendship and rivalry, this was the first time he had seen the old fox so resolute. “No room for luck”—the family’s future outweighed his own life.

When such a man stood in your way, he was a headache for anyone.

Wang Daoning finally abandoned persuasion and slowly drew the Zhenhai Sword. “Brother Cui, let us finish the duel we began thirty years ago.”

The Qinghe Sword unsheathed itself, circling Cui Wenjing. “Please.”

“Rumble!” Thunder suddenly cracked across the sky, and a torrential downpour poured down.

On the battlefield, Wang Zhaoling had to halt the assault; scaling the walls was impossible in this rain.

But the day’s weather had promised no rain. This sudden storm could only mean one thing: the Heavenly Rankings duel had stirred the heavens.

The Wang family’s Paitian Zhenhai and the Cui family’s Ziqi Qinghe both resonated with water. Their clash brought a deluge.

Above and below the city, Cui Yuanyong and Wang Zhaoling gazed at each other across the battlefield, their hearts tightening in unison.

A hundred li to the south, the sky was clear. Three thousand Blood God cultists galloped across the plains, staring at the distant dark clouds, their minds shaken: “How can there be rain in this weather?”

Zhao Changhe led the charge, racing ahead like a madman: “Prepare to ambush the Wangs’ flank. Old Xue has full command—don’t worry about me!”

“Boom!” A massive lightning bolt flashed across the horizon, turning the entire plain a blinding white. The clouds turned purple, indistinguishable from lightning or sword light.