Chapter 773: Prelude, Xuanwu Who Cannot Slack Off

Chapter 773: Prelude, the Xuanwu Who Cannot Slack Off

When the light cavalry headed north, it took only a few days to enter the eastern desert grassland corridor.

Only then could one see that during this time, the Han’s various war preparations were intense, and Temür had not been idle either. In the end, it was a decisive battle that both sides intended, not a surprise attack by one side.

Compared to the Han strengthening themselves, Temür was playing a self-destructive game.

According to the experience of the Batü tribe herders guiding the way, they trampled through all possible tribal settlements along the route, finding every one empty of people and tents, with even the water sources polluted.

This also required a long time to execute, a ruthless move to deny the Han army the chance to “live off the enemy’s land.”

Xue Canghai was deeply disappointed.

Zhao Changhe and the others exchanged glances, finding it hard to imagine how such a vast tribal population could be supplied when concentrated in one place, or how nomadic life could proceed. If the delay dragged on a bit, wouldn’t the entire grassland collapse on its own…

If they now found a place to camp and stay put, could they just wait to see the enemy collapse?

In theory, yes, but with their side having storage boxes as a cheat, the enemy might also have some strange cheat. The logic of war could no longer be followed entirely by experience; falling into old thinking meant losing.

And as the distance between the two sides grew closer, the first round of “divine war” had already begun to trigger, unbeknownst to the ordinary soldiers.

Deep underground in the celestial vault, Zhao Changhe tirelessly tempered his intent to observe the world. After leaving the aid of the underground vault, the range of his overlooking eye surged dramatically, far exceeding when he had just broken through to the Imperial Realm. Saying it encompassed a thousand miles was a slight exaggeration, but only “slight”; it was really not far off.

During this time, Zhuque had also been training to perceive her surroundings through the omnipresent fire elements, but with her current strength at the early stage of the Imperial Realm’s first layer, her perception range was still less than Zhao Changhe’s, who was only at the early-to-mid stage. Moreover, she perceived, while Zhao Changhe “saw”—a qualitative difference.

This cheat of the rear eye evolving into the overlooking eye, at this level, had become far more important than its early use of just seeing behind. It was somewhat akin to experiencing in advance the effects that the second or even third layer of the Imperial Realm should have. Not to mention other things, it alone gave a huge advantage for subsequent breakthroughs, since so much had been rehearsed in advance.

As for the specific value in this war, it meant that his range of vision was almost identical to that of Temür, who was at the peak of the Imperial Realm’s first layer. If Temür could see them, then he could see Temür as well, with no disadvantage in the “fog of war.”

And also… direct collision.

Late at night. Zhao Changhe sat cross-legged in his military tent, his divine sense spreading recklessly, extending northwestward, trying to see the movements in the distance.

Gradually, pressure appeared at the edge of his divine sense, a faint stabbing pain coming through.

Zhao Changhe’s heart stirred.

It was either Temür or Börü also observing; the edges of their divine senses met in the middle, the boundaries of two expanding circles touching.

Börü he had fought before, and he could feel the difference, but this time the opponent’s feeling was somewhat unfamiliar—this was Temür.

This was the first clash between Zhao Changhe and Temür.

“Crack—” It was as if a ripple of water broke at the edge of the divine sense; both sides recoiled slightly, each feeling a stabbing pain.

What was seen was where it was.

The next moment, two phantom figures appeared simultaneously in the night sky at the center, facing each other a mere zhang apart.

Temür looked at Zhao Changhe’s phantom before him and had to admit a measure of admiration: “Lord Blood Asura truly surprises at every turn… Having just broken into the Imperial Realm not long ago, your soul’s strength is already close to mine. Truly unexpected and admirable. No wonder you’ve been challenging above your level all along—this must be the source.”

Zhao Changhe smiled, replying as if chatting with an old friend: “If I couldn’t even do this, there would be no need to fight this battle. Speaking of which, in past wars, there were things I never understood. Only now do I realize why, when the Great Khan’s army was at Yanmen Pass back then, you didn’t personally ascend the city to break through—it was because Old Xia’s divine sense was always fixed on you, and you dared not.”

“Correct.” Temür did not deny it: “Xia Longyuan held me in check, and our Heavenly God was also waiting for Xia Longyuan to appear; he dared not act rashly either. This is the restraint above the Imperial Realm; neither side easily descends. Divine war has its own tacit understanding: as long as one does not descend personally, the outcome of mortal war remains within controllable bounds. But once one descends and something goes wrong, the consequence is not just death but the annihilation of one’s tribe.”

Zhao Changhe nodded: “I take your lesson.”

“Then today, Lord Blood Asura, as the new Night Emperor and the guardian god of your Han, why have you come personally with your army?”

“Because I’m not as formidable as Old Xia. If I didn’t come personally, I couldn’t win… and wouldn’t serve as any deterrent.” Zhao Changhe smiled. “Besides, you and I both know that now, with gods and demons awakening everywhere, the old rules are increasingly collapsing. We need new rules.”

Temür said flatly: “And what are these new rules you speak of?”

“One’s bedside, how can others be allowed to snore?” Zhao Changhe said calmly. “I don’t want to restrain any god; I want it to simply not exist.”

Temür was taken aback, then burst into laughter: “Good, good. Even Xia Longyuan dared not attack the temple directly, yet you are more arrogant than him.”

“Because Old Xia had only himself,” Zhao Changhe said calmly. “And though I am unworthy, behind me are endless mountains and rivers.”

As Temür’s laughter and Zhao Changhe’s reply echoed, ripples seemed to rise in the air, colliding with each other, each side shaking slightly.

Zhao Changhe was at a slight disadvantage; his divine sense contracted a bit more, but only a little—no significant gap.

Both phantoms showed signs of frowning in pain; this direct clash of souls was very uncomfortable and extremely fragile, easy to injure.

Each side had their concerns and did not continue probing. They tacitly withdrew their divine senses and returned.

Zhao Changhe opened his eyes.

Yue Hongling sat cross-legged across from him and asked upon seeing this: “Contact?”

Zhao Changhe nodded: “This brief probing has likely given both sides a warning… Such outward expansion of divine sense is not something either of us can do often. When we get closer, to the range where your divine senses can also reach, if he comes over, he’ll be ganged up on by our whole family. Similarly, if I probe over, I don’t know if Börü is also in the army, and I’d get ganged up on too. Best to do it sparingly.”

Yue Hongling said: “So either it’s as we thought before—everyone dares not recklessly probe with divine sense, and everything reverts to the conventional war logic of hawks and scouts—or it’s a direct Imperial Realm battle, separate from the mortal war?”

“Something like that…”

As a habitual lone ranger, Yue Hongling hadn’t fully grasped the war logic here and asked: “But in practice, the outcome of the Imperial Realm battle can decide everything. So what’s the point of such a costly mortal war?”

“If the Imperial Realm battle could be decided quickly, that would be fine. But from past experience, killing an Imperial Realm expert is extremely difficult. More likely, it will be a stalemate or a struggle trapped in a secret realm. During that time, hundreds of thousands of Hu cavalry would sweep south, and the Central Plains would be devastated. What meaning would it have for us to win and come out? Your and my war is first to protect the Central Plains. We deal with the enemy’s Imperial Realm, while the vast army needs to deal with the Hu cavalry—just a division of labor.”

Yue Hongling nodded slightly: “Yes.”

Zhao Changhe added: “In fact, if the mountains and rivers are shattered, we might lose the Imperial Realm battle too. The strength of Qing’er, San Niang, and me is partly supported by the mountain and river veins and the power of faith. If the mountains and rivers fall into disorder and faith collapses, though we won’t regress as drastically as Old Xia, our strength will certainly be less than now. Old Xia is just an extreme example, but many things can be referenced. Only you are different from us in this regard.”

“Actually, I have a bit of that too. If such a situation occurred, my sword heart might also have problems… Your sword intent has influenced me greatly.”

“Uh…”

Yue Hongling asked again: “Does the Hu god also have this?”

“I don’t know if he would be affected by the failure of the mortal war, but I’m certain that if he wants to advance further, he must win the war.” Zhao Changhe said: “As far as we know, aside from the Nine Abyss system, which only wants to cause trouble, most—like the Sea Emperor, the Dao Ancestor, the Buddha, the Eternal Heavenly God—need the mortal qi and faith. This situation is more like a religious war, a struggle for the fate of the human way. This is also why the Northern Hu often came south while Old Xia was still alive; mortal forces cause ebb and flow in cultivation on both sides.”

Yue Hongling stopped asking about these and instead asked: “How strong is Temür?”

Zhao Changhe said: “In terms of divine sense alone, I am half a step weaker. But divine sense is already my strong suit with cheats… In actual combat, the gap should be larger, but there’s no difference in realm. I can fight.”

Yue Hongling nodded, sighing softly to herself: “First on the Heavenly Ranking.”

Indeed, no matter how much the ranking between Temür and Börü involved blind men causing trouble, Temür was first on the Heavenly Ranking—the “Heavenly Dao-certified” foremost person of the current age beneath the ancient gods and demons.

This was a ranking with endless glory. The first on the Human Ranking was seen as a human king; the first on the Earth Ranking was often regarded as the dividing line between human and god; what then of the first on the Heavenly Ranking?

Even though the widespread appearance of gods and demons had reduced the weight of this ranking, in the hearts of most people, it remained a position of awe, too lofty to look upon directly. Even Zhao Changhe, who daily faced the terrifying Blind Man, could not ignore the words “first on the Heavenly Ranking.”

Perhaps in Yue Hongling’s eyes, the significance of fighting the first on the Heavenly Ranking surpassed even the war itself.

“Back to the main topic.” Zhao Changhe smiled: “Now that Temür thinks he has repelled my observation, he will inevitably start moving. Has your sword qi, pre-buried in their sacred mountain and royal court, seen anything?”

Yue Hongling shook her head regretfully: “The range was too small, and the positions were off in hiding; basically nothing was gained. I even feel that the sword qi I buried back then was a complete waste of effort.”

Zhao Changhe laughed: “Preparing for a rainy day, why worry about it? How much preparation have we all done? Not all of it will necessarily be used. Given that Temür and I have already clashed, the distance is getting closer, which means our earlier judgment was correct—at least Temür himself is truly heading in our direction.”

“That means the direction of General Huangfu Yongxian will face harassment, and this so-called harassment may not follow martial ethics.”

…

It wasn’t “may not” but “certainly.”

Now that the tacit understanding of war had nearly collapsed, in this era of “rites crumbling and music ruined,” Zhao Changhe was already thinking that when the Eternal Heavenly God recovered, He would descend and slaughter across the land… So before His full recovery, He couldn’t rampage across the Central Plains, but at least He could descend within His entire Northern Hu domain, whether desert or grassland—far wider than Zhao Changhe’s range.

Divine descent was the most indefensible harassment; it should not have been used on ordinary soldiers.

Without the aid of the underground vault, Zhao Changhe simply couldn’t provide support over such a distance.

Huangfu Yongxian led his troops across the Gobi Desert, guided by experienced guides, orderly traversing north through the Gobi.

It was said that crossing the desert was terrifying, but in reality, it wasn’t that extreme. Many places weren’t sandy desert; the Gobi could even be ridden across. Of course, it couldn’t be like the eastern grassland route, where they could drive straight in. The march was much slower, and after so many days, they had only just entered the Gobi not far.

Though windblown sand stung their faces, the weather was not hot, and sandstorms of any kind rarely rose at this time, making it relatively good for marching.

But Huangfu Yongxian rode slowly, gradually feeling the fine sand that had been brushing his face begin to coarsen, until soon a raging torrent of dust swept upward, rolling in like waves from all sides, as if he stood in the midst of a roaring sea.

Tens of thousands of troops stared dumbfounded at the violent scene ahead, with no time even to turn and flee.

The old herdsman of the Batu tribe cried out in terror: “No! This is impossible! There should be no sandstorm at this season!”

Another herdsman quickly knelt, prostrating himself: “This is divine punishment, divine punishment… We have indeed angered the Eternal Heaven; may the Eternal Heaven forgive us…”

“Boom!” No deity answered their prayers or pleas for mercy; the sandstorm swept before them in an instant.

The might of heaven and earth was not something mortals could resist—no matter how many, it was useless, and even Huangfu Yongxian of the Earth List was useless.

Yet the expected burial by the sandstorm did not come.

The soldiers looked up in horror and saw that the dry Gobi around them suddenly felt moist and soft, as if enveloped by an invisible curtain of water, not a single grain of sand able to penetrate.

A phantom image of a giant turtle loomed over the four directions, and everyone seemed to march under the turtle’s protection.

What was more, some even saw that within the turtle’s domain, green grass began to sprout along the edge of the Gobi, as if the place was gradually turning into an oasis.

The Four Symbols Sect’s half-year of proselytizing was no joke; especially Huangfu Qing, using her identity as Huangfu Yongxian’s daughter, had been quietly spreading her teachings among the Yanmen garrison for years. Now, countless soldiers in the army were followers, and they cried out in ecstasy: “This is the protection of our Black Tortoise Emperor! What is that barbarian god compared to him!”

The people of the Batu tribe were stunned, and even the non-believers in the army stared wide-eyed.

As Zhao Changhe had said, the war now was fundamentally a religious holy war, having departed from the earlier template of ethnic conflict. This clash of divine miracles between the two sides far exceeded the soldiers’ conventional understanding and changed the common sense and pattern of all warfare.

Looking up, a streak of light came from the northeast, seemingly about to strike the giant turtle’s phantom.

A soft whip coiled leisurely, like a snake winding, binding that streak of light layer upon layer in the void.

The light flashed and broke free, revealing the phantom of a deity, his expression grave: “Black Tortoise…”

Sanniang descended slowly from the void, smiling as she said: “Your Excellency, it has been a while.”

They had met once before—when the Eternal Heaven God’s split soul was shattered overseas by Xia Longyuan, Sanniang had been a firsthand witness.

But this “it has been a while” seemed to refer to more than just that occasion…

Though Sanniang had not inherited any memories of the ancient Black Tortoise, her inheritance of the Black Tortoise’s techniques and knowledge was relatively complete. The ancient Black Tortoise and the Eternal Heaven God had both been active in the north, and their battles were many.

“Heh…” the Eternal Heaven God said calmly: “The ancient Black Tortoise was so steady and resolute; though we were enemies, I held great respect for him. But times have changed, and the old friend is gone. Now all sorts of monsters and demons, flaunting their charms, serving gods with their bodies, dare to claim they replace the Black Tortoise. I doubt my old friend would recognize them in the underworld. At least I… do not.”

Sanniang did not mind being called “flaunting her charms”; instead, she laughed lazily: “I just like serving my man—what business is it of yours? Don’t act like you were so close to the Black Tortoise. Our Four Symbols Sect’s inheritance is quite complete. Do you want to hear what the Black Tortoise said about you?”

The Eternal Heaven God said calmly: “Enemies who respect each other speak no ill. I think the Black Tortoise would have no bad words for me.”

Sanniang smiled: “True, he had no bad words for you. He said you had some backbone, a real man, but your vision was too narrow—like a mountain monkey that only knows how to fight among its troop. He felt a bit degraded fighting you.”

The Eternal Heaven God: “…Pity that the era collapsed, and the one who died was he who thought himself far-sighted, while I live.”

Sanniang shook her head: “The Black Tortoise is but a concept, a summation of a civilization. As long as civilization endures, the Black Tortoise exists—it does not need your recognition. On the contrary, if you die, does the Eternal Heaven still exist? They don’t even have a concrete image; most people can only imagine an axe—how laughable. Even more laughable, the axe isn’t even yours… You are but a pawn of others, unaware of it.”

The Eternal Heaven God could not be bothered to argue this: “To the mountain monkeys in your eyes, there’s none of that nonsense. What we recognize is only the victor as king. I am but a split soul here now. Let’s see if the woman who claims to inherit the Black Tortoise can even defeat my split soul—I wonder who will be the laughingstock.”

Sanniang smiled faintly: “When you dare only send a split soul… you have already lost.”

“Rumble!” Thunder suddenly roared in the sky.

Day turned to night; a thousand miles of wild thunder swept the cosmos.

The shadow of the Black Tortoise swelled; the raging thunder and lightning struck its shell without leaving a trace.

A graceful, voluptuous figure wove like a snake through the thunderbolts, her long whip suddenly lashing out, like a horizontal bolt of purple lightning amid the storm, cracking toward the phantom of the god in midair.

Huangfu Yongxian looked up, his steady face utterly expressionless.

Though he had not expected the northern expedition to begin with a battle between the Eternal Heaven God and the Black Tortoise, he understood the meaning of the Black Tortoise’s words.

The split soul’s arrival meant the main body was engaged in something more important. At least it confirmed his daughter’s earlier judgment—the real main battlefield was in the east.

“It seems we are being underestimated,” Huangfu Yongxian said, turning to Cui Yuanyong beside him with a smile. “The sky is dark now, and sand is everywhere—are you afraid?”

Cui Yuanyong spat: “Whoever is afraid is a coward!”

“Good.” Huangfu Yongxian pointed with his whip: “They think this can slow us down. I am not convinced. The whole army will continue to advance; within three days, we will reach the royal court!”