The plague of locusts in the northwest sparked an exodus of refugees, who then ignited massive peasant uprisings. The court tried to suppress them once but to no avail. On the contrary, the bloodthirsty shovel-wielding army managed to take over thirty-six commanderies. During that time, the nomadic tribes outside the borders also took advantage of the disorder. It was a vexing problem. The Puqing Emperor sent reinforcements three times, yet the situation was still precarious. With no other choice, he had to once again muster troops from every region to buttress the northwestern front.
Thus, the civil and military officials of the “Great Country of Dongyue” once again smugly returned to court. Their tenth emperor had just ascended and changed the reign name for the tenth time. The pitiful ninth emperor had only held office for four days. Even the “important cabinet officials” didn’t remember what the reign name was supposed to be anymore.
Gu Huaiyang had been preparing his troops for years already. He decided, on the fifteenth day of the eighth month, the full-moon night of the mid-autumn, to send Li Rushuang and three thousand cavalries to launch a surprise attack on their northern neighbor, the Huainan Commandery.
Huainan was Gu Huaiyang’s ancestral home. It wasn’t far from Haining, and it had once been infested with bandits. Ever since the court had conferred some bullshit general’s title to him, Gu Huaiyang had diligently wiped out all his former bandit buddies, people he’d once chummed and shared drinks with, in and around Haining.
There was a lot of commerce between Huainan and Haining, even before Shi Wuduan started plying Huainan’s inspector-general with various benefits. Every time the inspector-general met Gu Huaiyang, he’d greet him tearfully and wholeheartedly as if they’d grown up in the same village. Every time they drank together, they got along like a house on fire. Such that, when trouble arose in Huainan, Haining could hardly just “sit by and watch.” Soon enough, at the instigation of “clever” people, Huainan’s inspector-general pleaded for Haining’s assistance in restoring order to the region. And just like that, General Gu was managing the defenses of two commanderies.
Li Rushuang and her three thousand cavalries entered Huainan like it was their own backyard. That pitiful inspector-general had his head lopped off in the middle of the night, completely unaware that, for years, he’d been digging his own grave. They also robbed the man’s mansion clean — when one ate someone else’s food, they’d have to spit it out eventually.
Beyond Huainan, was Bianxi. The Redscarf Army descended on a small town in the southern region of Bianxi, Changjing City as swiftly as if they’d dropped out of the sky. Before the city guard could even blink, there was already an army at his walls. He stood dumbly on the walls and viciously slapped himself twice. The scorching pain confirmed that he was indeed awake. Immediately afterward, his eyes rolled to the back of his head and he fainted right on the spot.
After Changjing City, rumors spread everywhere. All sorts of urban legends circled among the peasants, enormously exaggerating the Redscarf Army’s reputation. According to rumor, they were invincible; every soldier had three heads and six arms, and skin that was impervious to swords. Bianxi had been peaceful for too long. Not long after Changjing City, another eighteen cities fell in succession, one after the other. Three months later, Meng Zhongyong led troops to Li Rushuang’s aid. The rich, fertile lands of Bianxi, Huainan, and Haining were now all within the palm of Gu Huaiyang’s hand.
General Gu waved the banner of “loyalty” over his head, and like many many shameless predecessors before him, proclaimed like a dog catching mice, that his army, “the emperor’s army,” was going to “cleanse the court’s corruption.” The mouse, Yan Zhen, obviously wasn’t going to passively sit by and let it pass, so he gritted his teeth and drew some troops out of the northwest region, which had only just begun to stabilize. The troops he mustered marched towards Bianxi from the east and arrived at Jiamu Pass, where the two armies began to face off.
But all that was still only the prelude. Lu Yunzhou was still lying in wait, and Shi Wuduan had secretly led a regiment out of Haining to keep watch on the three great sects’ movements around Dazhou Mountain.
Gu Huaiyang easily managed both battlefronts. He was clearly a born general. In addition, even as tensions were ratcheting up, he didn’t forget to rake in money — courage and tactics alone weren’t enough to win a war; having strong soldiers and healthy horses was the most important factor, one that required piles of money to achieve.
We’re sorry for MTLers or people who like using reading mode, but our translations keep getting stolen by aggregators so we’re going to bring back the copy protection. If you need to MTL please retype the gibberish parts.
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Those who had insider information might wonder in confusion: if the Merchant Association’s biggest patron is General Gu himself, why would he obstruct Haining’s trade routes? Well as it turned out that because Shi Wuduan was gone, and Gu Huaiyang was bored out of his mind, he came up with the absolutely brilliant idea to — rob himself.
After all, there was no sense in letting one’s own fertile waters flow into other’s fields. So he stirred shit up with all his might and single-handedly raised the market price of Haining Tea sky-high.
Beleaguered by his country’s woes, the Puqing Emperor couldn’t stomach tea — because his family fortune was going down the drain.
Grand Mentor Yan couldn’t stomach tea either — because even though the emperor distrusted him, he truly was a loyal subject.
Things had already gotten to the point that not one of the officials who were desperately trying to do something about all the turmoil could stomach tea — the country was on the brink of destruction, the civil officials were too busy bashing their heads against pillars in attempts to make the emperor see sense, and the military officials were too busy dying on the battlefield. No one had a moment’s peace.
But countless fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh rank officials, as well as their third aunts and second brothers-in-law were all in the mood to enjoy tea. As long as the fighting hadn’t reached their doorstep, their highest priority was, as ever, holding soirees, gifting friends, bribing officials, and embezzling money.
To them, the corpses of those who froze to death looked no different than the corpses of those who fell in battle. Their doors would forever be tainted by the stench of meat and wine. Gu Huaiyang decided, without any burden on his conscience, that once his armies reached Pingyang, the first thing on his to-do list was to slaughter every last one of those third aunts and second brothers-in-law. But before then, he would dig his military funds out of their pockets, as was right.
Speaking of the conference on Dazhou Mountain, the atmosphere was extremely tense. Yan Zhen didn’t personally attend; he sent Zou Yanlai, a fellow disciple of the Mi Sect, and his other colleague, Zhang Zhixian, of the Xuan Sect, to represent the court. Two of the country’s bigshot officials, the leader of the Xuan Sect, Master Bitan, the head of the Dacheng Sect, Master Zhiye, plus a blind old biddy from Mi Sect, Granny Guangling, all brought their disciples and gathered at Dazhou Mountain to discuss the secret treaty.
Actually, they shouldn’t have needed to discuss it at all. The whole reason that the three great sects had prevailed for so long was that they werelocusts perching on the same string. Everyone knew that the best course of action was to pretend that the treaty was still there, and for each of them to keep upholding their sect’s original rules. They could still hop in sync, even if the string was broken.
It was such an obvious solution, that the first thing each of them did upon meeting each other was to bitterly complain about how hard they had it. They vehemently affirmed their sense of duty to the country, just one step short of pointing at the sky and swearing on their mother’s grave that they would definitely not violate a single one of their ancestors’ teachings just because the secret treaty had been destroyed.
And yet… the secret treaty was still broken.
Banya and Bitan had a private discussion. For nearly the last hundred years, the court had been in the Mi Sect’s sway. According to reason, the Yan family should’ve let go of the reins long ago. Before, the treaty had strictly prevented the three great sects from coming into conflict with each other, but the court’s top official had been a Mi Sect disciple two times in a row. Now that the treaty was broken and Yan Zhen’s power in the court was so unassailable, who could guarantee that he wouldn’t go back on his word when all was said and done?
Master Zhiye was even more excessive. All that came out of his mouth were scriptures and sermons. He didn’t even leave his room, whether it was for eating, drinking, sleeping, or shitting. Who knew what kind of enlightenment he was reaching or what Dao he was comprehending in there. He put on the air of a breezy immortal who was due to ascend any moment. Even the normal disciples of the Dacheng Sect avoided contact with the other two sects.
Dacheng Sect had always been the most removed from mundane affairs. Master Zhiye believed that by the time his generation had come around, the amount of time they dedicated to cultivation was already far too little; their peace and quiet were constantly disturbed by worldly trifles. The treaty’s termination, to them, was like a breath of fresh air. They could finally step back.
When the Xuan Sect and the Mi Sect had conducted the ritual to borrow fortune, they hadn’t discussed it with Dacheng Sect; the treaty decreed that as long as two of the three came to an agreement, they could act on their own discretion. The remaining sect had to bow to the will of the majority. Dacheng Sect was most concerned with karma. When Master Zhiye heard that one half of a stick that’d been broken into two had struck down a mountain lantern on the day of the ceremony, he knew that it was an ominous portent. The treaty’s destruction matched up perfectly with the hidden implication of the other half of the stick nearly hitting Yan Huaipu in the face. If not destiny, what else could it be?
Master Zhiye, who was convinced he’d seen through heaven’s intent, sank deep into thought, wondering how to let the Dacheng Sect survive the coming storm. Thank goodness the treaty was gone, and he had one less thing to worry about.
Granny Guangling and Zou Yanlai, teamed up together, were even more shrewd. After all, Zou Yanlai had come from the Mi Sect and had learned to think quick after he became Bai Li and Yan Zhen’s go-between. They had an inkling of what Xuan Sect was thinking and were deeply irked. Xuan Sect’s Zhang Zhixian, who’d been thick as thieves with Zou Yanlai not two days prior, had begun to pull away.
Apparently, that unnamed person who’d first established the treaty was not only an expert at a variety of difficult calculations, he also had an unparalleled understanding of human nature, to have bound the three sects so tightly that they were able to endure for so many generations.
The conference had been intended to unite the three sects together, yet it ended with each of them wanting nothing to do with each other. And for the whole duration, that secretive Demon Lord hadn’t made a single appearance.
Fifteen days later, the conference ended. The conflicts were worsening in every region. The emperor issued a decree, pleading for the sects to intervene. He grudgingly allocated even more funds in order to mobilize the country’s last defense. Everyone was harboring ulterior motives, but they had no choice but to temporarily return and prepare to fight for the sake of the country.
Bitan of the Xuan Sect had already gone ahead to manage the affairs of Jiulu Mountain. Master Banya, on the other hand, had to stay behind to lead the rest of the disciples back.
Who knew, that after crossing the mountain ranges of Dongyue, they’d see a group of mangy refugees stumbling along in the distance. Banya, confident in his abilities, hadn’t taken Zou Yanlai’s warnings to heart.
Cultivators were so very different from normal people — they could effortlessly deal with enemies that outnumbered them ten to one. When cultivators gathered together, they could summon lightning from the heavens, shift mountains, and shake the earth. What idiotic bandits would dare rob them?
In truth, Banya didn’t know who his opponent was; Zou Yanlai hadn’t told him. After all, since the secret treaty was no more, it meant they’d be fighting against each other soon enough. It wouldn’t cost the Mi Sect anything not to share their information, and he was indeed biased in their favor — still, even if Banya had known that his opponent was Shi Wuduan, he still wouldn’t have taken it seriously.
Of course, he thought that Shi Wuduan was a wild card that he should’ve gotten rid of back then. But even though Banya didn’t believe in leaving loose ends untied, he never would’ve believed that that loose end would end up hanging him one day.
Banya thought nothing of those refugees. He merely pitied their bedraggled, beggarly manner. The Xuan Sect prided itself on its virtuousness, so he made an example of yielding the road to the beggars, opening his pouch and handing out some food and money. Since their shishu had taken action already, the other disciples instantly rushed to emulate him, as if they wanted to get rid of every last coin in their pockets. Since their numbers were so many, the refugees were almost swamped by their benevolence.
After the two groups of people came into contact, they proceeded to go their own ways. The shabbily dressed refugees were now carrying quite a lot of wealth. One goateed beggar was especially excessive; he’d decided he might as well plop down on the side of the road and start counting his money. In the end, a white-haired old man had to come back for him and drag him away by the ear.
That little episode was quickly forgotten by the disciples of the Xuan Sect. They started making their way into the mountains, but it wasn’t until they’d entered the ravine that they suddenly noticed something off — the road had disappeared, and they were surrounded on all sides by walls of cliffs. When they turned around, they found that even the road they’d came from had been blocked off by a mountain.
Mists rose up around the mountains, blotting out the sky. Everything suddenly became blurry and indistinct. Banya felt a chill wash over him; cold sweat beaded on his forehead. He couldn’t even tell when he’d started walking right into someone else’s array.
At that time, on the summit of a faraway mountain, a white-robed man with a faint flower symbol on his brow sat cross-legged, his eyes lightly closed — it was Bai Li. The gurgling cloth person was floating above his head, swimming up and down through the air like a fish. It got higher and higher, then, as if it’d seen something, suddenly dove back down and quietly gurgled beside Bai Li’s ear.
Bai Li opened his eyes, stood, and laughed — it was a gentle sound, but those unfeeling eyes of his would still send shivers up one’s spine. Even “gurgle” floated away from him.
“The Xuan sect really is useless. They actually fell for his trap so easily,” he said to himself. In the span of an instant, he’d already flitted halfway down the mountain like a mirage, “Go, let’s go meet up with him.”
Thanks for translating these chapters. I’m nervously anticipating Bai Li and Shi Wuduan’s meet up. 🙈
Appreciate your hard work 🙏👏❤️💐🧨
💙💙💙
Thank you for your hard work ❤️