Nightwatcher-Chapter 467: Grevious News

# 467. Grevious News

White clouds drifted leisurely through the sky as the warm sun shone down.

The shimmering sea had returned to calm; broken timbers and masts floated gently with the waves.

Sarun Agu stood high in the air, gazing down at the land where he had lived for countless years. It had been levelled; mountains collapsed, the city flattened.

He had seen such devastation only once before, when the Confucian Sage sealed the Warlock God.

On that occasion, a thousand li of land became a wasteland, and for the next three hundred years, all life vanished. It was only after the powers of the two beyond-ranks dissipated that Mount Jing City was rebuilt into what it had become today.

Now, history had repeated itself.

But this time, it was not the Sage’s true body that had acted, and the Warlock God had not been at full strength. Few survived, yet it was not a total loss.

The few survivors were scattered far away, some watching from afar, some meditating to heal, some binding their wounds. None dared return to investigate.

The army of the Great Feng had retreated.

Sarun Agu cast his gaze towards the altar. His figure vanished suddenly, and the next moment, he appeared on the altar, before that tattered azure-robed figure.

The Emperor Zhende, Irbu, and Uda Batu followed and descended beside the Great Warlock.

Before them stood a shattered human figure. His body was so cracked, not a single part was whole.

The right arm that had once held the carving knife was now nothing but blood-streaked bone.

His azure robe was in tatters; his form like his robe, both worn to ruin.

From this day forth, Great Feng would have no God of War.

The Confucian cap and carving knife had already departed, returning to the Central Plains.

Sarun Agu said in a low voice, “In the thousand years of the Central Plains, among all its remarkable figures, you, Wei Yuan, count as one.”

“Damn it, damn it, damn it…”

Irbu’s face twisted in fury as he cursed, “How could he summon the Confucian Sage? A mere martial artist, how could he summon the Sage? The Warlock God has gathered power for over a thousand years, and finally managed to break through a part of the seal, only for it all to be ruined by this bastard!

“I’ll lead an army to bathe Great Feng in blood, slaughter thirty thousand li, and cut a path straight to the capital!”

“Right now, you really do look like a coarse martial artist,” Emperor Zhende mocked.

Every Daoist who had fallen to demons became proficient in the art of provocation.

Emperor Zhende stood with his hands behind his back, his immortal golden body resplendent, golden light intertwined with black. He said coolly:

“The Warlock God is sealed, Wei Yuan is dead. Though the situation is grim, we haven’t lost this war. Now comes the time for you to honour your promises.”

Sarun Agu laughed. “Then allow me to congratulate Your Majesty in advance on a long life and sovereignty over the Central Plains.”

Emperor Zhende nodded slowly.

Sarun Agu then said, “Uda Batu, spread the news of Wei Yuan’s death across the northeast. Have Yan and Kang mobilise manpower to rebuild Mount Jing City, and have Jing withdraw its troops. Gather the remaining warlocks and treat the surviving civilians and soldiers…”

He issued a series of orders for the aftermath.

This battle would spread across Jiuzhou. As for what would happen to the Great Feng, he didn’t care. But within the three nations of his domain, it would surely stir up a storm of public outcry.

This would be the most shameful day in the annals of the Church of the Warlock God.

…

In a remote wilderness far from Mount Jing,

“Ahhhh!!!”

The anguished scream of Nangong Qianrou echoed to the heavens, filled with grief, despair, and searing hatred.

“Warlock God… Warlock God… Warlock God…”

He knelt, punching the ground with both fists, venting his agony for a full quarter of an hour.

A white-robed arcanist stepped before him and offered a brocade pouch. Nangong Qianrou, tears streaming, looked up blankly at him.

Second Brother Sun Xuanji said, “Wei…”

But before he could finish, Nangong Qianrou snatched the pouch madly and tore it open, revealing a slip of paper.

He unfolded it, read the message, and wept anew. After a long while, he collected his emotions, looked towards Mount Jing, and murmured:

“Father, you may not have finished this game, but I’ll play the next moves for you.”

*One day, one day in my life I’ll return here, and let iron hooves trample every inch of the Church of the Warlock God’s land, let the wheels of artillery grind their spine to dust, and turn this sixty thousand li of land into scorched earth.*

Sun Xuanji raised his hand and lightly waved it, erasing the existence of this heavy cavalry unit so that no one in the world would remember them again.

…

Cloud Deer Academy.

In the bamboo forest behind the mountain, inside the bamboo building.

Zhao Shou sat motionless in the hall, like a statue.

He had held this pose for over a month; a thin layer of dust had settled on the table before him.

Suddenly, Zhao Shou stirred, turning to look out the window.

Outside the open window, the sky was a pure blue, mountain ranges stretching far and wide. Two streaks of clear light flew across a thousand mountains and rivers like meteors tearing through the sky, drifting gently down to rest on the desk before him.

Dean Zhao Shou, as if relieved of a great burden, slowly rose to his feet, dusted off his robes, and bowed low.

Whether the bow was to the two sacred relics or to the one in azure, none could say.

…

The imperial palace.

In the quiet hall, behind heavy curtains, Emperor Yuanjing, seated cross-legged on a meditation cushion, slowly opened his eyes.

He remained silent for a moment, then revealed a smile that was equal parts excitement, delight, and madness.

Emperor Yuanjing stepped up to the tower, gazing out at the layers of red walls and undulating golden rooftops. He spread his arms wide to the wind and said slowly:

“Our era has arrived.”

…

Stargazing Tower, Bagua Platform.

The Jianzheng glanced toward the palace, smiled faintly, and took a sip of wine.

*The mortal world… is not worth it.*

…

Xu Manor, Xu Qi’an felt a sudden stab in his chest.

*What’s this? Why is my chest hurting out of nowhere?*

He frowned, trying to joke it off, something like *Can a peak Rank Five still get a heart attack?*

But for some reason, a deep unease clung to his heart and wouldn’t disperse.

…

The Northern border.

In the allied camp of the Great Feng and the Yao-Barbarian forces, Xu Xinnian sat at the table, studying a map.

He was thinner, but sturdier. Still handsome, but his fair skin had been darkened by the sun and roughened by the northern winds and sands.

He was still the proud scholar, but no longer brash, rather calmer, more reserved.

War had forced him to mature quickly. The courtesans of the Jiaofangsi had made him a man, but not a mature one.

What truly matured him were his fallen comrades, the battles between life and death, the enemies he had cut down with his own hands.

Chu Yuanzhen burst into the tent, smiling. “Cijiu, I’ve got some exciting news for you.”

Xu Erlang pondered briefly. “No battles have been fought lately, so it’s not a victory. What is it?”

Chu Yuanzhen punched the air and said with excitement, “Jing has retreated.”

…

Late at night.

By the dim glow of a candle, Xu Qi’an sat at his desk, cradling the Earth Book fragment as he wrote: 【I explored the underground again with the National Teacher today. The late emperor hasn’t returned. By all reason, someone so terrifying shouldn’t have disappeared without a trace.】

【TWO: Maybe he’s already replaced Yuanjing and is sitting on the throne in the palace. Oh, I forgot, he is Yuanjing.】

Xu Qi’an was deeply concerned about the late emperor’s disappearance. A high-ranking expert who had cultivated in secret for forty years vanished the moment his hiding place was discovered.

This made Xu Qi’an extremely anxious, because the late emperor was Yuanjing, and Yuanjing was the late emperor, and he bore a deep grudge against him. By the same token, he bore a deep grudge against the late emperor.

Now, a top-tier expert was lurking in the shadows, ready to strike at any moment.

Who wouldn’t be afraid?

Of course, one could hope that all of Yuanjing’s erratic behaviour was merely an act, that a true peak expert would possess the bearing of a true master and wouldn’t bother with a mere ant like himself.

It was Shenshu who killed King Huai; what did that have to do with Xu Qi’an?

If it had been another top expert, Xu Qi’an might have dared to entertain such hopes. But this was the late emperor, polluted by the Earth Sect Daoist Leader.

A peak expert brimming with malice, wholly corrupted in nature, would undoubtedly be vengeful to the extreme.

【FOUR: Let’s look at this another way. What cultivation path do you think Yuanjing, no, the late emperor, took?】

Scholar Chu, one of the Earth Book group’s intellectual heavyweights, posed a question.

*The late emperor had broken his vow of celibacy early, which meant he’d severed his path in martial cultivation. He then spent twenty-one years studying Daoism under Luo Yuheng, so clearly, he’d followed the Human Sect path…* Xu Qi’an replied:

【THREE: The Human Sect, I suppose.】

【FOUR: That’s what I thought too. So, what’s the drawback of Human Sect cultivation? The karmic fire that burns the body. Since the late emperor was high-ranked, like the National Teacher, he would need fortune to suppress the fire. That means he wouldn't leave the capital.】

【ONE: No, you’re mistaken. Unlike Luo Yuheng, who needs the position of National Teacher to access fortune, the late emperor was the emperor, he bore fortune naturally.】

Another intellectual heavyweight, Huaiqing, refuted him.

*Ah, I see. Then never mind…* Chu Yuanzhen muttered inwardly.

【ONE: The Jianzheng is in the capital. Since the late emperor isn’t under the dragon ley, he definitely wouldn’t stay in the capital. He must’ve left. As for where he’s gone or what he’s doing, that’s impossible to guess.】

*The most logical way to find him would be to deduce his whereabouts from his objective… which meant, to know where he is, they had to first know what he was trying to do…* Xu Qi’an rubbed his brow.

What was known so far was that the late emperor had devoured Yuanjing and King Huai, two of his own sons, in pursuit of longevity.

He’d succeeded, living forty years longer.

So, his ultimate goal remained: immortality.

But the problem was, no matter how formidable the late emperor was, could he compare to Emperor Wuzong? To the Confucian Sage?

Even those figures had passed away, so how could he, the late emperor, be any different?

*According to the rules of Heaven and Earth, those who bear fortune cannot attain immortality. The late emperor must be over eighty now, Confucian Sage only lived to eighty-two. That means his end is near. Of course, people differ, and if he’s angry enough, he might live one year longer than the Confucian Sage.*

*If I were the late emperor, I would do whatever it took to find a way to attain immortality. But… how?*

It wasn’t that he lacked the intelligence, it was that he didn’t have enough information, not even enough to begin forming a theory.

*What on earth was the late emperor doing?*

*Speaking of which, Duke Wei had set off for the front almost half a month ago, there’d been no word of the battle.*

…

One night, over a month since the Great Feng’s troops set out, the moon was bright and clear.

Clip-clop, clip-clop...

A fast horse galloped down the official road outside the capital. The courier’s lips were cracked and dry, his clothes covered in dust. Pulling on the reins, he shouted hoarsely:

“Open the city gates, urgent eight-hundred-li dispatch!”

Through the outer city, inner city, and Imperial City, the dispatch was delivered to the palace.

In the dead of night, Prime Minister Wang was woken by frantic knocking. His old butler banged on the door, calling out, “Master, Master, wake up…”

In the dark room, a candle was lit. A maidservant sleeping in the outer room threw on a robe, picked up the candlestick, and hurried to open the door.

Moments later, she entered with small, quick steps and whispered, “Master, a message has come from the constabulary, an eight-hundred-li emergency dispatch.”

Wang, already elderly, was weary from being roused in the middle of the night. He pinched the bridge of his nose and said, “Dress me.”

Important institutions like the Cabinet always had night watch officers for just such emergencies.

Whether eight hundred or six hundred li, the couriers would push themselves to the limit, riding horses to the death if needs be. Dispatches could arrive at any hour.

Dressed in his official robes with his maid’s help, Prime Minister Wang boarded his carriage and rode into the palace amid the rumbling wheels, heading to the Cabinet yamen.

He strode quickly into the hall and sat behind his grand desk. “The dispatch.”

The night-duty official immediately handed over the sealed report, which had been kept close at hand. Only Grand Scholars were authorised to open an eight-hundred-li dispatch.

Wang drew a small blade, broke the wax seal, and unfolded the report with a soft rustle of paper.

He fell silent.

…

Grand Scholar Qian Qingshu of Wuying Hall, Grand Scholar Chen Qi of Jianji Hall, Grand Scholar Zhao Tingfang of the East Pavilion, and three others arrived in a group. They entered the Cabinet and went to the Prime Minister’s chamber.

There, they were shocked to see the head of the Wang Clique, once the most powerful man in court, looking as though he had aged several years overnight.

His face was ashen. His red-rimmed eyes, now cloudy, stared blankly ahead as if trapped in a deep grief he could not escape.

Just yesterday, the Prime Minister had been fine. What blow could have reduced him to this in a single night?

Prime Minister Wang looked up, swept his gaze over the scholars, and said in a low voice, “Wei Yuan has passed.”

After a pause, he added, “Of the hundred thousand troops, only sixteen thousand made it back.”

*Boom!*

Each man felt as though struck by lightning. Their minds reeled, their faces frozen.

Qian Qingshu muttered, “This… this is impossible… impossible…”

Prime Minister Wang’s tone regained some strength. Gravely, he said:

“I know it’s hard to believe, but for now, this is the truth. Gentlemen, set aside all negative emotions and hear me out. This campaign was very strange. The dispatch has already entered the palace. Before the morning court, let us first discuss…”

As dawn neared, the scholars left, exhausted and heavy with worry.

Prime Minister Wang beckoned a trusted aide and said expressionlessly, “Send someone to the Xu Residence. Tell Xu Qi’an the situation in the northeast.”

He gave no written message, so as to leave no evidence.

When the aide left, Prime Minister Wang paced to the window and stared out at the darkness before dawn, silent as a statue.

*Wei Yuan… without you, how lonely the court will be.*

…

Before sunrise, a knock at the door woke both Zhong Li and Xu Qi’an.

The latter called out, “Who is it?”

Old Zhang, the gatekeeper, replied, “Dalang, someone’s here to see you. Claims he’s from the Cabinet.”

*The Cabinet? Prime Minister Wang is looking for me at this hour?*

Xu Qi’an immediately got up, threw on his robe, and said, “Take me to him.”

He left his room and made his way to the outer hall, where he saw a middle-aged man in official garb whom he didn’t recognise, standing there.

“Silver Gong Xu!”

The man blurted out the old title instinctively.

Xu Qi’an, used to the capital’s stubborn ways, asked plainly, “What business do you have with me, sir?”

The man said, “The Prime Minister sent me to deliver a message.”

*So it was Prime Minister Wang*… Xu Qi’an nodded. “Please speak.”

The official hesitated, took a moment to compose himself, and said quietly, “Duke Wei… has fallen in the northeast.”