Chapter 604: Winter's Chill

The eleventh month, Puyang.

Wang Zhaoling’s forces had been besieging the city for over three months now. From the crisp autumn days of plentiful supplies to the first snowfall, which had only grown heavier, the siege now found itself buried under flurries thick as goose feathers.

In the eleventh month, winter had firmly arrived.

Wang Zhaoling tilted his head back to watch the snowflakes falling from the sky, then glanced around at his soldiers. Each one huddled by fire pits, rubbing their hands for warmth. Noticing his gaze, they averted their eyes, their discomfort painfully obvious.

Snow like this was not just bad for morale—it was no weather for waging war, let alone storming a fortified city. Just setting up camp in these conditions was a trial, while those inside the city walls enjoyed shelter from the wind and snow. It was a completely unequal confrontation.

Even the barbarians of the north withdrew their armies when winter came.

But the question then was... Did they even have the option to retreat?

The answer to that was no. It would be a joke across the land if they, having rebelled, were blocked by a mere city, achieved nothing in over three months, and then retreated in disgrace with the coming of snow.

Even the Maitreya Cult’s uprising caused more of a stir. And the Wang Clan—this thousand-year-old aristocratic family—this was all they’ve got?

It was a dilemma with no easy solution.

But Wang Zhaoling had no choice.

On paper, his forces were far superior to the Cui Clan’s, having prepared for this rebellion for years. Unlike the Cui Clan, who had only maintained a conventional militia, the Wang Clan’s troops were seasoned and formidable, with many subtly altered by the Sea Tribe’s yin-based techniques. They should have crushed the defenders with ease.

Yet the disparity between theory and practice was cruel. Defenders always hold the advantage over attackers in siege warfare, and Cui Yuanyong was no amateur commander. A veteran of countless battles, his experience and ferocity turned the city walls into an unyielding bulwark.

And then there was the wildcard.

Within the city, there was a peculiar and frustrating force of just a few thousand soldiers. Individually, they were not terribly remarkable, but on the battlefield, they fought like miniature versions of Zhao Changhe himself, their eyes gleaming red as they charged wildly like a herd of enraged bulls.

Against them, the Wang Clan’s formations did not feel like formations at all—they were like piles of golden ingots waiting to be looted. Each attempt to storm the city was met with chaos, as these madmen tore through their ranks with reckless abandon. Worse, they seemed to grow stronger with every battle, as if they were absorbing energy from their enemies.

Who could understand the nightmare of facing thousands of mini-Zhao Changhes on a battlefield? And leading them was none other than Xue Canghai—a man once ridiculed for being a disgrace as a cultivator, yet now exhibiting strength nearly worthy of the Ranking of Earth. It was truly a mystery as to how he had come to be so powerful.

When it came to resources, the Cui Clan was not at a disadvantage either. While the Wang Clan’s maritime trade gave them a financial edge, they could not just drown the Cui Clan in gold.

Take the city’s boiling oil, for example. They had been pouring it for three months straight, yet somehow the supply still seemed endless. It was as if Puyang itself produced oil from its depths!

And if that was not bad enough, they had even resorted to dumping steaming excrement on their attackers. The insult went without saying, but the injury it added to was even worse—causing infections and deaths, sometimes leading to small outbreaks of some kind of plague.

The sheer abundance of such resources was nauseating. It felt as though every citizen of Puyang had nothing to do but shit five times a day.

Who would buy massive shipments of excrement from neighboring regions? Cui Yuanyong, apparently. How had a once-dignified noble turned into this?

In terms of elite fighters, the Wang Clan boasted no shortage of experts at the level of Rankings of Earth and Man. But the Cui Clan was not lacking either. With siblings Cui Yuanyong and Cui Yuanyan themselves being formidable warriors, even assassination attempts were near-impossible.

And as for top-tier combatants? Wang Zhaoling could only smile bitterly.

His father, Wang Daoning, had clashed with Cui Wengjing earlier, leaving both gravely injured. Fortunately, Wang Daoning’s recovery had been quicker, and there were hopes he would return to the battlefield soon. But then, his first move after recovering had been to take to the seas.

Wang Zhaoling understood the reasoning. Directly confronting Xia Longyuan on the battlefield would have been a risky move, potentially drawing the emperor’s wrath. A naval campaign, where Hai Pinglan could manipulate events, was a more strategic option. The plan to use Hai Pinglan and Wang Daoning’s alliance to undermine Xia Longyuan was just as critical as the siege of Puyang.

But then the results came in.

Wang Daoning had been beaten back by none other than Black Tortoise of the Four Idols Cult. Not only had he been humiliated, but the news had also been spread far and wide.

Inside Puyang, the Cui Clan was surely laughing themselves to tears, and the morale of Wang Zhaoling’s troops had visibly plummeted. Even their gazes, when meeting his, had grown timid and uncertain.

He had initially hoped to maneuver strategically, expecting to have the option to capitalize on Wan Tianxiong’s cooperation from the south. But once the news of Wang Daoning’s defeat by Black Tortoise was out, Vermillion Bird immediately flipped sides without so much as a second thought. She did not care about the details or who was at fault. Her decree was swift. “Black Tortoise can’t possibly be wrong. It must have been Wang Daoning bullying her!”

The alliance was thus immediately broken off.

Now, there was no hope of Wan Tianxiong offering any support either. In fact, it was a small miracle he had not outright turned against them already.

With things as they were, how were they to keep fighting?

It felt as though the conflict had little to do with Xia Longyuan anymore. Even if Xia Longyuan dropped dead this very moment, the road ahead seemed like an endless quagmire, every step a painful struggle.

Wang Zhaoling could not fathom how it had come to this. His father had planned for so long, yet was the entire strategy—beyond the Four Idols Cult and the alliance with the barbarians—centered solely around the Sea Emperor? Now that the Sea Emperor was dead, was there truly no backup plan?

Just days ago, his uncle, Wang Daozhong, had been here aiding in the siege. But with little to show for it, he had already returned to seek clarity from Wang Daoning on what exactly their next steps were supposed to be.

Staring into the snowstorm, Wang Zhaoling fell into grim contemplation.

We’ll have to hold out until Father’s message arrives. There’s no way he pinned everything on the so-called Sea Emperor. From the very start, didn’t he always have his own designs for the Sea Tribe?

“Strengthen the defenses! Be vigilant of a night raid!” Wang Zhaoling barked, his voice cutting through the bitter cold. “What kind of discipline is this? My father hasn’t ordered a retreat, which means he still has a plan. The calculations of a strategist on the Ranking of Heaven are not for you to question. Just guard the camp!”

The soldiers muttered a lackluster response. They had gone from attacking a city to guarding the camp, and now they were hearing about some supposed grand strategy of someone on the Ranking of Heaven, that someone being the very same person who had been utterly defeated at sea.

* * *

In Langya, at the Wang Clan’s estate.

Wang Daoning sat cross-legged atop a high tower, gazing toward the distant sea.

Snow swirled like cotton, blanketing the land in pure white. The far-off coastline, usually visible from the tower, had blended into the silvery expanse, making it difficult to distinguish where the land ended and the ocean began.

Footsteps echoed up the tower, and a familiar voice called out, “Brother, how’s your injury?”

Wang Daoning spoke slowly, “I did not take the Black Tortoise’s fist directly. I managed to deflect most of the force, so my injuries weren’t that bad. I’ve already mostly recovered over the past few days.”

Wang Daozhong exhaled in relief before his expression hardened in frustration. “What is wrong with the Four Idols Cult? They talk of alliances, but aside from discussing maritime trade, they’ve done almost nothing an ally should do. Instead, they’ve obstructed us at every turn!”

“Ha...” Wang Daoning let out a dry chuckle, a trace of bitterness in his smile. “Black Tortoise is Hai Pinglan’s daughter. Who could’ve seen that coming?”

“She... what?!”

Wang Daozhong was struck by the sheer unpredictability of it all. But something did not sit right. “Even so, something doesn’t add up. Weren’t you originally working with Hai Pinglan to oppose the Sea Emperor? That was the plan from the moment we acquired the marine clay. So, how did you end up siding with the Sea Emperor and clashing with Black Tortoise instead? Don’t tell me... was your mind actually controlled by the Sea Emperor?”

Wang Daoning let out a quiet sigh. “The Soul of Water was deeply intertwined with our own souls. If I’d shown even a hint of rebellion in front of the Sea Emperor, the backlash would have killed me instantly. It simply wasn’t the right time.”

He gazed into the distance, his expression turning strange. “Who could have predicted... the Sea Emperor would actually fall? Now, the Soul of Water left within us has become masterless. Have you refined it yet?”

Wang Daozhong nodded. “Just finished. I’m stuck on the threshold of the third layer of the Profound Mysteries

,

but give me a little more time, and I might break through. If Zhao Changhe dares to come impersonating me again, I’ll make sure he doesn’t leave alive!”

Wang Daoning frowned. “The Sea Emperor fell to Zhao Changhe’s hand—do you dare to underestimate him?”

“That was a severely weakened Sea Emperor, and Zhao Changhe simply took advantage of the situation,” Wang Daozhong retorted, unwilling to linger on the subject. “The Tome of Troubled Times clearly states that he’s only at the second layer of the Profound Mysteries. No matter how talented he is, he can’t possibly have surpassed me in such a short time.” He paused, then added, “What about you, brother? Have you refined your portion of the Soul of Water?”

Wang Daoning simply grunted in acknowledgment.

Wang Daozhong’s face lit up with unrestrained joy.

Wang Daoning had already been at the late stage of the third layer of the Profound Mysteries, nearly touching upon power at the level of the Profound Control Realm during the battle between the Cui and Wang Clans. Even in his fight with Black Tortoise, if not for Xia Chichi’s ambush, he might have won—and even then, Xia Chichi had been injured in the process. Now, with his share of the Soul of Water fully refined, Wang Daoning had undoubtedly stepped into the Profound Control Realm.

In truth, the Wang Clan’s entire plan had been a gamble.

In this era, the Profound Control Realm was considered unattainable. Just a few years ago, few even realized how monstrous Xia Longyuan truly was. Many thought his peculiar behavior stemmed from a failed attempt to break into the Sovereign Realm, leaving him erratic in his old age. For the elite on the Ranking of Heaven, the question of how to ascend to the Profound Control Realm was the ultimate mystery.

Some, like Ying Five, pursued the near-impossible path of collecting fragments of shattered spaces. Wang Daoning, however, discovered the Soul of Water while investigating the marine clay and sensed the potential for Profound Control-level insights within it.

He realized the Soul of Water held the power of the Profound Control Realm, albeit in a weakened state. If he could devour it, he might be able to break through himself. Thus, he made his move, aligning with the Sea Emperor while secretly preparing for betrayal.

Wang Daoning took every precaution. For instance, his son, Wang Zhaoling, was strictly forbidden from touching the marine clay. He had resolved that if something went wrong, he could die—but the next generation must survive to carry on the clan’s legacy.

The plan, while risky, was not entirely unreasonable. But what Wang Daoning had not anticipated was the Heavenly Tome. Through its power and the power of faith, the Sea Emperor recovered at a speed that left Wang Daoning stunned. What began as a weakened god swiftly transformed into a force of overwhelming spiritual domination, leaving Wang Daoning with no room to maneuver.

Despair had begun to creep in, and his actions became increasingly erratic. At that point, urgency took over the calculated patience of an aristocratic clan. These apparent missteps were not his but the Sea Emperor’s, driven by his relentless hunger to expand his faith. Even Zhao Changhe had seen through this facade.

And now, finally, the gamble had paid off. The Sea Emperor was gone, and the other party’s Profound Control-level insights had been fully absorbed. Wang Daoning might now be the second Profound Control Realm expert in this era after Xia Longyuan. The risk had been worth it.

Wang Daozhong’s joy was palpable. “Could it be that you foresaw the Sea Emperor’s fall?”

Wang Daoning was silent for a long moment before speaking softly. “I’m ashamed to say this, but I didn’t. Even if I did think about it, it was only as a remote possibility, relying on Xia Longyuan to strike the final blow. The way events unfolded was beyond our control—it was all a gamble. I am simply fortunate that, no matter how the Sea Emperor fell, we won the bet. And now, with Xia Longyuan wounded, this world has only one Profound Control Realm cultivator—me.”