Chapter 430: A City in Uproar

The writing on the Heavenly Tome faded away, returning once more to a blank expanse.

The Cloud Envoy lowered his head with utmost respect. “Monitoring fluctuations in that divine artifact is our duty.”

In other words: don’t blame the gods.

Lord Emperor pointed at the altar. “You’re relying on that thing?”

“Yes.” The cloud-messenger’s expression was solemn. “That, too, is a divine object.”

“Send Bai Ziqi. Have him head south at dawn and find out as quickly as possible.” While turning to leave, the Lord Emperor’s voice turned flat and indifferent as he said, “Take the pot and kill whoever’s holding it. End it once and for all.”

* * *

Sun Fuling was not home.

He Lingchuan sprawled atop the wall, looking into her courtyard. Flowers and greenery flourished inside, especially the dozens of enormous hydrangeas crammed into the corner, blooming with a rare blue-violet hue.

The yard had not been like this before. In the past, it had been so bare and empty that you would think even a thief would weep upon breaking in.

Under the eaves, a shell wind-chime tinkled, as though accusing its owner of vanishing again for no reason.

And yet He Lingchuan’s own courtyard was still neat as before. The plants stood upright, the fish in the vat were lively, not a single one missing. Clearly, whenever he was away, Sun Fuling came by regularly to keep things in order.

He Lingchuan grabbed two books and headed out. He needed to return them to the Literature Pavilion, and while he was there, he planned to dig up more on the history of the State of Yuān.

The devil hid in the details. Maybe he could still pry something loose.

Ever since he heard that conversation between Yuān’s king and his ministers, a sense of urgency had lodged itself in his chest. All he could think about now was collecting clues, and fast.

He tried to close his eyes and rest in the carriage, but the driver was unusually chatty and immediately launched into talk about the eastward return to the motherland[1].

Only then did He Lingchuan learn that in the day or two that he had been gone, the news had already spread that the monarch had ordered the Panlong army and civilians to relocate back to the homeland.

The whole city was buzzing.

Some said they would finally be able to go home, while others insisted it was a trap.

Some were desperate to return, while others had no desire at all.

And when those arguments were fueled by alcohol, they tended to end with raised voices and swinging fists, with whoever had the stronger fist “winning” the debate.

Sure enough, more than a dozen taverns in Panlong City had seen rare outbreaks of brawling and injuries, all born from the same fevered excitement.

He Lingchuan sized the driver up. The man looked to be in his early forties. His left sleeve was rolled up, revealing a long scar on his forearm.

That’s a saber scar.

“You used to be a soldier, right? Do you want to go back?”

The driver let out a long sigh and said, “When I was a kid, I lived on Huangzhou Island. Fish and shrimp were yours for the catching, and the bird eggs up in the trees were yours for the taking.” He pointed at a big roadside tree. “Now? Forget climbing up for eggs. Try snapping off a branch here and see what happens. You might get whipped. Look at the youngsters in the city. They don’t want to go back. They grew up here, thinking the Panlong Wasteland is the best place under heaven. Also, they’ve heard the homeland is rotten with corruption, and the people live hard lives, so they don’t want to go anywhere.”

“So you want to go back badly?”

“I don’t dare go back.” The driver shook his head. “I’ve been away from home for thirty years. If I go back now, it’s like being a stranger all over again. I’ve heard bandits and thieves are everywhere in the homeland. There might not be any good days waiting for me there either. And besides, do you really think the road home is easy? How many people are going to die on the way?”

“Didn’t they say the State of Baling would open the Jinxi Corridor for us? That should make it simple, right?”

“Ha! Baling!” The driver pointed at the scar on his arm. “This wound’s from a Baling man’s blade. I nearly lost the whole arm. How many good young men, soldiers, of ours died at the hands of Baling and Xianyou? If Baling were trustworthy, then a sow could climb a tree.” He then exhaled and said, “One way or another, the Panlong Wasteland’s going to be in chaos for quite a while because of this.”

On the road, they passed Spirit-Nurturing Isle, and the plump shopkeeper was still standing at the entrance chatting with customers.

He Lingchuan climbed down on a whim and restocked on consumables, sleeve arrows, medicines, and the like.

After Bai Guo took his money, he looked like he wanted to speak but did not dare. He Lingchuan slung an arm around his shoulder and laughed. “Still hung up on that, huh?”

“You really haven’t heard?” Bai Guo sighed. “It’s already spread like wildfire. Look at the way things are outside, it almost seems like we’re setting off tomorrow to go back.”

He had wanted to gain some advantage early, but it turns out that he had not gained anything at all.

“Then why aren’t you going back?” He Lingchuan shot him a look. “Don’t give me that ‘my shop’ excuse. You could have easily just sold it or handed it off to someone else to manage. It would have been pretty easy for you to slip out first.”

He had seen how flexible merchants could be through Second Boss Shi and his own steward Ding Zuodong. A single shop could not possibly be what chained Bai Guo in place.

Bai Guo fell silent, words stuck in his throat. It was not that he did not want to leave; he just could not read Panlong City’s intentions. What if the news fell through in the end? If he had already pulled up stakes, what then?

And without Panlong City’s army escort, who knew what disasters waited on the road? Who could guarantee that he would survive crossing the Jinxi Corridor through the State of Baling?

Still, Bai Guo was not exaggerating about the citywide storm. He Lingchuan’s hearing was sharp enough that he could make out two tables on the second floor of a teahouse across the street, also debating the return to the homeland.

It really was the hottest, heaviest topic in the city.

He Lingchuan patted Bai Guo’s shoulder. “Settle your heart back into your stomach. Keep running your shop. We definitely aren’t leaving.”

Bai Guo jolted. “How do you know? You have inside information?”

He Lingchuan gave him a mysterious smile. “Can’t say. Can’t say.”

What was there to say? He was from the future. He knew Panlong City’s people never left the Panlong Wasteland, at least not until the city’s destruction.

Even if the dreamscape’s course did not perfectly match history, he did not remember anything happening yet that could actually bend the main thread.

So, it was most likely that nobody here would be going anywhere.

And that thought sparked another one.

If West Luo truly issued a resettlement decree and the Panlong military and civilians actually obeyed and returned east, could they escape the final fate of slaughter?

The idea took root like weeds and began to grow wildly, unstoppable.

He did not even know when it had started, but he had begun worrying for this city and its people, resisting with all his heart the coming of that end of days.

He had witnessed Qianxing City’s final moment.

That kind of brutality, hopelessness, and tragic grandeur—no words could capture even a fraction of it.

He Lingchuan could not bear to see Panlong City follow the same path, especially now that the city was giving him an ever stronger sense of belonging.

He got back into the carriage. On the way, he first needed to stop at the Bureau of Invigoration.

He had saved up enough military merit again. This time, he planned to exchange it for a spear technique.

An inch longer, an inch stronger. After the great battle at the Han River, he understood that saying far more deeply. He would almost certainly face more mounted combat in the future. As good as Fleeting Life was, a saber was still a short weapon.

He had watched the Red General, Xiao Maoliang, Hong Chenglue, and even Zhao Pan wield the spear, and he had envied them.

The spear technique the Bureau gave him had a plain, unadorned name: Flashing Lightning Spear. The intent of the move was simple: thrust like flashing lightning, striking not only fast but also carrying the weight and terror of lightning.

With his growing combat experience, He Lingchuan understood that the saying that “all martial arts under heaven can be broken by speed alone” was far from the truth. A hummingbird flapped fast, did it not? And what threat did it pose? On a hot day, it might even fan you a little.

Speed, stability, accuracy, and ruthlessness; fast, but not flimsy, this was the true key to victory.

He had just memorized the spear manual and was about to return the jade slip to Merits Clerk Liu when he heard a guard running in and shouting, “Who is He Lingchuan?”

“That’s me.”

“The Red General orders you to report immediately for duty at the Hall of War.”

A mission?

He Lingchuan tossed down the jade slip and followed the messenger.

The Hall of War was one of the places where Panlong City’s highest ranks discussed military strategy. Ordinary people could not even come near it. Even Gale Army soldiers could only enter with a token.

Following the messenger, He Lingchuan passed through the government offices toward the north. Before long, they went past Zhong Shengguang’s residence.

The Hall of War had been built behind it, so the city’s top authority could convene meetings at once.

This place had not even a scrap of greenery, and the ground and walls were made completely of bluestone. It could perhaps only be described as empty and cold. Although it was referred to as a council or discussion hall, to He Lingchuan, it felt more like a prison. The moment he stepped inside, a murderous chill seemed to rush up and wrap around him.

There were two halls for actual deliberations—one large, one small. Both were square and blocky, stonework so tight even the seams had been filled.

Even a pale green grasshopper on the wall would stand out immediately.

And in fact, one hopped onto the wall only to slide down to the ground at once. The building clearly had another layer of barrier, preventing living creatures from staying on it.

It looked like there had once been trees in the courtyard, trees that had thick stumps, but they had since been cut down.

A tree made it too easy to hide people or other things. In this world, methods of eavesdropping and surveillance were endless.

He Lingchuan sensed the barriers as soon as he entered, noting that there were several layers of them. Any forced entry or intrusion would trigger an alarm.

Just from the setup, it was obvious that anything discussed in the Hall of War was never simple.

The messenger stopped at the door to the small hall. “Wait here.” Then he turned and left.

His task was done. He was not allowed inside.

Even the wind that slipped into the Hall of War felt colder than outside. He Lingchuan had barely stood there a moment before several more Gale Army soldiers arrived.

Then, Zhong Shengguang and the Red General appeared.

The Red General casually pointed at two people, one of whom was He Lingchuan. “You two. Stand duty inside.” Then she told the others, “You guard outside.”

Everyone obeyed.

He Lingchuan entered the small hall. It was only about fifty square meters, and most of that space was taken up by a massive sand table at the center. Even so, at most twenty people could fit inside.

The Red General stepped up onto the sand table and manipulated it a few times. The sand began to rise and shape itself, hills, mountains, lakes, rivers, and valleys forming one after another.

In less than eight minutes, the whole terrain model was complete.

From where He Lingchuan stood, he could clearly see the harsh highland and the stone forest that resembled a thousand sails.

The sand table showed the Chipa Highland, and it also showed Zhu Erniang’s old lair, the Guizhen Stone Forest.

The Red General was wearing a mask again.

This time it was an eagle-head mask, colored in browns, golds, and reds. The craftsmanship was just as fine, the style just as abstract.

Honestly, the Red General’s taste was consistently excellent. He Lingchuan could not help but wonder who was making the masks for her.

Zhong Shengguang stood by the sand table too, looking down at the miniature Panlong City.

A vertical line sat between his eyebrows, etched there by constant frowning.

He was the commander of the entire Panlong Wasteland. The responsibility and burden behind that title were not something an ordinary person could carry.

And then He Lingchuan remembered the King of Yuān’s entrustment. The “calamity” that had driven the mighty State of Yuān into bitter annihilation was now here, in Zhong Shengguang’s hands. If that secret leaked, the consequences would be unimaginable. Even from that fact alone, the psychological pressure Zhong Shengguang bore was almost beyond comprehension.

1. Yes, West Luo is to the east of Panlong City. Recall that the land that Yuan occupies now actually used to belong to West Luo, and Yuan is to the southeast of Panlong City. ☜