Tome of Troubled Times

Chapter 681: Once the Mansions of the Great

Gui Chen appeared to be a man of his word, but Wang Daozhong did not buy it.

He firmly believed that if the tide had been in his favor, Gui Chen might not have honored the agreement he had made with Zhao Changhe after all. What use was some old agreement when the Four Idols Cult had already claimed the position of the state religion? Gui Chen could not establish his own Taiyi Sect as the state religion, so why bother honoring some old agreement? But when your enemy has smashed through your defenses from the Yellow River to your doorstep in a matter of days, it was not surprising that their allies abandoned them. After all, the wise adapt to the times—why would Gui Chen risk everything for the Wang Clan?

This was the harsh reality.

Of course, whether Gui Chen acted out of loyalty to his promise or due to pragmatism was something no one could definitively know. Different minds operated in different ways, forever incomprehensible to one another.

For his part, Wang Daozhong was reminded of a warning from his late elder brother: “Keep an eye on Zhao Changhe. He is the true dragon of this era, not Xia Longyuan.”

Recalling those words, Wang Daozhong felt an unexpected sense of peace. He burst into laughter, his voice ringing out above the chaos. “So it’s no surprise for me to have been outplayed by him time and time again these past two years, right?”

The surrounding soldiers and officers were taken aback.

Taking advantage of the momentary relaxation in their vigilance, Wang Daozhong suddenly raised his sword, flicking the Qinghe Sword aside. But instead of breaking out of the encirclement, he surged forward with blinding speed—straight into the heart of the enemy formation. His target: Cui Yuanyang!

“Even if I am to die, I will make Zhao Changhe regret it for the rest of his life!”

“No!” Cui Yuanyong quickly thrust his sword at Wang Daozhong’s back, but he could not keep up with the latter’s speed. His sword sliced through empty air. “Stop him!”

The soldiers of the Cui Clan scrambled in panic, while Gui Chen, Xue Canghai, and others all lunged forward to intercept Wang Daozhong, but they were all a fraction of a second too late.

No one had anticipated that Wang Daozhong would abandon his escape to plunge deeper into the formation.

But even as Wang Daozhong closed in on Cui Yuanyang, he did not feel any sense of satisfaction or accomplishment. Instead, a sudden chill enveloped him.

Cui Yuanyang displayed no fear, no panic. Her gaze was calm and devoid of emotion, as if she had foreseen this moment. A backup sword appeared in her hand, rising to meet Wang Daozhong’s Heavenly Sea-Suppressing Sword with precise timing.

And the truth was that Wang Daozhong’s sword was nowhere near its peak. After prolonged combat, his blood and qi were depleted. His army was in shambles, and his morale was utterly shattered. In his current state, he was unable to unleash his full strength.

Meanwhile, Cui Yuanyang, though young, had reached the first layer of Profound Mysteries. Her understanding of the Qinghe Sword’s intent surpassed even that of her father, almost rivaling the sword’s original owner. She was far from the panicked little rabbit everyone imagined her to be.

Clang!

Her sword intercepted Wang Daozhong’s strike, dismantling his sword qi with effortless precision. She saw through his movements completely, countering with flawless accuracy.

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!

The Qinghe Sword, as well as the blades of Cui Yuanyong, Xue Canghai, and Gui Chen, along with the spears of nearby soldiers, simultaneously pierced Wang Daozhong’s body.

Wang Daozhong lowered his gaze to the sword tip protruding from his chest, and then looked at Cui Yuanyang. His expression was strange—not angry or disappointed, but rather bemused.

“Before he left, Big Brother Zhao told me that his actions would likely attract the attention of many gods and demons, and it was likely that he wouldn’t be able to return for this battle,” Cui Yuanyang said calmly. “He asked me if I had confidence in myself. He always thought I was just a little rabbit, but for the past two years, every step I’ve taken in martial arts has been to catch up to him...”

Wang Daozhong did not disagree; his bemused expression was not actually caused by what Cui Yuanyang had just said, or even by witnessing her abilities. Instead, he could not shake the impression that Cui Yuanyang’s gaze just now had been very detached... too detached. It had been cold, calm, almost lofty, as though she were someone else entirely.

Could this be a hidden danger Zhao Changhe will have to face in the future?

A faint smile appeared on his face, but he chose to say nothing. His body slumped to the ground as he breathed his last.

Cui Yuanyang withdrew her sword in silence. A stray thought creeped into her mind. Big Brother Zhao might not mourn the deaths of the other members of the Wang Clan, but for some reason, he might feel a little pity about Wang Daozhong’s passing.

With Wang Daozhong’s death, the remaining elders of the Wang Clan were overwhelmed by the advancing army, their lives swallowed without so much as a ripple. Yu Deju, the wounded guest general from the Ranking of Earth who had been betrayed by Gui Chen, surrendered on the spot.

This was the stark difference between a battle for power and the grudges of the jianghu. Had this been a personal vendetta, Yu Deju might have fought Gui Chen to the death over the betrayal. But in the context of a conflict between factions, there was no principle worth defending, no face to save, no pride to uphold.

Wang Zhaoling stood alone at the city gate, glancing around at the desolation. Not a single ally remained.

He turned to the east, gazing at the vast horizon. Zhao Changhe had never appeared.

A peculiar thought occurred to him. Maybe it’s not that Zhao Changhe failed to show up. Maybe he chose not to show up.

Once, Wang Zhaoling had extended a gesture of goodwill to Zhao Changhe, gifting him a pile of “jelly.” At the time, he had said it was to ensure his descendants would have a way out should the Wang Clan face hard times. While the gesture had been laced with ill intent—he knew full well the jelly was infused with yin qi and had been planted with deliberate malice—Zhao Changhe had not known this. And in ignorance, he had given his word.

No matter the circumstances of the promise, a promise was a promise. Zhao Changhe, renowned for his honor, would feel compelled to uphold it.

And thus Zhao Changhe had stayed away.

Wang Zhaoling sighed softly, almost speaking to himself. “Perhaps everyone will think the Wang Clan’s actions from start to finish were utterly foolish... What do you think?”

He was not even sure whom he was talking to, but Cui Yuanyang’s voice unexpectedly sounded from behind him. “Not necessarily.”

Wang Zhaoling turned, surprised. “Oh?”

“Everything began with your father’s gamble with the Sea Emperor,” Cui Yuanyang said. “He lost, and that set off the chain of events that followed. When faced with the temptation of breaking into the Profound Control Realm, let’s be honest—who wouldn’t be moved? It represents flight, freedom, and a vastly extended lifespan. It’s the difference between mortals and immortals, practically. It can’t even be compared to reaching the next layer of the Profound Mysteries. Even we are sometimes forced to bet our lives when trying to reach the next Profound Mystery. How much more tempting would the Profound Control Realm be?”

Wang Zhaoling chuckled. “You’re surprisingly good at comforting others.”

“That’s just the reality of it. As for the rest, history is written by the victors. There’s not much more to say,” Cui Yuanyong remarked calmly. “Brother Wang, the truth is, you were simply born at the wrong time.”

Wang Zhaoling fell silent.

If the world had been at peace for another ten years, he would not have been as powerless as he was today. In ten years, he could have been far better prepared, far more capable, likely even surpassing his second uncle in capability. But fate had chosen this time: his second uncle was the head of the family, while he, as a junior, was shackled by the rigid traditions of their clan, unable to influence much of anything.

Cui Yuanyong’s words were a recognition of Wang Zhaoling’s individual worth, and they brought him a measure of solace. He smiled suddenly and said, “The traditional structure of clans does have its flaws. It’s stuffy and outdated in many ways. The Cui Clan’s decision to set aside their pride to align with the new emperor may seem like a loss now, but it might turn out to be an advantage in the future.”

Cui Yuanyong nodded. “Thank you for the kind words. Also...”

He hesitated briefly but decided that he might as well spill it out. “Zhaoxin is doing well. The Cui Clan harbors no prejudice against her. In fact... she’s expecting.”

Wang Zhaoling laughed heartily. “Good news! You should have told me sooner.”

He glanced one last time at Wan Dongliu and Xuan Chong, a faint smile on his face. “I’ll be going now. By the time we meet again in the next life, I’ll be on the Ranking of Heaven, and you’ll both be on the Ranking of Hidden Dragons. Maybe then, this senior will look after you two.”

Without waiting for a reply, he raised his sword and sliced his own throat.

The gathered crowd watched as his lifeless body slumped to the ground. Their emotions were complicated.

At the banquet not too long ago, Wang Zhaoling had been brash and arrogant, basking in the limelight. And now, barely more than a year later, his clan lay in ruins, and his corpse rested at the city gate.

Yet, there was little about him that truly inspired dislike. Even at the banquet, he had not been a hateful figure. His fall, like that of the Wang Clan, felt less like a result of personal failings and more like an individual crushed beneath the wheel of an inexorable era.

It was not about Wang Daoning’s choices, nor the tactical decisions made in this battle, nor even the mistakes of Wang Daozhong. In every coincidence, there was a thread of inevitability. Under the torrents of change brought by the times, the old ways were destined for destruction. Even without Wang Daoning’s desperate struggle, the Wang Clan would have eventually been destroyed by Xia Longyuan’s hand.

They claimed they were slaying a dragon when they joined hands against Xia Longyuan. Yet Xia Longyuan likely believed he was slaying dragons as well. Who was the dragon, and who was the dragon slayer?

And even if Zhao Changhe had not been there, someone else would have risen to continue Xia Longyuan’s work, ensuring that these remnants of the old world could find neither peace by day nor rest by night.

“Carefully collect the bodies of the Wang Clan. Ensure no harm comes to them,” Cui Yuanyong finally ordered. “Everyone else, advance into the city.”

Inside the city, the street battles were nearing their end. A few of the elders of the Wang Clan had retreated to the ancestral shrine, where they formed a protective formation at the entrance. Within the circle of their formation stood a massive flaming brazier. Snowflakes fell from the sky, sizzling as they landed in the fire.

At a closer look, the brazier was actually a flame burning on top of an altar, which seemed to have intricate mechanisms embedded into its structure.

The Cui siblings, leading their forces, stopped at a safe distance. Cui Yuanyong spoke up calmly. “Elders, we are kin by marriage. I can promise you that the Wang Clan’s ancestral shrine will remain untouched, and your graves will not be desecrated. You may live out your remaining years in peace.”

One of the elders slowly asked, “And what of the Wang Clan’s inheritance and the treasures of our secret realm? Will you demand those as well?”

Cui Yuanyong’s expression did not waver. “Naturally, they must be handed over. But you know me, and you know the weight of my word. As long as you open the secret realm and cease your resistance, my promise will be honored.”

The elder nodded. “Very well. This altar serves as the key to the gateway. Activate the mechanism, and the way will open.”

Cui Yuanyang sighed softly. “Alright.”

Though the words had been spoken, no one stepped forward.

The elder squinted, his gaze sharp.

Then, from above, Zhao Changhe’s voice rang out. “I’ll do it.”

All heads jerked upward in shock as Zhao Changhe descended on horseback. He extended a hand toward the mechanism, his expression light and easy. “The Heavenly Sea-Suppressing Art is quite selective. If anyone attempts to activate this mechanism with an incompatible technique, the energy inside the secret realm would cause a devastating backlash, probably obliterating everything within several li. Unfortunately for you, Yangyang already knew this. And even more unfortunate for you, I’ve grasped the essence of the Heavenly Sea-Suppressing Art.”

The faces of the Wang Clan elders turned ashen, their expressions collapsing into despair.

Cui Yuanyong turned away, unwilling to watch, and said softly, “You just had to be stubborn to the end... Kill them all.”

A flash of golden light streaked across the sky.

But the Tome of Troubled Times recorded the event in just a few sentences. No battle details, no accounts of how Wang Daozhong, Wang Zhaoling, or the others met their ends.

Early in the twelfth month, the allied forces led by Cui Yuanyong and Wan Dongliu breached Langya. Wang Daozhong perished amidst the chaos of battle, Wang Zhaoling died by his own hand. The scattered remnants of the Wang Clan’s branches fled into obscurity, marking the end of the Wang Clan’s turmoil.

The Wang Clan of Langya, renowned for a thousand years, is no more.

Where once the swallows nested in the halls of Wang and Xie, they now take refuge in humbler homes to nest and mate.[1]

1. This last line is an excerpt from Swallow’s Lane (乌衣巷) by Tang dynasty poet Liu Yuxi (刘禹锡). ☜