Tome of Troubled Times

Chapter 682: Smoke and Flames in the North

The blind woman was lost in her poetic musings, prompting Zhao Changhe to shoot her a sidelong glance. “Don’t you think anyone’s going to ask which Xie family it is or which humbler homes those swallows flew into?”

The blind woman blinked, momentarily stunned by the question. “Even if the family being destroyed was named Zhao, this poem would still fit perfectly. The original verse laments the fall of great clans and the passing of eras. You don’t actually think Liu Yuxi was writing about specific swallows and where they flew, do you? His coffin lid wouldn’t stay closed at such literalism.”

Zhao Changhe nearly grabbed her by the collar. “What are you even showing off for? You shouldn’t have announced this yet! There’s still business in the capital—what if you’ve just alerted them?!”

“The situation in the capital is about to be resolved. I’m thinking of other verses. Stop bothering me.” The blind woman paused, then seemed to realize something amiss. “Actually, why exactly should I align my timing with what’s beneficial for you? When did that become a rule?”

Zhao Changhe froze for a moment. Right... when did this become so normal?

“Wait, what do you mean when you say that the situation in the capital is about to be resolved? What’s the outcome?”

“...Why would I tell you in advance? What kind of misunderstanding do you have about our relationship?”

Zhao Changhe grinned. He did not need her to say more. Her attitude alone made it clear the situation in the capital was under control.

The blind woman sighed, realizing she had let slip more than she had intended. She scowled. “Why don’t you go pay your respects to your dear Wang Daozhong? You’re clearly losing your mind.”

Zhao Changhe had indeed considered offering a tribute to Wang Daozhong. Wang Daozhong, you poor man... He sighed to himself.

But with his hand pressed against the Wang Clan’s altar, and his wife and brother-in-law watching him, suddenly running off to mourn Wang Daozhong would probably make him look insane.

Forget it. It’s time to open this damn gate.

When Yangyang broke through to the Profound Mysteries Realm, she gained fragments of memory regarding the other swords, and she mentioned to him that the Wang Clan’s secret realm was fundamentally different from that of the Cui Clan.

The key to the Zhenhai Sword lay in its power to suppress. The sword had originally been lodged in this altar with the express purpose of keeping this secret realm under control.

In other words, the realm itself was akin to a powder keg—an immense reservoir of destructive water energies, one of the remnants of the apocalyptic forces from the collapse of the previous era. The Zhenhai Sword acted as a seal, containing these energies within a confined space. The suppression worked through the manipulation of air pressure. This balance of opposing forces—water and air—was the origin of the Wang Clan’s signature Heavenly Sea-Suppressing Art. The technique worked by channeling water to expel other forces and using air to suppress them, maintaining a delicate and highly volatile equilibrium.

But once the Zhenhai Sword was taken away, the realm could only rely on its natural balance to remain stable. Any external interference would likely break this equilibrium, causing water and air to lash out together at the intruder, ripping them apart. Worse still, it could turn the entirety of Langya into a wasteland. Only someone versed in the Heavenly Sea-Suppressing Art—the technique derived from the sword—could open the realm safely, harmonizing the opposing forces and avoiding catastrophic rejection.

Of course, the reaction required a sufficiently strong invading force to trigger it. Lesser energies were like an itch, too insignificant to provoke a response. This was why, even as the elders of the Wang Clan faced their end, they could not find anyone with enough power to trigger the reaction for mutual destruction. Their only option had been to lure Cui Yuanyong into activating the mechanism himself.

And that, they thought, was going to be their final gambit... But then, Zhao Changhe showed up.

Theoretically speaking, as long as no one touched it, the balance would persist indefinitely. But with the troubled times that had currently befallen the world, that was a luxury no one could afford. Any random god or demon could destroy it with a single punch, triggering catastrophic consequences. This hidden danger had to be dealt with. But the question was, how? By reforging the Zhenhai Sword?

Clearly, that was not an option.

Zhao Changhe stood in silence for a moment before slowly channeling the exact same energy signature as the Wang Clan’s technique into the altar.

Light rippled across the surface of the mechanism as the energy was absorbed into the structure, and Zhao Changhe disappeared without a trace.

Cui Yuanyang let out a sigh of relief, murmuring to herself, “It really worked...”

Cui Yuanyong, on the other hand, was stunned. “Hey, based on what you told me earlier, isn’t whatever’s inside supposed to be terrifying? He’s gone in there alone, and you’re not worried at all?”

Cui Yuanyang shook her head, though her expression carried a trace of bitterness. “Do you know why Xia Chichi was able to exploit the flaw in Wang Daoning’s Soul of Water?”

Cui Yuanyong blinked, confused. “Why?”

“Because of the Black Tortoise’s legacy. And do you know how Black Tortoise’s legacy was passed on?”

Cui Yuanyong: “?”

Cui Yuanyang stomped her foot in exasperation. “Through the two-headed dragon! And the guy who just walked in there is their two-headed dragon! Water doesn’t scare him at all![1]”

Cui Yuanyong tilted his head, digesting the revelation.

He’s even more outrageous than us from aristocratic families...

Cui Yuanyang added quietly, “Don’t worry, I’m not one to gossip. I’ve seen the proof myself.”

Cui Yuanyong hesitated before turning to leave. “You stay here and watch over this. I have a lot to take care of.” After a pause, he added, “As for the Qinghe Sword... It’d be a lie to say I’m not envious. But then again, this is better than it being broken. Without your husband, who else could reforge it, right? Just, if you ever gain insights from the Qinghe Sword that go beyond our clan’s inherited texts, I hope you’ll share them. That’s all.”

Cui Yuanyang smiled sweetly. “Of course.”

She truly felt blessed in that moment. Her brother was not asking for anything. Instead, his words were clearly intended to clear any potential tension between them. In a family, hiding things from each other was the greatest threat to harmony. When words were spoken plainly, nothing festered.

In contrast to the now-ruined Wang Clan, it was moments like this that reminded her that these bonds, this openness, were more precious than any prestigious power.

* * *

The night before—the moment Zhao Changhe began his battle with Desolate Calamity.

To the west of the capital, light cavalry sped through the wind and snow, advancing rapidly. Each rider had two horses, switching mounts to maintain their pace as they rode tirelessly day and night for days on end. And despite the grueling journey, their energy remained undiminished. Every soldier exuded the aura of an elite, their martial prowess and discipline far exceeding those of ordinary soldiers.

These riders, with felt hats atop their heads, sheepskin cloaks on their backs, and long hair flowing freely, were all barbarians—the guardian cavalry of the Tngri Temple.

Among them were many at the eighth and ninth tiers of Profound Gate, individuals who could serve as generals elsewhere. Leading the force was Yeletu, nineteenth on the Ranking of Earth and one of the temple’s protectors.

Although the number of Grasslands warriors on the Rankings of Heaven, Earth, and Man was smaller than their Central Plains counterparts, this was merely due to population disparity. In terms of raw strength, the elite of the Grasslands had never been inferior. In fact, after Xia Longyuan’s death, the top two positions on the Ranking of Heaven were held by those of the Grasslands, a dominance that overshadowed the combined strength of the remaining eight ranks.

Even with the blind woman’s manipulations of the rankings, the morale boost this provided to the forces of the Grasslands was undeniable.

This force had bypassed the Yanmen Pass by traveling directly from Guanzhong, circumventing the formidable natural barrier that had always been an obstacle.

And if their plan succeeded, Yanmen Pass would not be an obstacle ever again.

The capital was vulnerable. The main forces of the capital had marched toward Langya, and no one knew if they had even reached Juancheng yet. Meanwhile, the capital’s defenses now mainly consisted of the Four Idols Cult, the Demon Suppression Bureau, and the largely inexperienced and useless imperial guards.

After Xia Longyuan had died, the Four Idols Cult had seized the opportunity to secure control over the capital, a feat enabled only by the disorganized state of the court. If the capital’s high-ranking officials and nobles managed to organize themselves, the power they could muster would rival that of the cult. If a sudden military force appeared at the city gates, it would plunge the capital into chaos, and who would ultimately control the city would become anyone’s guess.

Would Vermillion Bird intervene? Even if she did, it hardly mattered—after all, the capital also had its own gods and demons lurking in the dark. The one Zhao Changhe had forced to retreat with his arrow had not truly left but was instead lurking, licking their wounds.

This was the perfect moment to seize the capital.

Even if complete success proved impossible, stalling would suffice. The Li Clan’s army was already on its way and would soon arrive. As long as the northern barbarians could establish a stalemate and sow discord in the capital, the Cui Clan would be forced to withdraw their armies from Langya to defend their home. This alone would break the siege of the Wang Clan.

Moreover, once Yanmen learned of the capital’s crisis, Huangfu Yongxian would have to decide—defend the capital or maintain his hold on the border?

Meanwhile, in the snowy night, Timur had already launched a surprise attack on Batu’s forces in Monan. Yanmen’s forces would be stretched thin—should they deal with the desert incursion or aid the capital?

And behind Yanmen, the merchant coalitions from Jinzhong, previously beaten back by Huangfu Shaozong, were now regrouping, poised to strike at Yanmen’s rear. If Yanmen diverted resources to the capital, the coalitions could plunge a dagger into its back.

The recent weeks of relative quiet were no indication of peace. Storms take time to brew, and this one was reaching boiling point.

The north was ablaze with war, smoke and flames rising on all sides. Could this fragile new dynasty, without Xia Longyuan’s overwhelming might to hold it together, truly withstand the storm?

1. I’m not too sure about who or what this two-headed dragon is, but maybe some being who taught the Black Tortoise? Searches of the term mainly bring up game references. ☜