Tome of Troubled Times

Chapter 684: Summit of the Forbidden City

When people faced Tang Wanzhuang, their perceptions were often misguided.

Despite being ranked above Maitreya on the Ranking of Earth, Maitreya consistently convinced himself he could capture her, even after losing to her four or five times. Each defeat left him worse off, yet he kept believing he would succeed next time. Wang Daoning had similarly assumed he could overpower her in seconds, only to be held at bay for so long that he lost all room for maneuver.

It was because she appeared so frail—delicate enough that it seemed she might cough herself to death without anyone lifting a hand against her.

Even now, with her complexion vastly improved and her coughing fits gone, the lingering image of her as a sickly woman was hard to shake. To make matters worse, her rank had not changed. She was still listed on the Ranking of Earth.

Yet, Tang Wanzhuang was actually at the third layer of the Profound Mysteries and had all the combat power of a figure on the Ranking of Heaven. She had been at the third layer for many years, with experience and mastery to match. Now, in perfect health, Tang Wanzhuang stood at her absolute peak, fully restored and at her most fearsome. Against such a foe, even gods and demons would tread carefully.

And yet, Lu Jianzhang thought he could spare a few men to hold her down while the rest joined Yeletu to take the palace. He even believed this would be helpful, considering Yeletu’s cavalry lacked sufficient manpower.

Then reality hit.

Forget dividing their forces; even with everyone together, they could not defeat Tang Wanzhuang.

A ripple of spring water shimmered in the snowfall, gentler than the drifting snowflakes, clearer than the moonlight.

The graceful wave of her sword passed through the crowd. Lu Shouyi, who moments earlier had thought that stalling her should not be an issue, staggered back with a sudden wound across his chest. He had narrowly avoided instant death only because his body had instinctively pulled back at the last second.

Clang!

Even the elderly Lu Jianzhang was forced to join the fray, his white hair flying as he stepped in to defend his nephew from Tang Wanzhuang’s strikes. “First Seat Tang, this is a misunderstanding!”

Tang Wanzhuang had no interest in his excuses. Her Spring Water Sword swirled lightly, its arc cutting across the throats of several approaching retainers before forcing Pei Yushi into retreat. Her sword’s brilliance expanded, enveloping Lu Jianzhang and Lu Shouyi in a relentless assault.

Meanwhile, the Demon Suppression Bureau’s elites blocked both ends of the alley, fulfilling Xia Chichi’s prediction—they could not even leave their own street.

Cold dread filled Lu Jianzhang’s heart. “First Seat Tang, we’ve known each other for over a decade...”

Tang Wanzhuang almost laughed. “And when you invited the northern barbarians into our lands, did you think about that decade? And did you think about those of the divine land who’ve lived here for tens of generations?”

Lu Jianzhang barely dodged another strike, hastily replying, “The Tang Clan is also part of the aristocracy! First Seat Tang, how can you—”

“Families like yours...” Tang Wanzhuang’s sword twisted suddenly, slicing through Lu Shouyi’s throat as he attempted a sneak attack. “...are better off gone.”

“Shouyi!”

Tang Wanzhuang did not even spare Lu Shouyi’s corpse a glance. Her sword light flowed in endless layers, like ripples spreading across a boundless sea, leaving trails of blood in her wake.

The alley of Wuyi Lane became a torrent of snow and blood.

Terrified officials ducked back into their homes, hoping to flee through back exits. If given another chance, none of them would ever underestimate Tang Wanzhuang again. She was no sickly woman—she was one of the greatest martial artists in the world. Her sword shone with a brilliance that could suppress the entire divine land.

In the years when Xia Longyuan had abdicated his responsibilities, who had been the one standing firm against the demons of the world? Who had held the line, ensuring even Maitreya and Vermillion Bird dared not act rashly?

“The Spring Water Sword Art really is beautiful...” In the depths of the imperial palace, Vermillion Bird stood at the edge of a high rooftop, then sighed and looked elsewhere. “You’ve enjoyed the show long enough, I believe. Why not step forward and reveal yourself?”

Not like I consider myself as one of those demons suppressed by that wretched person—pah! That so-called paragon of virtue, with her icy, noble demeanor and graceful killing style, always putting on a show. The most beautiful woman in the world? She’s nearly thirty now... oh, wait, so am I. Never mind.

A faint energy ripple stirred behind her. Vermillion Bird turned casually, her expression indifferent, to find a withered corpse standing in the shadows.

“Well...” Vermillion Bird chuckled. “Compared to you, I suppose Tang Wanzhuang’s beauty is refreshing. Even if she’s insufferable, at least she’s easier on the eyes than you desiccated old husks.”

The dried figure said nothing, though his furrowed brow was strangely expressive for such a form. Clearly, he was deeply troubled by the unfolding situation.

This particular entity was the one that had attempted to ambush those in the Imperial Ancestral Temple’s secret realm to seize a page of the Heavenly Tome, only to be struck by one of Zhao Changhe’s arrows as if Zhao Changhe had anticipated his move. That cursed arrow had wounded his soul, forcing him into retreat and months of recuperation in absolute secrecy.

His only interaction with the outside world during this time had been through barbarian spies in the capital, who had arranged for tonight’s coordinated uprising. For over a decade, he had operated in secret, collaborating with Tngri to destabilize the Central Plains. Even Xia Longyuan had been wary of leaving the capital, sensing a lurking presence but unable to locate him due to his extraordinary ability to conceal himself.

His exposure during the assault on the secret realm had been a significant setback. Zhao Changhe and his allies had lacked the means to hunt him down at the time, and now he could not fathom how Vermillion Bird seemed so certain of his location. The spot she had chosen was perfectly aligned—right between where Xia Chichi was handling the barbarians and where he might have intervened.

If this was not a coincidence, it meant the barbarian spies in the capital had been under the Demon Suppression Bureau’s watch all along. Tang Wanzhuang had been quietly orchestrating a massive counter-intelligence operation for years, while Lu Jianzhang and his ilk remained blissfully unaware. Now, with everything laid bare, the entire anti-dynasty network had unraveled.

He hesitated. Should he leave now?

If he fled, the uprising would collapse entirely, and all forces opposed to the new dynasty would be eradicated. Would there ever be another opportunity like this?

But if he stayed...

To turn the tide, he would need to defeat Vermillion Bird decisively. Despite the chaos elsewhere, his divine power as a godlike entity might still be enough to salvage the situation. Yet the wound from Zhao Changhe’s arrow had not fully healed, and his current state was far from ideal.

Should I take the risk?

In the end, he chose to fight.

Even in a weakened state, he believed himself to be stronger than Vermillion Bird. She had not even reached the Profound Control Realm. How many impossible battles could she realistically win?

Hearing Vermillion Bird’s mocking tone, he finally spoke, his voice cold and measured. “Such worldly fools, placing so much value on mere appearances... It’s precisely because of this shallowness, Vermillion Bird, that your path to the Profound Control Realm will remain forever out of reach.”

Vermillion Bird laughed heartily. “Beauty and ugliness are gifts of nature. Though they are neither one’s merit nor one’s fault, they should not be dismissed or scorned. Aesthetic appreciation is innate, rooted in the order of the universe and human nature alike. To advocate the rejection of appearances is to defy the natural order. Your disdain for the surface reflects the shallowness of your own path. No wonder you skulk in shadows, crawling through gutters, neither bold enough to face Xia Longyuan head-on nor loyal enough to decisively aid your allies. This is your so-called aesthetic—your path. Changhe was right. The so-called gods and demons of the ancient world are nothing special. Today, that truth becomes clear.”

His eyes grew darker, more sinister. “I hope Vermillion Bird’s claws are as sharp as her tongue.”

With those words, he vanished.

Suddenly, Vermillion Bird realized the surrounding darkness had become hostile. Every bit of shadow pressed against her, eroding her body and causing tiny injuries to her flesh and blood.

She immediately understood his domain of profound control. It was either over shadow or darkness itself. On its own, such an affinity was not inherently alarming. Night, too, had its serenity and beauty—concepts explored and refined in the teachings of the Four Idols Cult.

However, this darkness was different. It was corrosive, destructive—a force of chaos. It thrived on disorder and ruin, seeking only to unravel the world. He was not merely opposed to the human emperor; he thrived on chaos because a lawless world would grant him greater power and the chance to transcend further.

No wonder Xia Longyuan, with all his might, had known about a hidden presence in the capital yet failed to locate it. This unique mastery of destruction and concealment was almost impossible to detect. Among the gods and demons she had encountered, this one’s potential was perhaps the greatest. The more esoteric the path of profound control, the harder it was to counter—and the higher its ultimate ceiling. This being might well be the greatest threat they would face in the future.

The thought crossed her mind but did not linger. Vermillion Bird felt no fear. Soft, flickering flames began to radiate from her body. The encroaching darkness dissolved in the heat, like frost under sunlight. No shadow could hide; no corruption could endure.

In the grand scheme of fate, battles often found their own harmony. Before this confrontation, no one could have predicted that Vermillion Bird’s cultivation would be a direct counter to his powers. Perhaps this was why he had hesitated to commit to the fight.

Whoosh!

Her fiery claws slashed into the shadows. Though there seemed to be nothing there, a powerful shockwave of colliding palms erupted. The nearby rooftops shattered into fragments, scattering into the snowy air. As the debris floated down, the snowflakes began to ignite, creating a spectacle of blue flames swirling through the night sky.

Amid her fierce combat, Tang Wanzhuang, still in the middle of her own battle, glanced back briefly. With an almost imperceptible smirk, she murmured to herself, “What a fierce woman... still, quite nice to look at.”