The foremost Qi Refiner of the northern lands in this dynasty, Jin Xin’an, stood beside Xie Xie and Chen Zhibao, gazing down at the scene outside the gates of the Imperial Astronomical Observatory. Watching the young prince, despite being embroiled in battle, still suppressing his aura with great effort, Jin suddenly felt a surge of emotion. *Why go to such lengths?* Since you’ve already fought your way to the Observatory, why not unleash your full strength?
As the White-Clothed Dragon Supporter and the head of the Zhao Gou, the ostensibly titled Deputy Director of the Observatory, Jin Xin’an knew many secrets even the high-ranking officials of the capital were unaware of. For instance, the existence of the two great formations was the true backbone capable of resisting top-tier warriors like Wang Xianzhi and Cao Changqing. The Northern Mang’s Western Capital once had a great vat that concealed a flood dragon, allowing them to seek out various supernatural phenomena in the mortal world. The Observatory’s methods were no less impressive—perhaps even superior. Jin also knew that this time, to deal with the young man surnamed Xu, they had resorted to unscrupulous means. In Xie Xie’s plan, the selection of three hundred Imperial Forest Guards wasn’t solely for their combat prowess but because their fates were intertwined with the destiny of the Liyang Zhao clan. Especially convincing the current emperor to summon the twelve hundred heavy cavalry trained by Ma Lulang to the capital was intended to deplete Xu Fengnian’s own fortune.
As a preeminent master of divination, Jin Xin’an understood that matters of fate and fortune, though seemingly ethereal, boiled down to the will of the people—when the time comes, even heaven and earth lend their strength. Conversely, when fortune fades, even heroes lose their freedom, and all endeavors come to naught. Thus, Xie Xie’s true ruthlessness lay not merely in disregarding the lives of three thousand armored soldiers but in forcing Xu Fengnian to scatter the hard-earned fortune of Northern Liang with his own hands. Back then, when Qi Jiejie’s sword aimed for Northern Liang failed to compel Xu Fengnian to tap into Northern Liang’s fortune—the young prince risking his life to prevent that sword from entering Youzhou—Xie Xie was now forcing Xu Fengnian to make another agonizing choice: act recklessly, storm the Observatory, and bear the brunt of two great formations regardless of consequences, or leave a sliver of hope for Northern Liang, caught between Liyang and Northern Mang, to contend for the Central Plains?
Now, compared to when Qi Jiejie entered Northern Liang alone with his sword, Xu Fengnian’s state of mind had shifted—he was no longer restrained by hesitation.
Though aligned against the young prince, Jin Xin’an couldn’t help but feel genuine admiration when he witnessed the scene at the gates. The new martial world of Liyang, led by this young man—Li Yufu, Qi Xianxia, Xuan Qingfeng—each was truly remarkable.
Outside the Observatory, just yesterday, Deng Tai’a had displayed the spectacular feat of a thousand swords in an instant within Tai’an City. Today, Xu Fengnian emulated it on the spot. A hundred Imperial Forest Guards outside the gates each found a young prince forcibly borrowing their Daye Sabers before them. Nearly all were defeated in a single strike, their armor shattered as they crashed against the outer wall, the thick barrier trembling under the impact. Those with robust physiques who refused to retreat, attempting to reclaim their sabers and block the path, were swiftly impaled and pinned to the wall, saber and all.
Of the three hundred Imperial Forest Guards brought by Yang Dongping, fewer than a hundred remained alive, with Yang himself being the first to fall.
Meanwhile, the two carriages had just reached the street’s end, turning the corner as they brushed past the charging heavy cavalry.
In one carriage, Chen Yu lifted the curtain, peering through the gap to see at the rear of the iron cavalry many tall riders still donning their armor with the help of auxiliary troops, alongside hundreds of riderless warhorses.
Chen Yu exclaimed in surprise, “I thought these troops entered Tai’an City already armored.”
The proprietress of the Ninety-Nine Pavilion couldn’t help but laugh. “Silly girl, this is heavy cavalry, a rarity even in the Spring and Autumn Wars. On the march, they never wear armor. Before engaging the enemy, they ride auxiliary horses. Otherwise, both rider and steed would exhaust themselves under the weight. Forget delivering decisive blows on the battlefield—they’d collapse before even charging. Donning armor before battle is their rule. Only then can they muster the strength to tear through the enemy’s densest, most critical formations. Even so, maintaining formation for two long charges is already remarkable. As for maneuvering a thousand-strong heavy cavalry with finesse—that’s pure fiction.”
Chen Yu reluctantly withdrew her gaze, lowering the curtain with a sigh. “Aunt Hong, so that’s how it is. I always thought ‘iron cavalry’ meant they could march a thousand li in full armor.”
The proprietress’s eyes grew distant as she murmured, “To truly understand the valor of iron cavalry, you’d have to see them fight in Northern Liang. I only heard my husband mention it in passing back then. But Xu Xiao, drunk at the time, once boasted that one day he’d lead over a hundred thousand elite cavalry to beat a million Northern Mang savages into hiding, too afraid to even step outside their doors. Back then, my husband Xun Ping—a penniless scholar—and Xu Xiao—a rough man still at the mercy of the Ministry of War—somehow drank together and spun tall tales without batting an eye. It was strange enough. Wu Su and I, watching them posture at the table as if they were the world’s greatest heroes, could only sigh in resignation.”
Xie Xie suddenly teased, “Not going to fight Xu Yanbing? Or are you waiting until you’ve both taken that step—or half-step—to have a life-and-death duel like Xu Fengnian and Wang Xianzhi? But let me say this upfront: such an opportunity may never come, for either of you.”
Chen Zhibao reached out, and a radiant light suddenly descended from the heavens, landing atop the Tongtian Platform.
Grasping the shaft of his *Meizi Jiu* (Plum Wine Spear), Chen Zhibao pulled it free with a gentle tug before vanishing in a flash.
Even having ascended to the Great Heavenly Phenom realm, Jin Xin’an involuntarily stepped back as the spear struck the ground. In that moment, the Qi Refining master realized a truth: in the eyes of Xu Fengnian, Chen Zhibao, and Xu Yanbing, his own realm might be nothing more than an ant’s performance.
Xie Xie turned to Jin Xin’an with a sharp glance. Steadying his nerves, the latter nodded, his white robes fluttering as he descended the tower.
Inside a hidden pavilion of the Observatory, Wu Lingsu, the Northern Feather-Robed Minister of the Liyang Dynasty and a grand Daoist in purple-gold robes, straightened his attire alongside Jin Xin’an as they entered. Each took an incense stick from the elderly Daoists who had guarded the pavilion for years, approaching a sandalwood table carved from a single massive log. Upon it sat an ancient incense burner exuding an ethereal aura, perpetually holding a thick stick of incense as thick as a child’s arm—its flame never to be extinguished. Before arriving, Jin Xin’an had not only donned his Deputy Director’s official robes but also borrowed the Director’s waist token. Wu Lingsu had gone further, bringing the imperial gold edict bestowed upon him, stamped with the vermilion seal of the “Son of Heaven’s Seal,” one of the six great imperial seals reserved for sacrifices to heaven, earth, and the gods.
Jin Xin’an and Wu Lingsu reverently placed their incense sticks on either side of the burner.
Together, they spoke.
Jin Xin’an, hands folded, gazed ahead solemnly. “Act on Heaven’s behalf.”
Wu Lingsu, eyes lowered, bowed. “To pacify the Four Barbarians.”
Behind the burner, veiled in layers of smoke, hung life-sized portraits of solemn figures.
As the two uttered their four-word phrases, the dense smoke gradually dissipated, revealing the hidden portraits.
*True masters reveal themselves only when the time is right.*
The portraits depicted the successive generations of grand Daoists from the Dragon-Tiger Mountain’s Celestial Master Manor who had ascended to immortality.
Jin Xin’an’s expression was complex. As Xie Xie had once told him: *Ask not whether gods exist—countless have risen through the ages.* These portraits depicted true ascendants—some riding dragons, others astride cranes, still others accompanied by phoenixes.
The world knew only that the Dragon-Tiger Mountain’s Celestial Masters shared the Zhao surname with the Liyang imperial family, but the depth of their connection traced back to Liyang’s founding emperor.
Because of Mount Wudang, Zhao Huangchao—a scion of imperial blood—had even been forced to conceal his identity at Dragon-Tiger Mountain, cultivating in solitude and rearing a malevolent dragon at Difei Mountain to suppress the northwest’s Black Tortoise.
The three incense sticks in the burner, their flames faint, suddenly blazed with three dazzling lights, especially the central one, which burned away at a visible speed.
As the incense turned to ash, the portraits on the wall stirred without wind.
A sound like flipping pages echoed through the pavilion.
The two newest portraits at either end swayed first, soon manifesting strange phenomena—rippling “water-mirror” surfaces three inches before the paintings.
Two Daoists in yellow-purple robes stepped through the mirrors.
Their forms illusory, they descended from the portraits and mirrors, floating to the ground before walking outside.
One by one, immortal Daoists of transcendent bearing landed and drifted toward the exit.
Some carried ancient swords, others held purple-gold tomes, still others wielded horsetail whisks. Among the last three to appear, one rode an auspicious white deer, singing with fervor.
Behind the deer-riding immortal, two more emerged side by side. One had an extraordinary countenance, wearing a lotus crown and feathered robes, his demeanor and gaze tinged with a rare humanity—*Heaven pities me, and I pity all living beings.* His companion, however, appeared much younger, around thirty, his brow etched with martial ferocity. Upon landing, he casually lifted his hand, grasping the centuries-old talismanic sword *Yulei* enshrined in the pavilion. He weighed it briefly, the corner of his mouth quirking up.
Jin Xin’an maintained his reverent posture, hands folded, gaze unwavering.
Wu Lingsu, widely regarded as a lucky upstart who had climbed to high rank, trembled, drenched in sweat.
One by one, celestial immortals manifested in the mortal world’s Observatory. Most passed directly *through* the Li family’s armored infantry formation, arriving at the main gate. Except for two soldiers whose eyes first glazed over before radiating purple-gold light, their irises turning golden as their auras surged, the rest of the immortals lined up outside, their positions mirroring the portraits inside with uncanny precision.
The immortals who replaced the three hundred Imperial Forest Guards bore varied expressions. One on the right, wreathed in purple mist, turned to the recently ascended former Dragon-Tiger Mountain leader Zhao Danxia beside him and asked, “Is it this one?”
Each word he spoke resonated like heavenly music around the Observatory gates.
Zhao Danxia nodded lightly. “Indeed. In this world, he abandoned the True Body of the Dark Warrior Emperor, severing his own path to immortality.”
The purple-misted immortal frowned, glaring at the young man in mourning white. “*Blasphemy!*”
At the far left, Zhao Xi’yi, who had ascended alongside Zhao Danxia, conversed with an ancestral master. Upon hearing that this very man had blocked Zhao Huangchao’s ascension, the latter erupted in fury, a formation of flying swords materializing around him. “*Outrageous!*”
As the immortal spat these two words, bells and drums in every Daoist temple across the capital suddenly tolled.
Their echoes filled Tai’an City.
Another immortal, standing more centrally, wore golden armor beneath his broad Daoist robes. Glancing at the charging cavalry to the street’s left, he smiled faintly.
A burst of golden light shot toward the lead rider.
In an instant, the cavalryman was possessed by the immortal, his entire body blazing with radiant light.
The golden-armored immortal spurred his horse forward.
One by one, the immortals advanced.
Xu Fengnian watched these lofty celestial beings expressionlessly. He said nothing.
He merely lifted his Liang sabre.
That was all.
Tai Sui Yellow Amulet Paper FuLu Taoist Love Talisman Traditional Chinese Spiritual Charm Attracting Love Protecting Marriage