Chapter 1011: Into Third Grade!

The Prince held out his hand.

Over this recent stretch of time, the relationship between father and son had eased somewhat compared with before. In the end, Zheng Lin did not embarrass his old man. He placed his own hand in his father’s.

Father and son descended the city stairs together.

Below them, the slaughter of the prisoners had already begun. Screams and sobbing rose one after another.

Neither father nor son showed the slightest discomfort.

The father walked steadily. Even the young Heir Prince wore an easy, relaxed expression. More than that, the two continued chatting as they went, entirely untroubled by the bloody scene beside them.

“Father, why aren’t you wearing your python robe?”

Zheng Lin knew that what his father loved most were the python robes Mother embroidered for him personally. Compared with those, the princely robes bestowed by the court that Zheng Lin had seen were... lacking something.

Yet at official occasions, Zheng Lin himself had always worn the court-prescribed style.

Before every change of season, the palace in Yanjing would have new clothes sent over in advance.

Mother had always been enthusiastic about making every kind of clothing for Father, yet completely ignored her own biological son and left him dressed in government-issued styles.

If Father had not said something to Mother, she might simply have been too lazy to make clothes for him at all.

Yes.

Too lazy.

Not forgetful.

Perhaps this was what people meant when they said every creature had its natural counter. When the son looked down on his biological father, the biological mother treated that son like an old straw sandal. To a certain extent, it actually balanced out this twisted family relationship.

“Do you even need to ask? It’s chaos outside. The python robe looks good, but staying alive is more important, isn’t it? And even if you take ten thousand steps back, I should still think a little about your Godfather Ming.”

A’Ming, following behind them, displayed a polite smile.

Zheng Lin curled his lips.

“Whether you’re armored or not, Father, Godfather Ming would still block things for you.”

“That’s true. But at least this way he won’t have to be quite so frantic about it.”

“I heard that last time in Shanggu Commandery, Father charged in wearing the python robe.”

“The armor was underneath.”

“Then why not this time? Oh. You didn’t have time to prepare.” Zheng Lin suddenly understood.

“That isn’t it either. Wearing armor beneath a python robe feels like pressing ice against your body and then wrapping yourself in a thick quilt. It’s miserable. Suffering through it once is enough. There’s no need to do it again and again.”

Father and son reached the bottom of the city stairs. Their boots began stepping through blood-water, making wet squelching sounds from time to time.

Severed fingers and mangled remains lay everywhere. Some people who had not yet died completely were still writhing.

To an ordinary person, the place would have looked like an Asura hell.

To this father and son, it somehow felt rather warm.

After all, Zheng Fan treasured every opportunity he had to walk and talk with his son.

The Pixiu saw its master and young master approaching. It shook its body, making the armor across its frame glitter beneath the torchlight, then obediently crouched to the ground.

Zheng Fan walked behind his son and reached down to pick him up.

He got his hands in place and exerted force, only to discover that his son was secretly resisting. For a moment, Zheng Fan actually failed to lift him.

“Hehehe. I almost didn’t make it in time.”

The laughter arrived before the woman herself.

Only one woman could laugh so naturally in a scene like this, and she was one very particular Princess Consort of the Residence.

The next instant, the son who had been “very heavy” suddenly became light.

Zheng Fan picked him up and placed him on the Pixiu, then turned toward Siniang, who was approaching in a long purple dress.

On Siniang, the color did not look seductive. Instead, it gave her an air of dignified elegance.

Zheng Fan reached out, intending to take her hand and bring her along.

Siniang shifted half a step back.

“No need, Master.”

“It’s fine. It’s been a long time since the three of us went for a stroll together as a family.”

“No need, no need. There will be plenty of chances later.”

With that, Siniang firmly mounted the bay horse beside her.

Zheng Lin, already sitting atop the Pixiu, silently released a long breath.

The Prince did not insist. He mounted the Pixiu himself, with his son seated in front of him.

The Pixiu rose.

It lifted its head.

Then released a low roar.

A formation of riders had already assembled behind them.

They had worked hard defending the city these past days. Yet at this moment their bodies still surged with strength, as though they could follow their Prince out through the gates and kill their way back and forth several more times.

Zheng Fan lightly waved one arm forward.

The column left the city.

Tonight’s moon was full and bright. Usually, on a full-moon night, the stars appeared dimmer.

But the earth below was now covered in firelight, making up for what the heavens lacked.

In previous days, simply looking down from the gate tower at the endless Qian encampments had placed enormous pressure on the defenders.

Now, however, the greater those camps had once seemed, the greater the chaos and clamor spreading through them.

Fighting seemed to be breaking out everywhere.

Everywhere had fallen into slaughter.

The flames soaring toward the sky might have been burning tents, or perhaps military stores. No one could even tell anymore.

The Sword Saint, riding behind and to one side, suddenly asked the Swordsmith:

“Never seen a scene like this before?”

The Swordsmith froze.

Then the Sword Saint added:

“I’m already somewhat used to it.”

The Swordsmith immediately prepared a sarcastic reply.

How could he possibly never have seen a great victory?

During the first Battle of Wangjiang, he had sat aboard a pleasure boat drinking wine while watching corpses float across the river.

He had also been present in the Liang lands, at the great battle where Great Yan’s Count Huwei had ultimately died.

But just as the Swordsmith opened his mouth, his heart suddenly jolted.

Then anger surged through him.

*Yu Huaping, you thick-browed, big-eyed bastard. You actually dug a pit for me!*

Could he really say the things he had been about to say while riding directly behind that Prince?

In truth, the Swordsmith had misunderstood the Sword Saint.

The Sword Saint was not deliberately mocking anyone or setting a trap.

At that moment, as he watched Zheng Fan riding a Pixiu ahead with his son, beneath this moon and amid this battlefield, a strange emotion rose in him.

Perhaps one could call it melancholy.

From Shengle to Fengxin.

From the snowfield to Jinghai.

It had been a very long time.

More than ten years had passed just like that.

And yet somehow, it also felt very short.

Only now, without warning, did the Sword Saint realize that when Tian Wujing left, what he had left behind was a structure strong on the outside but hollow within.

It was not rotten.

But it was certainly far from glorious.

Yet in Zheng Fan’s hands... after tonight... the Black Dragon Banner would no longer possess a true rival anywhere in All Xia.

The Sword Saint had witnessed almost all of it from beginning to end.

Precisely because those memories were so vivid, so full of blood and flesh, the sight before him struck even deeper.

Then the Sword Saint turned toward the Swordsmith.

He looked somewhat puzzled.

Why were the Swordsmith’s eyes full of rage?

...

“You’re very pleased with yourself, aren’t you?” Zheng Lin asked from where he sat in front of his father.

The army had already left the city, but it continued advancing north at a steady pace rather than plunging headlong into the chaos.

On a battlefield this disordered, a reinforcement force from a separate command structure could easily make matters worse if it rushed in blindly.

Far better to enter slowly and securely.

“Should I be pleased with myself?” Zheng Fan asked.

“Isn’t this exactly what you wanted?” Zheng Lin said. “You’re always shouting to the soldiers outside about unifying All Xia.”

“Son, the things a person truly wants in his heart are often the things he cannot shout out loud.”

“Tch.”

Zheng Lin was clearly dissatisfied with that answer.

But gradually... he noticed something was wrong.

The world around them was beginning to change in some strange way.

The Sword Saint, riding behind, sensed it almost immediately. He urged his horse forward until he rode abreast of the Prince.

The Swordsmith understood as well and took position on the other side, beginning to serve as a protector.

The Prince was entering a state of enlightenment.

Compared with other cultivators entering such a state, Zheng Fan possessed not only a protective formation that would make everyone beneath Heaven envious, but also an advantage almost like a secret manual.

The Demon Child.

With their minds linked, the Demon Child could expand and clarify Master’s realization.

It was like two people listening to the same lesson: one could only sit upright and listen, while the other could write, sketch, and make notes.

The difference looked small.

Yet sometimes, the realm countless cultivators pursued for an entire lifetime differed by nothing more than that tiny degree of comprehension.

Because Zheng Lin was being held by his father, and because of the Demon Child, he too was able to “enter” his father’s realization.

Siniang and A’Ming guarded from the rear and front.

Excitement flickered in A’Ming’s eyes. Very few things could bring genuine delight to a vampire whose heart had nearly frozen into ice.

This was one of the greatest.

Siniang’s face, however, showed concern.

They had shared a bed for so many years. They had married properly. They had a child.

Of course her position could no longer be exactly the same as that of the other Demon Kings.

More than anything, she was worried about her husband attempting a breakthrough in this environment.

They were inside a battlefield.

A Qian force could suddenly appear from anywhere and charge into them.

Or their own column might ride straight into the heart of some Qian formation.

Either was entirely possible.

If battle engulfed this area, even with so many experts serving as protectors, absolute stability would still be impossible.

There was another concern.

The last time Master had attempted to break through, he had failed.

His blood qi had nearly reversed and damaged his meridians.

Siniang did not want to see anything similar happen again.

At this moment... even Zheng Lin finally became truly “obedient.”

Not because his biological mother was riding behind him.

He understood exactly how valuable this sort of realization was to a cultivator.

If he chose to make trouble now... he would probably succeed in losing his father.

He had imagined that possibility before.

He had even talked about it.

But with the opportunity genuinely placed in front of him, he simply ignored it.

There was no need for a reason.

No inner struggle.

No dramatic conflict.

“Truthfully, what I treasure more are the sights I have seen along the road.”

Zheng Fan spoke.

Zheng Lin gave a soft “Mm,” then curiously looked upward.

He could not tell whether his father was actually awake or lost in some empty, bewildered state.

The answer came quickly.

His father was smiling at him.

“Son, your father has always known that you look down on me. In your heart, you probably think your father is a useless piece of trash.”

Zheng Lin said nothing.

“But is a person’s lineage, his blood, truly that important?”

“And the scenery is important?” Zheng Lin could not stop himself from asking.

“Mm.”

Zheng Fan gave a definite answer.

“Why?”

“Because that is what I think.”

“Huh?”

“When what I say can make most of the people beneath Heaven believe it and follow it, I no longer need to provide a reason.”

“Father, that’s sophistry.”

“If you aren’t strong, where do you even find a place to reason?”

The moment those words ended, three figures appeared diagonally ahead.

Zheng Lin swept his gaze over them.

He recognized all three.

Walking at the front was Dad Liang.

In the middle was his own father.

Walking last, carrying a large bamboo basket on his back, was the shortest of the three: Third Dad.

Dad Liang and Third Dad did not look especially different from how they did now, aside from their clothes.

Their eyes were just as calm.

It was the man in the middle who seemed different.

His gaze carried so many emotions.

Unease.

Curiosity.

Timidity.

Even Zheng Lin, who had always “looked down” on his biological father, had never imagined there had once been a time when his father looked this awkward and uncertain.

Compared with the man he was now... they were practically two different people.

“I heard Third Dad talk about this. This was when you opened the inn in Hutou City and were drafted from the military rolls into the labor camp, right?”

“No.”

“No?”

“This is what I looked like when I had just been ‘born.’”

Zheng Lin found that absurd.

“Father, what exactly are you talking about?”

“Confused about this world. Curious about it. Relieved, yet worried too. Like a chick that has just broken through its shell.”

“What chick is that big?”

“A chick is already fully grown inside the egg before it breaks through the shell.”

“I’ve never paid attention to that,” Zheng Lin said.

Another scene appeared.

Under a setting sun, a young general in black armor galloped on horseback, followed by a group of riders.

Most of them had Barbarian faces.

But Zheng Lin still recognized his mother and his various godfathers among them.

“Was this when you deliberately provoked a border incident and attacked Mianzhou City?” Zheng Lin asked.

Clearly, the Blind Man’s education placed great emphasis on details.

Especially the household’s “history of rising from nothing.”

To the Blind Man, this was very important.

Only if later generations understood exactly how the previous generation had built its foundation could they one day fabricate “myths” about that generation with proper aim and precision, then package those stories into a final version of “Heaven itself granted them the Mandate.”

“No. This was when I first learned how to crawl. Once you can move forward using your own strength, you gain the ability to explore and familiarize yourself with the world by yourself. This was my exploration. I began actively learning what this place was.”

Very soon... another scene appeared.

This time the leap was enormous.

Zheng Lin noticed that the father inside the vision suddenly looked much more mature. The difference from the obviously younger man at the beginning was stark.

In this image... his father was walking through the mountains.

Ahead of him was another towering figure.

The man could not be seen clearly.

Yet his presence was undeniable.

“You finally learned how to walk? Took you quite a long time.”

There was mockery in Zheng Lin’s voice.

“Yes. I learned to walk.”

But his father accepted the statement directly.

That made Zheng Lin strangely uncomfortable.

Because inside this train of thought... his own understanding made him look like an idiot.

And if he wanted to stop looking like an idiot, there was only one way: try to enter this way of thinking.

Which meant... try to understand his father.

Zheng Lin’s eyes darted left and right.

He saw the Sword Saint and Swordsmith fully alert.

He saw Dad Ming ahead and his mother behind, one excited and the other concerned.

Fine.

After confirming that only he could truly enter his father’s “realization” and see these images, Zheng Lin no longer felt embarrassed.

No outsider could see him.

He might as well take a proper look.

“That figure walking ahead... is Brother Tian’s father?”

Zheng Lin knew that Brother Tian’s father had been an extraordinarily powerful man.

Before his own father... that man had been Great Yan’s God of War.

His father revered him deeply and even referred to himself as the man’s “younger brother.”

His master, the Sword Saint, had once lost to him.

And when the godfathers spoke of him, the inborn arrogance they usually carried disappeared.

What remained was something closer to recognition.

To describe it more lyrically... perhaps Brother Tian’s father had once conquered a group of people who had now almost conquered the entire age.

“Son, do you know something? Across two lives as a human being, your father never once imagined that I could become qualified, or capable enough, to walk the same road as a man like him.”

Zheng Lin clenched his teeth.

He tried very hard to understand.

Yet he found his father’s words even more obscure than the Sword Saint’s sword formulas.

“You just learned how to walk. Is it really worth making such a big thing of it?” Zheng Lin asked.

“Among the countless living beings in this world, those qualified to crawl are a minority. Those qualified to kneel are a minority among minorities. As for those qualified to stand upright and walk... they are rarer than phoenix feathers and qilin horns. Most people, in truth, spend their lives sprawled flat. Faces turned toward the sky. Mouths open. Blank and numb. Originally, all your father wanted was to find the most comfortable position to lie down in. But lying there made my whole body itch. Crawling was too tiring. Kneeling made my knees ache. So with no other choice... I had to try standing up and walking.”

As those words ended... another scene appeared.

Zheng Lin had assumed the next image would be iron cavalry and flashing weapons, swallowing ten thousand li like a tiger.

It was not.

He saw his father holding a baby in his arms.

“Is that Elder Sister?”

“No. That’s your Brother Tian.”

Zheng Lin leaned forward curiously for a better look, then laughed.

“I never expected Brother Tian to be so cute as a baby. He looks like one of those fat children in New Year paintings.”

“He was. Much better-looking than you were.”

“...” Zheng Lin.

Inside the image, the man lifted another swaddled baby.

Then the vision changed.

He now carried two children, one in each arm, a boy and a girl, while a young man stood beside him.

“In the past, lying down made me unwilling. Crawling made me tired. Kneeling felt undignified. Even after I started walking, I was only walking for the sake of walking. Looking around. Wandering. Taking a stroll. In my heart, I always thought that if it truly became impossible, I could simply duck into the woods beside the road and still preserve my carefree freedom. But after I had all of you... it became different. I could no longer run away. This house had to be built. Built well. Not merely so that I could live comfortably in it, but so that when all of you lived in it later, it could still keep out the wind and rain. Without all of you, I would have been freer. But because I had all of you, I finally understood what true freedom actually means.”

Zheng Lin felt his father’s arm slowly tighten around him.

Then, just as slowly, it relaxed again.

The scene before him began fading away.

That meant one of two things.

Either the realization was ending... or the reality before them had become its final scene.

By now, routed Qian soldiers were appearing continuously around them.

Some barely managed to regroup before the riders around Zheng Fan smashed them apart again.

Across the inner reaches of the battlefield, the Qian army’s panicked flight had already become inevitable.

Their repeated failure to take the city had exhausted the troops from top to bottom.

The Wu Clan had turned again, allowing the main Yan force east of the river to cross silently and at speed, then launch a sudden large-scale attack.

It was a textbook example of besieging a point to strike the reinforcements.

The Yan victory was only natural.

The Qian defeat followed just as naturally.

Zheng Fan slowly lifted his head and swept his gaze across the battlefield.

For a moment, the Sword Saint and Swordsmith both looked puzzled.

Was it over?

Had this enlightenment merely been an enlightenment, without producing any change in cultivation realm?

A’Ming looked surprised.

Siniang relaxed slightly.

Zheng Fan held his son with one arm and pointed forward with the other.

“Born into this world. Walking through this world. Standing in this world! When your father first woke up, there were only seven people beside me and one little inn. I once envied the spectacle of another family’s iron cavalry charging in perfect formation. Now I can mobilize my own household... no. I can mobilize the soldiers and people of all Great Yan beneath Heaven. More than a million! I once looked up at Emperors sitting high above everyone else. Now, one after another, even they have to be polite when they see me. I once felt no attachment whatsoever toward All Xia. Now All Xia will soon achieve nominal unification because of me! After this battle, apart from the remaining strength of the Three Frontiers, all the elite new armies Qian spent ten years building are gone. Once Jiangnan falls, Qian will no longer possess the strength to stop Yan cavalry from marching south. Unless your Imperial Uncle suddenly gets so much pig fat clogging his brain that he insists on forcing me into another civil war beneath the Black Dragon Banner... this battle before us will probably be the final great campaign your father personally commands. The snowfield is lying flat. Chu is lying flat. Qian is lying flat too. The desert Barbarians had their Royal Court swept away long ago. What remains are only the scraps around the edges. Shangjing has not fallen yet. Qian’s new Emperor has not yet come out in white, leading a sheep to surrender before me. That elder brother-in-law of mine in Chu dared stab me in the back this time. We will settle that account later. Those little states standing everywhere and bending with the wind will have to abolish their states and titles one by one. The snowfield north of Jin, the native tribes in Qian’s southwest, the Shanyue in southern Chu, the Barbarians of the desert... they’ll all still need a beating from time to time. But... your father no longer needs to go personally. This world is like one enormous Red Tent. And Heaven... is the old madam running it.”

The Prince lifted his head.

He looked toward the sky.

Then laughed loudly.

“This world... I’ve played with it. And I’ve had my fill. But I should leave a few scraps for you young brats, so you get a chance to taste some meat too. Otherwise you’ll curse me behind my back for being stingy.”

Wuya flew from his waist and landed in the Prince’s hand.

Still seated steadily atop the Pixiu, the Prince held his son with his left arm.

With his right, he pointed the saber toward the heavens.

Then shouted:

“If you damned well knew how to read the room and had treated me a little better, I wouldn’t have had to hold onto this breath and flip your whole damned chessboard over!”

Somewhere beyond sight... a thread of moonlight seemed to descend from the vault of heaven.

It entered Wuya.

Then appeared ready to flow through the saber and into the Prince’s body.

The scene looked almost identical to the Sword Saint’s entrance into Second Grade.

The difference was that this descending radiance was gentle rather than violent.

As though responding to it, the blood qi inside the Prince began to boil and rise.

The Swordsmith stared in shock.

“He’s clearly a Martial Artist advancing in Grade. Why has it suddenly turned into a Qi Refiner’s path again?”

Comprehending the Great Dao of Heaven and Earth was, in itself, a matter of drawing the power of Heaven and Earth into oneself.

That was why people said the stronger a Qi Refiner became, the more he resembled the Heavenly Dao.

The two already contained one another.

The Sword Saint’s eyes narrowed slightly.

Was this... a gift from Heaven?

He had raised his saber and cursed Heaven, and Heaven had answered by sending down blessed rain?

Whatever the explanation, it was still a good thing.

At the very least, the opportunity for breakthrough had appeared.

But then... something happened that stunned everyone.

The Prince snapped his wrist.

Wuya flipped.

The radiance that should have flowed through the saber and entered his body was knocked aside directly.

It scattered into sparks of starlight and vanished.

“Take your filthy hand away. So what if the threshold to Third Grade is high? I’m using this entire world as my stepping stone. You think there’s still a threshold I can’t cross?”

The blood qi that had only just quieted inside him erupted again.

This time... far more violently than before.

Then... the Prince... lowered his saber.

Sheathed it.

Broke through.

And entered Third Grade.

[End of Chapter 1011]