Chapter 1013: This Prince Invites the Immortals to Return to Heaven!

Most of the identity tags had already been dug out. Some Brocade-Clad personal guards were still cleaning up the site, while the rest began sorting the tags that had been piled nearby.

Zheng Lin remained kneeling where he was.

His mother had not told him to rise, so he could not rise.

Because of that, he clearly saw Liu Dahu leading more than a dozen Brocade-Clad personal guards, registers in hand, checking the identity tags one by one.

Other guards wrapped each verified tag in a small square of silk, then stacked them neatly inside large wooden chests.

The preparations had been extraordinarily meticulous.

Everything they needed had been purchased in Jinghai City.

And at the time... the city had still been under siege.

So even while his biological father had been feeding goldfish back then, he had still been thinking about this.

Below the platform, the Sword Saint stood with his arms folded.

A soft breeze stirred his clothes.

As though sensing his disciple's gaze, he turned and looked toward him.

Zheng Lin remembered something his master had once told him.

A man ought to value trust and keep his promises.

But beneath Heaven, how many people truly managed it?

His master had then said that Zheng Lin's father was the most faithful man he had ever met when it came to keeping his word.

And so, although His Highness the Heir Prince had already begun to concede inwardly, while his mouth and certain habitual gestures still expressed a little resistance, when his father said that he had only destroyed Qian along the way...

Zheng Lin genuinely believed him.

There was no deliberate need to display anything.

No need to prove anything.

Everything simply followed naturally from what had come before.

He wanted to dig up and properly resettle the eight thousand comrades-in-arms who had died for him.

But the road was difficult, and the Qian had set up passes and checkpoints everywhere.

So... since the Qian refused to make things convenient for him, he would simply make Qian disappear altogether.

Then everything would be convenient.

The local Qian armies from the two or three commanderies around Shangjing had already been provoked into moving toward the capital.

The various Yan forces represented by Brother Tian's army, together with the grinding battles at the Three Frontiers, had long since spread the flames of war through Qian's every limb and bone.

By contrast... the ring around Shangjing itself had become unusually safe.

Zheng Lin rested both hands on the boards beneath him.

He had once wondered... why his godfathers had remained beside his father all these years.

Why a man like his master was willing to live next door, and why whenever his father went out, his master followed.

He had wondered about his own mother too.

Why had she chosen this man... and then given birth to him?

Those questions had followed Zheng Lin for a long time.

Even after accompanying his father into Qian this time, he still had not found a precise answer.

Because gradually... the answer itself no longer seemed especially important.

Liu Dahu stepped forward and knelt.

"Your Highness, the identity tags have all been counted and properly stored."

The Prince nodded.

Liu Dahu rose and silently withdrew.

The Prince first looked toward the three great banners standing on either side of the offering table.

One was the Black Dragon Banner.

One was the Jingnan Army Banner.

And one... was Zheng Fan's own princely standard.

Years ago, beneath these three banners, more than ten thousand iron cavalry had opened a road for him.

In the most direct, savage, primitive fashion imaginable... they had trampled out a path through a sea of blood.

There would always be certain things... certain people... that left a mark unlike any other in the deepest reaches of one's memory.

Before that day...

Zheng Fan had never felt especially attached to the so-called Black Dragon Banner.

At most, he had cared because of the promise Old Tian had once made him swear regarding that banner.

But after that day... eight thousand sons of Yan had soaked the Black Dragon Banner in their flesh and blood and dyed it permanently into the heart of Great Yan's present God of War.

His elder brother had made him swear that for the rest of his life, he would never lower that banner.

Because so long as you kept it raised... countless sons of Yan would rush forward one after another and place themselves before you.

They would charge for you.

Break formations for you.

And... die in battle for you.

The Prince's gaze shifted toward the great pit ahead.

He closed his eyes.

Then spoke.

"This Prince has come back to take you home.

"Are you... still here?"

The autumn wind continued blowing gently across the site.

The Brocade-Clad personal guards all remained extraordinarily quiet.

Farther out, the Qian laborers knelt obediently to one side, not daring to make the slightest disturbance.

Yet somewhere within that silence... with nothing but the sound of wind to be heard... the moment the Prince finished asking his question, it seemed as though a vast, earth-shaking shout suddenly exploded beside his ears.

"Here!!!"

The Prince drew a deep breath.

Moisture gathered at the corners of his eyes.

Yet his lips... curved into a faint smile.

"This Prince... has chosen a fine feng-shui burial ground for you."

...

Once Yan iron cavalry followed the Wangjiang River toward the capital region, an enormous tide of refugees immediately swept through the entire region, including Shangjing itself.

In earlier years, the people of the capital region would probably have instinctively fled into Shangjing whenever disaster struck.

Those with connections would seek out relatives and friends.

Those without connections would rather sleep in the streets than remain outside and face Yan sabers.

For a very long time, in the minds of most Qian people, Shangjing's towering walls, together with the Emperor and all the esteemed ministers inside them, had represented their greatest source of safety.

That belief had been changed forever by the city's fall years ago.

The Yan had entered Shangjing.

The once-imposing imperial capital had fallen into days of rioting soldiers and chaos.

It had become a living hell.

The defeats occurring across Qian could no longer be hidden from the people below.

Or rather... the Qian court, now being shaken by thunder from every direction, had already begun suffering extremely severe breakdowns in its own governing machinery.

A paper window could be pasted over again and again.

But when the true storm came, the paper still tore apart and sagged in the rain, revealing an astonishing mass of holes underneath.

The people of the capital region... and the residents of Shangjing itself... began fleeing outward instead.

They were escaping the capital.

That Prince... had come again!

Li Fusheng had been dead for many years.

The people of an enemy state had long since forgotten him.

In truth, even if Li Fusheng were still alive today, as far as ordinary Qian people were concerned, the army that crossed the Bian River and knocked on Shangjing's gates more than ten years ago no longer belonged in memory to Count Huwei.

It belonged to the Regent Prince.

Even though the Prince at the time had only been an insignificant garrison commander.

But never mind the history books.

Even the memories of living people turned over once every decade.

The Regent Prince, now at the height of his power and crowned in military glory, had become the leading figure on every stage of his own past.

Twice in more than ten years, Shangjing had heard the hoofbeats of Yan cavalry.

Both times... that Prince had been responsible.

And this time, when that Prince's army appeared again... the people truly began voting with their feet.

More awkward still... the government troops inside and outside the capital could not stop the flight.

From a purely military perspective, the fewer civilians inside the city, the easier Shangjing would be to defend.

Shangjing was simply too large.

Under ordinary circumstances, whenever something disrupted the Qian River shipping route and grain failed to enter the capital on time, grain prices inside Shangjing would immediately panic.

But the problem was... this wave of "refugees" was also draining the morale of Shangjing, and indeed the entire capital region, little by little.

...

"More people again."

"Yes. More and more every day."

On the second floor of a winehouse, two white-robed old men sat opposite one another, drinking wine and playing Go.

The street below was packed with people.

This was Back Mountain Town.

As its name suggested, it was a town adjoining Back Mountain.

The settlement was very large.

Yet it had no city walls and no garrison.

There was a local official, but the position was purely titular and existed more for symbolism than administration.

The people who truly governed Back Mountain Town were the "immortals" atop the mountain.

Only a small number of the Qi Refiners on Back Mountain had reached the point where they no longer needed to eat.

Most had not cultivated far enough to escape their mortal flesh.

And even true immortals, perhaps, still could not abandon the pleasures of mortal food and wine.

So as early as Emperor Taizong's reign, this town had been assigned to Back Mountain.

Back Mountain never lacked money.

Every year, people from throughout Qian and even from other states traveled here to burn incense, pray for blessings, and make donations.

Its incense offerings were probably the richest beneath Heaven.

But gold and silver could not be eaten.

Someone still had to farm.

Someone still had to weave cloth.

Someone still had to bring goods to market.

Back Mountain Town and Back Mountain depended upon one another in exactly this way.

Registered disciples of Back Mountain filled every trade and business in town.

They could also be called outer disciples.

Now that the Yan had entered Qian, Jiangnan had collapsed, and alarms burned everywhere across the country, panic had seized the people.

Many who had once lived throughout the capital region, rich household and commoner alike, instinctively fled toward Back Mountain Town.

The government army could no longer be relied upon.

The court could no longer be relied upon.

The ministers could no longer be relied upon.

Even the Emperor could no longer be relied upon.

Fortunately... there were still immortals one could rely upon.

"The situation is collapsing badly."

"Indeed. When Grand-Master Uncle Xundao descended the mountain, we thought restoring the state was finally within reach. A few years ago, there truly did seem to be signs of revival. Who could have imagined it would collapse like thunder?"

"Exactly. Who knows whether Great Qian can survive this calamity."

Li Xundao had been Master Cang's final disciple.

Because of that, although he was not especially old by Back Mountain's standards, his seniority was extraordinarily high.

Master Cang, after all, had lived more than two full sixty-year cycles.

"Senior Brother, do you think our Back Mountain..."

"What? You're afraid too?"

"My cultivation is still inadequate."

"Heh. This is Back Mountain."

"Yes. Yes."

"Back Mountain lies beyond the mundane world. If the previous Emperor had not insisted on dissolving himself, he should have come up this mountain as well. Once one ascends Back Mountain, one enters the realm beyond the world. Outside the gate is the great world. Inside it is our own little world. To say something cruelly honest: even if Great Qian ceases to exist, Back Mountain will remain forever. From Emperors and ministers above to ordinary commoners below, everyone needs this Back Mountain. Everyone... is unable to do without it."

"Senior Brother speaks with perfect reason. Perfect reason."

"Put your heart back in your belly. Play your stones properly. And while you do, look at the flood of refugees outside. One mouthful of wine. One move on the board. Outside the window lies the mortal condition; inside, transcendence. Step in, step out, then out and in again. There is an opportunity here to break through your state of mind."

"Thank you for Senior Brother's instruction!"

"No need for thanks, Junior Brother. You and I are already—"

"The Yan dogs are here!!!"

"Run!!!"

"The Yan are here! The Yan are here! Run!!!"

Both Qi Refiners dropped their wine cups at the same time.

Together, they turned toward the window.

Outside... where was the so-called mortal world?

A black cloud formed from armored riders was roaring over the earth toward this unwalled town.

The Yan cavalry showed no mercy whatsoever.

The moment they entered... they cut down whoever they saw.

They drew bows and loosed arrows.

A massacre began.

Shrill screams rose one after another and gathered into a single melody of terror that twisted and echoed above the town.

Blood.

Despair.

Corpses.

They began filling the place once called the purest land beneath Heaven, the place closest to immortals.

...

The Sword Saint sat on horseback and looked toward the hellish Asura scene ahead.

Eastern Jin cavalry were the finest mounted troops of the age.

Their discipline was strict.

Their mounted archery was excellent.

Their coordination seamless and their training superb.

But there was one skill even a brand-new army recruit never needed anyone to teach him.

Turning a weapon on civilians.

Qian soldiers had demonstrated it countless times.

They would be broken by the Yan on a battlefield, then turn into routed troops and begin plundering the very civilians they had supposedly been protecting.

Years ago, Hero Chen had gone looking for Zheng Fan because of precisely this kind of misunderstanding.

There was no reason to believe Qian soldiers could do something eastern Jin soldiers could not.

Especially when... their own Prince had personally issued the order.

The Yan had never possessed a good reputation among the other states of All Xia.

Indeed... even outside All Xia, Yan's reputation was poor.

When dealing with Barbarians and Savages, their killing could be extraordinarily brutal.

Whether it was the former Prince Jingnan... or the Regent Prince who had inherited Prince Jingnan's mantle and military banner... both men's campaigns contained no shortage of massacred cities and slaughtered prisoners.

This time, Zheng Lin was not riding the Pixiu with his biological father.

He had his own horse.

Curiously, he glanced toward his master at his side.

Despite his young age, Zheng Lin did not think there was anything wrong with unleashing troops to kill like this.

In truth, he almost wished he could rush in himself and enjoy playing properly.

But Mother was here.

If he stained his clothes with blood and got himself dirty in front of her... he would once again face the needle in his loving mother's hand.

Yet in Zheng Lin's view, his master had always possessed a compassionate heart.

Even if the Sword Saint did not stop Zheng Fan, who looked as though he had completely lost himself in bloodlust, he should not have been able to watch this calmly.

The Sword Saint looked at Zheng Lin.

Then looked away.

Remain beside a man surnamed Zheng long enough, and even the most compassionate Buddhist holy monk would eventually be "converted" into an Asura.

The present Yu Huaping... might still treasure the duck shut inside the coop back home because he could never bear to eat it.

But he had little interest in worrying about the people of another state and another land on a battlefield.

More importantly... he respected Zheng Fan for keeping his promises.

And what was happening before him now... was Zheng Fan fulfilling a promise he had once made.

A promise to himself.

The Sword Saint had never forgotten the assassination on the frozen surface of the Wangjiang River.

One wave had not yet settled before another rose.

Back Mountain's Qi Refiners had directly "invited" Zheng Fan onto the mountain.

In the end, Zheng Fan's consciousness returned to his body.

But the danger had been extreme.

With the slightest mistake, the Regent Prince who now shook the world might have become a drooling madman.

It was on that very day... that Zheng Fan swore:

"One day, I will leave neither chicken nor dog alive on your Back Mountain!"

The cries and slaughter were not pleasant sounds to the Sword Saint.

He liked wearing white.

That meant he liked cleanliness.

In that respect, he differed greatly from both the Yan army, which favored black, and this Yan Prince.

But as Zheng Fan had once said: the bastard is the one who starts the trouble.

There was no principle beneath Heaven that allowed you to scheme in the shadows to kill another man, yet forbade him from turning around and exterminating your whole household afterward.

In the jianghu, revenge that wiped out entire clans was hardly unusual.

The Prince gently stroked the mane of his Pixiu.

Every so often, his gaze moved toward the rows of large chests carried behind him.

Years ago, he had said that when he returned, he would not merely move their spirit tablets and carry them home.

He would turn the ground beneath their feet into territory of Great Yan.

If sons of Yan were buried within their own country's borders, then naturally they had not died in a foreign land.

But even when one was buried at home... where one was buried still mattered.

These eight thousand men had died for Zheng Fan.

So Zheng Fan would personally choose the true burial ground where they would rest.

And so... where could possibly have better feng shui than this?

...

The slaughter continued.

At last... the people on the mountain could no longer remain seated.

The "immortals" of Back Mountain might not care whether the commoners below lived or died.

Beneath their faces of "compassion and salvation," many of them also wore another face that mocked mortals as "ants."

But there was one thing they could not ignore.

Once the Yan Prince finished killing everyone below the mountain... would he stop?

Or would he simply continue upward and slaughter the mountain too?

Qi Refiners were mysterious.

They were powerful.

Back Mountain had developed to the point where its position almost resembled the ancestral seat of all Qi Refiners in All Xia.

But no matter how exalted the lineage of this ancestral seat might be... before tens of thousands of tiger-like iron cavalry, it was nowhere near enough.

One figure after another flew down from the mountain.

For once, they truly did look like immortals descending beyond the dust of the world.

At their head... three Third Grade Qi Refiners of the highest standing raised their manifestations.

Like mirages, three enormous phantom figures appeared above them.

"Regent Prince, what is the meaning of this? Can you not hear all living beings crying?"

"Your Highness. Stop."

"Prince of Great Yan, Back Mountain is a pure and tranquil sanctuary of immortals. It cannot be profaned like this!"

The Prince sat atop his Pixiu.

He held a riding crop.

Pointed it toward the three enormous figures ahead.

Then declared:

"This Prince knows only one thing.

"True immortals should dwell above the Nine Heavens, not gather dust in the mortal world.

"Since Back Mountain is land belonging to immortals... then naturally every one of you who lives upon it must be a true immortal. Fine. This Prince accepts that.

"This Prince... has always been charitable and generous. I delight in helping others!

"So today... this Prince will personally... send every immortal upon Back Mountain... back to Heaven!"

"You!!!"

"You dare!!!"

"Regent Prince, Great Qian has not yet fallen! And even if Great Qian truly falls, even if Great Yan truly unifies all All Xia... from the imperial sacrifices above, the enfeoffment of the gods of mountains and rivers, the ordering of yin and yang and ritual law, and the interpretation of celestial omens and fortune... down to guiding the countless common people, taming the populace, and soothing all living beings... even if Great Yan truly takes this world, if you wish to sit securely upon the rivers and mountains of the state... you cannot do without Qi Refiners.

"And naturally... you cannot do without Back Mountain!"

"Hahahahahaha..."

The Prince threw back his head and laughed.

Then shouted:

"Still dreaming that grand Spring-and-Autumn dream of yours.

"Immortals... the times have changed.

"Because from this day forward... this world... will be civilized... by this Prince himself!"

[End of Chapter 1013]