Volume One: Turmoil in Yan and Yun Chapter Seventy-Two: Undercurrents (IV)

Those who accomplished great deeds in ancient times were all adept at mastering the art of coercion. They coerced the masses, court officials, noble families, sects, and even entire clans. Thus, the demon race had to face the combined assault of humans and monsters, ultimately suffering defeat and retreating to the northern ice fields. Thus, the Great Tang faced the uprising forces of the land, leading to Dugu Changsi’s melancholic ascent to the throne. Thus, the old emperor was able to forge glorious military achievements, and history recorded many divine generals and heroes among the human race. One cannot claim that these were all the results of coercion, but its contribution was undeniable.

The problem is that coercion has never been the exclusive skill of any single race. The demons and the underworld clan are the most intelligent races upon the Dao Abyss Continent. Though their glory has faded since the rise of humanity, this was due only to their excessive pride. The demon race has lingered in the ice fields for over a thousand years, and the underworld clan has fared even worse, lurking in the Netherworld for untold ages. Having concealed their light for so long, they have learned many things; among them, the art of coercion.

In the Netherworld, countless wraiths howled, “May our clan reclaim its former glory,” as they charged the seal, wave after wave perishing within the array laid by Zen monks. The Buddha’s phantom sat upright in the heavens upon a lotus throne, golden light radiating from both Buddha and seat. As the wraiths touched the Buddha’s golden light, they melted away like snow and ice; even the stronger spirits could not withstand the light emanating from the lotus throne.

Yet, they felt no fear. As one wave died, another surged forward, howling toward the seal, repeating endlessly.

In the distance, a wraith clad in deep blue robes watched indifferently. Around him floated many other wraiths, most with fluctuating auras, firefly-like flames flickering around them. The truly terrifying ones were those whose bodies were utterly still, appearing ordinary yet unfathomable.

The ultimate simplicity of the Dao was not only a human principle.

These wraiths were the Underworld Emperor and his council of elders.

They gazed upon the golden radiance, listened to the thunderous Zen chants, their expressions as unmoved as deep waters, as if their kin were not the ones charging to their deaths.

Fortunately, their kin could not perceive their cold detachment.

Or perhaps it was not coldness. Many generals, and even distant spectators, wore the same expression.

Like the demon race, the underworld clan enjoyed longevity without needing high cultivation. Many wraiths who had witnessed the great battle still remained in the Netherworld.

From the initial humiliation of being imprisoned, through despair, to the current tranquility, the people of the Netherworld had endured much.

“Didn’t the Azure Robes Pavilion promise to weaken the seal? We’ve already launched three full assaults, yet the seal remains unshaken,” an elderly woman with silver hair beside the Underworld Emperor asked, “Could something have gone wrong?”

By Netherworld standards, the current Underworld Emperor was quite young—barely two hundred years old by human reckoning.

He kept his gaze fixed on the golden light above, on the Buddha behind that light, the lotus throne beneath, the seeds within the lotus, and the radiance emanating from those seeds.

He sensed the Buddha’s power slowly waning, though subtly; that human surnamed Yang had not lied.

Buddhism preaches salvation for all beings, and the souls of the Netherworld are among them. Innocent blood matched against supreme Buddhahood—how could it be ineffective?

The Netherworld had nurtured and rebuilt itself over the years; its populace was vast, even the registered soldiers outnumbered those of the Divine Dynasty.

They did not fear death, but they would not die in vain.

Fortunately, it seemed their sacrifices were having an effect. So long as the Buddha could be weakened, when the Emperor and the elder council acted, they could retain their strength, increasing their odds against human champions.

If the Bloodshed Pavilion was correct, outside lay the royal city of humanity, guarded by only a single great cultivator. Even with the Divine Dynasty’s two sacred beasts, there would only be three defenders.

If nothing unexpected occurred, their grand endeavor would succeed.

“Let us begin,” he murmured.

No sooner had he spoken than he stood alone.

The golden light in the sky blazed anew, as if a second sun had appeared in the Netherworld.

Countless wraiths perished, yet more survived.

They radiated shadowy auras, blocking out the sunlight.

Foremost among them were a dozen figures, wielding vast shadows against the Buddha, their darkness surging like tidal waves, holding their own against the fierce Buddha’s radiance.

The Zen chants thundered on.

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“It seems the Netherworld has lost all patience,” Night Devourer said heavily, gazing at the Soul-Sealing Tower. “If the Soul-Sealing Tower falls, this continent will face calamity beyond measure.”

The Divine Emperor watched the restless little tower before him, his expression grave.

The Soul-Sealing Tower had been sealed by Zen monks, the old emperor, and generations of sages from the Academy—it should have been impregnable. Yet now, only the Zen monks’ seal seemed effective.

Night Devourer clicked his tongue in wonder. “Those bald old monks of Zen are truly unlikable, but their strength is undeniable. It’s just a seal, and yet it has repelled three assaults from the Netherworld.”

He tilted his head toward the Divine Emperor. “Are we not going to act?”

The Divine Emperor shook his head. “It’s not time yet.”

Night Devourer said, “If we wait any longer, it may be too late.”

One slow step leads to many; once the Netherworld breaks the seal, the Soul-Sealing Tower alone will not suffice, and it will be even harder to stop them.

Though acting now would not be easy either.

Suddenly, a clear and piercing cry echoed through the sky.

A fiery red bird appeared before the Soul-Sealing Tower.

Its voice was crisp, yet heavy.

“The outer city’s formation has malfunctioned, outside the control of the Imperial City Map,” the bird said. “I can smell the scent of Severed Cause atop it.”

Severed Cause was a technique from Fate-Stealing Pavilion of Azure Robes, drawing on the principle of cause and effect.

Humanity is defined by five aspects: soul, body, vital energy, emotions, and karma. The five pavilions of Azure Robes each correspond to one. Fate-Stealing Pavilion’s specialty was seizing others’ karmic ties.

Seizing karma is seizing fate.

In the past, Xu Hai rose above all others in cultivation thanks to Fate-Stealing Pavilion. Countless sects lost their core techniques to its disciples. During the war, Xu Hai’s mastery of a hundred arts left the righteous sects bewildered. Because of this, when Dugu Feiyun entered Xu Hai, his first act was to annihilate Fate-Stealing Pavilion.

It was said the entire mountain range where the pavilion stood vanished, left utterly barren.

But how had it revived now?

Xu Hai could not possibly have any surviving disciples of Fate-Stealing Pavilion; that was beyond doubt.

It must be from outside Xu Hai.

The Divine Emperor pondered silently, then said, “Activate the Dragon Rising Array, secure the outer city, then send word to the major sects.”

“Sending word may not be possible,” the bird replied. “The Imperial Astrologer just reported that, due to irresistible force, the Sky-Connecting Mirror cannot transmit messages.”

The Divine Emperor raised his brows.

Night Devourer asked, “Distant aid is of little use—why not notify the Academy?”

The Divine Emperor shook his head. “No need. The Academy surely knows what is happening. If they wish to act, they will.”

Night Devourer said, “Is it true the Academy has no great cultivator now?”

The Divine Emperor glanced at him. “Master Qingfeng and the Pavilion Lord of the Corpse-Control Pavilion both fell, Master Liuyun became the thirty-three books guarding Wind Pass—where would the Academy find a great cultivator?”

Night Devourer sighed twice.

The Divine Emperor shook his head. “Master Dianmo has yet to merge with the Dao. Don’t pin your hopes on him.”

Night Devourer felt it was a pity.

The sky did not hide.

“The Academy has sent several people,” it said. “Some are heading to the outer city and the Imperial Astrologer’s office. One has come to the royal city.”

The Divine Emperor raised his brows again. Before his thoughts could turn, a scholar with the bearing of mountain breezes and ancient bones appeared before him.

“Master Dianmo, what guidance do you have?” the Divine Emperor asked.

The scholar offered a slight bow. “I have come to oversee the Dragon Rising Array.”

The Divine Emperor raised his brows again.

The scholar said, “Your Majesty must soon face the Netherworld’s invasion. The Dragon Rising Array is best entrusted to me.”

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