Volume One: Turmoil in Yan and Yun Chapter Seventy-Four: Undercurrents (Part Six)
Though the Palace of Ji is considered one of the sects, it has always followed the path of the academy, where the true protagonists are always the masters and their students.
Yet, being a sect, the Palace of Ji naturally established its own hierarchy. Unlike other sects, its ranks are not determined by contributions or strength, but solely by knowledge.
Within its teachings are the dualities of Yin and Yang, the Five Elements and Eight Trigrams, and all the mysteries of the arcane arts.
Those most outstanding among them are bestowed various distinguished titles.
Heaven, Earth, and Man—these are called the Three Talents.
Sun, Moon, and the Five Stars—these are the Seven Luminaries.
Since the founding of the Palace of Ji, there have only ever been two Three Talents: Li Jinxing and Dou Xiaotong; the number of Seven Luminaries is greater, having undergone two generations of change, adding up to perhaps thirteen or fourteen in total.
Both Li and Dou once belonged among the Seven Luminaries, only rising to the rank of Three Talents as their knowledge and experience grew.
Beyond these, there is the Master of the Palace.
Yet, those of the Palace of Ji rarely refer to their leader as “Master of the Palace”; they find such a title undignified. Instead, since “Master” carries the meaning of “the one who arrives first, the one who teaches first,” they use that honorific instead.
There are far more Masters than there are Three Talents or Seven Luminaries; passing down from Dian Mo, there have been twenty-two generations.
And before Dian Mo, there was Jianjia.
The current Seven Luminaries and the vast majority of masters in the Palace of Ji are all his disciples.
To the Palace of Ji, which holds the bond between master and disciple in highest regard, the recent act of the Necromancers’ Hall is nothing short of trampling upon their sacred ground.
Thus, the Astrologer among the Seven Luminaries was incensed beyond measure.
He rose, donned the broad ceremonial robe of the Seven Luminaries, and with a single thought, arrived at the Eightfold River.
The waters of the Eightfold River ran red, bizarre and ominous.
It was all blood.
Upon the river stood a man with hands clasped behind his back, his brow creased in thought. The Astrologer’s heart trembled, and he cried out, “Master!”
“Who are you?” the man on the river asked, frowning slightly. “You seem familiar to me.”
His brow furrowed deeper, and he murmured, “Song Lian…”
Startled, the Astrologer swiftly formed several seals with his fingers, but his gaze soon dimmed. “Is it the thread of karma? Have I entangled my fate with the Master’s?”
“Kill me.” Suddenly the man on the river roared, “Song Lian, kill me! Kill me!”
As his voice echoed, an arcane aura surged from his body. The Eightfold River began to boil, and in an instant, several water spouts, thick enough for many to embrace, erupted. The trees and houses lining the riverbanks could not withstand the pressure; they shattered and were swept into the vortices.
With a wave of his hand, the Astrologer summoned a vast galaxy above the river and its banks. The stars within linked, one, two, three, four, forming chains that locked the entire river in place. A chilling breath descended through the galaxy, slowing the river’s flow until it finally froze over with a thick layer of ice.
The man on the river was trapped within the ice.
Yet the Astrologer did not relax, quickly forming seals again.
Even if the Master had returned to life, with only a fraction of his former strength, not even a galaxy formation could hold him, let alone now, when the battle at the Eightfold River showed that his power was scarcely diminished from its prime!
The ice grew thicker and thicker, encasing the man in layers several fathoms deep.
Unnoticed, a mist began to rise.
White mist settled upon the riverbanks, upon the ice, upon the Astrologer himself.
Mist became dew.
Dew became frost.
White dew turned to frost!
The Astrologer, wary from the first sign of mist, shielded himself well—dew did not touch his body, frost did not settle on him.
A radiant galaxy shimmered half an inch above his ceremonial robe, isolating him from the frost and dew. The robe, being a half-step artifact of the ultimate path, possessed such defenses that even a void-level cultivator might not breach it easily. To keep out mere frost and dew was nothing.
Yet the Astrologer knew well that white dew was the Master Jianjia’s most basic killing move, so he dared not be careless.
Within the galaxy, meteors began to appear, circling and igniting fire as they moved.
The frost and dew were evaporated into steam.
So too was the ice.
Master Jianjia walked out from the melting ice, his body devoid of any trace of blood.
He was, after all, a dead man.
This thought weighed heavily upon the Astrologer’s chest.
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“I do not believe this plan will succeed,” Windrise said softly, gazing at the old man.
“Why not?” the old man asked calmly.
“Although strategic-level entities of the Path are undeniably important, Wuyang will not be crippled by the loss of just one such being,” said Windrise. “The capital of the Divine Dynasty hosts the bases of nearly every sect. In terms of the number of Enlightened and Insightful, it is the greatest under heaven.”
“A swarm of ants!” the old man scoffed.
Windrise replied earnestly, “Those not on the Great Path are all but ants. Yet, even ants in multitude may gnaw an elephant.”
The old man said, “Not everyone is willing to place their life and death in the hands of another.”
Windrise countered, “Unless their life and death were in another’s hands to begin with.”
The old man fell silent.
After a pause, Windrise continued, “What’s more, though Wuyang City has only two Path-merged beings, both sacred beasts of the Divine Dynasty reside in the imperial city. You only think of luring the Storm Guard away—is that enough?”
The old man gazed quietly at Windrise.
Windrise turned to look at the Storm Guard.
The Storm Guard forced a bitter smile and, with a thought, produced a five-colored cauldron-shaped crystal.
“This is the Trifold Fate, the Destiny Anchor—an ultimate sacred artifact, my life’s soul-bound treasure.”
Windrise frowned, “May I ask, what is its purpose?”
The Storm Guard replied, “It anchors the fortune of the Great Path.”
As an ultimate sacred artifact, the Trifold Fate must be formidable in both offense and defense, but personal prowess means little in this grand scheme.
Windrise said nothing, frowning.
Suddenly, Shui Dongliu exclaimed in shock, “The Fate Seizing Hall has reappeared in the world?”
Windrise was briefly stunned, then understood.
The Fate Seizing Hall targets karma—in the end, everything comes down to fortune.
With the Necromancers’ Hall’s corpse-controlling arts as well, the current situation in Wuyang is anything but simple.
“It is not just the Fate Seizing Hall,” the Storm Guard said with a bitter smile. “Some sealing arrays within the Underworld Lock Tower can only be activated with this stone.”
Shui Dongliu froze, then erupted in anger, “If this stone is so vital, how dare you leave Wuyang?”
The Storm Guard was at a loss for words.
Windrise was silent for a long time before finally speaking, “Even the Crown Prince would not go so far.”
The Storm Guard glanced at Windrise, thinking such words were not fit for a minister.
“To worry for the world before its troubles—that is what the Crown Prince himself has said,” Windrise remarked. “No one is qualified to gamble with the fate of all living beings, unless they are ready to bear the backlash of all creation.”
The Storm Guard replied, “It is not as simple as you imagine.”
He paused, then sighed, “In this world, only the Crown Prince stands a chance of reaching the old Emperor’s height.”
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