Chapter 77: Old Deng, Where Do You Want to Go? (Please Subscribe)

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Under the gaze of everyone in the hall, the projected image showed the Lantern Division constables weaving through the island, gathering up martial academy students one by one. Instead of allowing them to take refuge in the central pavilion, they hid them away elsewhere.

Many martial academy officials, having listened to Qiu Zhi Jian earlier, intended to bring all the students to the central pavilion to wait for the restrictions to lift. Upon hearing the Lantern Division constables’ instructions, some officials were ready to argue, but before they could voice their objections, they collided with a blood-soaked official fleeing from the central pavilion.

Blood poured from this official as if it were free for the taking, his face contorted in terror and panic.

“They’ve gone mad! Madness!” he shouted. “Most of the officials stationed at the central pavilion are dead. Black-robed figures appeared from nowhere—they can use elemental energy! We’re no match for them—they can use elemental energy!”

He spoke in terror, collapsing to the ground before he could finish. The Lantern Division constable’s expression remained unmoved, unchanging.

The official who had wanted to argue was left dumbstruck. The dead man before him had just been drinking with him last night—a man of the sixth or seventh rank, a high-ranking dignitary—and now, just like that, he was dead?

Many officials turned pale at the sight, and the students behind them looked equally grim. The students of the Wei Martial Academy were less affected, but those from the Zhou Martial Academy—most of whom had never seen a real battlefield or killed—were ashen-faced at the bloody spectacle.

One official glared at the impassive Lantern Division constable and shouted, “You must know something! Who are those black-robed men? Why did your division detect nothing beforehand? Where is your superior? Where is Lord Qian?”

The Lantern Division constable faced the barrage of questions without changing expression. His voice was as cold as ice. “Follow me. We will protect you. I do not know Lord Qian’s whereabouts.”

With that, he fell silent and hurried off. Some Wei officials distrusted the Lantern Division and refused to heed the advice, insisting on leading their people to the central pavilion. After all, even if elemental energy was suppressed, they still had Lin Qingye, a ninth-rank Martial Emperor, on their side—no ordinary foe.

Wasn’t choosing Lin Qingye, a ninth-rank powerhouse, better than trusting Qian Siyuan? Without further thought, they led their group toward the central pavilion. The Zhou officials, faces shifting with anxiety, hesitated for only a moment before leading their students after the Lantern Division.

Witnessing this, the officials in the hall looked increasingly grim, especially those from Wei. At that moment, they wished they could enter Crane Cry Island themselves and slap some sense into the Wei academy officials. That central pavilion was a deathtrap—if you want to die, fine, but why drag all those students along?

Wei was already poor; raising a talented cultivator was no easy feat. The death of a single student pained them ten times more than it would the Zhou. If all Wei’s competitors died in this tournament, the consequences would be dire. The mere thought made many Wei officials turn ghostly pale, sweat beading on their foreheads.

“Damn it, wasn’t it Jiang Xingyu who just suggested we take our students to the central pavilion?” someone cursed. “Yes, that old fool!” another chimed in. “If he dies, so be it. But if he survives after the restriction lifts, I’ll skin him myself!”

Many Wei officials could no longer contain their anger, cursing loudly regardless of their setting or image. To them, the dead officials in the central pavilion mattered less—most were civil servants with little cultivation or value. Though it might sound harsh to equate lives with value, such was the Wei perspective. The officials and students who had left the pavilion, however, were truly precious. The loss of even one hurt deeply.

As the Wei officials erupted in fury, the Zhou officials remained silent, eyes cast down in restraint.

The Wei Empress, however, was far more composed than her subordinates. Her youthful, ethereal beauty belied the steadiness and authority in her violet-black eyes. She surveyed the projection and spoke: “Silence.”

At her word, even those Wei officials who were on the verge of shattering their molars fell silent. Such was the Empress’s prestige—her commands brooked no dissent.

After a brief silence, someone seemed to realize something and murmured, “Wait, how did the Lantern Division know what happened at the central pavilion? I didn’t see any of them there earlier.”

This comment instantly grabbed the attention of many. “With elemental energy sealed, their usual concealment techniques wouldn’t work. If any Lantern Division agents had been there, we’d have seen them. Did someone sense something before the attack and alert the division?”

“Who could it be...?” they wondered aloud, puzzled. Meanwhile, neither academy head—Qiu Zhi Jian nor Li Qingcheng—had appeared in the projection. With elemental energy suppressed, even the academy heads were only marginally stronger than ordinary cultivators, but their presence alone would steady nerves. The black-robed men, for all their strength and numbers, were only a hundred or so. The combined students and officials of the academies numbered in the thousands—if it came to it, sheer numbers could overwhelm the enemy.

But...where were the academy heads? No one could say. The officials could only steel themselves and continue watching the projection. The hall soon returned to silence. All knew the black-robed men would not rest—the central pavilion would be swept clean, and then the hunt for the remaining students on Crane Cry Island would begin. With the black-robed men’s overwhelming advantage, no one could hope to defeat them alone; perhaps in a group, they might stand a chance. Yet if too many students or officials lost heart, would they even dare resist?

At that moment, not only the Zhou palace was silent. Everyone following the Wei-Zhou tournament felt their hearts clench.

Meanwhile, at the Duke Protector’s estate, Lady Wu sat in the courtyard, weaving a brocade handkerchief with gentle grace. Delicate characters adorned it: “A gift for my daughter-in-law, Yanqiu.” This was to be the first gift for Qin Yanqiu, her son’s betrothed, who had not yet entered the family. Precious gifts had been sent before, but Qin Yanqiu had always returned them, even humble daily items, insisting she did not need them. The girl loved weapons and steeds, appreciating only the horses and blades Lady Wu had sent. Fearing Yanqiu would continue to favor martial pursuits over her son after marriage, Lady Wu hoped to encourage a more feminine side by gifting her embroidery.

As she worked, a commotion arose outside. “Madam, something terrible has happened!” cried a frantic voice. A figure burst into the tranquil courtyard, scattering leaves from the winter plum and willow.

Lady Wu frowned slightly, looking up to see her trusted maid, Aunt Xue.

“What is it? Don’t panic. Speak slowly,” Lady Wu said, offering her a cup of tea with a shake of her head at her maid’s agitation.

But Aunt Xue pushed the cup aside, unable to calm herself. Having grown up together, mistress and maid were as close as sisters, their bond needing no formalities. Torn, Aunt Xue hesitated to deliver the news about the young master. When disaster struck on Crane Cry Island, she had rushed back without thinking, but now, faced with Lady Wu’s concern, she could not bear to speak. Lady Wu adored her son—even a mere chill would keep her up at night, checking on him, caressing his forehead with worry. To tell her he was not just in trouble, but in mortal peril, perhaps never to return—Aunt Xue’s heart faltered.

“Madam, I... I can’t say it,” she stammered, biting her lip, the anguish plain on her face.

But Lady Wu would not let her leave so easily. Aunt Xue’s words had already piqued her concern—half-spoken news could not be left unfinished. She caught Aunt Xue by the arm, her pretty eyes widening, cheeks puffing in the childish expression they both used only with each other. “Out with it,” Lady Wu urged, not really expecting anything dire. Aunt Xue was prone to overreacting.

Aunt Xue took a deep breath, knowing she could not escape without speaking. Closing her eyes, she told all she knew.

From the moment Aunt Xue uttered, “The young master is in trouble!” Lady Wu was stunned, her mind blank, her expression dazed, her lovely face drained of all color. Aunt Xue continued, but Lady Wu heard nothing more. All she knew was that something terrible had happened at Crane Cry Island, and her son was in danger—so dire that not even the emperor could intervene.

Lady Wu said nothing, frozen in place, her embroidery and needle slipping from her limp hands to the ground. At some point, tears welled in her beautiful eyes, slipping silently down her cheeks to the floor.

“My son... my son...” she whispered. “He can’t be hurt, he mustn’t be hurt...”

She staggered to her feet and started for the gate, but had barely gone a few steps before dizziness overtook her and she collapsed. Aunt Xue barely caught her in time, calling urgently for help.

“Someone, fetch a physician!”

The Duke Protector’s estate was thrown into chaos.

Elsewhere, Qingluan was still in the Wanxiang Garden, tending the flowers and absentmindedly wondering when the young master would return. Without him, the garden felt so empty. If he returned, she would certainly give him a hard time. He’d said there might be danger, yet took Bai Shuxuan and left her behind. Was he really worried about her? Nonsense! She didn’t want to expose his real motives—surely, he just preferred the other girl’s... attributes.

As she brooded, Qingluan glanced down at her own chest, weighing it in her hand. Not that small, surely—not much different from Bai Shuxuan’s. She comforted herself: bigger isn’t always better; small can be cute too.

Just then, a commotion rose outside the courtyard—guards and servants rushed by, exclaiming about the young master’s misfortune and the lady’s collapse.

“The young master’s in trouble? The lady’s fainted?” Qingluan murmured, clearly not comprehending the gravity of the situation. She stopped a guard and, after a brief exchange, her face turned pale, her body trembling with cold dread.

She hugged herself, crouching down, burying her head in helpless despair.

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“It’s happened... What’s going on? How is the young master now?” Qingluan felt all strength leave her. After a moment, she tried to stand and head out to seek news. But she soon found herself gripped by a sudden, overwhelming despair. She didn’t dare to seek answers. For now, she’d only heard the young master was in trouble, but not that he was dead. If he truly was—Qingluan could not imagine how she would face the world. Anxiety, pain, and hopelessness surged in her heart. Suddenly her mind went blank, and she collapsed. A passing maid noticed and cried out, “Miss Qingluan has fainted too! Quick, take her to the physician!”

The Duke Protector’s estate was in turmoil, unable to find any peace. The streets and alleys of the capital were half deserted, as the populace gathered wherever the projection could be viewed. The restaurants showing the Crane Cry Island projection were packed to bursting; even those who spent fortunes could barely find a spot, forced to stand on tiptoe for a glimpse.

The current scene depicted a grand hall, far from the central pavilion, where the Lantern Division had gathered the Zhou Martial Academy students and a few Wei students. Lantern Division constables stood guard, blades drawn, their elemental energy sealed, some physically weaker than the students themselves, yet standing resolutely as their shield.

Most students remained bewildered, unaware of the true danger. Their energy had been sealed, they’d been summoned by the Lantern Division—what was happening? Many still didn’t know what had occurred in the central pavilion.

Meanwhile, at the pavilion, the black-robed men fanned out, hunting students and lone officials. Those above the fifth rank were slain on the spot; those below the fourth were bound hand and foot and tossed aside like sausages on the ground. The black-robed men glared menacingly at the captured students, most of whom were from the Wei academy. Many had been warned by the Lantern Division to follow, but—being Wei—refused to heed the Zhou constables, eager to return to the pavilion and seek Lin Qingye.

They hadn’t expected to be tied up the moment they arrived, faces bleak, blaming the Zhou for setting a trap.

Some laughed bitterly: “Fine, fine, well played, Zhou! Can’t win fair, so you resort to slaughtering our Wei students!”

“Wei will never forgive this!”

“Where is our academy head Lin Qingye!? What have you done with him?” some shouted.

Among the few Zhou students who’d been separated and caught, the mood was grim. They didn’t believe Zhou was behind this—after all, they were used to losing. The emperor wouldn’t risk offending Wei over something so trivial.

One retorted, “So you want your academy head Lin Qingye back? Our head Qiu Zhi Jian is missing too!”

Some Wei students scoffed. “He’s probably dead. If our head is gone, how could yours survive?”

Tempers flared, and soon the two groups were exchanging insults.

Among the Zhou students, Qiao Songshan looked utterly miserable. He hadn’t expected to wander into the enemy’s very lair. Unlike the others, he’d come of his own accord, not by capture. He’d hoped to make a name for himself—now his ashes would be scattered first. He was supposed to survive to see his father off, not die here.

As the bickering continued, in a corner of the pavilion’s first floor, a tall black-robed figure sat in a stone chair, face hidden in deep shadow, quietly turning a crystal orb in his hand. It was Qiu Zhi Jian.

Both those in the palace and the common folk watching saw his shadowy figure in the projection, but none could discern his identity.

“Who is he?”

“What’s his identity?”

“He dares to challenge both Wei and Zhou?”

Questions rippled through the audience, officials and commoners alike.

The black robes seemed to mask their faces and auras, making identification impossible.

Most watched in silence. With the Lantern Division now guarding the majority of students, the black-robed men would find it hard to kill any more. But those Wei students already bound seemed doomed.

Wei officials, realizing this, cursed under their breath. In fairness, it was easier to judge from afar; had they been on the island, suddenly stripped of elemental power and attacked by black-robed killers, they too would have suspected Zhou and sought out Lin Qingye’s protection.

But where was Lin Qingye now? Since the projection began, he’d not been seen. A sense of dread spread among the Wei officials—could Lin Qingye already be dead?

But all they could do was watch.

There were seven hours left until the restriction lifted.

...

Inside the central pavilion, Qiu Zhi Jian rotated the crystal orb, frowning at the students before him.

“Not enough,” he murmured. “Only a few dozen officials killed, barely a hundred students here. The rest have been whisked away by the Lantern Division. How did they learn so quickly? I killed the officials here to prevent any leaks, yet they still found out in time. Apart from the Wei students who didn’t trust them, everyone else followed the Lantern Division. Over there, they still have Qian Siyuan, an eighth-rank king. Even with his energy sealed, his physical strength is formidable—he’s no Lin Qingye, but still not easy to handle.”

“To seize the students guarded by the Lantern Division would be difficult. No matter. My goal has been achieved—wipe out the Wei students, make them hate Zhou, and the task is complete. Pity I could not help my master utterly disgrace that man.”

He mused to himself, about to leave, but then paused, sensing he was being watched through some artifact. He looked up, his gaze meeting the invisible observer.

At that moment, everyone watching felt as if the black-robed man’s cold eyes were fixed upon them, though his face was still hidden in shadow.

As they tried to look closer, Qiu Zhi Jian turned away, tucking away the crystal orb. He was just about to order the slaughter of the remaining Wei students when he noticed several figures approaching.

He froze, as did everyone watching the projection.

Was that—the young master? Had he come to die?

None could fathom it. Qiu Zhi Jian certainly could not. The area was crawling with his men—if Cheng Guang were approaching, surely someone would have noticed. Moreover, the black-robed men, while not as strong as Qiu Zhi Jian, were still far beyond ordinary cultivators. With elemental energy at their disposal, defeating a sealed martial official would be child’s play. Only after the fifth rank did things change.

Qiu Zhi Jian studied Cheng Guang’s white robes—barely stained with blood—while Bai Shuxuan, at his side, was spattered with it. Amusement flickered in his eyes. It must have been the young master who tipped off the Lantern Division.

But when did the young master discover his plot? Had he uncovered Qiu Zhi Jian’s identity? The latter did not know.

Examining Cheng Guang and Bai Shuxuan, he suddenly smiled. Did the young master think a single Bai Shuxuan could protect him? She was a demon, able to use a bit of demon power, but even that was suppressed; she could only rely on her physical strength.

“Just a Bai Shuxuan—easily slain,” he mused. “If I kill you and the Wei students, it will be enough.”

Noting that only Bai Shuxuan was with him, Qiu Zhi Jian saw no sign of the Lantern Division’s constables. Without protection, killing Cheng Guang would be trivial.

But, he thought, this fox demon was more trouble than help. If not for his master’s orders, he would have killed her himself.

“Kill them,” he commanded.

At his signal, all the black-robed men in the hall surged forward, blades drawn, attacking Cheng Guang and Bai Shuxuan.

Qiu Zhi Jian did not wish to waste his efforts on them—Bai Shuxuan’s presence was unexpected, but manageable. Cheng Guang, for all his noble status, could not resist.

As the black-robed men charged, Cheng Guang paused. “Uncle Qian, it’s time,” he said.

Suddenly, Lantern Division constables erupted from the pavilion’s upper floors, descending like rain to attack the black-robed men. Though unable to use elemental energy, their physical prowess allowed them to hold their own.

Qiu Zhi Jian’s lips twitched at the sight. The entire Lantern Division was here? Madness! They dare resist?

He shook his head, but soon realized the problem—the Lantern Division might be unable to use energy, but they were elite warriors. Even with only physical strength, they could fight the black-robed men.

Qian Siyuan, even deprived of energy, was not someone he could overcome quickly. To kill him would take hours—hardly worth the effort. Now, with the Lantern Division blocking his subordinates, killing the young master seemed unlikely.

His heart darkened.

Meanwhile, Qian Siyuan appeared at Cheng Guang’s side, breathing a sigh of relief.

“Young master, isn’t it too risky to charge these black-robed men?” he asked.

“No, not at all,” Cheng Guang replied.

He had discovered that the system’s restriction-breaking pill could not be given to others—if he tried, the pill would vanish before leaving his hand. He immediately abandoned the idea. Otherwise, he could have simply let Qian Siyuan take it and lead the charge.

Now, Qian Siyuan, an eighth-rank king, was reduced to the strength of a second-rank physical cultivator—even Cheng Guang, with a bit of elemental energy, could kill him. The same applied to Qiu Zhi Jian.

Before setting out, Cheng Guang had taken the pill himself, unlocking the elemental energy shackled in his meridians. As a physical cultivator, his body, constantly nourished by elemental energy, was now beyond compare.

Yet Qian Siyuan was unaware of this. He had joined only out of concern for Cheng Guang, having heard of the black-robed men’s massacre. He had prepared to die for the young master, but Cheng Guang insisted he needed no protection—instead, he wanted Qian Siyuan to hide the students while he and Bai Shuxuan faced the attackers.

Madness! Qian Siyuan’s first reaction was that Cheng Guang had lost his mind. Even with all the Lantern Division, they were no match for the black-robed men. The enemy had equal or greater strength—and even with the students’ help, could only tire them out.

Yet Cheng Guang’s resolve was unshakable. He revealed his plan and ordered Qian Siyuan to carry it out. However high Qian Siyuan’s rank, in front of Cheng Guang he felt strangely humbled—not by status, but by confidence.

After much hesitation, Qian Siyuan had followed as Cheng Guang returned to the central pavilion, bringing all the Lantern Division with him.

Now, as the black-robed men charged, Qian Siyuan set aside his worries and joined the fray.

At this moment, Cheng Guang stood alone. A black-robed man, spotting his isolation, saw an opportunity for glory and rushed at him, blade raised. Bai Shuxuan noticed but was too occupied, fending off several attackers at once. Her demonic power was limited, and she struggled against the onslaught—she could only watch helplessly.

Not only Bai Shuxuan, but also Qian Siyuan, who had just joined the melee, glanced anxiously at Cheng Guang.

In the palace, the Zhou emperor, the Wei empress, the court officials, and foreign envoys all watched in silence, unable to understand Cheng Guang’s actions. Why would he return, risking his life?

Even if the Lantern Division could defeat the enemy, why risk himself? Many seemed to blame his youthful recklessness, but all were deeply concerned.

His decision was rash—if the Lantern Division lost, everyone here would die. Yet, even had they not attacked, the black-robed men would have come for them anyway. The only hope was to hold out until Zhao Jin broke the restriction.

Three hours remained.

The officials watching the projection held their breath. Cheng Zhi Hai, too, tensed as he saw the black-robed man attack his son. His fingers curled, nails biting into flesh, drawing blood—yet he felt no pain, only dread.

As he nearly turned away, the projection showed Cheng Guang, without looking back, throw a punch.

Boom!

Elemental energy surged through him, his fist gleaming with starlight as it struck the oncoming black-robed man, sending him flying into the wall, his fate unknown.

The hall, already silent, fell into even deeper stillness.

Was the young master truly this strong?

Many officials could not believe their eyes, rubbing them as if waking from a dream.

The Zhou emperor’s eyes shone, his tense body relaxing slightly, a rare smile breaking his icy demeanor.

“Well done,” he said.

The Wei empress also gave Cheng Guang a rare, lingering glance, her eyes full of unspoken thoughts.

Cheng Zhi Hai was beside himself with relief and joy—his son was unharmed! The fact that Cheng Guang could protect himself filled him with pride; he did not dwell on how his son could wield elemental energy within the restriction. As long as Cheng Guang was safe, he was satisfied.

After Cheng Guang’s punch, even the air seemed to still.

Across the capital, the scene sparked heated discussion.

On Crane Cry Island, the black-robed men, locked in battle with the Lantern Division, were momentarily stunned. While viewers could not sense elemental energy through the projection, the black-robed men could feel it clearly—Cheng Guang’s elemental power was as strong as, or even stronger than, theirs.

Their own ability to wield energy had come at a great cost—how could Cheng Guang do the same?

Qiu Zhi Jian was equally shocked. “He can use elemental energy? And in such quantity... no less than me...” His face darkened.

Since arriving, every plan had failed: the parasite meant for Cheng Guang did not take, he could not gather the students, and now the Lantern Division was attacking head-on. And the young master—he, too, could use elemental energy.

Nothing was going as planned. According to his calculations, the Lantern Division should have hidden with Cheng Guang and a few students, never appearing here. But now...

Qiu Zhi Jian took a deep breath. “It can’t go on like this—the young master is too unpredictable. I can’t kill him now. Since the Lantern Division is here, the students they gathered must be left unguarded.”

He decided that killing defenseless students was far more efficient than fighting the elite Lantern Division. Aside from failing to kill the young master, everything else was acceptable.

With a last look at the battlefield, he quietly slipped out the back door.

Inside the pavilion, the bound Wei students saw the Lantern Division clashing with the black-robed men. Even the slowest among them now understood: Zhou was not allied with the attackers.

Those who had just been hurling insults at the Zhou students now hung their heads in shame.

In the crowd, Qiao Songshan’s eyes lit up with excitement. Even tied up, he could not help but wriggle and shout, “That’s my boss! My boss has come to save me!”

He was convinced that Cheng Guang had risked everything just to rescue him, tears of gratitude streaming down his face.

Cheng Guang, however, had not noticed Qiao Songshan in the crowd. Perhaps he heard the voice, for he glanced his way, but quickly moved on, as if searching for something else.

Cheng Guang moved like a comet, stepping on elemental energy, weaving through the black-robed men. The Star Martial art was displayed to perfection, each move like a shifting constellation—unpredictable, unstoppable. With each pass, another black-robed man fell—throats crushed, bodies twisted, or organs shattered with a single blow.

Some black-robed men, terrified, faltered and were quickly subdued by the Lantern Division.

The tide of battle swiftly turned. In truth, even without Cheng Guang, Bai Shuxuan and the Lantern Division could have won, though it would have taken longer. More importantly, one person was still missing.

Cheng Guang’s eyes searched until he spotted a black-robed figure slipping out the back door. He followed at a measured pace.

Qian Siyuan and Bai Shuxuan remained locked in combat, noticing nothing. With their senses dulled by the restriction, they did not see Cheng Guang leave.

Meanwhile, the Lantern Division began to free the bound Wei students and officials. Their fury, long stoked, now burned bright—they would show these rats that the people of Wei were not to be trifled with.

Fists and feet thundered as the fighting raged on.

The battle now favored the Lantern Division, yet everyone watching the projection knew that, with the black-robed men’s infiltration, the Lantern Division had already lost. They had failed to detect the enemy, failed in their intelligence—they, famed for their vigilance, had been bested.

Moreover, the tournament itself was ruined. The mastermind had humiliated both Zhou and Wei, shaming both before the world. Even without great loss of life, the two dynasties had lost face, their authority diminished—there could be no greater disgrace for their rulers.

All watched the projection in silence; though their mood was still heavy, it was better than before.

Then someone noticed Cheng Guang’s absence.

“Where has the young master gone?”

They realized he had vanished.

Soon, he was seen confronting a tall, black-robed figure.

Cheng Guang blocked his path with a smile.

“Old man, where do you think you’re going?”

...

(End of chapter)