Xu Qi’an opened his mouth, but it was as if something was stuck in his throat, and he could not make a sound.
He silently stared at Wei Yuan until he spoke a second sentence:
“Nalan Tianlu, since the start of the war, the Church of the Warlock God has slaughtered countless Great Feng soldiers. Today, I will behead you first, destroy your corpse soldier army, and then wipe out the allied forces of Yan, Kang, and Jing, to honour the spirits of our fallen Great Feng soldiers.”
Xu Qi’an wrenched his head around to see an elderly man with white hair, dressed in a warlock’s robe, sitting cross-legged on the barren ground, his body covered in blood, his aura feeble.
Behind this elder warlock stood three eminent Buddhist monks. Among them, Xu Qi’an recognised one: Arhat Du’e, who had led the Buddhist delegation to the capital.
This is a scene from the battle of Shanhai Pass twenty years ago…
Sudden realisation dawned on him, and he then recalled what Li Lingsu had said: Dongfang Wanrong’s master, the previous lord of Mount Jing City, Nalan Tianlu, died in the battle at Shanhai Pass, falling to Wei Yuan’s stratagem.
Is the one imprisoned on the second level Nalan Tianlu? But why am I seeing the scene of the Battle of Shanhai Pass… He wondered inwardly, when he heard Nalan Tianlu sneer coldly:
“Wei Yuan, a Master of Rain’s primordial spirit is indestructible. Only a first-rank Daoist or a Great Warlock can kill me.”
Xu Qi’an immediately looked at Wei Yuan, but discovered that he had already vanished. When he reappeared, he was behind Nalan Tianlu, holding a sabre in his right hand and a head in his left.
Nalan Tianlu’s headless corpse remained seated, unmoving, blood spurting four or five metres high from the neck like a crimson fountain.
Third rank, no, peak third rank! Even stronger than the Zhenbei King in Chuzhou… Xu Qi’an sighed inwardly. Though he had known the truth, witnessing Wei Yuan’s cultivation with his own eyes still filled him with complex emotions.
Arhat Du’e produced a golden alms bowl from his sleeve, aimed its mouth at Nalan Tianlu’s corpse, and began chanting rites for the soul’s release.
Resplendent Buddhist radiance turned into a beam of light, shining on Nalan Tianlu’s body. It drew out an unreal-looking primordial spirit and collected it into the golden alms bowl.
The Arhat Du’e put away the bowl, looking relieved, and said,
“Marshal Wei, let the Buddhists handle Nalan Tianlu’s primordial spirit. The Stupa tower in Leizhou is the Dharmapara Bodhisattva’s treasure, meant to suppress monsters and evil spirits. Within sixty years, Nalan Tianlu’s soul will certainly be destroyed.”
Wei Yuan nodded. “Alright.”
With that, he strode away, his broad sleeves billowing.
Duke Wei, Duke Wei…
Xu Qi’an hurried after him a few steps and raised his hand to try to keep him, but Wei Yuan could not hear him.
Despondently, he let his hand fall.
“Amitabha!”
Just then, he heard the chanting of the Buddha’s name behind him. Turning to look, it was not the Arhat Du’e, but the monks from Sanhua Temple: Jingxin, Jingyuan, Hengyin, and others.
They had finally reached the second level.
The monks from Sanhua Temple looked around in bewilderment, as if confused about why they were here.
Monk Jingxin looked at Xu Qi’an and asked, “Benefactor, what did you just see? Where is this place?”
Xu Qi’an considered for a moment and replied, “This should be the battlefield of Shanhai Pass twenty years ago. Where we are now is either an illusion or Nalan Tianlu’s dreamscape. Given that fourth-rank warlocks are also called ‘Warlock of Dreams,’ I believe it is the latter.”
Nalan Tianlu’s dreamscape… Monk Jingxin suddenly understood and said, “That must be it. Senior Uncle Du’nan once said that the second level of the Stupa tower was infiltrated by Nalan Tianlu’s power.”
The entire second level had been infiltrated by Nalan Tianlu’s power? Xu Qi’an frowned.
Hengyin, the chief monk of Sanhua Temple, fixed his gaze on Xu Qi’an and asked, “Benefactor, what did you just see?”
“The scene before Nalan Tianlu’s death, he died besieged by Wei Yuan and great monks.”
Xu Qi’an did not say ‘besieged by the Arhat Du’e,’ for that would reveal that he knew the Arhat.
The monks of Sanhua Temple nodded slowly. Warrior monk Jingyuan said in a deep voice, “Senior Brother, how do we get out of the dreamscape?”
Jingxin glanced at Xu Qi’an, but shook his head silently.
He likely knew, but was unwilling to say in front of me. That was natural, since Buddhism was colluding with the Church of the Warlock God and planned to unseal Nalan Tianlu… Xu Qi’an regarded the monks, and his gaze landed on Monk Jingxin’s empty hands.
“Master Jingxin, where is that bead of yours?”
If he remembered correctly, earlier as they passed each other, Xu Qi’an had clearly seen the image of the first level of the Stupa tower reflected in the bead.
No surprise, its function was to feed back the scenes within the tower to the outside world, allowing Master of Wisdom Irbu and Vajra Du’nan to observe events inside.
Though the two parties had reached an agreement, they were also suspicious of each other. The bead was an important link maintaining their cooperation…
“Since this is a dreamscape, naturally, the bead cannot be brought in,” Monk Jingxin explained.
In other words, our real bodies are not here; only our consciousness has entered Nalan Tianlu’s dreamscape… Xu Qi’an stroked his chin, thinking.
A while later, more and more people arrived on the second level.
First came Yuan Yi, Li Shaoyun, Tang Yuanwu, the Dongfang sisters, and other fourth-rank experts. With their talents, they were pillars of any faction.
To Buddhism, any martial artist who could reach fourth rank must have ‘Buddha nature.’
Next came the local heroes from Leizhou’s martial world, whose numbers had dropped by two-thirds.
There had been roughly five or six hundred when they entered the first level, but now fewer than two hundred remained.
“Where is this?”
“As expected of a Buddhist treasure, it contains a whole world!”
“Even the soil here is real, the stones are real…”
The crowd chatted among themselves. The most curious picked up a handful of earth to taste it, only to quickly spit it out.
Liu Yun quickly found her fellow disciples and her master Tang Yuanwu, then searched the crowd with her eyes and finally spotted that figure in azure robes.
She was very concerned about this man. It had nothing to do with girlish affection, but was simply due to her cautious respect for a mysterious expert.
Hengyin, the chief monk, called out loudly, “Everyone, this is Nalan Tianlu’s dreamscape. We are in the battle of Shanhai Pass twenty years ago. The scene before us is where the Buddhist eminent monks besieged Nalan Tianlu.”
Using my own information to curry favour in front of me… Xu Qi’an glanced at Hengyin.
“I see!”
“Thank you, Master, for letting us know.”
“Who is Nalan Tianlu?”
The local Leizhou martial artists understood, and started asking questions non-stop.
Hengyin immediately explained Nalan Tianlu’s identity to everyone.
“He was a second-rank Master of Rain?”
“Second rank…”
“Buddhism really is powerful.”
The jianghu folk pulled various faces; some were moved, some shocked, some wary. To them, a second-rank Master of Rain was an unreachable figure, a person of myth.
And such a figure had unexpectedly been suppressed here by the Buddhists.
Dongfang Wanrong closed her eyes, and after a long time, opened them and spoke via voice transmission:
“I cannot sense my master’s presence. This means he has no self-awareness, this really is a dreamscape, his dreamscape.”
Dongfang Wanqing nodded. “How do we break this predicament?”
Dongfang Wanrong shook her head. “Let’s observe a bit longer…”
As they spoke, the scene suddenly changed. Everyone found themselves in a large tent, where a white-haired, white-bearded cloaked warlock sat in the chief seat, with armoured generals and cloaked warlocks gathered around the long table.
Among these people, Xu Qi’an spotted a familiar face:
Nurhaci!
“The southern yao has formed an alliance with the northern yao and barbarians, seeking to restore the Wanyao Kingdom. The southern shaman clans also wished to take the opportunity to shake the fortune of the Great Feng. The Buddhist sect in the Western Regions bore a deep enmity towards the yao, and would not stand idly by. The Great Feng and the Buddhist sect will inevitably join forces.”
Nalan Tianlu looked around at the arcanists inside the tent and said, “For our Church, this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. So long as we join the battlefield and utterly defeat the Great Feng and the Buddhist sect, we will be able to share the lands of Jiuzhou with the yao, shaman clans, and barbarian tribes.”
The King of Jing, Xiahou Yushu, asked, “Why not harass the Great Feng from the southern border?”
Nuerhga slowly shook his head:
“The Great Feng army has split into two forces. One is gathered at the Shanhai Pass, the other is stationed on the borders of the three northeastern provinces, precisely to guard against us. The battle at Shanhai Pass rages fiercely, with the yao, barbarians, and shaman clans at a disadvantage. Unless we can break through half of the Great Feng in a short span and threaten the capital, otherwise, as soon as the battle of Shanhai Pass ends, the Great Feng and the Buddhist sect will have time to move their troops against us.”
Nalan Tianlu nodded, “Therefore, we must decide victory or defeat with the Great Feng and the Buddhist sect at Shanhai Pass. The debt that the Great Feng owes us must be repaid.”
A warlock cackled, “The field marshal of the Great Feng is that eunuch Wei Yuan. Hah, is there no one in the central plains?”
The arcanists and generals burst into laughter.
At that time, although Wei Yuan had already repelled the yao and barbarians before, compared to the large-scale wars that swept through all the great powers of Jiuzhou, that victory was merely insignificant.
The jianghu folk of Leizhou, who were eavesdropping on the meeting, stared in astonishment, “It really is the battle of Shanhai Pass.”
They looked amazed. The battle of Shanhai Pass had occurred twenty years before; for them, it was a grand war, but one that seemed remote and distant.
Now, seeing the Church of the Warlock God’s upper echelons discussing it personally, they felt the absurdity of history stepping into daily life, and were deeply shaken.
Besides, they had learned part of the inside story behind the battle of Shanhai Pass.
One of the largest and most brutal wars in all of human history was, at its core, the peak of conflict between the great powers of Jiuzhou.
The southern yao, annihilated in the sixty-year extermination of the yao, sought restoration; the shaman clans tried to shake the fortune of the Great Feng; the Church of the Warlock God came to demand payment.
“This Nalan Tianlu said our Great Feng owed a debt to the Church of the Warlock God. What debt?” asked General Li Shaoyun, frowning.
He voiced the question in everyone’s mind.
Dongfang Wanrong replied coolly:
“When the founding emperor Gaozu of the Great Feng established his rule, he suffered multiple defeats. At one point, with nowhere left to turn, he borrowed 200,000 men from the Church of the Warlock God, promising that once he overthrew the Great Zhou, he would make the Church of the Warlock God the state religion. But after founding the Great Feng, the emperor went back on his word.”
This bit of history was highly secret. Even among the Great Feng’s scholars, it was little known.
“Bullshit!”
Li Shaoyun said indifferently.
“Exactly. Is the Church of the Warlock God worthy to be the state religion of our Great Feng?”
“The Great Feng does not need a state religion. Even the Human Sect is merely a plaything for a muddle-headed monarch.”
“Fucking hell, the bullshit from this bitch.”
The Leizhou folk burst into foul-mouthed curses.
Yuan Yi raised his hand, and as the Commander of Leizhou, his prestige calmed the crowd. He turned to the monks of Sanhua Monastery and said,
“No point in saying any more. How do we leave this dream?”
The monk Jinxin looked at Dongfang Wanrong. Only she was a peak fourth-rank Warlock of Dreams, and only an warlock could deal with another warlock.
Dongfang Wanrong thought for a moment, and repeated her earlier words: “Wait a while longer.”
Soon after, everyone understood what she meant. The scene changed again and the battle of Shanhai Pass played out before them like a moving lantern.
The southern yao, northern yao barbarians, shaman clans, Church of the Warlock God, Great Feng army, Buddhist kingdom of the West… sides fought in chaos, and all bore witness to the battle through Nalan Tianlu’s perspective.
Until Nalan Tianlu was encircled and killed by Wei Yuan’s scheme, his body and head separated, and the dream ended, leading to a new round of the cycle.
What struck them all most about this dream was the feeling of “powerlessness.”
Nalan Tianlu’s powerlessness.
The Buddhist experts were overwhelming; Wei Yuan’s abilities as a commander were overwhelming.
The moment war broke out, every battle brought defeat. Their strength was worn away, as if by a dull blade slicing flesh, and though they might win occasional local victories, there was no reversing the unraveling tide.
Li Shaoyun sneered, “Such thick skin! So, in the battle of Shanhai Pass, the Buddhist sect was just muscle. Was it not our Great Feng’s God of War, Wei Yuan, who devised the scheme to kill Nalan Tianlu?”
He was mocking Monk Hengyin’s earlier attempt to claim the credit for slaying Nalan Tianlu for the Buddhist sect.
The monks of Sanhua Monastery pressed their palms together in silence.
The Leizhou folk looked on in disdain.
At this moment, the scene shifted again. It was not the battle of Shanhai Pass, but a foreign environment.
A strange dreamscape.
The dream’s master was a young man carrying twin sabres. He looked solemn, fixing his gaze on a middle-aged man before him, who also bore twin sabres on his back.
The middle-aged man said coldly, “In this fight, I will not hold back. If you can last a hundred moves, you may leave as my disciple. If not, you’ll die.”
The young man with the twin sabres replied coolly, “Spare me the nonsense, Master, let’s fight.”
It was a brutal fight. The youth suffered thirty-six wounds from the sabre, barely clinging to life.
…
The scene shifted again. The dream’s master was still a twin-sabre wielder, but now a young man rather than a boy.
His adversary had changed from his master to a sullen, fiercely proud old man.
The old man shouted, “Tang Yuanwu, you think you can kill me? Your master is old, and I might have once feared him. But you, a mere fifth-rank Transforming Force, do you think you can kill me?”
Tang Yuanwu replied calmly, “Old monster of Snake Mountain, you have committed every crime. Today, I will behead you.”
…
Everyone looked at Tang Yuanwu. Someone realised,
“This is Sect Master Tang’s battle in which he killed the Old Monster of Snake Mountain, a fight that made him famous, stepping into fourth rank in a single battle.”
“Yes, I remember. Back then, the Old Monster of Snake Mountain wreaked havoc in Leizhou, one atrocity after another. He was wanted by the authorities, and it was Sect Master Tang who finally killed him. It was a sensation in Leizhou.”
“But why would Sect Master Tang’s past appear here?”
Seeing this, Dongfang Wanrong exhaled, as if confirming a suspicion in her mind. She said in a deep voice,
“Because our primordial spirits have been caught in the dreams of Ma… of Nalan Tianlu. Under the influence of a Warlock of Dreams, everyone’s dreams are slowly intertwining.”
“In other words, we’re dreaming right now?” Yuan Yi said gravely.
Tang Yuanwu appeared enlightened, “My test to complete apprenticeship, my fight against the Old Monster of Snake Mountain, indeed, they were the most perilous battles of my life. Even after all these years, I often dream of them.”
“Being able to witness the previous battle of Shanhai Pass, and see Sect Master Tang’s slaying of the Old Monster of Snake Mountain, it’s not a wasted experience.”
“Indeed, no one would believe us if we told them of this.”
Next, everyone experienced a series of dreams in turn, Li Shaoyun the General and Yuan Yi the field marshal’s battles on the front lines, the Leizhou jianghu’s blood-boiling fights.
They also saw, from the perspective of Buddhist disciples, the grand scenes of high monks from the Western Regions chanting and preaching.
Xu Qi’an kept a low profile in the crowd, uncharacteristically silent, but his gaze never left the Dongfang sisters and the monks of Sanhua Monastery.
The Buddhist sect and the Church of the Warlock God were here with a plan. They surely knew how to leave the dreamscape, how to free Nalan Tianlu, how to obtain the Dragon Qi… They must not be allowed to release Nalan Tianlu… Just as he was thinking this, he suddenly heard an exclamation.
He turned his head and was shocked.
He saw Buddha Mountain, peaceful, with golden light swirling amidst the clouds and mist. A young man in Nightwatcher uniform writhed in agony within a great array, clutching his head, his face twisted in pain.
The scene was so familiar, so familiar that his expression changed drastically.
The Buddhist contest!
Eight Sufferings Formation!
Fuck- it’s my dreamscape?!
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