Less than one year remained.
But with a few delays here and there, he could easily stretch it by several more months. That meant he had a little over a year to break through to the True Force Realm. As long as he could find the right heavenly treasure, time wouldn't be the issue—what mattered was seizing every moment.
This time, Chen Sanshi didn't bring Ningxiang along.
He had her stay behind to watch over the house. She was a cultivator herself, so if anything happened, she'd at least be able to handle it to some extent.
Meng Quji, who had been hiding in the shadows all this time, insisted on tagging along.
Speaking of that—
Not long ago, Chen Sanshi had exchanged letters with Deng Feng. The latter was also on the verge of breaking through to the Martial Saint Realm. Together with Sixth Senior Brother Wang Zhi, that meant he would soon have three Martial Saints by his side.
After announcing his seclusion, Chen Sanshi left the southern matters in the hands of Qin Changxu, the same man who'd handled things efficiently before.
That man worked fast.
In just one day, everything was ready.
Before dawn the next morning, Chen Sanshi took his horse and a certain blockhead, quietly leaving Liangzhou City. They arrived at the nearest port, boarded a ship, and sailed straight south toward the Edge of the World.
Aboard the ship, he began alchemy.
He planned to refine all remaining materials for Fasting Pills, Tendon-Nourishing Pills, and True Martial Pills.
Once he reached the cultivation world, he could trade them for spirit stones.
By the end, he had produced:
45 Fasting Pills, worth 9 spirit stones.
10 Tendon-Nourishing Pills, worth 20 spirit stones.
1 True Martial Pill, worth 200 spirit stones.
In addition, Chen Sanshi still held a copy of the Incense God Path's cultivation method.
He had no use for it, but if necessary, it could serve as currency.
Buzz—
The last Fasting Pill emerged from the furnace.
Chen Sanshi stepped out of the cabin.
Qin Changxu was sitting on deck, fishing. Several fresh carp were still flopping around in his basket.
"Hey, you," Chen Sanshi called after some hesitation, "get up. Let me try for a bit."
"Yes, Grand Commander."
Qin Changxu immediately stood and offered his seat.
Chen Sanshi took a deep breath, full of confidence, and sat down.
He sat there for half a day.
"Hehe…"
Qin Changxu came closer. "Should I swap your rod, Grand Commander? We've got plenty below deck."
"I knew your rod was defective," Chen Sanshi muttered, side-eyeing him. "No need to change it. I'm just killing time anyway. When we dock to rest, go and gather some news about the south—see if anything big's happened lately."
"Understood."
Qin Changxu bowed and left.
Once everyone else had gone ashore, Chen Sanshi quietly went below deck, picked out another rod, and tried again.
Still no catch.
"Are you meditating?"
Zhao Zhao had just woken from a nap. She rubbed her eyes, seeing the white-robed man still motionless by the deck.
Chen Sanshi waved at her. "Come here, dummy."
"What for?"
As she approached and spotted the fishing rod, she frowned. "Fishing? That's boring."
"Just do it," he said, shoving the rod and gear into her hands.
"Ugh, fine. So boring…"
She muttered, taking the rod anyway.
Before a cup of tea had passed, the float bobbed.
Without hurry, she reeled it in—a fat catfish, easily seven or eight catties, thrashed at the end of the line. "Hey, like this?"
The corner of Chen Sanshi's eye twitched twice.
"Hey, what are you—"
Before she could finish, the white-robed man snatched the rod, snapped it in half, and tossed both the rod and fish into the river. Zhao Zhao puffed her cheeks, her face red with anger. "You're insane!"
Not long after, Qin Changxu returned with new intel. "Grand Commander, there's indeed something going on."
"Speak."
Chen Sanshi poured him a cup of tea.
"Thank you, Grand Commander." Qin Changxu downed it in one gulp before reporting. "It seems figures like Qu Yuanxiang aren't unique to our Great Sheng Dynasty. Similar 'Immortals' have appeared in both the Southern Xu Kingdom and the Western Qi Kingdom. According to the reports from our embedded agents across the regions, these so-called immortals don't all come from the same faction. They have internal conflicts among themselves."
"Not from the same faction?"
Chen Sanshi quickly pieced it together.
These cultivators had entered the Eastern Divine Continent.
Their purpose was obvious—to seek out spiritual veins.
Such priceless resources were bound to attract competition among the great sects.
He speculated that, within the Heavenly Water Isle, those sects had already carved up the Eastern Divine Continent like a map—each aligning with one imperial court and searching for veins in their territories.
"The biggest upheaval right now is in the Southern Xu Kingdom," Qin Changxu continued. "Four days ago, the old emperor died. After a brief civil war, Fan Shuzhen, with help from Zhonghu and a certain immortal master, ascended the throne.
"Also, the Liangshan Marsh forces we'll be passing on our way have been growing stronger. The Prince of Zhen'nan, Cao Rong, personally mobilized troops to suppress them. But just recently, he suddenly went into seclusion—rumor has it the court granted him a new cultivation technique. You should've heard, Grand Commander, that the Prince of Zhen'nan is both a martial prodigy and a complete martial fanatic."
"Cultivation technique?"
Chen Sanshi immediately thought of his Fourth Senior Brother's promise to grant the court a martial art.
Could he have really handed them the Dragon Scripture?
Or maybe it was something else.
Senior Brother hadn't said when he left, but Chen Sanshi knew he must've had his reasons. There was no need to dwell on it.
"The situation in Liangshan Marsh is complicated," Qin Changxu went on. "On one hand, the Southern Xu Kingdom wants to recruit them into their army to use them as vanguards against us. On the other, the Prince of Zhen'nan is advancing his army while simultaneously issuing decrees of amnesty—basically an ultimatum.
"Based on the past, Liangshan Marsh has been cooperating with the Southern Xu Kingdom, so logically they should lean that way.
"But from what I've learned, they've split into two factions internally.
"One faction believes they should submit to Southern Xu.
"The other insists they shouldn't betray the Great Sheng Dynasty—and if they are to accept recruitment, it should be from the Prince of Zhen'nan instead.
"Either way, they can't stay neutral anymore. If they don't pick a side soon, they'll be wiped out."
"I see."
Chen Sanshi flipped through the intelligence documents. "This Liangshan Marsh—how do they usually operate?"
"You mean their methods, Grand Commander?"
Qin Changxu said, "Liangshan Marsh did start out as a den of bandits, but ever since the Canal Uprising years ago, they haven't done much that could be called wicked. In fact, they've killed far more corrupt officials than good men. Most of their wealth came from that."
"So that's how it is."
Chen Sanshi set down the report. "If the Prince of Zhen'nan wipes them out, or forces them to turn to Southern Xu, either way it's a bad outcome. The best option would be to make them accept our court's recruitment."
"Exactly."
Qin Changxu nodded. "After several rounds of purges and reorganizations, they've got about eighty thousand fighters left who can still fight. Of those, around forty thousand are elites—enough to hold an entire prefecture. Not a small number."
"The internal factions?"
Chen Sanshi asked, "Do we know which side supports whom?"
"We do."
Qin Changxu pulled out another file. "Liangshan's been in chaos lately—people dying left and right. It wasn't hard to sort out who's on which side."
Chen Sanshi flipped through the detailed list, genuinely impressed by the intelligence network his Grand Commander's Office had built. Their information-gathering ability wasn't far behind the Embroidered Uniform Guard—maybe not behind at all.
He figured this was likely how his late master had tracked spiritual veins all these years—by spreading information webs through the realm.
"Let's go," he said. "First stop—Liangshan."
Liangshan.
The marsh stretched through a maze of a thousand rivers and canals, covering an area over eight hundred li wide.
Thanks to its natural geography, the bandits who had lived here for decades had long turned it into a fortress. After the Canal Uprising a few years back, it became a stronghold—a military base capable of feeding and sheltering thousands of troops.
Even the Prince of Zhen'nan would need at least seventy thousand troops from his navy to surround it, and even then, victory wouldn't come quickly.
At this moment, inside the Hall of Righteous Gathering, two factions were locked in heated debate.
"Big Brother, what did you just say? You really want to accept the court's recruitment?!"
"Recruitment this, recruitment that—every damn day it's recruitment!"
"You fools! What's the alternative if we don't accept it?!"
"We've got a lot of men, sure—but not a single prefecture or city to our name. We're trapped between tigers and wolves. If we don't accept recruitment, the only path left is death!"
"Then we might as well side with Southern Xu and go to war with the court!"
"Southern Xu just wants to use us as shields. Can't you see that?!"
"And what, recruitment fixes everything?"
"We've been outlaws for years and killed plenty of corrupt officials. You think the court's going to forgive us?"
"Southern Xu's no better! Ever heard the saying 'When the cunning rabbit dies, the hound is cooked; when all the birds are gone, the fine bow is hidden'?"
"Exactly! Accepting the Prince of Zhen'nan's recruitment at least means we're not traitors. We won't bear the shame of siding with the Southern barbarians!"
To the barbarians of the Great Desert, Southern Xu, Eastern Qing, Great Sheng, and Western Qi were all just "Central Plains."
But to themselves, only the Great Sheng Dynasty was the true orthodox Central Plains.
That sense of pride and superiority ran deep among Great Sheng's scholars and soldiers. To them, the other kingdoms were mere offshoots—false reflections of the real thing.
In the midst of the uproar, Liangshan's chief and current Grand Commander of the troops, Shan Qunyu, rubbed his aching temples.
The arguing went in circles, so he quietly slipped away.
Zhang Shun, too, lost patience and left, taking a fishing spear down toward the lake to blow off steam.
But just as he reached the shore, a large hand landed on his shoulder.
"Who?!"
He froze. He hadn't sensed anyone approach.
"It's me—Zhang Laizi."
The man standing behind him wore a deep-blue robe and a calm smile. It was Chen Sanshi in disguise, the Red Lotus Blade of Sun Li at his waist. He'd grown tired of using the Mountain-Suppressing Sword, so he brought along his senior sister's weapon for a change.
"Brother?!"
Zhang Shun's shock turned to joy. He hurriedly led him to a quiet place away from prying eyes. "Brother, what are you doing here? How did you even get in without anyone noticing? Ah, right—you're a Martial Saint now."
That battle in the northern frontier—sealing the wolves at Juxu—had made his name known across the land.
He couldn't help but feel amazed.
The last time they'd met, Brother Shi had still been at the Profound Manifestation stage. Who'd have thought he'd reach Martial Saint so soon? The speed was almost terrifying.
"The recruitment issue," Chen Sanshi said straight to the point. "What's your take on it?"
"Me? If it were up to me, I'd listen to no one," Zhang Shun sighed, tossing the spear aside. "But they all say if we don't pick a side soon, we'll be crushed from both directions. Within two years, we'll be finished."
"That's not wrong," Chen Sanshi said calmly. "Liangshan's been able to survive this long partly because of its geography—but mainly because the Prince of Zhen'nan was busy fighting Southern Xu, and Southern Xu was trying to win you over. Now that both sides have turned their sights here, you've got no room left to maneuver."
"You know me, Brother Shi," Zhang Shun said bitterly. "I despise the court. But Southern Xu's no good either. If we accept their offer, the south will soon fall into chaos—and we'll just be the vanguard sent to die first."
"In that case," Chen Sanshi said directly, "accept the Prince of Zhen'nan's recruitment."
Zhang Shun nodded. "Alright. Between Southern Xu and the court, at least on your side, Brother Shi, we've got someone we trust."
"I can't help you much from where I am," Chen Sanshi replied with a faint shake of the head. "I'm only pointing out the better option. Even after recruitment, you'll still face suppression for a while."
Zhang Shun caught the tone behind his words. "So you're having a rough time yourself? Can't you at least petition the court to protect us?"
"Ha," Chen Sanshi gave a weary smile. "If you're lucky, they might give you some low-ranking post after recruitment. But if I personally petition to protect you? Then you can start digging your graves."
"I get it," Zhang Shun said quietly. "Brother Shi's in a high position now. You can't be seen associating with rebels like us.
"Alright then—let's talk about the terms of this recruitment."
Chen Sanshi didn't want the southern lands to fall into war so soon. "Is the resistance strong?"
"Very strong," Zhang Shun said seriously, thinking it over. "Our Chief is a scholar by background—he leans toward surrendering to the Great Sheng Dynasty. But the Second Chief, Daoist Si, seems to have ties with cultivators from Southern Xu. He's pushing to side with them instead."
"Ties with cultivators from Southern Xu?"
Chen Sanshi frowned slightly, lost in thought.
'So they've set their sights on the entire Great Sheng Dynasty already.'
The more he thought about it, the more he knew he couldn't let Liangshan's forces fall into Southern Xu's hands.
"Right now," Zhang Shun continued, "our mountain's split into two factions, and it's getting ugly. They're about ready to draw blades."
He squatted, tracing the situation roughly in the dirt with a stick. "They're nearly evenly matched, but that Daoist Si is a rogue cultivator who escaped from the cultivation world—stronger than the average man. The Chief only manages to keep up thanks to Fourth Brother's help. Speaking of which… damn!"
Zhang Shun suddenly threw the stick aside and bolted toward the main stronghold. "Daoist Si's men lured Fourth Brother down the mountain today!"
In the great hall of the stronghold, Shan Qunyu returned to his quarters in silence.
He sat before his desk, pouring himself a cup of wine.
He had once been a disciple of a first-rate southern sect, a man of excellent martial talent, yet scholarly by nature. His lifelong wish had been to leave the martial world behind and serve in court, to leave his name in the annals of history.
But after only a few years as an official, he was framed, nearly executed, and forced to flee. By sheer fortune and the heritage of his sect, he eventually broke through to the Martial Saint Realm—and from then on, made Liangshan his domain.
Still, he knew this couldn't last forever.
He and his brothers would eventually need a way out.
Looking at the situation now, both paths led to death.
If they sided with Southern Xu, they'd be sent as cannon fodder—dead within days.
If they surrendered to Great Sheng, they'd die slowly, smothered under politics and suppression.
'A dilemma. Truly a dilemma,' he thought bitterly.
The more Shan Qunyu pondered his life, the heavier the sorrow weighed in his chest. He wondered where this drifting, chaotic path of his would finally end.
Knock, knock.
A knock came at the door.
"Chief, are you in?"
"It's you," Shan Qunyu sighed, setting down his cup. "Come in."
Creaaak—
The wooden door opened.
Daoist Si entered, clad in a violet Daoist robe, a horsetail whisk in hand.
"Sit, Second Brother," Shan Qunyu said, pouring another cup. "You're here alone—still about which side to join, I suppose?"
"Exactly that."
Daoist Si sat, picked up the cup, and twirled it between his fingers instead of drinking. "Chief, the Prince of Zhen'nan is in seclusion in Liwan Prefecture right now. His army's about to march north. If we don't agree to Southern Xu's terms soon, they'll cut off our supply routes. Once that happens, we'll be surrounded by the court's navy—and we won't last long."
"Second Brother, Second Brother," Shan Qunyu said, his tone heavy with frustration. "Can't you see? The 'Tiger of the Tombs' from Southern Xu is using us as cannon fodder to break through Liwan's defenses. The best plan now is to surrender to the Prince of Zhen'nan early. That way, there's still room to negotiate later."
"Chief, you're the one being foolish," Daoist Si snapped. "If we can't agree, then there's no point talking further."
He pulled out a folded contract and slapped it on the table. "Sign this and stamp it. From now on, Liangshan won't be a bandit stronghold—it'll be the Southern Xu Liangshan Army. You'll be granted the title of Marquis of Liangshan. You'll have fame, power, and your dream of being remembered in history."
"I can't sign that."
Shan Qunyu barely glanced at it before shoving it aside. "If we sign that, half a year from now, we'll be lucky if one in ten of us is still alive!"
"Chief," Daoist Si said coldly as he rose to his feet, "you don't have a choice anymore."
Shan Qunyu's expression hardened. "You and I may disagree, but we've been brothers for years. Don't tell me you'd actually resort to force and ruin that bond?"
"Brothers?"
Daoist Si sneered. "I'm a cultivator from Heavenly Water Isle. When was I ever 'brothers' with you mortals? I stayed here just to amuse myself with your petty wars. But you lot—loud in talk, timid in battle—pathetic!"
As he spoke, waves of spiritual power rippled around him.
"You… you—fine!"
Shan Qunyu didn't flinch. He reached under the desk and pulled out a long saber, his internal force surging like a storm. "Daoist Si, you may be a cultivator, but that doesn't mean I'm afraid of you!"
"Who told you…" Daoist Si's grin twisted cruelly, "…that I came alone?"
Boom!
Before the words even faded, a streak of sword qi sliced through the wall, shattering the wood like paper.
Shan Qunyu didn't dodge. His saber swept out, forming the image of a three-headed demon wolf.
Boom—boom—boom!
Saber qi and sword qi collided. The explosion ripped through the fragile hut, tearing off half the roof and sending wooden planks flying. The fading rays of sunset spilled freely into the wrecked room.
Shan Qunyu looked up. A second cultivator hovered in midair above the ruins.
"You even brought a Southern Xu cultivator here?" he growled. "Fourth Brother! Fourth Brother, where are you—"
"Don't bother calling," Daoist Si laughed. "I already tricked him down the mountain. Right now, you're the only Martial Saint left up here. Sign the paper and maybe—just maybe—you'll live."
Daoist Si was a rogue cultivator from Heavenly Water Isle, at the middle stage of Qi Refining. Years ago, when he couldn't survive in the cultivation world, he slipped into the mortal realm through a weakened barrier, hoping to stumble upon some ancient relics. When that failed, he resigned himself to staying here on Liangshan to waste away his years.
That was until recently—
When the cultivators of Qingxuan Mountain arrived in Southern Xu.
They were planning to seize territories in the mortal realm—to occupy spiritual veins in the future.
Daoist Si had also gained a personal reward.
If he succeeded, he would be accepted as a disciple into one of the major sects. With luck, he might even ascend further along the Immortal Path.
"You dream!"
Shan Qunyu's fury burst forth. "You're using the lives of one hundred thousand brothers to trade for your own future!"
"In that case," Daoist Si said coldly, "you can die."
As the last word left his lips, the horsetail whisk in his hand came alive, unfurling like a great white serpent that shot toward Shan Qunyu's throat. The cultivator floating above crushed a talisman between his fingers, summoning a massive fireball that roared down from the heavens.
Two cultivators in the middle stage of Qi Refining versus one Martial Saint.
Shan Qunyu didn't last long. After several exchanges, he was blasted into the pond behind the courtyard, coughing blood as ripples spread through the water.
"Chief!"
Zhang Shun arrived just in time. Wielding his fishing spear, he swept it through the air. The pond erupted into a waterfall that surged skyward and crashed down toward the two enemies, like the Milky Way overturning.
But his cultivation was only at the early stage of Qi Refining. The spell looked impressive but had no real power.
The Southern Xu cultivator simply swung his sword once and split the waterfall apart with ease.
"Chief, are you alright?"
Zhang Shun helped Shan Qunyu to his feet.
Barely breathing, Shan Qunyu rasped, "Shunzi… your cultivation is too shallow. You can't win against them. Leave me. Go down the mountain and find Fourth Brother. Tell him… surrender to the Prince of Zhen'nan immediately!"
"Chief, don't say that."
Zhang Shun's voice was firm. "If you hadn't brought me from the canal to Liangshan, I'd have been hacked to death by soldiers long ago."
He leveled his fishing spear at the two cultivators. "Second Chief! If we disagree, we can talk it out. Why resort to killing?!"
The cultivator from Southern Xu narrowed his eyes, studying the young man. "Daoist Si, why is there another cultivator on Liangshan?"
"No idea," Daoist Si said coldly. "Probably picked up some half-baked cultivation method somewhere."
He flicked his wrist. "No matter. Kill him."
But before he could move, another figure appeared quietly behind them.
"Another one?" Daoist Si barked. "Who are you to meddle in Liangshan's affairs?"
The man didn't answer. One hand rested on the hilt of his blade as he strode forward slowly.
"A mute? Then you can stay silent forever!"
The horsetail whisk lashed out again, stretching dozens of zhang long. With a sweeping motion, it stirred up a violent storm. Trees were ripped from their roots, boulders shattered, and dust filled the air as the whip of white qi twisted into the shape of a colossal beast, lunging to swallow the blade-wielding stranger whole.
Clang!
A faint sound of a blade being drawn echoed.
Daoist Si froze. The swordsman was gone—vanished from sight. The massive spell missed completely, striking nothing but air.
He tensed, eyes darting warily through the haze, ready for a sneak attack.
But as the storm of dust settled, there was still no sign of the man.
Then—
Something warm trickled down his forehead.
He reached up.
Blood.
More and more of it flowed, no matter how he wiped it away.
A moment later, his vision seemed to widen. His arms grew farther apart, his body strangely light. For an instant, it felt as though he had learned to split into two bodies—until realization struck.
Both halves were him.
He had been cleaved cleanly in two.
Just as he understood what had happened, darkness swallowed his sight. His body fell apart to either side, blood gushing in torrents that soaked the yellow earth until it became a pool of red.
"The body of a cultivator really is fragile," Chen Sanshi murmured, feeling the lingering force of his blade.
When his cultivation surpassed theirs, killing cultivators was easier than killing warriors.
"Damn you… bastard!"
The remaining Southern Xu cultivator snapped out of his shock.
What had he just witnessed?
One strike—only one strike!
Daoist Si, a mid-stage Qi Refining cultivator, had been cut perfectly in half!
Yet the man before him was clearly at the late stage of Mortal Shedding—on paper, an equal realm.
How could there be such a gap?
So the rumors were true—martial artists defied the natural order with brute strength.
They were all monsters!
The cultivator no longer dared to fight. He spun around, forming a seal to ride his sword and flee.
But in that instant, a shadow like a tiger surged across the ground.
It moved so fast it left a streak of afterimage, sprinted up the trunk of a towering tree, and leapt from its crown into the air—a full hundred zhang high.
It was Meng Quji.
The long spear in his hands, a full eight chi long, howled as True Force erupted like a tsunami. The spear transformed into a nine-headed python that filled the sky, descending in a blinding storm of fangs and scales.
The cultivator was forced to halt midair, forming a wind seal to counterattack.
Boom—boom—boom!
The explosion echoed across the forest.
He wasn't dead—but the blast sent him plummeting from the sky.
Before he could stabilize himself, Meng Quji was already upon him again.
"Damn it!"
The cultivator's eyes bulged red. He swung his flying sword desperately, pouring every drop of spiritual power into it.
But after only a few exchanges, his energy was almost spent, his body riddled with internal injuries.
Panicked, he crushed his last talisman.
Whoosh—
The solid ground beneath Meng Quji's feet suddenly turned to quicksand. Before he could react, half his body was swallowed up.
The injured cultivator seized the moment, spinning around and sprinting toward the forest. But just as he entered the trees, he saw a small, slender girl blocking his path—holding a purple flying sword in her hand.
"A useless brat at the first level of Qi Refining?!"
The cultivator's face twisted with rage. "If you don't want to die, get out of my way!"
Even badly wounded, he could still unleash strength at the early stage of Qi Refining.
"Swish—"
"What?!"
His pupils shrank. He saw the purple sword in that little girl's hand flare to life with impossible speed—so fast he couldn't even raise a defense. The blade pierced straight through his chest. He stumbled forward, dead before he hit the ground, rolling several times under his own momentum before slamming into a tree trunk with a dull thud.
Zhao Zhao ran up to the corpse and grabbed the sword embedded deep in the wood. She pulled with one hand—nothing. Two hands—still nothing. Finally, she braced her feet and yanked with all her strength, only to tumble backward and land headfirst in the dirt.
"Well done, girl."
Almost at the same moment, Meng Quji broke free from the sand and arrived.
In truth, even if the girl hadn't acted, the cultivator would've been dead within two breaths.
Chen Sanshi walked over, looking down at Zhao Zhao, who was sprawled on the ground gasping, her cheeks drenched in sweat. He smirked. "Not bad, little useless one. Guess your training wasn't a total waste."
"Of course not!"
Zhao Zhao puffed up proudly as she climbed to her feet, wiping her sweaty face with her sleeve. "I'll have you know… well, anyway, I'm amazing! One day I'll beat you till you call me Grandma!"
Chen Sanshi ignored her, but his eyes narrowed slightly.
Something was off.
Even with low cultivation, a first-level Qi Refiner shouldn't be completely drained after one attack. And the speed of that flying sword—definitely not normal.
"You killed him," he said calmly. "The spoils are yours."
He took Daoist Si's horsetail whisk—a mid-grade spiritual tool, worth at least a few dozen spirit stones.
"Really?"
Zhao Zhao didn't hesitate, immediately launching into her "corpse-looting technique." But aside from her purple sword, she only found a few spirit stones and sighed, disappointed.
Once the two corpses were dealt with, they returned to where the battle began.
Shan Qunyu stood frozen, staring at the scene. "Shunzi… these people—they're your friends? Who are they?!"
"Best not to ask," Zhang Shun said, helping him stand. "What matters is—you can safely accept the recruitment now."
"Killing cultivators from Southern Xu means we've made them our enemy," Shan Qunyu sighed. "There's no turning back. We'll have to take the Prince of Zhen'nan's offer. Either way… thank you, noble warrior, for saving my life!"
He dropped to his knees.
"This life-saving grace—I, Shan Qunyu, will never forget it! If you ever need anything, just send word. I'll repay you, even if it means walking through fire or climbing blades!"
"Uncle Laizi, you can count on the Chief's word," Zhang Shun added. "People of the greenwood always keep their promises!"
Indeed, Shan Qunyu had earned his reputation because of his honor. That was why so many followed him—why he was known as the Timely Rain of the south.
"I helped you to delay the southern war a bit longer," Chen Sanshi said, pulling him to his feet and patting his shoulder. "For you, it's also the better choice. But after recruitment, what happens next… that's harder to say."
"So even the benefactor sees Liangshan's future as dark?"
Shan Qunyu was certain he'd met a man of great insight. He dropped to his knees again and refused to rise. "Please, benefactor! Show us a way forward! Liangshan's men may be outlaws, but we've never preyed on the poor. Our silver and grain all came from corrupt officials and greedy lords. Within thousands of li, the common people all praise Liangshan!"
"Then why must we face this no-win fate?!
"I know after recruitment, the court will purge us eventually.
"But what choice do I have?
"I have one hundred twenty sworn brothers, and over one hundred thousand soldiers depending on me! I can't let them rot on this mountain forever!
"Benefactor! Don't go—please! Tell me how to survive this!"
"…Fine."
Chen Sanshi sighed. "Since your band has done little real evil, bring me your map."
"Yes—yes!"
Ignoring his injuries, Shan Qunyu rummaged through the wrecked hut and found a large, worn-out map.
By now, the noise of battle had drawn more men up the slope, and Zhang Shun drove them away one by one.
"Benefactor!"
Shan Qunyu spread the map across a table. "Please look here! I was thinking—after recruitment, if we could leave part of our forces on Liangshan, we'd at least have a retreat if things go wrong."
"Forget that idea," Chen Sanshi said flatly. "The Prince of Zhen'nan might let you keep a small garrison here, but it won't matter. Once you're recruited, your army will be split apart. Most of you will be sent to Yuanqu Prefecture. It looks wealthy, but if you go, you'll just be lambs on the chopping block. Even if you leave soldiers behind on Liangshan, it won't save you."
He pointed at the map. "Instead, tell the Prince of Zhen'nan that you're willing to fully withdraw from Liangshan—every last man—and ask for the right to garrison Mangshan Prefecture in exchange. Mangshan isn't large, but it's in a key position. From there, you can move east by water to flee toward Lingzhou, or fall back to capture Zhangpu, Hongxing, and Fengning Counties nearby. That way, you can choke the supply routes leading to Liangshan itself.
"If things ever turn desperate, cut their supply lines and take Liangshan back again.
"And the Prince of Zhen'nan will agree.
"Because Mangshan doesn't threaten his southern front—and if the front lines fall, he can use you to block Southern Xu's advance.
"It's not an ambitious move, but it's the best strategy for survival.
"As long as you can keep even twenty thousand soldiers stationed at Mangshan, life won't be easy—but you'll live."
Shan Qunyu's eyes lit up. "Hearing your words is worth ten years of study! This—this is it! The one narrow path to survival!"
"Then remember this," Chen Sanshi said quietly. "Treat the people of Mangshan kindly."
Chen Sanshi warned coldly, "Your Liangshan troops maintain decent discipline, but there will always be scum among them. I expect you to deal with them yourself. If I ever hear that your men in Mangshan Prefecture have committed atrocities, I'll come collect you personally."
"Benefactor, rest assured—ten thousand times over!"
Shan Qunyu bowed repeatedly, his voice trembling with sincerity.
"Words mean nothing," Chen Sanshi said. He pointed toward Meng Quji. "I'll leave him here to assist you. Do you agree?"
"That's… that's exactly what I hoped for!" Shan Qunyu coughed painfully. "I'm injured and there's plenty of trouble left to sort out. Having an extra hand will be a blessing."
"Good. Then it's settled."
Chen Sanshi turned to Meng Quji. "Wait for my message before returning to me."
"Yes, Sect Master!" Meng Quji clasped his fists.
This time, they were acting under the name of their sect.
"Come on, dummy. Let's go."
After handling everything, Chen Sanshi didn't linger. He called out to his maid and began walking down the mountain.
"Hey! I'm not a dummy—I'm clever!"
"Clever? You?"
"I… I catch fish better than you do! Doesn't that count?"
Their voices faded as they walked away.
Shan Qunyu finally had time to take a proper look at the spear-wielding Martial Saint beside him. After a few polite words, he went to another room, swallowed a handful of healing elixirs, and steadied his injuries.
He couldn't hold back his curiosity. "Shunzi, who is your friend? Which sect does he belong to? Not only is his martial skill unmatched, he seems well-versed in military strategy too."
"Chief, best not to ask," Zhang Shun said carefully. "You should focus on writing to the Prince of Zhen'nan. Daoist Si's and that other cultivator's heads will make fine offerings for our allegiance."
"Yes, yes!" Shan Qunyu nodded quickly. "No more delays! If we end up in open war with the court, even if we could hold against the Prince of Zhen'nan, once the court gets serious and sends that White Robe, we're finished!"
Liwan Prefecture.
Temporary royal residence.
Outside the great mansion gates—
"Report!"
"Your Highness!"
"A secret message from Liangshan!"
"Stop right there!"
The guard blocked the way. "His Highness is in seclusion. No one is to disturb him!"
"But… this letter is urgent! Liangshan's men said it's for the Prince's eyes only!"
"Then give it to Elder Mo. His Highness ordered that all state affairs go through him during his cultivation."
"…Understood."
The Prince of Zhen'nan—Cao Rong.
Not just in this generation.
For nearly a hundred years, among all members of the royal Cao family, he possessed the greatest martial talent.
In only seven years, he had reached the rank of Martial Saint. After that, he sought every martial art in the world, striving to break through the limits of the Martial Saint realm.
Behind the royal mansion, deep within the mountain, he sat alone in a training chamber filled with spirit stones, practicing the techniques recorded in the Dragon Scripture.
He repeated the same stance and motion over and over—again and again—until his veins bulged, his meridians throbbed with pain, and cold sweat poured down his face.
Finally, he spat out a mouthful of blood.
Pffft—
The guards standing outside the door paled. "Your Highness! Are you alright?!"
The Prince of Zhen'nan, trembling, raised his hand to signal them not to come closer.
"Your Highness, this cultivation method—it's harming you!" one guard said furiously. "Could it be fake? I'll send word to the capital at once—the scripture must be false!"
"Silence!"
The Prince roared, "The scripture is real! I can feel it! Every single word is true! I can sense the existence of the Three Aspects and Eight Divine Scenes, the Twenty-Four True Spirits within my body! My meridians are in chaos only because I've practiced it wrong!"
"But…"
The guard hesitated, voice anxious. "Could it be Your Highness is rushing too fast? That scripture leads beyond the Martial Saint realm—it's said to be legendary! You've had it for less than two months. Perhaps slow down, or—"
"Leave."
"Your Highness, I—"
"I said leave! You won't be standing guard for now. Any matters will go through Elder Mo."
"…Yes, Your Highness."
Boom!
The heavy stone door of the chamber slammed shut.
Moments later—
"Ahhhhhh!"
The Prince of Zhen'nan screamed, his hands trembling violently in agony.
He was crippled.
His meridians were destroyed.
The moment he circulated his qi, his internal organs tore apart in pain.
"No… impossible!"
"The scripture is real—it must be! The fault is mine!"
"Start again—from the Lower Divine Aspect!"
"Come, Rise… Soar, Thrive…"
Shaking all over, the Prince forced himself back to his feet.
And in unbearable pain, he began to practice again.