Chapter 1391: Ancestral Hall of Emperors
Zhang Ruochen put away the Kaiyuan Deer Cauldron and the Golden Step Dragon Chariot, swallowed a Fengchun Pill, and while healing his injuries, stepped into the Ancestral Hall of Emperors.
The further forward he went, the more stable the structure of space and time became.
The inscriptions left by the Great Saint ancestors of the Zhang Clan in history grew more numerous, some carved into the ground, others etched into the air itself.
One wrong step could lead to utter annihilation.
Zhang Ruochen had entered the Ancestral Hall of Emperors to pay respects to his ancestors more than once and knew the path inside.
Every time he advanced a li and came before a nameless stone tablet, he would bow respectfully and say, "Zhang Ruochen, the seven hundred and seventy-fourth generation descendant of the Zhang Clan, comes to pay homage to the ancestors."
Each time Zhang Ruochen spoke these words, he could feel strands of mysterious power, akin to spiritual power, sweeping across his body.
The first time he entered the Ancestral Hall of Emperors, Zhang Ruochen had been somewhat afraid, thinking ghosts were passing through his body.
Now, however, he felt no fear at all.
The Ming Emperor had told Zhang Ruochen that those so-called spiritual powers were actually a wisp of the undying sacred thoughts of the past patriarchs.
When one reached the Great Saint realm, they could give birth to infinite mysteries. Even after death, sacred thoughts would remain. If stored in some special place, they could endure forever without fading.
The Ancestral Hall of Emperors had been built precisely to house the sacred thoughts of past ancestors.
Gradually, a majestic sacred mountain appeared ahead.
On the sacred mountain, figures of emperors were carved from sacred jade, each representing a Great Saint from the Zhang Clan's ancestry. At a glance, there were probably dozens of them.
To think, a family that could produce a single Great Saint could become a super-great clan, even establish an empire. The foundation, resources, and means left behind by a Great Saint were enough to keep that family prosperous for tens of thousands of years without decline.
For a clan like the Zhang Clan, established by a deity, which had produced dozens of Great Saints from ancient times to the present, the foundation left behind was simply incomparable to those medieval aristocratic clans and ancient tribes.
The Dragon-Protecting Pavilion was one of the Zhang Clan's foundations.
Other medieval aristocratic clans and ancient tribes could never cultivate a vassal organization like the Dragon-Protecting Pavilion, or rather, a mysterious organization that guarded the clan's eternal existence.
Only ancestors who had reached the Great Saint realm were qualified to leave behind sacred jade statues and spirit tablets on the sacred mountain.
Zhang Ruochen walked past the figures of emperors, one by one, and entered deep into the sacred mountain.
Before his eyes was thick sacred mist, from which beams of sacred light shot out, piercing the clouds.
The spirit tablets of past ancestors were arranged on an altar.
"According to what my father said, the Imperial Clan Tomb Forest governs yin, and the Ancestral Hall of Emperors governs yang. One is death, the other is life. Both are located at two singular points of the Sacred Bright City, complementing each other and jointly carrying the Zhang Clan's fortune. With the blessings of past ancestors, the Zhang Clan should flourish forever. Yet, eight hundred years ago, the Zhang Clan fell into decline. Why is that?"
Zhang Ruochen let out a soft sigh, then pressed his palms together and bowed toward the spirit tablets above.
Just as he bent down, he saw, beneath the altar in the area shrouded by sacred light, a coffin suspended in midair.
"How can this be? The coffins of Zhang Clan descendants are all buried in the Imperial Clan Tomb Forest. How could there be a coffin in the Ancestral Hall of Emperors? Whose coffin is this?"
Zhang Ruochen closed his eyes, activated his Heavenly Eye, and looked again.
This time, he saw more clearly. There was indeed a coffin suspended there, and on its head was imprinted the character "Chen."
Seeing this "Chen" character, a thunderous roar echoed in Zhang Ruochen's mind, giving birth to a guess that unsettled his heart.
Could it be...
Zhang Ruochen immediately cast aside the distracting thoughts in his heart, not daring to continue speculating. Nor did he immediately open the coffin. Instead, he prepared to first activate the Great Saint inscriptions to suppress the palace-protecting ancient formation within the Lingxiao Heavenly King Manor.
Ending this great battle was the primary concern.
"Immovable Bright King Sacred Image."
Zhang Ruochen rapidly circulated his technique, summoning a sacred image from the sacred source in his Qi Sea—a white sacred shadow that looked exactly like Zhang Ruochen.
The white sacred shadow rushed into the altar, and in an instant, all the spirit tablets radiated ten-thousand-zhang sacred light.
Then, centered on the altar, densely packed Great Saint inscriptions emerged, like the blood vessels in a human body, spreading across heaven and earth.
The Great Saint inscriptions were fully activated, extending all the way to the entire Lingxiao Heavenly King Manor.
Both the Sacred Bright army and the imperial court's forces looked toward the direction of the Ancestral Hall of Emperors. They could see the outline of the sacred mountain and the jade statues of Great Saints standing atop it, exuding a sacred and majestic aura.
"The emperors of Sacred Bright have awakened; the empire will once again welcome glory, and the Chi Clan's rule will be overthrown."
"The palace-protecting ancient formation is suppressed by the Great Saint inscriptions; everyone, attack with all your strength."
"Destroy the Lingxiao Heavenly King Manor."
"Long live the Crown Prince!"
...
With the palace-protecting ancient formation suppressed, the Sacred Bright side no longer had to simultaneously resist the formation while fighting powerful enemies.
A Le remained cold and ruthless, his iron sword plain and unadorned.
"Whoosh—"
A sword light flew out, piercing through the brow of the Forty-Sixth Prince at extreme speed, killing him instantly.
This was A Le's sword path—the Death Sword Path.
The Death Sword Path was not orthodox among sword techniques. It required no solid foundation or various profound sword mysteries. It was a sword path that took a different approach.
It could use the weak to strike the strong, achieving victory through surprise.
The Death Sword Path had only one strike: either the enemy dies, or you die.
Even Zhang Ruochen, who walked the orthodox sword path, could not guarantee he could block A Le's strike.
If he failed to block it, he would die.
Since life and death were at stake, Zhang Ruochen naturally would not attempt it.
On the other side, with the palace-protecting ancient formation suppressed, that Confucian Saint King's vast and righteous qi became even more immense. A sun-moon imprint flew out, actually striking the Huben Heavenly King until he spat sacred blood.
The Huben Heavenly King's chest was a bloody mess, a scorching force flowing through the wound, causing even his Saint King body to ignite.
The Huben Heavenly King clutched his chest, using sacred power to suppress the wound, and glared angrily, "Who exactly are you? Among the Confucian path, there are no more than five people with your level of strength."
"It only shows how shallow your knowledge is. The Confucian path is one of the three paths, with a depth of foundation beyond your imagination."
That Confucian Saint King once again recited the latter half of the "Righteous Qi Song of the Clouds," and a sacred text appeared in the sky, descending downward.
The Huben Heavenly King let out a tiger roar, and from within his body, a White Tiger sacred soul surged forth, extending its tiger claws to shatter the sacred characters one by one.
That was the beast soul of a Great Saint-level barbarian king from the wild secret realm, bestowed upon him by the Empress. He had refined the beast soul into his body, turning it into a battle soul.
After unleashing the White Tiger sacred soul, the Huben Heavenly King fought on equal footing with that Confucian Saint King.
However, Qingyue Laozu did not have the Huben Heavenly King's powerful cultivation and vigorous blood qi.
She was already quite old, near death, and on a downward slope, unable to fight for long. Dealing with the Cai Clan Ancestor was already a stretch, and now with the Mingjiang King joining the battle, she was thrown into danger.
"Qingyue Laozu, even if you absorbed the sacred power of my Zhang Clan's ancestors underground, you still only have this much strength. Today, this king will send you on your way."
The Mingjiang King swung the Ten Dragon Blade, slashing downward.
"Boom."
Half of Qingyue Laozu's sacred body was shattered by the blade qi, leaving only her upper body flying in midair. Her old face was twisted with ferocity, and she roared, "Even if I die, I'll drag you two down with me."
Qingyue Laozu's sacred body ignited and exploded with a thunderous roar.
A terrifying destructive force surged toward the Mingjiang King and the Cai Clan Ancestor.
Just then, from the direction of the sacred mountain, strands of Great Saint inscriptions surged forth, dispersing the destructive power generated by Qingyue Laozu's self-detonation.
Even so, the Mingjiang King and the Cai Clan Ancestor were severely injured, both coughing up blood.
A Saint King's self-detonation—surviving it was already a miracle.
"Laozu... has fallen in battle..."
"Heavens! Even Qingyue Laozu has been killed. The imperial clan will face a great earthquake. When the Empress returns, she will surely slaughter every last Sacred Bright rebel."
...
The fall of a Saint King ancestor caused a massive uproar. The imperial clan descendants within the Lingxiao Heavenly King Manor were all wailing, finally sensing the crisis, feeling the disaster descending upon them.
If they had known Zhang Ruochen was so terrifying, they would never have provoked him a few days ago, let alone mocked him as a turtle hiding in its shell.
Now, regret was too late. Everyone was on the verge of tears, unable to cry.
Trembling with fear, they rushed toward the sacred hall where the Lingxiao Heavenly King was in seclusion, hoping to receive his protection.
By the time they reached that sacred hall, they found it had been reduced to rubble, turned into wood shavings and tiles. In midair, a floating island had appeared, and the Lingxiao Heavenly King was standing on it.
"How did a floating island suddenly appear?"
"That kind of floating island should be the hub of the palace-protecting ancient formation, hidden within the formation's interior. It probably only appears when the formation is fully activated."
...
The Vice Pavilion Master of the Dragon-Protecting Pavilion stood at the same height as the floating island, stepping on a sacred cloud, and spoke with a vast, distant voice, "Relying on the palace-protecting ancient formation, you could only fight me to a draw. Now that the Crown Prince has activated the Great Saint inscriptions, suppressing the formation, your advantage is completely gone."
The Lingxiao Heavenly King was a middle-aged man in his fifties, with white hair at his temples, exuding a powerful aura and immense authority. He said, "I have roughly guessed who you are."
"Fighting for so long—if you still couldn't guess who I am, that would be strange," the Vice Pavilion Master of the Dragon-Protecting Pavilion said.
The Lingxiao Heavenly King snorted coldly, "I am indeed no match for you, but there are still a few in the imperial court stronger than you. Dare to rebel—aren't you afraid of having your sect and clan exterminated?"
The Vice Pavilion Master said calmly, "You and I both know that the truly terrifying existences are not on the court; they have long since retreated behind the scenes. Of course, Sacred Bright is not as weak as you imagine. The Dragon-Protecting Pavilion you see is just the tip of the iceberg."