Chapter 650: The World Turns Against Tianhai
Second Master Tang walked toward the imperial city.
This was his first time entering the palace, yet he was intimately familiar with it. Neither the Heavenly Dao Killing Formation nor any other mechanism or array could cause his steps to hesitate for even a moment.
Before long, his blue robe vanished into the night, and when he reappeared, he stood before Lingyan Pavilion.
The stone steps before him stretched long, ascending straight into the night sky, as if one could climb them to reach the heavens.
To many, Lingyan Pavilion and these long steps were the most magnificent and beautiful structures in the palace.
But to Second Master Tang, these stone steps and the solitary tower at their peak were the ugliest buildings in the imperial city.
In his view, Lingyan Pavilion and these steps could not blend with the palace’s architectural style at all—too new, and far too conspicuous.
“Truly the aesthetic of a nouveau riche,” he remarked with a faint sneer, then began to ascend the long steps.
When he reached Lingyan Pavilion, he showed no sign of caution. He simply pushed open the door and walked in, his demeanor overly calm and composed.
Liang Wangsun sat on the floor in the center of Lingyan Pavilion, staring quietly at the closed windows, lost in thought.
His blood continued to flow, spreading through the light of the Daytime Flame into the streets and alleys of the capital.
“Taizong Emperor’s modification of the Imperial Chariot Diagram was incomplete. Some problems remain unsolvable. If you persist like this, your blood will soon run dry,” Second Master Tang said as he entered Lingyan Pavilion, glancing at the portraits on the walls. He tapped his palm with his folding fan and shook his head.
Liang Wangsun looked up at him and asked, “Who are you?”
Second Master Tang replied calmly, “My surname is Tang, and I am the second son.”
Liang Wangsun’s expression tightened. “So you are Second Master Tang.”
Second Master Tang smiled silently, as if pleased that a figure as renowned as Liang Wangsun knew of him.
Then his smile vanished abruptly, and his face turned expressionless. “Since you know me, Prince, you should also understand that you are no match for me.”
Liang Wangsun stared at him quietly. “Others may not know the terror of Second Master Tang, but how could I? Yet now I am spiritually linked to the Imperial Chariot Diagram. How can you move against me?”
Second Master Tang’s gaze fell upon him.
A bright, golden aura flickered faintly around Liang Wangsun.
Though he sat in Lingyan Pavilion, he had merged with the Imperial Chariot Diagram throughout the capital.
Any attack on him would be seen as an attack on the Imperial Chariot Diagram, inviting its merciless backlash.
But if he did not strike at Liang Wangsun, how could he separate him from the Diagram?
Second Master Tang smiled silently again. The expression should have been comical, but in the bright, daylight-like glow of Lingyan Pavilion, it was utterly terrifying.
Without even glancing at Liang Wangsun, he walked directly to the easternmost of the four main pillars in the pavilion. From his sleeve, he produced an object and inserted it into the pillar.
Liang Wangsun’s expression shifted dramatically at the sight. He wanted to act but could not rise.
An exceedingly ancient aura seeped from Second Master Tang’s palm, traveling through the object into the pillar. It then descended deeper, past the long stone steps, into a place beneath the palace, and from there, through secret passages and channels unknown to anyone, spread throughout the capital.
A gentle breeze stirred within Lingyan Pavilion, accompanied by a faint hum. The bright light instantly dimmed!
The demonic divine artifact, the Daytime Flame, had been extinguished!
Liang Wangsun’s blood dripped from his tiger’s mouth onto the Daytime Flame, but it could no longer be absorbed. Instead, it fell to the ground.
A pained grunt escaped his lips!
His soul had been forcibly severed from the Imperial Chariot Diagram. Though he had not suffered the full backlash of the formation, this forced separation still inflicted severe internal injuries!
After that pained grunt, blood seeped from the corner of his mouth.
Liang Wangsun’s face turned deathly pale. The hand holding the Daytime Flame trembled slightly, his eyes filled with shock.
He stared at Second Master Tang in disbelief. “How do you know the formation’s core and the divine method?”
Second Master Tang slowly withdrew his hand from the pillar, took a handkerchief from his sleeve, and carefully wiped the wood shavings from his palm.
A bronze artifact now protruded from the pillar, most of it embedded within, leaving only the top layer visible—like an eye.
An extremely ancient eye.
“Not long ago, I told a junior to learn reverence. What is most worthy of reverence in my Tang family is history,” he said, looking at Liang Wangsun. “Both your Liang family and the Chen family believe this great formation in the capital belongs to you. But you have all forgotten… this formation was built by our Tang family.”
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In the autumn woods of Jinghe Garden, the statue of a former sage, carved from black obsidian, slowly sank back into the ground. The damp soil surface visibly regrew pale yellow grass.
The crack in the middle of Hongju South Street slowly closed. The scorching heat seeping from the depths was gradually sealed off. The wind grew sharper, howling incessantly, like a desperate, unwilling wail.
In the courtyard north of Baizhi Fang, the decaying building did not restore itself, but the clear water in the channels flowed back into the half-collapsed well.
On the earthen mound north of Jiangong, the verdant pines rose again from the soil, covering bones and corpses. Lightning struck continuously. The golden radiance that had shot skyward was now stained by a venomous aura, losing all its former majesty and sanctity. Everything returned to silence, forever an unknown great tomb!
The light spilling from Lingyan Pavilion vanished abruptly, returning to the night, as it had for the past thousand years.
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The oppressive formation intent that had shrouded the entire capital gradually dissipated into the void.
The turmoil that had been forcibly suppressed in the night for so long began to surface.
Prince Louyang hid nervously in his mansion outside the palace. The other Chen princes rushed to the homes of their own and their fathers’ former protégés and old friends.
The various ministries and bureaus of the Great Zhou court remained in an eerie silence, uncertain of what changes would come.
The academies of Qingteng were also utterly still. Both the court cavalry and the national religion cavalry had withdrawn, heading to more volatile areas.
No one knew that Zhuang Zhihuan, the dean of the Heavenly Dao Academy, was at that moment in the residence of the Minister of Rites.
The Minister of Rites, who had revealed his true allegiance during the Battle of Naihe Bridge, held great prestige in the court. Though he had endured a difficult year, the Holy Empress had not driven him from the court or ordered his death, as she had with other ministers.
Perhaps for this reason, his stance was not as extreme as many assumed.
“If we can avoid deaths, it’s best not to have any. If we can minimize casualties, let’s do so,” the Minister of Rites said, producing a thick stack of paper from his sleeve and handing it to Zhuang Zhihuan. “I have guarded the court for over two hundred years, waiting for the clouds to part and the moon to shine. I do not wait for a day of power where blood flows like a river. I respect Her Holiness, and I have compassion for those ministers. Not everyone is like Zhou Tong, like Cheng Jun, like those traitors.”
Since Zhuang Huanyu’s suicide, the dean, who had lost his only son, had grown even more silent. Tonight was no exception.
He took the stack of paper, glanced at the names on it, turned, and walked out of the residence without making any promises to the Minister of Rites.
The Minister of Rites sighed as he watched his retreating figure, knowing that after tonight, whether the Holy Empress or their side emerged victorious, a brutal outcome was inevitable.
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…
Tonight, the capital was in an exceptionally tense yet bizarre state.
Among the forces capable of influencing the night’s outcome, some had yet to make their voices heard.
The silence of the Li Palace—or perhaps the Pope’s continued hesitation—swayed like that pot of green leaves.
But the Tianhai family, which had operated in the capital for years and wielded great power in both the military and the court… why had they remained silent until now?
In the night surrounding the Tianhai family’s mansions and estates, at least ten thousand cavalry and numerous cultivation experts lurked, occasionally streaking through the air.
These cavalry and experts were forces under the Tianhai family’s control. The problem was that these forces should have been at the palace, at the princes’ residences, at the court ministries—not lingering here for so long without any sign of action.
This so-called silence was only outward. Within the Tianhai family’s mansions and estates, many things had already occurred.
Those things were bloody and brutal, for the combatants were clan members, family, kin, fathers and sons…
The blood on the courtyard floor gleamed starkly under the lamplight.
Tianhai Shengxue squinted, still feeling a wave of nausea and dizziness in his chest.
During this time, news had come in: some younger Tianhai family members who had refused orders and insisted on deploying troops had been ruthlessly suppressed by the family head’s power.
Several of his cousins should have been subdued or even killed by now.
His own younger brother had just had an arm severed by his father, right before his eyes.
“Why?” he asked, lifting his head to look at his father, his voice trembling slightly. “Why are you doing this?”
“Why what?” Tianhai Chengwu sat in the lone chair in the empty hall, looking equally solitary. Yet this did not alter his expression in the slightest.
He stared at his son, his face devoid of emotion. “What exactly do you want to know?”
“There’s a lot I want to know!” Tianhai Shengxue shouted in fury. “What are you trying to do?”
After the turmoil and bloody suppression of the early night, no one remained in the hall but the father and son, their solitude chilling to the heart.
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(Both the leader and I are sick—caught a nasty cold, aching all over. What a wonderful holiday this has been. I hope we recover soon, so it doesn’t affect the work in the coming days.)