Chapter 753: Living Is Nothing but Playing House (Part 1)
The way of merchants always follows realism—only what falls into the bag brings peace, and once any fog is torn apart, it loses all value.
Seventeenth Master Tang stopped dwelling on this matter, resolved to first find that person. His gaze shifted from the shopkeeper’s face to the bishop’s, and he said, “Third Master made it very clear this time: this person must be found and controlled. If not, I will die, you will die, and you—will die very miserably.”
This bishop was a plant the Tang family had buried within the state religion. Now expelled from the capital, though he had survived by luck, he could no longer play a significant role. If he failed to demonstrate his loyalty, ability, or usefulness in the matter of the Cinnabar Pill, his eventual fate would surely be far from pleasant.
The bishop’s face turned somewhat pale, while the shopkeeper’s back was drenched in cold sweat. Both men understood clearly that this matter had already become entangled in the power struggles within the Wenshui clan. Their status was not high enough to know all the inside details, but they were well aware of how many storms had swept through Wenshui City over the past two years.
The conflicts between the various branches grew increasingly fierce, even brutal. Though no one had died yet, there was already a faint scent of blood in the air. The most significant signal was the relapse of the eldest branch master’s old illness, and at the beginning of this year, that increasingly famous Third Master Tang… had fathered a son.
The Tang family of Wenshui was a lineage spanning a thousand generations, with its own rules.
Originally, the old master had decided that the eldest branch would inherit the family estate, making Tang Thirty-Six the sole grandson and heir of the Tang family.
Before he formally inherited the property, the old master forbade the other branches from producing third-generation offspring.
This rule was extremely harsh, but fortunately, the masters of the various branches had all achieved cultivation success, with lifespans of centuries ahead of them, so there was no rush.
This rule was finally broken at the beginning of the year.
Third Master Tang had a son.
That was the only bloodline of the Tang family’s third generation besides Tang Thirty-Six.
What did this mean? Had the old master completely changed his mind about the family inheritance? Had the eldest branch fallen out of favor? Or had Third Master Tang simply run out of patience to wait any longer, clearly and forcefully expressing his ambition to seize power?
Ambition, of course, must be built on strength. Among the Tang family branches now, Third Master led the way, having gained a clear advantage in this struggle.
In the great upheaval in the capital two years ago, and in the behind-the-scenes dealings of earlier years, Third Master Tang represented Shang Xingzhou, maneuvering across the continent’s various forces, communicating and coordinating, playing a crucial role in overthrowing the Heavenly Sea’s rule. In the key battle that broke the Imperial Chariot Diagram in the capital, he played an irreplaceable role.
In this great affair, Third Master Tang performed flawlessly in every aspect, and he remained very low-key. While bringing unimaginable benefits to the Wenshui family, he also perfectly embodied the Tang family’s style, gaining the support and even admiration of many clan members.
If not for the problem that arose that winter during the assassination of Wang Po, he might have already replaced Tang Thirty-Six’s father…
Now, hearing that this was Third Master Tang’s order, the shopkeeper and the bishop instantly lost any thought of luck or begging for mercy.
Then they had to find that person quickly. If they couldn’t control him, they would kill him.
Perhaps because Third Master Tang’s cold gloom was too well-known, or because Seventeenth Master had been personally overseeing things from the courtyard, the work of analyzing, breaking down, and reverse-engineering the pill proceeded faster than expected. By dusk that day, several medical masters and the Tang family’s transport and local produce managers had finally reached a preliminary conclusion.
A certain medicinal herb came from one place, was transported to another, passed through yet another; a certain herb was only found in one location; a certain herb’s annual usage in Tianliang Commandery was a certain amount. Countless pieces of information were gathered together, then transformed into numbers on paper with the crisp clatter of abacus beads, finally pointing to a very inconspicuous spot on the map.
That spot was in the northeast of Tianliang Commandery, a place rarely visited by humans, bitterly cold, with a small town called Gaoyang nestled among the mountains, nearly abandoned.
…
…
In the Holy Healing Hall, separated from the inn by just one wall, the atmosphere grew increasingly relaxed as the wounded gradually recovered.
But in the deepest room, the mood remained oppressive and low.
That young formation master still hadn’t woken up. His originally slightly dark face was now very pale, his breathing short and weak.
An Hua sat by the window, eyes closed, resting, looking very tired.
According to the orders of Songshan Military Prefecture, she, along with the priests and military doctors in the Holy Healing Hall, had worked very hard to treat this young formation master. What they could now confirm was that the young formation master could hold on for another seven days—two days longer than the priest had initially predicted. The reason for this, of course, was her arrival.
The Holy Light Technique of the Qingyao Thirteen Divisions was no weaker than the divine arts of the Li Palace; otherwise, the Holy Maiden Xu Yourong wouldn’t have chosen to study here back then.
But this still wasn’t enough, because… the Cinnabar Pill wouldn’t appear for another ten days.
In the Songshan Military Prefecture’s medication sequence, the young formation master was ranked first. As long as the medicine came, he could get it and survive.
But An Hua knew that no matter how hard she, the priests, and the military doctors tried, they couldn’t make him last until then.
Hope seemed to be right before their eyes, and even drawing closer, yet when they looked carefully, it was still so far away.
Human effort ultimately had its limits. This truth was always so easy to make people feel sorrow, even despair.
Ending her meditation, An Hua opened her eyes, stood up, walked to the bedside, and observed the young formation master’s current condition.
Perhaps because she hadn’t rested for a day and a night while constantly caring for him, she felt that the young formation master’s features were becoming clearer and clearer.
How could she make him live? Were there any other hopes? For example, asking a great bishop from the Li Palace to intervene?
No, even if those important figures were willing to act for the young formation master, they couldn’t get here in time. Not to mention the current Li Palace—aside from sending a considerable number of priests and healers to the northern front, it had been acting exceptionally low-key at all other times and places. From dawn to dusk, from spring to autumn to winter, the palace doors were tightly shut, heavily guarded.
Figures like Mao Qiuyu, the titans of the state religion, would hardly take a single step out of the Li Palace.
This situation had persisted for two years.
Because the Pope had left the capital two years ago.
No one knew where the young Pope was now, or even if he was still alive.
An Hua paid no attention to matters outside her window, nor did she know the current state of the court or the appearance of Snowfall City. She only knew that the war had been going on for two years, and many people had already died.
The southern sects, mountain gates, and aristocratic families had played a very important role in this war. From the Heavenly Sea Holy Empress to Daoist Shang Xingzhou, they all placed great emphasis on the unification of north and south—naturally, there was reason for it. A new generation of cultivators had also begun to formally step onto the stage of history, with the young people from Lishan Sword Sect, Huaiyuan Academy, and the Green Vine Six Academies performing the most brilliantly.
Of course, compared to the commotion he had made when he first entered the battlefield, all of this was just playing house, not worth mentioning.
Though they were all young, they were ultimately different.
That was the first time he appeared before the world after leaving the capital, and also the last.
That day, the autumn sky was clear and crisp, ten thousand horses galloped, and smoke signals rose on all sides.
He unleashed a thousand swords at once, and countless demon soldiers fell, their green blood spilling, turning the wilderness into a sea of blood.
Amid the heavy, chaotic aura like mountains and seas, the demon general Haili struck with full force, tearing clouds and splitting the earth, the sky and land changing color.
The young Pope fell, gravely wounded, and then vanished again.
It was as if he had come to the battlefield for this one visit, appearing before countless eyes, taking such great risks, killing so many demons, shedding so much blood, suffering such severe injuries—only to tell this world and certain people: I am still alive.
This really was like a child playing house.