Chapter 123 : A Thousand-Year Calamity

Chapter 123: A Thousand-Year Calamity

The Coalition Army of the Seven Provinces broke through the Martial God Pass.

Within three moves, Wu Man’er of the Clear Sky Sect slew the Demonic General Chang Wu, forcefully breaching the city gate.

This news spread across the lands, and the commoners of the Nine Provinces all saw a glimmer of hope.

However, after breaking through the Martial God Pass, the Coalition Army of the Seven Provinces did not march straight into the heartlands.

They continued to encounter resistance from the imperial forces, falling into one fierce battle after another.

Yet, their advance never ceased, drawing closer to the Zhenyang Imperial City each passing day.

At the same time, the martial world was shaken.

The Three Founding Sects of the Great Dynasty actually joined forces with the Imperial Forbidden Martial Guards to attack the Clear Sky Sect.

This incident greatly shocked the martial world—many believed the Three Founding Sects had fallen from grace.

It also symbolized the court’s intent to take control of the martial world.

Before the uproar could subside, news came that the Taiwu Sect and the Li Yin Sect had been annihilated by a squad led by Xu Ning of the Clear Sky Sect—this news struck the martial world like an earthquake.

The grand situation beneath the heavens was shifting rapidly; the martial world had entered an unprecedented era of upheaval.

The Taiwu Sect and the Li Yin Sect were counted among the top five great sects in the realm.

Aside from the two sacred grounds of the North and South, the Three Founding Sects of the Great Dynasty, backed by the imperial court, had long dominated the martial world with overwhelming might.

To destroy two of the founding sects with only thirty-one people—this feat left all martial artists wondering: just how powerful was this Clear Sky Sect?

Before Xu Ning and her group returned, the news of the destruction of the Taiwu Sect and the Li Yin Sect had already reached Clear Sky Mountain, stirring excitement throughout the entire sect.

Xu Ning’s name now outshone every other rising disciple.

At the construction site of the Demon Subjugation Hall on Clear Sky Mountain, Li Qingqiu and Li Sijin stood side by side, watching the disciples work busily.

“If Third Senior Brother hears of this, he’ll definitely be upset,” Li Sijin said excitedly.

“He’ll think—it should have been him in the spotlight.”

She had always been close with Xu Ning, like sisters, and had long sensed the open and hidden rivalry between Xu Ning and Jiang Zhaoxia.

Li Qingqiu gave her a glare and replied irritably, “Don’t think like that about your Third Senior Brother. He isn’t that petty.”

Li Sijin didn’t believe it and began listing Jiang Zhaoxia’s petty behavior since childhood.

“Oh, right, Senior Brother,” Li Sijin asked curiously, “I’ve been wondering—how did the news of the Three Founding Sects attacking us spread? I heard from the patrons that the whole world knows about it.”

Watching Cheng Xiu and Cheng San working nearby, Li Qingqiu replied, “Naturally, someone worked behind the scenes. We owe that to your Second Senior Brother and Hall Master Zhu.”

“So this is the power of noble families?”

Li Sijin fell into thought.

As the Hall Master of the Cultivation Hall, many people had tried to win her favor, but she found it troublesome and never bothered to deal with them.

Now, however, her view began to change slightly.

Among the Seven Halls, hers developed the slowest.

If not for the fact that her hall oversaw the sect’s martial techniques and the Scripture Repository, she would have thought the Cultivation Hall rather useless.

Her spiritual plants were still in the experimental stage and couldn’t yet be put to use.

Li Qingqiu glanced at her and said, “You don’t need to overthink. Your spiritual plants are crucial to the sect’s growth. As for social connections, leave that to others. Not every hall needs to form a network among the noble clans.”

Hearing this, Li Sijin felt relieved and sighed, “I finally managed to cultivate a spiritual plant, but later discovered it was just a weed filled with spiritual energy—completely useless.”

“Take it slow. I already gave you a batch of medicinal herbs earlier. If you can transform them into spiritual plants and let Chen Huilan refine them into elixirs, once successful, the benefits to the Clear Sky Sect will be beyond imagination. Your contribution would be recorded in stone.”

Li Qingqiu comforted her.

Li Sijin’s work was not limited to cultivating spiritual plants—she also oversaw the Earth Talisman Codex.

The Spirit Eagle Talisman she developed had great strategic value, and many disciples in the Cultivation Hall were studying it with promising results.

If Zhang Yuchun was a management talent, then Li Sijin was a technical one.

Even if she lacked skill in dealing with the noble clans, it didn’t diminish Li Qingqiu’s expectations of her.

In fact, her distance from such families, in Li Qingqiu’s view, was even a good thing.

Li Qingqiu’s words of praise stirred Li Sijin’s blood; she felt so motivated she nearly ran back to the fields immediately.

Just then, Li Qingqiu suddenly turned his head and looked into the distance, frowning.

He sensed a strange aura—evil, bloody, and cold—a mixture of indescribable elements that reminded him of the legendary Nine Nether Underworld, as if its gates had been opened.

“That direction... is the Zhenyang Imperial City…”

A change flickered in Li Qingqiu’s eyes.

Could something have happened in Zhenyang Imperial City?

By his estimate, Xu Ning and the others had left the mountain for nearly two months—they should be on their way back.

Feeling uneasy, he decided to send Little Eight to find Xu Ning, Li Sifeng, and Wu Man’er to check on their situation.

Little Eight wasn’t just fast—it had vision far keener than ordinary cultivators and could track auras.

Its speed in finding people far surpassed Li Qingqiu’s.

“All right, get back to work,” Li Qingqiu said, then turned and left.

Li Sijin, still immersed in the bright future he had painted, didn’t notice his unease.

As dusk approached, by a great river, Xu Ning led the Clear Sky Sect disciples forward.

Li Sifeng, Wu Man’er, and Zhang Yu were all present.

Most looked dispirited and dazed.

Li Sifeng, carrying the Emperor Mystic Sword on his back, turned to gaze at the distant mountains that rose like walls reaching the heavens, blocking his view.

They had already left Zhongtian Province, yet the battle from two days ago still haunted his mind.

“Stop looking back. We couldn’t save them. Besides, the Emperor’s forces couldn’t have caught everyone. Most should’ve escaped alive,” Zhang Yu said, patting Li Sifeng’s shoulder with a sigh.

Li Sifeng turned, and the two walked side by side.

After a while, Li Sifeng couldn’t help but ask, “What will the world become now?”

Zhang Yu’s expression was complicated.

“I don’t know. Throughout history, there has never been such an Emperor, nor such an event. We’ll wait for the Sect Master’s orders once we return.”

Li Sifeng cast his gaze toward Xu Ning, who was walking in the lead.

He was about to quicken his pace when he noticed someone approaching from ahead.

Not only him—the others also saw it.

It was a black-robed Daoist holding a horsetail whisk and wearing a sword at his waist.

He had a tall hat, flowing beard, and sharp brows.

His expression was cold as he walked along the riverbank, his robes billowing in the wind—like an unsheathed sword that could no longer hide its edge.

Xu Ning looked at the black-robed Daoist without emotion, though the others could all sense that this person was extraordinary.

When they were less than five zhang apart, the Daoist stopped and asked, “May I ask, are you all coming from Zhenyang?”

Xu Ning halted and replied, “Yes. You’re heading to the Zhenyang Imperial City?”

“The poor Daoist hails from Fengxia Mountain of Southern Chu, Daoist title Baishu. You may call me Daoist Baishu.

Judging from your attire, you seem to be from the martial world—perhaps even soldiers May I ask, what is the situation in Zhenyang now?” the black-robed Daoist asked solemnly after introducing himself.

Xu Ning studied him but didn’t reply immediately.

Zhang Yu stepped forward beside her and asked curiously, “Fengxia Mountain of Southern Chu—isn’t that one of the Two Saints of the Martial World?”

All the True Transmission Disciples stopped, turning their eyes to Daoist Baishu.

Facing Zhang Yu’s question, Daoist Baishu said modestly, “It’s only an empty title given by the martial folk. Fengxia Mountain is a place of quiet cultivation, with few disciples. It can hardly be called a sacred land.”

Li Sifeng approached and asked, “Two Saints of the Martial World? Such a grand title?”

Zhang Yu sighed.

“In today’s world, the name of the Two Saints has faded. But forty years ago—before the imperial court established the Three Founding Sects—the martial world across the Nine Provinces revered the Northern and Southern Saints. Fengxia Mountain, with its thousand-year history, once produced a National Preceptor and a general who ended an era of chaos. They believed that ‘human will can triumph over heaven,’ using martial arts to enter the Dao. That’s what my master told me—he greatly admired Fengxia Mountain.”

Listening to the praise, Daoist Baishu did not appear proud.

He merely shook his head helplessly and asked again, “Those are all empty titles. May I ask once more—what is happening in Zhenyang?”

Zhang Yu’s face turned grim.

He gritted his teeth and said, “Daoist, don’t go to the Zhenyang Imperial City. Demons are running rampant there, and under the Emperor’s command are countless demonic soldiers. They’re seizing people everywhere. The Coalition Army of the Seven Provinces has been crushed. The generals are fleeing for their lives. If you go now, you might be captured by the Forbidden Martial Guards and turned into a living ingredient for medicine.”

The True Transmission Disciples recalled the horrors they had witnessed two days prior, their faces paling.

Those ghastly figures on the battlefield still haunted their minds, chilling them to the bone.

After hearing this, Daoist Baishu didn’t frown nor show fear.

Expressionless, he simply said, “The calamity of mankind, foretold for a thousand years, has finally come. Thank you.”

With that, he stepped past Xu Ning’s group and continued toward the Zhenyang Imperial City.

Xu Ning tilted her head slightly, watching him from the corner of her eye.

“Your martial skill is strong,” she said, “but not as strong as Xuan Gong’s—let alone the Emperor’s. He commands legions of demonic soldiers.  If you go, it will be in vain. Your power might even feed his ambition.”

Daoist Baishu did not respond and pressed on firmly.

The thirty True Transmission Disciples watched his departing figure, each feeling an indescribable emotion.

None could tell whether this man did not believe them—or whether he walked with the resolve to die.

“Is he the only one from Fengxia Mountain?” Li Sifeng whispered to Zhang Yu.

Zhang Yu replied with a complex expression, “Surely not. But for someone to descend the mountain to save the world—he must be among the top martial masters of Fengxia Mountain.”

Li Sifeng shook his head.

“His martial skill is good, but only that—good.”

“Let’s move,” Xu Ning said, resuming her steps.

The others followed closely.

Caw—!

A sharp cry echoed from the sky.

Xu Ning looked up, her brows arching slightly.

A True Transmission Disciple exclaimed, “Isn’t that the Sect Master’s divine eagle?”

Everyone looked up to see the majestic figure of Little Eight circling high above.

Daoist Baishu turned his head, spotting the enormous black eagle, and also hearing the voices of the Clear Sky Sect disciples.

“To tame such a spirit eagle—their Sect Master must be extraordinary. Who would have thought such a remarkable person still walks this world? A pity... I cannot make his acquaintance while alive,” he thought.

Daoist Baishu looked up a few more times, then turned away, walking in the opposite direction of the Clear Sky Sect.

The river waves struck the banks, wind and sand swept across the desolate plains.

From Little Eight’s perspective, Daoist Baishu appeared so small—so insignificant—that he seemed unable to leave even the faintest trace behind.