Chapter 1487: Civil Arts as Swords, Martial Arts as Sabers

Chapter 1487: Civil Arts as Swords, Martial Arts as Sabers

Editor: EndlessFantasy Translation

However, her impulsive action triggered a chaotic reaction in the golden vortex.

Origin golden lightning surged, pushing back her slender hand as if it were an intruder in this realm.

The world gradually settled as the golden vortex subsided.

The crane trembled with fear, beads of sweat dotting his forehead.

Surveying the aftermath, he quivered as he voiced his question, “Who was that assailant just now?”

“A human,” the tiger growled, certainty in its voice.

...

They all understood that the attacker must have been human.

Claiming Trevon Neal as her child was certainly peculiar; after all, Trevon’s mother was Heather Sage.

“Fetch the kithara master from the human race. Perhaps he can use the soul-gathering song to resurrect the old fox,” the crane suggested.

“I fear resurrection is impossible. Both body and soul are obliterated, and the soul imprint shattered to naught. There’s nothing left to gather, rendering the soul-gathering song futile,” a saint beast lamented.

The realization settled in: the nine-tailed fox was likely gone, beyond resurrection.

“Only one proficient in time could rewind Nine-Tails from the past,” the white crane proposed after a somber pause.

“With Nine-Tails’ cultivation, who would be willing to endure the universe’s origin backlash to aid in such a resurrection?” the dragon questioned with authority.

Even if such a person could bring back the nine-tailed fox, the cost would be astronomical.

Despite their sighs, thoughts of revenge were absent among these saint beasts.

The sudden attack was undeniably terrifying!

Meanwhile, in the Northern King Residence on Earth, night had fallen.

Heather Sage and the two children were preparing to retire for the evening.

Judith Neal, full of energy, adamantly resisted sleep, pestering her father to stay up a bit longer.

In contrast, Trevon Neal, obedient as ever, had already retired to his room, adorned with a silver wrist guard—a virtual artifact enabling him to traverse into the Second Universe at will.

Though Trevon followed his father’s advice, his curiosity about the world beyond was evident as he stole glances at his parents through the window before settling into bed and slipping into the Second Universe.

“He’s still too young,” Braydon Neal remarked softly as he gazed out the window, addressing Trevon’s curiosity about the outside world.

Concern etched Heather’s features as she voiced her worry, “Will Trevon be safe alone out there?”

Sensing the anomaly in Trevon’s aura upon his entry into the Second Universe, his parents feared for his well-being.

How could a child so young fall asleep so easily?

“Trevon is sensible and will heed our advice. Let’s not worry too much,” Braydon reassured her.

“But we know how cruel the world can be. Trevon is barely five years old!”

Heather’s anxiety mounted, fearing Trevon might inadvertently reveal Earth’s location, inviting catastrophe.

Taking her cold hands in his, Braydon offered solace, “Trevon will inevitably encounter such dangers sooner or later. We must trust her judgment. Has the capital been peaceful in the years I’ve been away?”

“If I say it hasn’t…” Heather trailed off, seeking reassurance.

“Then we’ll handle it,” Braydon responded with a gentle smile.

“I knew you’d say that. But it’s true. The country is flourishing now, and the capital’s order is firmly established. It reaches every corner, and no one dares to defy it. All 23 provinces are in compliance,” Heather reported, her authority stemming from her role overseeing the heavenly sword and managing the capital’s palace.

Indeed, the country had transformed significantly since Braydon’s youth.

Braydon straightened up, hands clasped behind his back, and looked at the bright moon.

“You’re still too idealistic. What we witness here is the result of our generation’s rise. Our influence spans far and wide, quelling dissent at every turn.”

“The aristocratic and powerful families are adept at biding their time. They see you as the sword hanging over their heads, and me as the knife poised to strike,” he continued. “With these deterrents in place, they dare not make any reckless moves. Their compliance is merely surface-level.”

“But if the threat of our authority wanes, chaos will ensue within a century. The aristocratic families will vie for control, the powerful families will seize power, and the sects will rebel against the capital,” Braydon cautioned, his tone revealing a deep understanding of the major powers’ true intentions.

“In our country’s long history, the aristocratic families have always played a crucial role. Each genius born into these families shapes their destiny,” Heather added softly, her words carrying profound implications.

Aristocratic and powerful families were intertwined with the nation’s fate.

Their prosperity signaled the nation’s prosperity.

The emergence of martial arts prodigies who had entered into the divine realm could live for a thousand years.

When a martial artist had achieved great success, those around them would benefit greatly.

Parents and descendants alike were blessed.

In a hundred years, they would become an aristocratic family; in a thousand, a powerful family!

The more prodigies their nation produced, the greater the proliferation of powerful and aristocratic families.

“I’m afraid the future powerful and aristocratic families will all be from the Northern Army,” Heather remarked softly.

“They wouldn’t dare.” Braydon’s eyes gleamed with determination.

Heather sighed, resigned. “This trend isn’t easily reversed. It’s a force beyond individual control. Consider this: if every Northern Army man reaches the divine and saint realms, wouldn’t they use spirit herbs to extend their parents’ lives and bolster their cultivation?

“It would be unfilial not to do so. As a Northern Army man, you cannot turn a blind eye. Our people don’t shirk familial duty; it’s ingrained in our ethos.

“How could one so unfilial belong to the Northern Army? Our unity has defied outside influence, ensuring our integrity,” she continued.

“By aiding their parents and setting a martial foundation for their offspring, they secure a millennium of life and witness forty generations of progeny!

“Envision forty generations! Even with modest numbers, a thousand descendants after ten generations would burgeon to over a million in forty. With such a lineage, would you call it merely powerful or aristocratic families?”

…

Heather spoke softly, emphasizing the perpetual emergence of new aristocratic and powerful families as long as martial prowess and prodigious talents endured.

They were inexorable, impervious to extinction.

But they could evolve.

That was enlightenment, Heather’s aspiration—to educate the masses as the daughter of the civil arts fate.

Braydon listened intently, his gaze fixed on his wife.

After a prolonged silence, he chuckled.

“What are you staring at?” Heather said, pinching Braydon’s arm, a mix of shyness and annoyance.

“Hahaha!” Braydon’s laughter echoed across the capital, a jovial sound laden with relief.

Behind that smile lay complete assurance.

Even if all the Northern Army descendants vanished, Heather alone could still exert control over the capital, the Nine Prefectures, and beyond.

Under the moon’s glow, husband and wife conversed, their son Trevon traversing the Second Universe.

The Milky Way Empire replicated the external world to forge an empire in the Second Universe.

But such advancement came at a price.

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