Chapter 125: The Grand Birthday Ceremony, the Focus of All, Time to End All Grievances
The valley was lush and verdant, spiritual energy rising thickly from the land. From afar, it looked like a place of ascension—dragons soaring, tigers leaping, and countless strands of vitality gathering here.
Shen Yanzhou stood upon the cliff, dressed in fluttering white robes, his bearing otherworldly, as though a banished immortal descended upon the mortal realm.
He was very patient, certain that Cui Yangming would pass through this place.
Half a day later, a grand red-lacquered carriage, drawn by several ink-scaled qilin horses, rolled through the mouth of the valley. The driver was an old man with a slightly hunched figure and a hooked nose, his aura unmistakably that of a Fourth-Rank martial grandmaster.
A carriage driver—yet already a Fourth-Rank Dragon-Elephant Realm grandmaster.
Shen Yanzhou cast a glance at them, then gently leapt down. His body turned into a streak of flowing light, descending lightly from midair to land right in front of the red-lacquered carriage.
The qilin horses were startled, rearing and neighing. The old driver, experienced and composed, pulled lightly yet firmly on the reins, calming them back into order.
“Who are you?” the old man frowned, not recognizing Shen Yanzhou.
Shen Yanzhou did not answer, merely gazing at the carriage with faint interest.
“Shen Yanzhou?”
A calm, mild voice came from within the carriage. A fair hand wearing a thumb ring lifted the curtain, revealing a young man in purple robes. He was handsome, with eyes tinged faintly with violet, exuding a strange brilliance—like several suns rising and sinking in his mind, awe-inspiring and dazzling.
He was none other than the Cui Clan of Hejian’s current prodigy—Cui Yangming, who was said to walk surrounded by divine suns, earning him the title of “Young Lord of the Divine Sun.”
“You recognize me. That’s good,” Shen Yanzhou said with a faint smile.
Cui Yangming’s eyes flickered with surprise as he looked at him. “I’ve heard of you. The so-called Banished Immortal of Great Qian, one who, at such a young age, has already reached dual Fourth Rank in the Martial Path. Why do you stop my carriage?”
“Guess,” Shen Yanzhou replied lightly.
“So, you intend to kill me? For what reason?” Cui Yangming asked, his tone unconcerned. This place was near the Cui Clan’s territory—any disturbance would bring their experts rushing over.
Moreover, though Shen Yanzhou was strong, he himself was far from weak. A born genius, cultivated with endless resources and heritage, he had long since surpassed his peers.
Even among the Daoist sect’s most outstanding youths, few could rival him.
In truth, he wanted to test Shen Yanzhou—to see if this “Banished Immortal” lived up to the name.
“Because your surname is Cui,” Shen Yanzhou said calmly.
Cui Yangming’s expression instantly darkened. As the Cui Clan’s eldest legitimate son, that surname had always been his pride.
“Courting death!”
He rose abruptly, the divine sun halo behind his head blazing, as though it would pierce the heavens, radiating boundless divine brilliance.
Shen Yanzhou gave a soft chuckle. He had no patience to waste time. He simply raised a hand and struck—plain and direct, without flourish.
“Be careful, Young Master!” the old driver reacted instantly, his face twisting in alarm as he rushed forward to intercept.
But he still underestimated Shen Yanzhou’s casual strike.
With a muffled boom, the old man exploded into mist. He didn’t even have time to scream—body and soul annihilated.
Cui Yangming froze at the sight. A Fourth-Rank Dragon-Elephant Realm grandmaster—killed by a single palm?
A chill surged up his spine. Without hesitation, he prepared to summon his clan for help.
But Shen Yanzhou didn’t give him the chance. With a flick of his wrist, the divine sun halo behind Cui Yangming’s head shattered into fragments. The young man gave a muffled groan, coughed a mouthful of blood, and fell unconscious on the spot.
Shen Yanzhou had restrained his strength precisely—enough to stun, not to kill.
Then, with a wave of his sleeve, a pocket world opened, and he collected Cui Yangming into it.
He didn’t bother cleaning up the traces. Just like his arrival, Shen Yanzhou drifted away without a sound, not even stirring a cloud.
Before long, the disappearance of Cui Yangming outside the clan grounds caused an uproar in the Cui Clan. One elder after another rushed out, searching frantically around the red-lacquered carriage. Some even brought forth ancient relics, trying to trace the remnants of his aura.
“Who dares do such a thing—abducting our Qilin Son on Cui Clan territory!” furious roars echoed throughout the clan.
In the Imperial Capital, within the Palace of the Yearly Rites, Empress Cui Jingyi soon learned that Cui Yangming had been abducted.
The news both shocked and enraged her. Her birthday was approaching, and the Cui Clan was on the verge of fully seizing control of Great Qian.
For someone to act against their clan’s Qilin Son at such a time—was that not a direct provocation?
“Investigate! I want to know who dares such audacity!”
“Also, recall personnel from the Bureau of Immortal Inspection and the Chilin Guards. Never mind the Beast Tide for now,” Cui Jingyi commanded furiously.
Though Cui Yangming was officially the Cui Clan of Hejian’s Qilin Son, he was in truth her own son.
Compared to the Crown Prince, Xia Chongming, Cui Yangming had always been her favored and trusted child.
Xia Chongming, now overseeing the court, was equally shocked by his cousin’s disappearance. Ignoring even the Southern Border’s Beast Tide incursion, he immediately ordered the Bureau of Immortal Inspection and the Chilin Guards to prioritize the investigation.
In the Imperial Capital, undercurrents swirled. Envoys from various tributary states had arrived, and all the renowned immortal sects and martial schools across Great Qian had sent representatives to attend the Empress’s birthday ceremony.
Though the Southern Border was in flames, with beasts raging and the Demon Suppression Army pushing north while great clans struggled to defend, the capital remained tranquil—its moonlit rivers serene, its nights peaceful.
Both sides of the streets were hung with festive red lanterns, and every morning, workers scrubbed the Bluestone Long Street clean, spotless and gleaming.
Shen Yanzhou hid himself within the capital, quietly observing it all unfold.
That night, he visited Chunshui Pavilion, where he found the famed courtesan Ning Kui—who was, in truth, Princess Ningyun of Beiyu. The two had nearly shared a fleeting encounter once before.
This time, Shen Yanzhou made no effort to hide his purpose. Though Ningyun was shocked and attempted to resist, with a light tap from his finger, she was frozen in place—watching helplessly as he took out a Shadow Stone of Voice and Image from his bundle.
“What are you trying to do?” Ningyun gritted out.
“I wish to make a trade with your Beiyu Empress—that is, your aunt,” Shen Yanzhou said casually.
Ningyun’s expression changed drastically. He knew even her true identity? Then that night had been deliberate?
Shame and fury burned within her. It had been her first such experience, and the memory made her sick for days.
And now she realized—she had been toyed with.
“What qualifications do you have to negotiate with us?” Ningyun said coldly.
“Shouldn’t Beiyu already know who I am?” Shen Yanzhou replied indifferently.
Ningyun fell silent at once.
Of course she knew—he was the illegitimate son of Emperor Mingde.
Through the Shadow Stone of Voice and Image, Shen Yanzhou easily connected with the woman once known in the original story as the “Daughter of Fortune”—the remarkable woman who later ascended the Dao through commerce.
“Well, well, Princess Ningyun seems to have stumbled,” Chanzi Jin said with a teasing smile. Her scholarly poise was elegant, her eyes bright as stars, her skin white as snow, lips soft and crimson.
Ningyun ignored her, merely grinding her teeth in silence.
Then Chanzi Jin stepped aside, and another figure appeared in the projection—a tall, peerless woman clad in a bright yellow robe embroidered with dragons, her face hidden by a crown, eyes deep and cold, radiating imperial majesty.
The Empress of Beiyu.
“So young—and already dual First Rank in the Martial Path?” the Beiyu Empress regarded Shen Yanzhou through the projection, her tone filled with surprise.
She had inherited the Shamanic Arts and reached the First-Rank Grand Ancestor Realm within that system—she could clearly sense the traits Shen Yanzhou deliberately revealed.
Across all of the Nine Provinces, there were no more than nine First-Rank beings.
And that count included Tantai Yuxian, who had recently ascended to the First Rank in the Way of the Sword.
As for one who had reached dual First Rank in two separate systems—such a thing was almost unthinkable.
It could be said that Shen Yanzhou now stood truly unrivaled beneath the heavens. Even those ancient monsters of the Daoist Sect might not match him.
How had he cultivated so?
That infant who once returned from the Nether through the sacrificial rites of several Second-Rank Great Sacrificers from Beiyu—how had he grown into this?
“Intriguing,” she thought.
“What kind of trade do you seek with me?” the Beiyu Empress asked calmly.
Shen Yanzhou replied unhurriedly, “A trade that concerns the fate and fortune of all Nine Provinces.”
As he spoke, he gestured for her to dismiss everyone else.
The Beiyu Empress frowned. Had he not possessed such strength, she would never have humored him.
But after a moment’s thought, she lifted her pale wrist, and the many figures within her grand hall withdrew immediately.
“Heaven’s order has been lost—this is destined. The fall of Great Qian is fate as well. Beiyu, as the origin of the Shamanic Arts and the true inheritance of humanity, will bear the burden of renewal in the coming cataclysm.”
Shen Yanzhou recalled the original fate written in the story—and Ye Xingchen’s memories of the future.
Indeed, when Great Qian descended into chaos and karmic flames, it was this Beiyu Empress who, with immense courage, marched her armies south from the Northern Desert Prefecture, sweeping away the decayed noble clans and restoring stability to the north.
In that other story, where the Heaven’s Mandated Protagonist rose to uphold the order of the Nine Provinces, her role had been indispensable.
“The Banished Immortal wants to overthrow Great Qian?” The Beiyu Empress was astonished. Shen Yanzhou was, after all, Emperor Mingde’s illegitimate son—he too should have a rightful claim to the throne.
“No. I intend to reshape Great Qian—reshape the Heavenly Order.”
“Beiyu’s orthodoxy stands foremost; you should understand better than anyone how vital the Heavenly Order is. For years, Beiyu has sought war against Great Qian—was it not also to reclaim the Heavenly Order?”
“Unfortunately,” Shen Yanzhou said calmly, “the Heavenly Order has already been lost, completely dissipated between Heaven and Earth. Back then, it was the Ancestral Dragon Emperor himself who shattered it.”
This was one of the hidden truths mentioned in the original storyline.
The “Heavenly Order” could be understood as the governing law that maintained the balance of this world. Once that order was broken, all rules would descend into chaos.
And within that chaos, karmic fires burned and sins arose—until the barrier encircling the lands of the Nine Provinces fractured.
In Shen Yanzhou’s understanding, that barrier existed as the manifestation of the Heavenly Order itself, created to preserve equilibrium within the Nine Provinces.
Order was the Heavenly Order itself.
As for what lay beyond that barrier, Shen Yanzhou did not know—nor had the original narrative ever revealed it.
For now, the most critical task was to restore the Heavenly Order—to reforge the laws of the world, and reunite the fortune of the Nine Provinces.
The Beiyu Empress listened quietly, falling into contemplation.
According to the ancient omens of the ancestral court, the fragments of the Heavenly Order lay scattered within Great Qian. Only by gathering them once more and rebuilding the order could the cataclysm of the Nine Provinces be averted.
When the Ancestral Dragon Emperor first emerged, he broke all shackles and overturned the old order. The many Daoist orthodoxies of the Nine Provinces saw him as a heretic—but his grandeur was undeniable. He founded the Great Qian Dynasty, creating a nation that united all sects and schools beneath one throne.
Sadly, his act came at an immense cost, and in the end, he was consumed by his own creation—vanishing without a trace.
Had the Ancestral Dragon Emperor still lived, he would surely have possessed the means to curb the decline of the Nine Provinces’ fortune. Unfortunately, he was gone.
“What do you wish me to do?” the Beiyu Empress asked.
Her true goal had never been to conquer Great Qian or seize its lands, but to recover the Heavenly Order—to realign the Nine Provinces’ destiny and restore balance to the world, so that humanity could survive the coming cataclysm.
Beyond the realm of the Nine Provinces, ever since the dawn of existence, the evils of all beings had gathered, their karmic burdens coalescing into an inconceivably dreadful existence. These entities, formed from all the negative emotions and malice of the world, were countless times more terrifying than any demonic god.
When the Nine Provinces’ barrier—the embodiment of its fortune—was finally dispersed, those existences would descend, bringing with them the purest hatred toward all living things, bringing forth the apocalypse itself.
This was the secret preserved by Beiyu’s ancestral court—
the very reason the coming Cataclysm was fated to occur.
Some of Beiyu’s “living fossils,” however, believed differently: they claimed that the Ancestral Dragon Emperor, born upon this land, had been a pawn created by those existences, meant to shatter the barrier of the Nine Provinces completely.
Yet the Emperor’s wisdom had been boundless. In the course of cultivation, he had seen through it all. His sudden disappearance might well have been his own doing—refusing to be anyone’s puppet.
Thus, Beiyu still held deep respect for the Ancestral Dragon Emperor of Great Qian.
“Lead your armies into the Northern Desert Prefecture. Sweep across the northern frontiers,” Shen Yanzhou said.
The Beiyu Empress’s gaze sharpened. “The Ten-Thousand-Mile Sword Court’s Tantai Yuxian has broken through to First Rank in the Way of the Sword and now suppresses the entire Northern Desert Prefecture. If our army marches south, she will surely intervene.”
“Do not worry—she will not stand in your way. Simply give the order. When the time comes, let your forces march south, strike directly into the heartlands of the great northern clans. The foundations of those families—led by the Cui Clan of Hejian—shall be yours to claim,” Shen Yanzhou said.
The Beiyu Empress narrowed her eyes slightly. She hadn’t expected such confidence from him. Could Tantai Yuxian’s breakthrough have something to do with him? After all, it was known that Shen Yanzhou had appeared at the Ten-Thousand-Mile Sword Court not long ago.
Beiyu had always kept close watch over key figures of Great Qian, and Shen Yanzhou, as Emperor Mingde’s illegitimate son, had long been under observation.
“You’re not afraid that once my armies advance south, I’ll continue on to surround the Imperial Capital and bring the throne to its knees?” she asked calmly.
“I trust in Your Majesty’s sincerity—and magnanimity,” Shen Yanzhou replied simply.
The Empress gave a soft laugh. “Interesting.”
“Very well. This trade—I accept.”
——
Shen Yanzhou returned to the Chilin Guards headquarters but did not reveal his presence. With a flick of his sleeve, he veiled himself from their detection, then made his way into the Heavenly Prison—where the members of the Demon Suppression Prince’s Mansion were being held.
The human puppet Shen Tian, along with clan elder Shen Zhigao and several others, were all imprisoned together.
In another cell, he saw Yu Chenyu and Chunchao.
Unlike the anxious and fearful members of the Prince’s Mansion, Yu Chenyu appeared calm and composed, sitting cross-legged on a carpet, graceful as ever.
Upon entering the Heavenly Prison, Shen Yanzhou no longer bothered to conceal himself, stepping openly before Yu Chenyu.
“You’ve returned?” Yu Chenyu’s tone carried no surprise. She raised her gaze slightly, giving him a faint glance.
Across from them, the prisoners of the Prince’s Mansion widened their eyes in disbelief. Shen Zhigao’s breath quickened—none of them had expected Shen Yanzhou to appear here.
“Yes. I’ve come to take you all out,” Shen Yanzhou said with a small smile.
“No need,” Yu Chenyu replied coolly. “I find it rather peaceful here.”
“Are you certain? Things are about to get quite lively. You really don’t wish to see for yourself?” Shen Yanzhou asked.
At that, Yu Chenyu hesitated. Truth be told, the Demon Suppression King’s sudden rebellion had taken even her by surprise.
In her expectations, he shouldn’t have acted so rashly.
It could only be said—they had all been forced into this.
“Shen Yanzhou, quickly take us out of here! Bring us back to the Southern Border…”
“When the time comes, we’ll speak to Jingxiao on your behalf and earn you merit!”
From the opposite cell, Shen Zhigao and the others hurriedly stood and called out when they realized Shen Yanzhou intended to free the Princess Consort.
Even the human puppet Shen Tian, despite his hatred toward Shen Yanzhou, looked at him now with a trace of desperate hope.
“Heh, I almost forgot about you lot,” Shen Yanzhou said, turning his head with a faint laugh. He extended a finger and tapped lightly.
Pop, pop, pop…
In the void, several blossoms of blood bloomed—and withered instantly.
Shen Zhigao looked down in shock at the gaping hole in his chest, disbelief frozen on his face before he collapsed with a dull thud.
The other elders shared the same fate.
Yu Chenyu hadn’t expected Shen Yanzhou to act so decisively—here, within the headquarters of the Chilin Guards! Did he truly fear nothing?
“Should I let this one live?” Shen Yanzhou asked, holding the key to the Heavenly Prison as he approached and unlocked her cell.
Yu Chenyu knew he referred to the human puppet Shen Tian. Her tone was indifferent. “If you wish to spare him, do so. If not, kill him.”
Shen Tian’s eyes widened in disbelief as he turned toward Yu Chenyu. “M-Mother…”
Shen Yanzhou smiled. “So you admit it then—this creature isn’t truly your son.”
Yu Chenyu replied coolly, “When did I ever deny it?”
Shen Yanzhou raised his hand and ended it swiftly. Shen Tian’s body fell lifeless to the ground.
And the instant he died, Shen Yanzhou felt a surge of boundless hatred flood toward him from the unseen void—another wave of negative emotion absorbed.
“I’ve reached First Rank already,” Shen Yanzhou mused softly. “I wonder how difficult it’ll be to break through the world’s shackles and reach the Transcendent Rank.”
By all logic, no Transcendent could be born within the Nine Provinces.
But his system was unique—perhaps it could shatter even that rule.
“You advanced quickly,” Yu Chenyu remarked. She could sense his current power, and though her heart was usually as calm as still water, she could not help but feel a flicker of shock.
Already First Rank?
Even she had not yet reached that level.
“Just luck,” Shen Yanzhou said with a smile. He lifted his sleeve, revealing the world within, and with one motion, collected Chunchao and the others. Then, with his other hand, he drew Yu Chenyu by the waist—and vanished into the void.
“Let go of me. I can walk on my own.”
Yu Chenyu’s annoyed voice came from the emptiness; it seemed his hand had not been entirely well-behaved.
“So many complaints. If the Chilin Guards arrive, you won’t be walking anywhere.”
“With your cultivation, do you still fear the Chilin Guards?”
“Not fear—just reluctance to raise my hand against former comrades.”
“Heh…”
In the blink of an eye, the two vanished from the Chilin Guards’ headquarters.
When the patrolling guards finally realized something was wrong and rushed to the Heavenly Prison, they found the elders of the Demon Suppression Prince’s Mansion all dead—while the Princess Consort and others had vanished without a trace. The guards were stunned.
Shen Yanzhou followed the logic that the most dangerous place was often the safest, and so he settled the Princess Consort, Yu Chenyu, in the quiet courtyard he maintained within the Chilin Guards’ compound.
“It seems your trip to Fanzhou told you everything you needed to know, didn’t it?”
Yu Chenyu assumed that after Shen Yanzhou had reunited with Emperor Mingde, he must have absorbed the national fortune that Great Qian had accumulated over a thousand years—thus breaking through to his current realm.
“Yes. It was you who brought me to Beiyu, wasn’t it? You had the Great Sacrificers there perform their rites to pull me back from the Netherworld?” Shen Yanzhou said with a nod.
“Are you trying to thank me now? Don’t bother.”
Yu Chenyu clearly didn’t care.
No matter what, it was still true that she had once intended to use Shen Yanzhou.
He understood her nature well. As Beiyu’s most deeply planted spy—so deep that even the Beiyu Empress herself did not know her true identity—Yu Chenyu was far from a simple woman.
Having hidden for so long, she could not possibly be ruled by sentiment. Still, judging deeds rather than hearts, he found no reason to reproach her.
“The day after tomorrow, watch a grand performance with me.”
He left her there and departed alone.
For him, everything was ready—all that was left was the final spark.
That very night, the Beiyu army stationed beyond the Northern Desert Prefecture began its march—black as an endless tide, sweeping forward.
The one who should have been defending the Northern Desert Prefecture, Tantai Yuxian, did not appear to stop them. Her absence shocked every Daoist and martial power within the prefecture.
Without the intervention of that First-Rank Sword Immortal, the Beiyu army advanced unopposed, charging deep into the region. Great families and clans scrambled in panic, hastily mustering forces for defense.
But how could their disorganized troops compare to Beiyu’s seasoned army?
It was a battle of absolute domination—like crushing dry weeds. Before the night had even passed, the great clans within the Northern Desert Prefecture had all but fallen, fleeing southward in desperation.
——
“What happened to Tantai Yuxian? Why hasn’t she acted? Why isn’t she defending against Beiyu’s invasion?”
“This cannot continue. Send word to the family—dispatch reinforcements immediately. If it comes to it, activate the Sacred Origin Plan ahead of schedule.”
Inside the Imperial City, Empress Cui Jingyi was both shocked and furious. At such a critical time, Beiyu’s incursion was disastrous for Great Qian’s capital.
With enemies pressing from both north and south, the Great Qian court was thrown into turmoil. Even if the Cui Clan of Hejian eventually seized control of the government, it would only be a ruined throne left behind.
The Sacred Origin Plan was a secret scheme that the Cui Clan of Hejian had plotted for centuries—the refinement of the so-called Sacred Origin Pills, to cultivate a corps of martial grandmasters.
Though their numbers were small, every one of them could face a thousand foes alone.
Not only the Cui Clan—other noble houses entrenched in the Imperial Capital also lost patience and began mobilizing their forces to send reinforcements.
With this new strength joining the fight, the war’s balance momentarily steadied.
In the Hall of Cultivated Mind, Emperor Mingde calmly burned incense and turned the pages of his books, showing no intention of involving himself in politics.
Everything outside seemed to have nothing to do with him.
“For the sake of our years as husband and wife, drink this—and die peacefully.”
Boom! The doors of the Hall of Cultivated Mind were flung open. Empress Cui Jingyi entered, frost glinting in her phoenix eyes, carrying a bowl of specially prepared medicinal soup.
Behind her stood Crown Prince Xia Chongming, his expression stunned, disbelief written all over his face. Clearly, he had just learned the truth of his parentage from his mother’s own lips.
“So soon? You couldn’t even wait a little longer?” Emperor Mingde sighed, gazing at the bowl.
Cui Jingyi’s tone was cold. “Whatever means you have left, abandon them. The Six Ministries and all court factions are already under my Cui Clan’s control. The Bureau of Immortal Inspection will not interfere with the transfer of imperial power. Once the royal surname changes to Cui, I’ll even grant you a fine jade effigy to stand beside the royal tombs.”
“If you insist on fighting for pride—using the Imperial Dragon Qi for one last struggle—then the Cui Clan will help you find dignity.”
Emperor Mingde stared at the bowl for a long moment, then finally took it and drank it down in one motion.
Cui Jingyi watched every drop go down, her heart settling at last.
“Tomorrow, during my birthday ceremony, you will appear. Claim illness and pass the throne to Chongming,” she said coolly.
No royal kinsman from Dragon-Guarding Mountain had come to see him—clearly, even the imperial clan had lost faith in Emperor Mingde.
Everything was unfolding just as her brother, Cui Zhenghong, had predicted.
Outside the Hall of Cultivated Mind, the Grand Preceptor and Imperial Uncle Cui Zhenghong was waiting. The two conferred briefly and decided to attend the birthday ceremony together the next day.
Envoys from every nation and representatives of every sect would gather then—a perfect moment for the Cui Clan’s ascendance to shine before the world.
Crown Prince Xia Chongming followed them in a daze. Though part of him hesitated, recalling Emperor Mingde’s years of guidance, the thought that he would soon ascend the throne filled him with elation.
It was only a pity that his clever strategist, Ye Xingchen, had died in Fanzhou and never returned.
——
By the next day, the square outside the Zhengyang Tower was overflowing with guests. Bells chimed in unison, and a sea of heads filled the streets as envoys and sect representatives streamed down Zhengyang Road toward the Grand Birthday Ceremony.
Empress Cui Jingyi, gorgeously dressed, stood atop the high platform, dignified and majestic. Beside her, Emperor Mingde appeared frail and weak, barely able to stand without her support.
Crown Prince Xia Chongming breathed heavily, waiting for the moment the throne would finally be his.
Ministers and nobles arrived one after another, taking their seats in the grand plaza. The wars outside seemed to have no effect on the court’s lavish festivities.
Emperor Mingde’s weakened state worried some ministers, but most bore indifferent faces—they had already pledged allegiance to the Cui Clan of Hejian.
The foreign envoys and sect representatives, unaware of the court’s internal turmoil, came forward to express concern for the emperor.
“His Majesty suffers from a lingering illness,” Empress Cui Jingyi explained with a gentle sigh. “Were it not for the importance of this day, he would not have appeared at all.”
Behind her, within the Zhengming Tower, stood numerous elders of the Cui Clan of Hejian, watching the spectacle below with smiles on their lips.
They had waited a long time for this day.
The scheme to usurp the throne—a matter of generations—had finally succeeded. Soon, this vast land would bear the surname Cui.
The birthday ceremony began smoothly. Before the eighteen golden jade steps, the officiants read aloud the rites of the day.
Then the officials, divided into two ranks, presented their offerings in turn, followed by foreign envoys and honored guests.
Everything went perfectly. Empress Cui Jingyi, who had feared some last gambit from Emperor Mingde or interference from the Nether Cult or Beiyu, was pleasantly surprised when nothing happened.
She maintained her poised, serene smile throughout.
Boom!
Just as the ceremony reached the ancestral offering, an earth-shattering explosion thundered from outside the capital. A surge of murderous aura swept in like a storm.
At the end of Vermilion Bird Street, from within the Dragon-Tiger Institute, a disheveled figure—chained hand and foot—burst forth in a torrent of blood. He rampaged through the ranks of the Chilin Guards and imperial soldiers, sending bodies flying.
The Mad Martial Saint, long self-sealed within the Martial Institute, had emerged.
He was a First-Rank Martial Path cultivator at the Heaven-opening Realm—a peerless powerhouse—now maddened beyond reason, slaughtering all in his path, especially those with strong blood energy.
On the ceremonial grounds, countless generals froze in shock, then recoiled in horror.
Envoys and guests scattered in panic—none had expected such a powerhouse to appear now of all times.
A First-Rank being—so few existed in the world! Who could he be?
The most furious among them was, of course, Empress Cui Jingyi. She had believed everything secured, yet someone still dared to ruin her day.
But the Cui Clan had long been prepared. Several of their elders immediately appeared, sitting cross-legged in the four corners, bodies shrouded in mist. One by one, they brought forth ancestral artifacts and set up a great formation to suppress the Mad Martial Saint.
In a short while, the chaos subsided. Ministers, envoys, and guests alike were left shaken but unharmed.
Empress Cui Jingyi exhaled softly and raised a graceful hand. “Merely the tricks of a jumping clown—hardly worth our concern. I beg your pardon, esteemed guests.”
She cast a glance at Emperor Mingde, not believing him capable of orchestrating this. At this point, surely he had given up.
“It’s time to announce the main event,” Cui Jingyi said, urging Emperor Mingde to proceed.
Crown Prince Xia Chongming trembled, his breath quickening. The moment of ascension was almost upon him.
A eunuch arranged by the Cui Clan stepped forward with a scroll of Dragon Qi, preparing to hand it to the emperor.
“Wait.”
A voice suddenly rang out across the ceremony.
Before Empress Cui Jingyi could even react, a young man stepped out from the void behind her—his features clear and refined, strikingly familiar.
Her pupils constricted, her heart nearly leapt from her chest.
Below the Zhengyang Tower, an uproar erupted. The ministers recognized him instantly—Shen Yanzhou!
None had expected him to appear here, of all places—so boldly, standing beside the Empress herself.
But how had he gotten in?
With so many powerhouses present, how had no one sensed him?