Chapter 81: Heaven and Earth Resound, Ten Thousand Swords Pay Homage

So this is your reason for creating a rival, for letting your son face war the moment he ascends the throne? Isn’t that enough to choke an old man to death?

Ji Huo finally understood and tentatively asked, “Your Majesty, did you suspect the Crown Prince from the very beginning?”

The old emperor nodded and sighed. “The fourth prince is clever, but he prefers to take unorthodox paths, never the righteous one. If he were to become emperor, I fear the people of Great Zhou would suffer greatly.”

“As for the Crown Prince—upright, yet not lacking in strategy—he reminds me of my younger days. This throne must belong to him.”

Ji Huo fell silent, then after a while asked, “Your Majesty, how confident are you in this war?”

“At the very least, I can drag that old bastard down with me.” The old emperor gazed into the distance, at the flickering flames, as if seeing the Emperor of Liang. “I believe he thinks the same.”

Just how deep must this hatred go… Ji Huo shook his head, unable to comprehend.

“These years, the people of Great Zhou have grown too complacent, valuing culture over martial prowess, losing their true nature.”

The old emperor watched the flames burning brighter and laughed aloud:

“I wish to use my own blood to awaken the heirs to come, to awaken all the people of this land—to remind them that our Central Plains were won by force! That our sons must never lose their fighting spirit!”

“I am old, but I can still fight!”

“The sons of Great Zhou, the sons of the Central Plains, can still fight!”

His words rang out powerfully, brimming with killing intent, like an aging lion’s final roar.

Ji Huo listened in a daze, silent for a long time.

The next morning, after dawn, a commotion erupted on the distant mountain—shouts and cries, as though something had been discovered.

Ji Huo rubbed his eyes and saw the old emperor standing with his hands clasped behind his back, gazing up at the sky with keen interest.

The sky?

Ji Huo looked up, and his pupils contracted sharply.

The sky was a deep blue, not a cloud in sight, and a broad, white arc stretched boldly across the blazing sun—a spectacular sight.

Ji Huo’s lips trembled as he murmured, “A white rainbow crossing the sun is an omen of war.”

The old emperor chuckled, “That’s right—a white rainbow crossing the sun foretells battle. War is upon us.”

Why did he sound so pleased about it…

The old emperor rolled his neck, glanced at Ji Huo, and laughed, “Well, it’s time for me to go. Having you by my side on this final stretch has been a pleasure.”

With that, he set off toward Mount Tianjue, hands clasped behind his back, his steps unsteady. The wind carried his aged, hoarse voice as he chanted:

“Blades of ice and snow, swords of wind and sand, the years are poison, turning kings old.
Iron hooves thunder across a thousand miles, armies trampled, and I claim the throne.
Fifty years I’ve ruled the sun and moon, yet I return with the soul of a youth.”

It wasn’t exactly melodious, more like an impromptu poem.

Ji Huo watched the old emperor’s departing figure, then suddenly swept his sleeves with both hands, bowed respectfully, and declared in a clear voice:

“Ji Huo, a humble subject, respectfully bids Your Majesty farewell!”

The chanting paused for a moment, and he seemed to hear a faint, amused laugh.

…

Ji Huo did not go to Mount Tianjue to watch the battle. Instead, he sat quietly atop Mount Daxing, waiting for noon.

Before long, two surges of powerful energy erupted from the summit of Mount Tianjue, shooting straight into the sky. Sand and stones flew, grass, bamboo, and rocks all obliterated in an instant.

The entire mountain was swallowed by a tornado, interspersed with deafening explosions.

As the battle raged on, its reach grew ever wider. Suddenly, a blast of energy shot from the mountaintop and crashed into a neighboring peak, shattering it completely.

That peak was close—many wanderers were caught in the blast, untold numbers killed or injured.

Another surge swept across two more peaks, and the cries of those caught in its path were even more tragic.

As the fight escalated, the sky shifted, dark clouds swirling and tumbling, sometimes gathering, sometimes dispersing.

Ji Huo squinted, and through the chaos atop Mount Tianjue, he vaguely saw two giant dragons locked in a life-and-death struggle, their blood staining the world red.

“So this is the imperial dragon’s aura from Liang and Great Zhou…” He blinked, and the dragons vanished, the entire mountain swallowed by a sandstorm.

Many wanderers nearby had no time to retreat and were dragged into the storm, torn to shreds by the violent energies.

“Even without being true grandmasters, with the backing of a nation’s fortune and imperial aura, they can unleash power to rival any master…” Ji Huo mused. He looked around—his own little peak, being distant, suffered only heavy winds and dust, untouched by destruction.

Unlike those closer, whose fate was tragic—one misstep and they would be caught up in the deadly aftermath.

As noon approached, Ji Huo simply sat cross-legged on the ground, waiting patiently.

Suddenly!

Mount Tianjue fell eerily silent. The sandstorm and gales lost all momentum, settling gently.

Then, two blood-red pillars of light shot skyward, carrying the faint sound of dragon roars.

Everyone, whether in hiding or in the open, could feel the two mighty presences atop Mount Tianjue rapidly fading.

“Mutual destruction!” someone finally shouted, voice trembling.

The two emperors, in the end, had settled all past grievances by choosing mutual annihilation, departing together to the underworld.

For the people of Great Zhou and Liang, it was a day of sorrow.

At least while they ruled, the nation was at peace and the people prospered.

No one spoke; silence reigned.

Someone sighed softly, shaking their head.

Ji Huo’s gaze dropped. He could not call it sorrow—perhaps only a sense of melancholy.

“Wait! Look!” someone cried.

The sky was already thick with dark clouds.

The swirling dragon aura entered the clouds, but instead of piercing through, it merged within them. The clouds coiled and churned.

In the next moment, a beam of golden light broke through the clouds.

Two beams.

Three beams.

…

Tens of thousands of golden rays burst from the clouds.

The golden light was dazzling, brilliant beyond compare.

Amidst it, one could faintly see the vast shadow of a five-clawed golden dragon gliding through the sky.

That golden dragon was so immense it seemed to blot out the heavens.

“What kind of monster is that?!”

As the words left his lips, a sword suddenly flew from the hand of a swordsman nearby, burying itself in the ground, its hilt trembling toward the dark clouds.

A chorus of metallic rings filled the air—one after another, swords unsheathed themselves and stabbed into the earth, their hilts all quivering, pointing toward the golden light in the sky.

In that instant, throughout the entire Tianjue mountain range, the clanging of swords being drawn echoed everywhere.

Countless swords left their scabbards and plunged into the ground, their hilts all trembling toward the golden radiance above.

Throughout the land, every swordsman’s blade responded, leaping from its sheath to stand quivering, pointing toward Mount Tianjue.

From the great rivers to the wild mountains, all creation heard the clear, melodious sound of sword-song.

People in villages, in marketplaces, peasants in their fields—even a man far away in the Dragon Kingdom, brandishing a demon blade in the midst of slaughter—paused to look up at the dazzling golden sky, listening to the ringing of swords that resounded across the world.

“Master! The swords in the manor—” Hou Baixi hurried to the riverside, where he saw the Sword Sage gazing skyward, a thoughtful look upon his dark face, eyes shining.

He bowed slightly in that direction and said,

“Two emperors sacrificed to Heaven, and the dissipating dragon aura has finally drawn it forth.”

“Heaven and earth resound, ten thousand swords bow in worship—the peerless divine blade, the Sword of the Human Emperor.”