A Pawn's Passage

Qi Xuansu greatly admired a saying that one must have the courage to act when the moment comes.

This was clearly the moment, so Qi Xuansu had no choice but to act boldly.

Qi Xuansu was responsible and resolute, making a decision in an instant and willingly taking accountability.

If things went well, everything afterward would be easy to justify. But if things failed, Qi Xuansu would have no room to deflect blame and would never rise again.

Thus, this was a gamble of fate.

Qi Xuansu fully understood the stakes yet still chose to proceed.

It was late at night by the time Qi Xuansu rushed to the Yu royal palace. At first glance, everything looked the same, with strict security and Spirit Guards everywhere, all of which were arranged by him and under his control.

Qi Xuansu walked through halls and corridors toward the King’s bedchamber with Shangguan Ya in tow.

Xu Jiaorong had to guard the Water Palace, while the two first-rank Spirit Guards were tasked with arresting Chen Shuhua.

Chen Jianqiu, Chen Jianchou, Han Yongfeng, and Lu Yuting were all too weak. In the event of danger, they would not be of any help to Qi Xuansu but would drag him down instead.

The only one who could genuinely assist him was Shangguan Ya.

Of course, Qi Xuansu also prepared several contingencies, such as the pages from the Scripture of Zuriel.

Since he had already committed to bold action, he did not mind going even further. He withdrew 8,300 marks of divine power from the Water Palace reserves, bringing his total up to 10,000 marks, just in case.

By the time Qi Xuansu reached the King’s bedchamber, he found it pitch-black and deathly cold. With a flick of his finger, he relit the many candles inside.

The lights brightened the hall, illuminating the bed, which still had its curtains drawn.

Qi Xuansu strode toward the bed and pulled open the curtains without hesitation.

In that instant, his unease reached its peak. His whole body was tense, as if a top-tier assassin might be hiding behind the drapes.

But to Qi Xuansu’s surprise, there was no assassin behind the curtains, only the King of the Yu Kingdom.

Unlike before, the King was actually sitting up now.

Perhaps it was the return of vitality before death, but his complexion had unexpectedly improved, almost like when Qi Xuansu first visited him. At the very least, he could speak again.

The King spoke first. “Second Deputy Qi, thank you for taking care of me lately.”

These words were deeply ironic.

Qi Xuansu had stationed so many Spirit Guards here, yet still ended up a step behind.

But Qi Xuansu did not get angry. He simply said, “There is one thing I still don’t understand.”

The King leaned against the bedframe. His old and withered face showed a faint smile as he said, “Do you wish to know whether I was forced or willingly took part in this?”

Qi Xuansu scoffed. “That’s no longer a question. Judging from your attitude, you clearly participated willingly. You might even be one of the masterminds. You and Chief Deputy Chen performed quite the duet and fooled us all.”

The King smiled without speaking, which was as good as admitting it.

Qi Xuansu continued, “You abandoned your wife and daughter, sacrificed loyal servants, killed your own mother, and even sacrificed yourself. What for?”

The King countered, “Since you’re so good at guessing, why haven’t you thought of it, Second Deputy Qi?”

Qi Xuansu replied, “Guessing is one thing. I want to hear you say it.”

The King spoke, but did not answer directly. “Truth is, my sister and I have always been close since childhood. We only pretended to be distant and break ties, because only then will she be able to join the Daoist Order and become a Daoist disciple. You weren’t wrong to say that we performed a perfect duet.

“As you mentioned, I planned all of this myself. I was not coerced. I was willing to sacrifice my life to help her rise higher. She has been exceptionally talented since childhood. If not for her identity as a princess of the Yu Kingdom, she would already be a Hall Master or a Mansion Master.”

Naturally, the King was referring to Chen Shuhua.

Qi Xuansu asked, “Was it really worth it to sacrifice your life and the lives of so many others just to help Chief Deputy Chen rise through the ranks?”

The King looked up and laughed. “Of course it was worth it. You Daoists preach equality at every turn. But in truth, you all say one thing and do another. Second Deputy Qi, you were born in the Wanxiang Daoist Palace and achieved success young, so you can’t possibly understand how we feel as a small royal family. We know that the Daoist Order is extremely wary of us. Anyone born of royal blood is marked as untrustworthy, used sparingly, and controlled at all times.

“In most cases, so-called royalty is nothing more than being your puppets. In a few more decades, I wouldn’t be surprised if the Great Xuan Court absorbed all the kingdoms in Nanyang.

“The Daoist Order can depose or enthrone a king as they please. Even a monarch must bow before the Daoists, afraid of saying or doing anything wrong. No matter how talented Chen Shuhua is, her birth determines her ceiling. Her future within the Daoist Order can be seen at a glance. She can never become an Omniscient Sage in the Golden Tower Council.

“This inevitably makes one wonder if the Yu Kingdom still rules Nanyang or if the Daoist Order calls the shots? For the sake of the Yu Kingdom and my future generations, I willingly sacrifice my life. That will be enough to comfort the spirits of my ancestors.”

Qi Xuansu more or less understood.

The Fenglin royal family rebelled openly, while the Yu royal family rebelled in the shadows. But their goal was the same—to break free from Daoist control.

Qi Xuansu said, “What happens if she rises further? This world still belongs to the Daoist Order. It would make no difference even if she becomes an Immortal.”

The King laughed. “If one Immortal can’t make a difference, then what about two? Or three?”

Qi Xuansu’s expression shifted. “You are inviting wolves into the house.”

The King calmly corrected him. “No. We’re just pitting the tiger against the wolf.”

......

South of Chen Shuhua’s residence lay a layered square altar with a wide base, each layer upward narrowing until it reached 30 meters. On each of its four sides were 91 steps leading to the summit. Adding up all the steps plus the top platform equaled 365, which was the number of days in a year.

Chen Shuhua stepped into the altar and began ascending the steps.

She walked like an ordinary person, her footsteps crisp against the stone. The thuds were sharp and far-reaching in the silent night.

After climbing 91 steps, Chen Shuhua reached the top. At the center stood a stone platform, above which hovered an eight-faced semi-translucent blood-red stone. It slowly rotated on its own as it continuously drew blood-red qi from the altar below.

A sudden wind rose from nowhere.

Chen Shuhua spread both arms, her hechang snapping in the wind as she murmured an incantation. “When thunder descends from the heavens, the sky turns to chaos. Within the thunder’s roar lies boundless might. When yin and yang converge, the fire of heaven and earth transforms. The Eternal Heaven descends, wielding the power to command all beings. When it arrives, thunder will reverberate through the heavens, fire will engulf the land, and scorching winds will reduce living beings to mere bones. The people sing praises, for the one who wields such power must hold dominion over both life and death.”

As Chen Shuhua chanted, the blood-red stone emitted a glow as solid as the substance itself, with faint hints of black and yellow qi seeping out. The light dyed Chen Shuhua’s hechang the color of blood. At the same time, thunder roared across heaven and earth, and streaks of purple lightning slithered across the sky like serpents.

Chen Shuhua’s eyes darkened, like two bottomless wells. Flames blazed fiercely within, as if ready to consume all things in existence.

At some point, the night wind was no longer chilly. A scorching heat took its place, as though she stood at the crater of a volcano, where even snow and ice would melt at a distance.

Chen Shuhua reached out, pierced through the red halo of light, and grasped the hovering red stone.

In that instant, veins bulged across the back of her hand, and wrinkles spread rapidly. Her palm withered like a dead branch, yet she showed no concern, letting it dry up before slowly regenerating. Anyone else would have been stuck to the stone, left to watch helplessly as they were drained to a skeleton, unless they severed their own hand in the very first heartbeat.

She held the stone in a death grip with one hand, while the other formed seals to place layers of restraints upon it, isolating its terrifying suction.

The thunder gradually receded. Light returned to the altar. The blood-red radiance shrank, dimmed, and finally vanished entirely.

The stone in Chen Shuhua’s hand lost all luster and mysticism, looking like an ordinary piece of crystal.

But Chen Shuhua knew it was anything but ordinary.

This was no crystal. It was the famed Longevity Stone from the Shamanistic Sect.

The Shamanistic Sect’s Longevity Stone was a variant of the Elixir of Immortality. It was a sacred relic of their religion.

They believed the Longevity Stone was the oldest, most mysterious, and least understood artifact. It was irrational in nature and was a manifestation of the Eternal Heaven. Though it held such power, it remained hidden from the ignorant. It was the ultimate limit and purpose of all things and the final, miraculous result of all Shamanic rites. It was the perfect essence of heaven and earth, an indestructible object that possessed a dual-natured spirit. It was everlasting radiance, a miracle cure for all diseases. It was the most precious treasure of the Grasslands.