A Pawn's Passage

Chen Shuhua’s residence had already been razed to the ground.

The combined strength of two first-rank Spirit Guards was formidable, yet still insufficient when facing a Longevity-stage Immortal.

Chen Shuhua rose into the sky and reached out in the direction of the suburbs.

Before founding the Yu Kingdom, its first ruler had coincidentally acquired a carved blade that read, “Heaven’s Will.” He later obtained the matching hilt and assembled it into a divine sword.

With this sword, he defeated the Wei Dynasty’s armies and established the Yu Kingdom, designating Thanglong Prefecture as its capital.

Outside Thanglong Prefecture lay a great lake. Once, while boating upon it, the founding emperor of the Yu Kingdom saw a golden tortoise rise from the water and approach his vessel, seemingly requesting the divine sword. The sword at his waist loosened and fell. The tortoise then seized the sword and dove into the lake’s depths.

Later legends claimed the sword was returned by an Immortal, standing upright within the lake with its hilt protruding above water, forming a small pagoda at the lake’s center.

This lake was known as the Guijian Lake, which meant “return the sword.”

With Chen Shuhua’s gesture, the once-calm Guijian Lake erupted into towering waves. The pagoda at its center shuddered violently. Its tiles cracked, dust spilled from its seams, and its buried foundations tore free from the ground. The entire pagoda lifted from the lakebed and flew toward Chen Shuhua.

Chen Shuhua recited loudly: “I possess a radiant pearl, long locked and forgotten in the dust. Today, the dust is swept away, shining its light that illuminates the mountains and rivers.”

The pagoda’s brick and timber structure peeled away layer by layer until it revealed a resplendent divine sword within.

The pagoda had served as the sword’s scabbard. Now drawn, the immortal-level sword radiated dazzling brilliance, lighting up heaven and earth.

This immortal sword was called Heaven’s Will, which had been passed down through generations of the Yu royal line.

Apart from the founding emperor, no one had ever been able to wield this sword. Thus, it had remained sealed within the lake’s pagoda. Today, Chen Shuhua, having ascended to the Longevity stage, finally brought the immortal sword back into the world.

With Heaven’s Will in hand, Chen Shuhua would not be inferior even when facing Princess Himiya Akiko of Fenglin.

Had Great Sage Lan not destroyed the two immortal-level divine descent vessels in advance, then Wu Luo and True Lord Siming would have joined hands with the now-immortal Chen Shuhua to take the entire Poluo for themselves.

The Daoist Order had already diverted most of the Imperial Preceptor’s and the Taiping Sect’s strength into pacifying Fenglin. If Poluo also rebelled, the Earthly Preceptor and the Quanzhen Sect would likewise be forced to intervene. The Daoist Order would then be caught in a two-front conflict.

In such a situation, only the Heavenly Preceptor and the Zhengyi Sect would remain unengaged, and the long-suppressed Buddhist Sect would almost certainly seize the opportunity to wreak havoc.

The Daoist Order’s foundations were vast and deep. Even now, they could still remain strong. But if other forces—the Shamanistic Sect, Golden Horde, Rus Kingdom, Holy Court, or even the ever-restless Great Xuan Court—tried anything, a single touch could shake the whole Daoist Order.

If any decision in these links were misjudged, it could shake the very roots of the Daoist Order, causing their decline, though the chances of this were slim.

This was precisely the Taiping Sect’s dilemma. They wanted to keep Poluo as a festering wound to pin down the Quanzhen Sect. Yet they feared that overplaying the game would trigger uncontrollable chain reactions. Thus, the Taiping Sect appeared ambiguous and hesitant, seemingly supporting Wang Jiaohe before the Fenglin war yet taking no concrete action. They sought balance but dared not commit.

Once the Fenglin war erupted, the Taiping Sect no longer needed to hesitate. They simply let go and reached a frank compromise with the Quanzhen Sect.

In recent years, the struggles among the three Daoist sects intensified as their shared views dwindled. But one consensus remained unshakable—they must stand united against outsiders.

The Great Xuan Court, which used to be the Northern Daoist Sect, was still somewhat considered kin. But Poluo and Fenglin were certainly outsiders.

At the end of the Wei Dynasty, disaster and chaos plagued the land. Famine spread, and corpses filled the fields. The Great Xuan Dynasty had been ruling for the past 200 years and should have entered its decline according to the trend of most dynasties not lasting more than three centuries. However, the opposite had occurred. The Great Xuan Dynasty stood at the height of unprecedented prosperity.

The Daoist Order contributed to this, as no single family held sole power anymore. The Imperial Capital and the Jade Capital balanced each other, slowing high-level corruption. But the key reason was that the Daoist Order and the Great Xuan Dynasty had resolved the age-old contradiction between population and land.

According to the rise and fall of past dynasties, as a dynasty matured, the population would grow faster than available land, which could no longer feed the masses, inevitably triggering chaos. Thus, reducing population and redistributing land would usher in a new era of peace.

To address this contradiction, there were only two methods—expansion and conservation.

Expansion meant conquering outward and enlarging territory. However, this had its own flaws. If land expansion grew too fast, the Imperial Court could not govern them, so border regions tended to break away and form independent powers.

Most dynasties avoided this path. Moreover, once weakened, a dynasty could lose such territories instantly. The 19 states of the Central Plains were already near the practical limit.

Conservation meant internal reform, rectifying governance, issuing new policies, and suppressing land monopolies. But this also had its drawbacks. It harmed the interests of the nobility, breeding hatred.

Progress was difficult and dangerous. One misstep could mean ruin. At best, one would lose their position in disgrace. But at worst, one could cause the extermination of one’s entire clan.

In terms of conservation, the dual structure of the Daoist Order and Great Xuan Court helped mitigate internal resistance. In terms of expansion, the Daoist Order truly succeeded in extending the realm’s borders.

But the true underlying reason was still the rise of productivity. The appearance of flying ships solved the problem of a vast territory being impossible to govern. Advances in agricultural technology allowed less land to feed more mouths. The flourishing maritime trade caused the old land-based nobility to decline, indirectly easing the problem of land monopoly.

In short, the usual problems did not appear within the Central Plains in the Great Xuan Dynasty.

No matter how loudly the Daoist Order preached equality, and regardless of whether it was intentional, a hierarchy had formed naturally. Daoists were first-class people, officials were second-class, the common folk of the Central Plains were third-class, while the natives of Poluo, Fenglin, and others were relegated to the fourth class.

The Daoist Order would not enslave other natives like the Westerners did, as it did not align with Eastern ethics.

But in the concrete division of labor, the hierarchy was unmistakable. The Daoists were in charge of policy making, managing people, and allocating resources, and thus, they gained the most. The officials, merchants, and gentry executed certain policies, receiving the second-highest share. Commoners of the Central Plains engaged in higher-skilled craftwork, which earned them enough food, clothing, and dignity. They could raise children who could study and perhaps rise in status through education. It was a fair exchange of labor and reward.

However, outside the Central Plains, ordinary folk could only do unskilled toil with their brute strength, giving the most yet receiving the least. Their children could not study. Sometimes, even basic sustenance was uncertain.

Even so, compared to the Holy Court, the Daoist Order was still far more humane. At least, they did not sell slaves and preserved some form of upward mobility. Someone like Qi Xuansu could still rise through the ranks by studying and excelling in examinations to become a Daoist priest.

Most people like to feel a sense of superiority. That was why most people did not fear poverty but inequality. They would be content if everyone were at the same level. But if one was rich while another was poor, then life often became unbearable.

To live, people also needed something to look forward to, like a goal or hope. Even in poverty, if hard work could give one a chance to advance upward and increase wealth, then one could endure it no matter how tough it was.

If the world were truly equal, there would be no such thing as superiority, nor any need to hope.

Equality was a beautiful dream, but far too difficult to realize.

In this regard, the Daoist Order’s foundations were not as solid as they appeared.

The Holy Xuan understood this, so he preserved the Great Xuan Court and smaller local courts, shielding Daoist priests from direct involvement in livelihood issues.

The Daoist Order took on a supervisory role, hovering above the court like a blade ready to fall. If the court failed, the Daoists would cut it down and replace the officials. Commoners often directed their anger toward the governing court, not the Daoist Order behind it.

Whether the Quanzhen Sect or the Taiping Sect, both sides understood this principle, so they acted with extreme caution regarding the affairs of Poluo and Fenglin.

When Sage Qingwei quelled the unrest in Fenglin, he repeatedly emphasized preserving a Fenglin that won the people’s hearts, not one subdued through slaughter and violent suppression.

Sage Donghua’s decision to shake the Poluo Daoist Mansion was partly for the benefit of the Quanzhen Sect and partly to purge festering corruption.

Under such circumstances, conflict between the Imperial Court and the Daoist Order became inevitable.

Even the Great Xuan Court still schemed behind the scenes, as evidenced by the Wuxing Mountain incident.

Fenglin’s Sonno-joi faction swept across the entire region and has not been extinguished to this day.

In Poluo, Chen Shuhua no longer represented the Daoist Mansion’s interests. She represented the Yu royal family. Likewise, Wang Jiaohe also did not represent the Daoist Mansion. Instead, he represented the local powerhouses of Poluo.

The one who truly represented the Daoist Mansion’s interests was Great Sage Lan Hexu.

In other words, the very nature of the matter had changed.

It was no longer an internal Quanzhen Sect struggle but an uprising, akin to the war in Fenglin.

Clearly, Sage Donghua had foreseen this when he made his decision. But he faced a dilemma. He could not act personally lest he alert the enemy too soon. Thus, he could only send Qi Xuansu.

However, Qi Xuansu alone could not guarantee foolproof results, which was why Sage Donghua provided reinforcements—Madam Qi.

At this time, Madam Qi finally arrived fashionably late at the outskirts of Thanglong Prefecture.