“Boom!”
Suddenly, a thunderous roar erupted from the heavens.
The crowd looked up.
In the boundless night sky, a massive comet with a tail hundreds of zhang long plummeted toward the East China Sea.
Dazzling and brilliant.
At that moment, heavy snow swirled, fierce winds howled like wailing spirits, emitting mournful cries.
A celestial omen!
Changmei Zhenren raised his head, as if he could see, his face growing solemn.
“The Guardian’s fall has triggered a heavenly sign. The coming years may be turbulent!”
Hearing this, Tang Lao quickly asked, “Zhenren, is there a way to resolve it?”
Changmei Zhenren chuckled, “Tang Lao, I’m planning to rebuild Longhu Shan soon. I’ll need financial support.”
Tang Lao caught on instantly, “That’s easy. I can arrange for relevant departments to assist. How much is needed?”
“Not much, not much,” Changmei Zhenren said, “Ten billion will do.”
Tang Lao’s mouth twitched.
Normally, he’d give Changmei Zhenren a cold look, but circumstances were different now. He needed him, so he said, “Ten billion is a bit much, but I’ll ensure some support from the departments.”
Changmei Zhenren grinned, “Your word puts me at ease.”
Tang Lao asked again, “Zhenren, you mentioned turbulence. This matter…”
“I’ll give you eight words,” Changmei Zhenren cut in, “Ye Jia stands, nation prospers, people thrive.”
Tang Lao understood, grateful, “Thank you, Zhenren.”
“A small matter, no need for formalities.”
Meanwhile.
Thousands of miles away, in Great East.
In a pavilion within the imperial palace, an elderly man in a kimono, sitting cross-legged, suddenly opened his eyes, gazing at the sky.
Thirty seconds later.
The old man laughed, “Huaguo’s Guardian has fallen. Great East’s chance has come.”
“Summon the Emperor.”
“Prepare to act!”
At the same time.
In Great Korea.
Among towering mountains, an ancient Taoist temple stood, serene and fragrant with flowers.
Suddenly.
A figure appeared on the temple’s roof.
A man, youthful in appearance but with eyes full of worldly experience, dressed in a Taoist robe, holding a compass.
He looked skyward.
Moments later.
The man sighed in Korean, “The Eastern Guardian has fallen. A storm will soon rise.”
In southern Huaguo.
India.
At the entrance of the Kaisara Temple stood a monk.
He appeared in his forties or fifties, clad in a black kasaya, a large gold ring through his nose, a golden python as thick as an arm coiled around his neck, smiling sinisterly, “I’d like to see who can stop me from entering Huaguo now.”
Vatican.
In a resplendent hall, an elderly man in a white papal robe, wearing a golden crown and holding a golden sceptre, sat.
He was meditating when he sensed something, his eyes snapping open like divine lamps.
After a long pause, he whispered, “Xianzhi…”
“Jiaohuang!”
A melodious voice rang out, and a woman appeared in the hall.
She was young, about twenty, in a white gown, a white headscarf, and a purple crystal pendant around her neck.
Tall, with exquisite features, her blue eyes were captivating, her high nose exuding exotic charm.
Barefoot, her delicate feet exposed, her skin flawless, enough to make those with peculiar tastes kneel to kiss them.
“Jiaohuang, you called?” she asked, lips parting softly.
“I sensed something unusual just now. Did you feel it?” the Jiaohuang asked.
She nodded slightly, “The Guardian of that mysterious Eastern nation has fallen.”
“Is that so?” The Jiaohuang’s eyes flickered, “Xianzhi, you once foretold that in that Eastern nation, someone bears great destiny, able to aid me, correct?”
She nodded again, “Yes.”
The Jiaohuang instructed, “Find a chance to visit that Eastern nation. If you find that person, bring them to me.”
“Yes.”
She formed seals with her hands and vanished instantly.
In the Zijin Cheng.
The crowd stared at the sky until the comet disappeared, only then noticing the unsettling aura had vanished.
Strangely, even the wind and snow stopped, leaving the noble families in a panic.
“What’s going on?”
“Why did that powerful aura disappear?”
“Could the Zijin Cheng’s mysterious master fear Ye Wushuang and not dare show?”
“If so, we’re doomed.”
The group was deeply uneasy.
Ye Wushuang stood on the city wall, withdrawing his gaze from the sky, looking down at the noble families.
No joy, no sorrow.
Calm as still water.
The noble families didn’t dare breathe, fearing Ye Wushuang would strike next.
He said calmly, “It’s been over twenty years since I last saw you all.”
“Most of you were elders I respected, some were old friends.”
“Over twenty years ago, I, Ye Wushuang, never wronged you, yet you sent assassins after me, separating me from my wife.”
“Now that I’m back, it’s time to settle those scores.”
The noble families trembled, souls shaken.
Ye Wushuang continued, “After that turmoil, I swore, if I don’t avenge this, I’m not human.”
“Don’t dream I’ll show mercy or spare you.”
“Out of respect for you as elders and friends, I won’t make it too hard.”
“Here’s the deal: end your own lives.”
At this, the noble families collapsed, shivering.
Who, being human, doesn’t fear death?
Tang Lao wanted to persuade Ye Wushuang but, seeing his murderous aura, stayed silent.
He knew no one could sway Ye Wushuang now.
He had returned for revenge.
Yet, after a long time, none of the noble families took their lives.
Ye Wushuang’s eyes turned cold, “If you won’t end it yourselves, you may leave now.”
“I won’t stop you.”
“But later, I’ll visit each of your homes, sending your entire families to their end.”
“Choose: end it yourselves, or take your whole family with you!”
