Chapter 325: The Second One

“If we surrender, the empire is doomed!”

Zuoqiulong, his tall frame ramrod straight, stepped forward, resolutely advocating for war. He understood that this battle would determine the fate of the empire. If they surrendered now, other warlords would surely follow suit, plunging the empire into its final days.

Seeing his teacher step forward, Ao Ye’s face lit up with joy. He followed Zuoqiulong, firmly supporting the war effort.

Nearly a third of the assembled forces then stepped forward in support of war. This overwhelming show of support finally relieved the Emperor on his throne. A ruler who backed the Prime Minister’s reforms clearly harbored ambitions of his own. Thus, the imperial army mobilized once more, with Zuoqiulong as Commander-in-Chief and Ao Ye as his second-in-command, tasked with crushing the rebellion.

Thirty miles outside the Capital,

Inside the Rebel Army’s main camp, the armored rebel commander sat regally on a dais, addressing his troops with unwavering confidence:

“Our march on the Capital will make the old Emperor understand the hardships our brothers have endured! I swear, once we achieve our objective, every man…”

Though the Rebel Army advanced with ferocious momentum, their true strength was not as great as it appeared. Their earlier victories against garrison forces stemmed from years of careful planning and preparation. But the Capital was different. In a direct confrontation with the imperial forces, defeat was inevitable.

The rebels who had joined him on his campaign were hardly loyal followers; they had gathered around him solely to seize greater wealth and power—a goal that conveniently aligned with his own ambitions.

“Report!”

A junior officer rushed into the camp, knelt before the commander’s tent, and swiftly recounted the morning’s events at court.

“Insolent fool! How dare he sabotage my plans? I swear I will personally kill him!”

The rebel commander, seething with rage, slammed his fist on the table, his eyes burning with murderous intent.

“Guards!”

Meanwhile, in the Capital, ever since the decision to deploy troops to quell the rebellion, the empire had begun to mobilize. Zuoqiulong, Ao Ye, and other hawkish officials gathered to strategize, their confidence brimming. Chen Luo stood nearby, sensing the Tribulation Qi around him growing stronger and more intense. He could see the same phenomenon affecting Ao Ye and Zuoqiulong across from him.

After the meeting dispersed, only Ao Ye and Chen Luo remained. The three men gathered in the courtyard to brew wine.

“This is a letter my third brother sent me this morning,” Zuoqiulong said, placing the letter on the table.

As they examined it, they discovered it contained the rebels’ negotiation terms. They promised Zuoqiulong immeasurable wealth, power, and lasting prosperity for his family if he would endorse their cause.

“Teacher, how will you choose?” Ao Ye couldn’t help but ask.

If Zuoqiulong were alone, he might have been able to hold firm. But with his family and children involved, even the most steadfast man would waver. What was the point of a lifetime in public service? To secure rank and privilege for his wife and children, to benefit future generations. Now, with a mere nod from Zuoqiulong, all of that could be his, at the empire’s expense and his family’s gain.

“In life, there are things one must do and things one must not,” Zuoqiulong said. “If everyone only cared for themselves, this nation would be doomed.”

He tossed the letter into the nearby furnace, watching the ink turn to ash in the flames. He stood as immovable as stone, completely unshaken by the lure of wealth and power.

“I have already rejected the envoy,” he said, without revealing the envoy’s identity. With the enemy army massing at the border and unrest spreading through the city, the persuader must have been a close friend—otherwise, how could they have delivered the letter to Zuoqiulong’s residence?

Chen Luo observed the two men silently. The decision had been made so swiftly.

Ao Ye was the “superior Demon Seed” he had been grooming, but Zuoqiulong’s resolve had surprised him. The man possessed extraordinary firmness of character, never wavering once his mind was made up, completely impervious to external influences.

Dawn.

A long street.

Zuoqiulong and Ao Ye walked together to the imperial court, making their final preparations for war. Chen Luo followed behind, keenly sensing the increasingly dense Tribulation Qi emanating from the two men ahead. Suddenly, a dark figure darted from a doorway, brandishing a long saber. With a single, swift stroke, the assassin slashed at Ao Ye, who, caught off guard, fell to the ground, incapacitated.

“Insolent!” Zuoqiulong roared, charging forward to shove the assassin aside and engage him in combat. Meanwhile, Chen Luo found himself surrounded by three other assassins.

A fierce battle erupted.

Zuoqiulong was no seasoned warrior; within the Demonic Heart Tribulation, he was merely an ordinary man. After a brief struggle, he was overwhelmed and slashed to the ground. The assassin pressed his bloodstained blade against Zuoqiulong’s neck, deliberately tearing off his mask to sneer. “Lord Zuo, I’ll give you one last chance. Have you reconsidered your choice?”

“Traitorous scum! I will see you all dead!” Zuoqiulong spat, blood streaming down his face, his resolve unshaken.

“Very well!” the assassin snarled, severing Zuoqiulong’s head with a swift stroke.

Dripping his fingers in blood, he scrawled a message of terror on the wall to intimidate the pro-war faction, then hoisted the severed head aloft and strode away, leaving a trail of dread in his wake.

Seeing this, the remaining three assassins swiftly retreated, leaving Chen Luo and the officials who had been heading to court together to stare at the gruesome scene.

“Hurry, save him!” someone shouted.

Chen Luo looked up. A pitch-black Demon Seed flew from Zuoqiulong’s corpse into his palm. Another mature Demon Seed—the second complete one he had acquired since the Blood Blade Marauder Cultivator incident. He sensed a concentrated force of Heavenly Tribulation feedback within it. He had discovered a way to steal the power of Heavenly Tribulations, though he wondered if there might be unforeseen consequences.

What am I doing…?

Finally, I see another living person.

The Blood Blade Marauder Cultivator floated nearby like a specter, watching the bewildered Zuoqiulong. He couldn’t help but mutter, “Finally, I see another living person.”

The two men fell silent, their gazes shifting to Chen Luo in the distance. To them, he appeared like a great Demon Lord, manipulating Demonic Hearts and tampering with fate. Yet, this ordeal also presented them with an opportunity. Surviving this tribulation would greatly strengthen their resolve, and if they ever had a chance to attempt Core Formation, their chances of overcoming the Demonic Heart Tribulation would be far higher than others’.

Fortune and misfortune were two sides of the same coin.

The Prime Minister’s assassination sent shockwaves through the court and the capital. The morning court session, originally scheduled for dawn, was immediately postponed.

Several days later, as the uproar subsided, a group of the Prime Minister’s disciples gathered at Ao Ye’s residence.

“Where is Teacher?” Ao Ye asked, stirring from his sickbed. Though his memories of the attack remained hazy, he needed confirmation. He had been fortunate; the assassin had only struck him once before abandoning him, allowing him to escape. The wound looked gruesome, but it hadn’t hit any vital organs.

“He was murdered by bandits and has already been buried,” one official said reluctantly.

Everyone knew that Ao Ye was the Prime Minister’s favorite disciple, their bond stronger than any other. The Prime Minister’s death struck him the hardest. After a few more words of comfort, even imperial envoys arrived to offer their condolences. Once the crowd dispersed, Ao Ye leaned against the wall, his eyes half-closed, his fists clenched as he silently vowed:

I will avenge this!

“Have you made your choice?” Chen Luo asked.

“Yes. I will have my revenge, no matter the cost!” Ao Ye declared, opening his eyes and meeting Chen Luo’s gaze with unwavering resolve. The ordeal had transformed him overnight, his spirit and demeanor utterly different from before.

The power of the Demonic Heart Tribulation surged through his body, its magnitude far surpassing that of any other.

The morning court session proceeded as usual.

However, the Prime Minister’s death had profound repercussions. Half of the original one-third of the war faction now advocated compromise. Kneeling alongside the surrender faction in the grand hall, they chanted slogans of national duty and implored the Emperor to prioritize the realm and dismiss the treacherous officials.

Those who dared to speak truth to power had all been purged from the court, banished to remote posts far from the Emperor’s sight.

A web of collusion—external military threats and internal ministerial conspiracies—bound these factions together tightly. Zuoqiulong, who had attempted to tear this web apart, had been silenced; the bloodstained characters left on the capital’s main street served as their warning.

“Your Majesty,” Lord Huang began, “General Li is a loyal pillar of the empire. For over a decade, he has shed blood and tears defending our borders. Do not chill the heart of such a faithful servant with the slander of petty officials.”

“Lord Huang speaks wisely,” another minister chimed in. “I urge Your Majesty to dismiss Ao Ye, Zhang Zheng, and all those who sow discord between sovereign and subject, and to appoint General Li as Commander of the Northern Garrison.”

The surrender faction ministers clamored in unison, each vying to advance their agenda.

Every one of them wore the mask of loyalty, their faces etched with false devotion to the Emperor and the nation. They spouted lofty principles of righteousness and morality, yet their actions sent a chill through the Emperor seated high on his throne.

The Prime Minister had been assassinated in broad daylight on the streets of the Capital.

A powerful court official was now threatening the Capital, an unprecedented humiliation. Yet the Emperor’s advisors turned a blind eye, each blaming the slain Prime Minister as if he alone were responsible for the crisis.

“Let us reconvene,” the Emperor declared wearily, ending the tedious court session. He was sick of their hypocritical faces.

Upon returning to the palace, the Emperor summoned Ao Ye and Chen Luo, both recently recovered from their injuries. These loyal officials had been recommended by the late Prime Minister himself, and in the current crisis, they were among the few he could truly rely on.

“Will you help me purge these treacherous officials?” the Emperor asked, abandoning all imperial pretense. Exhausted, he clasped Ao Ye’s hand, his eyes filled with sorrow.

“Your Majesty shall not be disappointed!” Ao Ye replied firmly, his mind flashing back to his mentor, the late Prime Minister, who had taught him the principles of governance just days before as they shared tea in the courtyard.

“The rebels are powerful and have allies among high-ranking officials. Prioritize your own safety above all else,” the Emperor urged, tightening his grip on Ao Ye’s hand, his voice laced with concern. Chen Luo stood quietly to the side, his taciturn nature familiar to all.

“Advance without retreat! I will die a thousand times without regret!” Ao Ye declared, his voice ringing with unwavering resolve.

“Good!”

The Emperor and Ao Ye conspired, jointly devising a plan.

Chen Luo was also involved, his role to assist Ao Ye in confronting the Rebel Army. The loyalists began to mobilize, and the undercurrents of dissent, previously suppressed by the surrender faction, resurfaced. This time, however, the tide was led not by Prime Minister Zuoqiulong, but by his disciple, Ao Ye.

The next day, the morning court session proceeded as usual, but this time the Emperor gave the surrender faction no opportunity to speak. Instead, he rose from his throne and addressed the assembled officials:

“I have pondered deeply throughout the night on your arguments from yesterday. While your points hold merit, I must ask: if we dismiss Ao Ye, Zhang Zheng, and others, will General Li truly withdraw his Rebel Army from the city’s outskirts?”

“Naturally, Your Majesty,” one of the officials replied.

“Vice Minister Huang, are you willing to stake your head on this guarantee?”

“This…”

“Or perhaps Sun Diankui can offer such assurance?” The Emperor’s gaze shifted to another member of the surrender faction.

The self-proclaimed “loyal ministers,” caught mid-sentence, fell silent. None dared to speak. They had accepted bribes from the Rebel Army, but they weren’t willing to risk their lives on the rebels’ intentions. After all, they couldn’t possibly know what the Rebel Army was thinking.

“If Ao Ye, Zhang Zheng, and others are dismissed,” the Emperor continued, “what precedent would that set? How shall we respond if future rebels attempt the same?”

This time, no one spoke. Everyone now understood the Emperor’s true motives.