Chapter 62: The Third Upheaval of the Laws
Chapter 62: The Third Upheaval of the Laws
Six months later, in the capital.
The Emperor of Chu led a group of strong individuals ten miles outside the city to greet an honored guest.
Countless citizens craned their necks to see the mysterious High Person receiving the grandest welcome in Great Chu’s history.
“Why hasn’t Mr. Xue arrived yet?”
The Emperor of Chu frowned at the setting sun. He’d mobilized the highest imperial protocol—summoning both the prime minister and National Master Zhang He—yet this Mr. Chu ambled lazily on his donkey, unconcerned by the delay. Nightfall neared, but the man still hadn’t appeared.
“He’s here.”
National Master Zhang He narrowed his eyes.
At the road’s end, a donkey materialized. A green-robed scholar lounged backward on its back, humming carelessly.
“Wu Jiang, with the full court and capital’s populace, welcomes Mr. Chu.”
The Emperor of Chu bowed first. Never before would he have debased himself this way. But since learning of Demon Monk Jie Ming’s demise from Zhang He, dread had gnawed at him. This performance of humility was necessary to secure Mr. Xue’s recognition.
Zuo Meng swayed past on his donkey as if deaf to the greeting.
The emperor’s fists tightened.
*One day.*
Rage simmered beneath his placid mask. Officials mirrored visible anger, signaling loyalty through shared indignation.
“Pointless extravagance. Disperse.”
The voice drifted from the gates only after Zuo Meng entered.
The emperor exhaled, climbed into his carriage without a word. Pompous welcomes dissolved into awkward silence, broadcasting the guest’s temperament to all.
Zuo Meng settled into the royal-provided estate and vanished from public view.
By next dawn, a “Closed Door Meditation” plaque hung on his gate. The court sighed in relief—they’d feared this unrivaled cultivator would seize power. His reclusive nature proved a blessing.
Seven years passed.
Court propaganda erased Mr. Chu from collective memory. He became tavern chatter, swiftly drowned by newer gossip.
“Third upheaval… now?”
In his forgotten residence, Zuo Meng gazed skyward.
His vision pierced the heavens. Not the golden silhouette this time, but a colossal tree-being engulfing the firmament. Its branches gripped law chains, twisting reality.
“Desolate? Still flawed.”
Zuo Meng observed calmly. Unlike its ancient era glory, the Seal’s escapee had shed reason and human form.
*BOOM*
The world quaked. Spiritual energy erupted anew. Fairy mountains speared from earth as demon creatures overran human lands, forging kingdoms beyond Great Chu’s borders.
Top Immortal Cultivators shattered into the Transformation God Realm. The martial artists’ age died. The cultivation world dawned.
This process lasted six months.
Half a year later, the desolate presence vanished completely, never showing regard for other strong individuals throughout.
“Without wisdom, even the mightiest force remains mere beastly strength.”
Zuo Meng discerned that after losing its spiritual essence, the desolate had become a pawn manipulated by the golden silhouette. Since Zuo Meng’s previous intervention, the wary golden silhouette had withdrawn behind the scenes. Now the mindless desolate stood exposed, serving as bait for probing attacks.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The courtyard gate rattled with insistent knocking.
“Master, the gatekeeper delivered this invitation.”
Zuo Meng’s brow creased with irritation.
“Discard it.”
Upon first arriving in the capital years ago, he’d received countless such invitations. He’d established a firm rule then – no invitations accepted, not even from the Emperor of Chu himself. The steward who’d served flawlessly for seven years inexplicably breached protocol today.
“This… comes from your ancestral hometown.”
The steward’s hesitant addendum gave pause.
Hometown?
Zuo Meng abruptly recalled Xue Chuan’s remaining family ties – besides the nephew thriving on borrowed prestige in the capital, only Zhi Hua remained.
“Little Zhi Hua bore a child?”
With a flick of his sleeve, Zuo Meng summoned the invitation. The message indeed announced Zhi Hua’s newborn daughter and her request for his visit.
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“She married?”
“Three years past, Miss Zhi Hua sent wedding invitations. You were in Closed Door Meditation then.” The steward bowed apologetically.
So much time had slipped by?
Zuo Meng swayed slightly, the prolonged dreamscape blurring his grip on reality.
“Send generous gifts in my stead.”
Shaking off the disorientation, Zuo Meng rose and exited his courtyard for the first time. The third Law Upheaval’s ripples finally reached critical mass – time to advance his plans. This extended dreamwalk wearied him profoundly.
Palace halls echoed with urgent debate.
Emperor of Chu conferred with ministers about worsening demonic incursions. Border pressures mounted daily since last month’s reports – the demon tribe had unified under a demon emperor, forming an imperial dynasty. War drums loomed, keeping court officials sleepless for nights.
“Wu Jiang, I depart now.”
“Intruder!”
Ministers started as the unannounced voice pierced their council.
“Ah! Master Xue! What journey requires your presence? How might we assist?”
The Emperor recovered first, performing the ritual salute. After three Law Upheavals, the monarch had attained the Transformation God Realm himself. Yet greater cultivation only deepened his terror of Xue’s abyssal, unfathomable power. All probes – even Dragon Guard elites – vanished without trace, fueling Great Chu’s fearful reverence.
“I seek a spiritual peak in Great Chu’s West Extremes to found a sect. There I’ll spread cultivation methods purged of Wild Power and tribal totems – new arts forged from Jie Ming’s inherited memories.”