UCTOOT CH135

In barely the span of a breath, Shi Shu lunged forward.

Hedong Academy housed hundreds of thousands of volumes: the classics, histories, philosophical treatises, and literary collections. It held countless precious porcelains and curated treasures, amassed across more than ten generations of the Changyang Xu clan. A lineage steeped in scholarly heritage, thousands of courtyards where scholars had gathered to deliberate the Dao, it stood as the undisputed cultural zenith of the Dajing dynasty.

To destroy a nation, first extinguish its history.

The burning of the Qin palaces, the burning of books and burying of scholars: ancient structures were built of wood, and a single fire could reduce an entire city to ash.

Shi Shu sprinted ahead, his guards trailing close behind. Yet when Yinkun glanced back and caught sight of him, he paid him no heed, turning and striding away.

What was he doing?

Shi Shu thought to himself: Didn’t you hate me to the core? You wanted to kill me to avenge yourself against Xie Wuchi, so why run the moment you see me?

Shi Shu picked up his pace, staying hot on his heels. Overlapping eaves cast jagged shadows as they wove through narrow alleys. Ahead, Yinkun held an oil cask, sloshing fuel across the walls in wide arcs before bolting again.

“Still running? What on earth are you trying to pull?”

Shi Shu and his guards pressed forward. The path grew increasingly desolate. Every short distance, a Min soldier stood waiting beside vats of oil, fire striker in hand.

Fuel was being splashed everywhere. Holding the kindling, a Min soldier gave Yinkun a curt nod: “Everything is ready.”

“Await my signal.”

Without another word, Yinkun sprinted ahead. Shi Shu pursued, and the guards closed in almost instantly, wrestling the arsonists to the ground.

Yinkun glared back, but knowing he was outnumbered, he spun around and fled.

“A few of you stay and secure this spot; the rest protect the Second Young Master.” With clear coordination, the guards pushed forward.

Shi Shu jogged ahead, surveying his surroundings. His brows twitched. Something was wrong. The Library Pavilion and the Shrine to the Sages were sacred grounds, yet rushing through them, not a single soul was in sight.

Shi Shu thought: I’ve been to this academy before; it was always crowded. Where did everyone go? They are preparing to set fires, yet not one scholar is here?

Yinkun ducked behind a courtyard wall. Understanding hit Shi Shu like a blow: The scholars are in the front courtyard fighting the Min invaders to the death. Their attention was diverted, leaving Yinkun free to set fires across the rear grounds… That bastard!

Vicious.

Hedong Academy was vast; a single blaze could never consume it all. Yinkun had drawn blood at the front to provoke resistance while quietly orchestrating wide-scale arson from behind.

Shi Shu turned to the guards: “Leave two men with me. The rest of you hurry to the front courtyard, warn them to fetch water, and spread out. If fires ignite everywhere at once, we won’t be able to put them out in time.”

“Understood.” Several guards turned back, while others split up to sweep the academy grounds for hidden arsonists.

Shi Shu took the remaining two men and hurried along the stone path.

Ahead, Yinkun had vanished. Relying on memory, Shi Shu rounded a corner beneath the low eaves.

A blade thrust out from the shadows. Had Shi Shu not jerked aside in time, the steel would have driven straight through him. Shi Shu slammed into the dirt. The guards lunged past in pursuit, accompanied by Yinkun’s wild laughter echoing down the corridor as his silhouette slipped away.

“Lunatic… psychotic bastard…” Cold sweat broke across Shi Shu’s brow. Hesitating only a moment, he scrambled up and chased after him.

Inside the Eastern Capital, eaves overlapped and pagodas towered into the pale sky. The three thousand markets of the capital, the melodies floating from teahouses, the music drifting from pleasure barges, the songs and sweet laughter: all of it had been snuffed out into tomb-like silence.

Couriers galloped down the avenues, shouting commands: “Shut your doors and remain inside! Violators will be executed on the spot!”

Cavalry clashed with imperial guards at the ends of the thoroughfares, corpses littering the cobblestones beneath the thin sunlight.

Xie Wuchi spurred his mount forward, an aura of cold slaughter rising around him. The siege of the Eastern Capital had collapsed in barely a single engagement. Cavalry and infantry swarmed toward the imperial palace like a boiling black tide.

Commoners knelt in terror along the roadsides, their heads pressed to the dirt, not daring to draw breath.

Xie Wuchi rode past at the head of tens of thousands of troops.

Passing Xiangnan Temple, he reined in his mount: “Xiangnan Temple? Once so prosperous, now shuttered and decaying, covered in cobwebs. The majesty of the realm’s premier monastery gone, and all because of me?”

His generals waited in silence.

Xie Wuchi looked down, recalling four years ago: yellowed scrolls beneath the lamp, the gray robes of a monk. Shortly after transmigrating to this world, he had walked into this prosperous capital for the very first time.

Clear skies, laughter from the teahouses, dappled light beneath the Bodhi tree. Feeling thirsty, he had asked for a bowl of water at the flatbread stall across the street.

Four years later, Xie Wuchi turned his gaze. The old woman who ran the stall was still there, kneeling on the ground, stealing terrified glances at him. Looking upon the Divine General Xie who had become the nightmare of the Eastern Capital, he offered a faint smile: “Old mother, do you still remember me?”

The old woman’s heart jolted, nodding frantically: “I remember, I remember! Back then, I often saw the General leaving the temple…”

When Xie Wuchi was a lay monk, dressed in his plain robes, people turned their heads whenever he walked past. The old woman had spoken with him several times, even teasing him about whether he had taken a wife.

A flicker of sentiment passed through Xie Wuchi’s eyes: “When I departed long ago, the willows wept green; now that I return, the snow drifts thick.“

He spurred his mount forward, sweeping his gaze across the street. His memories drifted further back: by the night lamp of that ancient monastery, an outspoken youth had appeared, walking alongside him across ten thousand rivers and hills.

The avenues were wide. The populace knelt in rows on either side. Though there were no baskets of food or jars of wine to welcome the victorious army, neither was there open hatred, only fear and awe as they watched the host ride past.

Hoofbeats clattered forward, then halted once more.

Blocking the avenue ahead stood a detachment of imperial guards in heavy armor, sabers drawn. The commanding general barked, “Rebel! You shall never set foot in the imperial city!”

“The Upper Four Armies, Iron Cavalry, Shi Chong.”

The most elite forces of Dajing, hand-picked from the finest soldiers in the realm.

Shi Chong was powerfully built and imposing, his features sharp and handsome. Xie Wuchi remarked, “So it is General Shi. During capital social gatherings, General Shi was quite the rising star. I remember it well.”

“Bah!” Shi Chong spat. “Xie! Back then, people named the two of us the Twin Talents. Who knew you were a treacherous usurper? Utterly contemptible! Today you will die in these streets, your corpse carved to pieces!”

“To butcher my corpse, you are not qualified.”

Xie Wuchi raised a hand. Ping Yichun rode out from behind him: “Duel my vice-general first. If you survive him, then speak your boasts.”

Xie Wuchi’s eyes were icy. Blades flashed in rapid succession. Within a few exchanges, arrows brought Shi Chong crashing from his saddle, followed by halberds severing his limbs, his handsome face shattered in gore. In an instant, every trace of grace was demolished.

Power: supreme and unyielding, crushing all who defied it, regardless of virtue or vice.

The Upper Four Armies broke after a brief, savage clash, discarding their armor and fleeing down the alleys. Xie’s army rolled forward like an advancing black fog, devouring everything in its path.

The imperial palace gleamed with gold and jade, stone carvings bathed in sunlight. Soldiers advanced low while Xie Wuchi rode ahead, his cold profile reflecting the blood smeared across the walls.

“Run, just run…”

“Don’t fight, how could we ever beat them…”

“Should we just flee and let them through…”

Panic seized the remaining imperial guards as they backed away in terror, sweat pouring down their faces, weapons trembling in their hands.

Swords clattered to the stones as guards broke rank, fleeing as if pursued by vengeful wraiths.

Xie Wuchi advanced at an unhurried pace, pressing forward step by step through the blood on the ground, directing thousands of troops like pieces on a chessboard.

Smoke curled from the palace towers. A scout galloped up, shouting, “The Emperor fled through Chongde Gate! Pursue the Emperor!”

Xie Wuchi hauled the reins, wheeling his mount around to give chase.

A leather canteen was pierced, icy water splashing outward.

Shi Shu leaped forward, his boots slipping on the wet flags. Regaining his footing, he scrambled past the rocks.

Min remnants were rallying toward Yinkun. Shi Shu shouted, “Stop! Stand right there!”

A rockery screen blocked his view. Yinkun slipped behind it, taking a winding path through the bamboo grove. Shi Shu parted the foliage in pursuit, tracking the flickering firelight through narrow corridors.

Rounding the corner, large vats of oil lined the courtyard. Monks and scholars lay butchered across the ground, an appalling scene that choked the air from his lungs.

In the main hall of Hedong Academy, the wooden statue of the Sage looked down in serene repose, while torn tapestries fluttered in the gale. Those massive vats were filled with sacred lamp oil dedicated to the shrine.

Yinkun stood upon the raised dais, reaching for a brass candlestick. Without a second thought, Shi Shu lunged.

A brass offering platter slammed heavily against bone. Shi Shu yelled, “Still trying to light fires? Go to hell, just die!”

A heavy boot struck Shi Shu, kicking him off the dais. A hand caught his collar, slamming him violently onto the stone floor. Operating entirely on instinct, Shi Shu grabbed a jagged piece of porcelain and drove it toward Yinkun’s face.

Yinkun jerked away, reaching for the candlestick once more.

Shi Shu hurled antique vases at his head, his hands shaking violently as adrenaline flooded his veins, leaving behind only the primal urge to kill. It was not unfamiliar: like sprinting on a running track, life chasing raw instinct.

“Don’t you dare set fires here! I am killing you today, die—”

Shi Shu plunged his bare hand into the hot oil of the candlestick, snuffing out the flame with his fingers. Yinkun snarled in fury: “Mongrel! I spared your worthless life, and you come courting death? Instead of playing prince beside your brother, what the hell did you come here for?”

Shi Shu took a blow to the chest, hauled up by the collar and thrown violently into a pillar, pain shooting through his spine. Sweat drenched his skin. Guards arrived at the perimeter. Yinkun snatched a flint striker and struck sparks against the curtains.

Months of suffocating anger broke free inside Shi Shu: “What did I come for? I came for your miserable head!” Grabbing a fallen blade, he charged forward.

They tumbled out of the hall. Min soldiers were scattered across the grounds attempting to set blazes, while Song Sinan and the guards fought to cut them down.

Desperate to flee, Yinkun was tackled by the collar as Shi Shu slammed him to the dirt. Shi Shu lunged, sinking his teeth into Yinkun’s throat. Yinkun tore at Shi Shu’s hair: “Is this the only move you know when fighting?!”

Shi Shu’s brown eyes were wide and bloodshot. Snatching a stone, he brought it down onto Yinkun’s skull with all his might.

Shi Shu’s head spun from the impact. He had never fought to kill before, striking with lethal, brutal violence meant to end a life. But the grief of these past months, the memory of Zihan and countless others, made him want to tear this monster apart.

He slammed the stone down again. Yinkun dodged, his hands clamping hard around Shi Shu’s throat. Shi Shu wrenched his fingers back with savage force, pinning Yinkun to the ground, his voice raw and raspy: “You are going to die the most miserable death! Die, just die!”

“Get off me!”

Yinkun bucked, kicking Shi Shu away before scrambling toward the courtyard gate. Shi Shu had nothing left in his mind except the chase, lunging after him.

Soldiers rushed through the grounds, putting out scattered fires. Steps, corridors, and courtyard gates blurred past.

Yinkun looked half-crazed, clutching his flint striker: “I will burn it all, burn everything… None of you will live…”

The Library Pavilion stood just ahead. Shi Shu accelerated: “Stop right there!” He seized a heavy ceramic pot and hurled it forward.

The pot shattered against Yinkun’s head. Yinkun glared back. Shi Shu’s face was pale, his clothes torn and filthy, yet his eyes were locked onto his target.

Yinkun broke into wild laughter: “Why pursue me like this? This is Dajing’s academy! Don’t you know inviting the wolf-soldiers across the passes was orchestrated by these very scholars alongside me—”

“Shut up! Did I give you permission to speak?!” Shi Shu drove a fist into his jaw. “Every single one of you deserves to die!”

Exhaustion brought both men to their limits. Yinkun threw a punch that Shi Shu barely avoided, the momentum slamming him into a pillar before rebounding to tackle Yinkun back to the floor.

Shi Shu’s knuckles throbbed with pain, yet he pounded them into Yinkun’s face again and again: “You still think you were right! You think just because you were bitter, everyone else had to be dragged down into the grave with you?!”

Yinkun rolled over, slamming Shi Shu’s head against the flagstones. Shi Shu forced his neck upward, clamping his hands around Yinkun’s throat.

“If I hadn’t been wounded in this war, I would have crushed your organs like last time!”

Shi Shu snarled, “Then I’ll finish you off right now!”

Shi Shu’s vision swam with red. Memory after memory flashed through his mind as he drove Yinkun’s head hard against the stone, his nails digging into flesh: “Killing wasn’t enough, you had to destroy everything! You still think you did nothing wrong. Aside from death, what punishment do you deserve?!”

The two grappled in the dirt, chests heaving, black spots dancing before Shi Shu’s eyes. Suddenly, a whistle mimicking a hunting falcon cut through the air, signaling the surviving raiders.

Yinkun tore himself free, drawing an eagle-bone whistle from his breast: “Burn it, burn it! Burn all of it… your palaces, your temples, your letters, your history, your rites, burn it all…”

As he brought the bone to his lips, Shi Shu lunged forward through the dizziness, punching the whistle away, and with the last ounce of strength in his body, slammed Yinkun’s skull down onto the stone.

***

Plumes of dust swept southwest as imperial guards carried the royal palanquin frantically along the highway, flanked by riders clearing commoners from the road.

“Your Majesty, do not despair! The capital is surrounded, but Your Majesty can take refuge in Nanyang Prefecture… we can always return…”

“Nanyang? Are there still uncaptured prefectures left?”

Inside the palanquin, Chu Wei clutched his pearl-strung crown, his face pale with terror: “Run faster! If you run this slow, the rebel Xie will catch up in no time!”

The eunuchs carrying the poles strained under the weight, gasping for breath.

Hoofbeats thundered behind them. Chu Wei’s voice broke: “Is he catching up?!”

“Do not panic, Sire! The iron cavalry covers our rear!” Attendants urged him: “Sire, switch to the carriage, it is faster!”

Chu Wei hiked up his imperial robes, tumbling into the carriage. He looked back just as an arrow slammed into the timber crossbeam, sinking deep into the wood. Chu Wei turned around in horror.

Amid flashing steel and flying blood, astride a tall steed, clad in pitch-black armor, Xie Wuchi drew a second arrow, pulling the bowstring back, aiming straight for him with lethal intent.

Chu Wei collapsed onto the floorboards in terror. The driver lashed the horses mercilessly, galloping wildly through the mud.

“Ruined, all ruined… The empire of Dajing will perish by my hand…”

Smoke rose from the capital behind them. Corpses of fallen soldiers littered the path, yet few civilians were harmed.

Sheathed blades.

“He actually forbade his troops from plundering civilian wealth upon entering the capital…” Chu Wei stammered in dread. “Inviting the wolf-soldiers was my error! But that man Xie, how did I ever wrong him?! To storm the capital and usurp the throne, was I truly so grievously mistaken?”

Clashes echoed from the rear. A weeping eunuch cried, “Sire, the Empress was captured… Consort Zhen was seized, the Eldest Princess was taken too…”

Desperate to survive, Chu Wei yelled, “He will never kill my wife and daughter, flee, just flee!”

The carriage raced toward the outer gates, cleared by mounted guards ahead. Fallen soldiers paved the road. Behind them, the sounds of battle drew closer; Xie’s pursuers were right on their heels.

As the carriage cleared the city gates, Chu Wei lifted the curtain, watching warriors die for his sake. Looking back, bloodstained mounts bore down relentlessly, Xie Wuchi’s pursuit showing no sign of stopping.

Reflected in Chu Wei’s pupils were rivers of blood and mounds of corpses, feeling for the first time the crushing weight of a collapsing dynasty, an unstoppable tide of ruin.

……

Hacking through the carnage, intercepted along the way by cavalry, the flight was driven straight up to the summit of a towering mountain. A eunuch cried out, weeping: “Your Majesty! There is no road ahead! It is a precipice!”

Chu Wei snapped awake as if from a nightmare: “What?!”

In Chu Wei’s ears rang the relentless pounding of hooves. At first he thought it was merely the clatter of his carriage, yet it grew deafeningly loud. Suddenly, struck by a terrible thought, he ripped aside the curtain, only to find a snow-white blade leveled straight at his throat.

The carriage and the warhorse galloped neck and neck as the scenery blurred past. A pitch-black shadow swept inside on the wind, carrying the coppery stench of blood.

Chu Wei lifted his head, meeting a pair of glacial eyes he had never once seen back at Xiangnan Temple.

“Get. Down.”

With a shriek of agony, the carriage driver was impaled by a lance and flung down, tumbling over the dirt. Sensing the drop ahead, the horses bolted a short distance before grinding to a halt. Chu Wei scrambled out from the carriage, his imperial dragon robes caked in dust, utterly disheveled.

The surrounding forest stretched boundless and dense. Chu Wei looked back: only the black mass of the Crane-Controlling Army filled the woods, with not a trace left of his own imperial cavalry. Chu Wei’s mind spun in disarray: “Xie Wuchi, We treated you with boundless generosity! We never mistreated you! It was We who brought you out of Xiangnan Temple, assigned you to the New Policies, and upon succeeding to the throne, dispatched you to the Northern Army to drill troops! How did you pledge to Us back then? To train a formidable host, repel foreign invaders, and defend the rivers and mountains of Dajing!”

The autumn wind howled violently, carrying the tang of coppery blood through loose strands of hair. Xie Wuchi’s pupils were black as pitch: “You treated me well. Pity that I am heartless and devoid of virtue.”

Chu Wei flew into a fury: “Did you not usurp the throne for the greater good, for the suffering populace?! Was it not because We seized your merits, heeded slanderous counsel, and brought the wolf-soldiers across the passes that you raised banners in revolt?!”

Not far off, the heavy riders of the Crane-Controlling Army stood motionless.

During the cataclysm of the wolf-soldiers crossing the border, the realm had splintered to pieces. Xie Wuchi had raised troops to punish traitors, quelled the northern raiders, and marched into the Eastern Capital with thunderous martial wrath, claiming the finest reputation under heaven.

In the eyes of the realm, Xie Wuchi had acted out of sheer desperation, driven beyond endurance before finally leveling his blade at the imperial court.

Withered grass stretched across the desolate cliffs. From the precipice, one could overlook the endless palaces and tens of thousands of rooftops of the Eastern Capital: towering pagoda spires, eaves of grand temples, vermilion gates and embroidered blinds, the silken majesty of high nobility. It resembled a vast, ghostly mirage, a grand dream of mortal opulence.

Xie Wuchi lowered his eyes, his voice audible only to the two of them: “No.”

In Chu Wei’s mind, only the memory of that serene, detached lay monk in the scripture library of Xiangnan Temple lingered: “Wh-What did you say? No? It wasn’t that?”

Xie Wuchi smiled faintly: “I raised an army solely for the supreme throne of the Ninth-Five. To be morning clouds and evening rain. To hold life and death in my palm, answering only to my whims. To see every corner under heaven bow to the surname Xie, where none exist who do not kneel in adoration, submitting to my majesty. That is all.”

The gale raged as the blood drained entirely from Chu Wei’s veins, as if he had plunged into a frozen abyss: “You! You… why… you… how could you…”

Four years ago at Xiangnan Temple, incense curled beneath the Bodhi trees, surrounded by flowing monastic robes. Back then, clad in simple vestments, Xie Wuchi sat upon the dais lecturing on scriptures, his words grounded in righteousness, enlightened and wise, offering profound insights on statecraft. Believing he was an ascetic recluse nurturing noble ambitions while shunning worldly vanity, the Crown Prince had debated court affairs with him.

He had assumed the man would deliver all sentient beings; never had he imagined this.

Xie Wuchi asked, “Upon that dais, which passage of the Dharma did I expound?”

The Emperor remembered: The demon king Pāpīyas, leading eighty billion followers, seeking to ruin the Buddha.

The demon king masquerades as the Buddha, sowing temptations to corrupt enlightenment. Adopting the guise of piety to infiltrate true seekers, outwardly praising the Dharma while inwardly destroying divinity.

“No need to ruin Buddha. Across the imperial halls, all are man-eating fiends; how many true deities exist?”

In an era of ruin, conquer demons with a greater demon.

His hair disheveled, Chu Wei slumped limp to the ground: “We misjudged you… We misjudged you completely… We have failed our ancestors, failed the people under heaven!”

Stumbling backward, madness flickered across his face. Xie Wuchi raised a hand. From the ranks, an attendant stepped forward holding a drafted abdication edict, standing silently in wait.

Planting his blood-slicked lance into the dirt, Xie Wuchi dragged the Emperor back by the collar with cold irritation.

He uttered only a single word:

“Write.”

***

Leaping down from a flight of seven or eight stone steps, a sharp sting shot through the soles of his feet as he hit the flagstones. Without hesitating for a single second, Shi Shu bolted forward.

Through the winding, twilight alleys, heat surged through Shi Shu’s body as he gave chase, until his outstretched hand nearly grazed the fabric of the collar.

Yinkun halted abruptly, spinning around to throw Shi Shu over his shoulder. Shi Shu twisted violently as he landed, slamming Yinkun’s head against the ground and locking both hands around his throat.

A dull thud sounded as a fist slammed into flesh, sickeningly real.

His hair in wild disarray, his face chalk-white, cold sweat dripped from the bridge of Shi Shu’s nose. Protracted sprinting and brawling had pushed his stamina to the verge of collapse.

Bathed in blood, Yinkun clutched the eagle-bone whistle with frantic grip. While throttling him, Shi Shu seized whatever lay within reach and battered it against his skull.

Lacking heavy stones, Shi Shu grabbed a wooden cudgel, pounding it down with dull, heavy blows.

“Fuck off! Get off me!”

With a brutal heave, Yinkun drove his knee into Shi Shu’s abdomen, hurling him backward.

Sharp pain flared through his abdomen once more. Exhaustion clawed at him, his strength scraping rock bottom, yet at this moment, an untamed instinct seemed to awaken within Shi Shu.

Absolute silence enveloped his mind. He could no longer see the tiles of the academy or hear the sounds of the world. His eyes were locked on Yinkun, tracking and fixing upon him like a targeting satellite. His fingers were limp as clay, his skin numb to sensation, yet he lunged forward again, clamping onto his neck.

“Are you fucking yielding or not?! Do you yield?! Are you going to kill people again?! Will you set more fires?! Answer me, you beast!” Shi Shu chanted the words like a litany, wrestling for the eagle whistle. Tearing it free, he used every ounce of remaining strength to fling it far into the tangled weeds.

Like a lunatic, Yinkun abandoned the fight, scrambling on his knees to dig through the brush.

Shi Shu: “You are truly insane. Completely unhinged.”

Shi Shu scooped up the heavy wooden cudgel, smashing it across his back and knocking him prone, before raining fist after fist into his face.

Shi Shu had never felt such fierce abandon in violence. He only wanted to beat him, beat him savagely, venting all the stifled rage, grief, darkness, and torment accumulated over these past months.

I hate people like you. I despise all of you.

Memories flashed in rapid sequence through his mind.

This chaotic era was drawing to its close, and this final atrocity would be ended by his own hands.

The soldiers chewing chaff on the battlefield, the homeless orphans whose cities were burned to ash, the mountains of bleached bones beneath fortress walls, the scholars hanging from the academy gates, and Zihan… and Zihan…

Thud! Thud! Thud! Blow after blow landed home.

Shi Shu struck without mercy, throwing punches almost mechanically. When his bruised knuckles screamed with pain, he battered him with the wooden club, beating him down the second Yinkun twitched.

Truly crazed, Yinkun laughed and shrieked maniacally, his eyes fixed on the towering buildings of the academy and the mountains rising behind Shi Shu. Yet he seemed to have lost the strength to resist, staring at the pagodas with eyes like cold ash.

His clothes drenched in sweat, Shi Shu finally felt the murderous venom in his chest drain away. As his feverish temperature cooled, he pushed himself upright.

“It’s over.”

“It’s truly over now.”

Bloodshot veins branched across his eyes, grime and mud spattered across his pale, delicate skin. He turned back, gazing at the roofs, pagoda tips, and carved stone steles of Hedong Academy.

Stepping forward, Song Sinan and the guards hurried to catch up: “The Min soldiers have all been secured. Several fires broke out, but all were extinguished in time. Most of them were captured before they could even strike sparks.”

Shi Shu’s eyes lingered on the majestic expanse of Hedong Academy, drawing in the crisp autumn air, beholding this intact sanctuary of cultural lineage. Its manuscripts remained neatly aligned upon the shelves, its halls stood upright, its steps remained steps rather than scorched ruins and ash, every carved contour bearing the weight of history.

People bustled back and forth, beginning the cleanup.

“Clear away the corpses! Inspect the grounds for any remaining gunpowder or tung oil, sweep it clean immediately!”

Shi Shu curled his lips into a weary smile: “Is it over?”

Song Sinan: “It’s over.”

“Good. That’s good.” Shi Shu rubbed his eyes. “I feel so relieved right now. It’s finally over…”

What would the future look like? No more war. What lay ahead was the reign of a new dynasty, a time for rest, recuperation, and renewal.

Song Sinan said, “I’ll have the Qiu Army garrison the academy to keep unauthorized people out until General Xie’s orders arrive. I’ll take this Yinkun with me.”

Shi Shu: “Alright, let’s head out. We’ll take Zihan to the Eastern Capital to enjoy some peace for a few days, then pick out a scenic resting place for him.”

Song Sinan: “Sounds good.”

Shi Shu: “If he were here, he would be very happy.”

Song Sinan smiled softly, and Shi Shu smiled too.

A deep calm finally settled over Shi Shu’s heart. Walking one behind the other, they descended the steps.

Fallen leaves carpeted the stones, crackling beneath their boots. Autumn at Hedong Academy was serene and breathtaking, dry leaves dusting crimson walls and gray eaves.

Whether from utter exhaustion or something else, the world before Shi Shu’s eyes suddenly plunged into tomb-like darkness. His pale face tilted up toward the birds wheeling across the sky as the mechanical chime of the system reverberated against his eardrums.

[Ding—]

[Player Xie Xun has achieved the title of “Co-Lord of the World.”]

[Group Transmigration System Activation Alert:
Name: Xie Xun
Age: 27
Merit Value: 100%]

[Current Hundred-Player Transmigration Tournament Rules: Transmigrators must defeat other transmigrators, inflicting biological death upon opponents while achieving the authority of “Co-Lord of the World,” in order to return to modern civilization.]

[Current World, Surviving Transmigrators: 2/100]

[Xie Xun unlocked system authority: Complete Tier (Highest Tier)]

[Shi Shu unlocked system authority: Full Access Tier]

Lines of text cascaded across his vision:

[Player Xie Xun: Granted authority “Geographic Coordinates of Other Transmigrators” (Capable of deploying armies for precision elimination of other players).]

[Congratulations to the player for surviving the “Wolf-Soldier Cataclysm of the Central Plains” chapter. Friendly reminder: the game is entering settlement; the current world will collapse within three days.]

[Players are urged to locate Player Xie Xun as soon as possible, eliminate the target before world collapse to seize the title of “Co-Lord of the World,” and return to your original world.]

[Otherwise, the player will be eliminated.]

[Ding—]

[Your geographic coordinates: Exposed to other transmigrators (Exercise extreme caution against incoming strikes).]