Chapter Eighty-Five: Aftermath (3)

After handing the medicinal recipe to Jiang Yuyan, Zhu Yu returned to attend to his own affairs. Yet, the more he thought about it in solitude, the more his anger simmered—not for any trivial reason, but because of the Star Sect.

If the Star Sect were merely a rebellious force recruited by Prince Yu, Zhu Yu could have overlooked it. But after Su Ying’s explanation, it became clear this was no simple matter of aiding a rebellion—it was a brazen act of usurpation. Upon hearing of the supposed aftereffects of this so-called tonic, Zhu Yu didn’t need to think twice: if Prince Yu truly succeeded in his rebellion, who would ultimately sit upon the throne was far from certain.

This revelation also explained a previous doubt of his: if the Star Sect truly possessed such miraculous tonics, why had he never heard of them? Now the truth stood exposed. It made Zhu Yu seethe with the urge to raise an army and eradicate the Star Sect, but unfortunately, that was beyond his reach.

The reason was simple enough. To destroy a martial sect skilled in poisons and with considerable numbers required a large force—an obvious necessity, yet also the crux of the problem. The Star Sect was not even within Jing’s borders—how could he send troops there? Even if infiltration were possible and the Star Sect was successfully wiped out, those sent might never return.

It was just like the previous matter of the annual tribute to the Kunlun Tribe: between countries, it was all about interests and saving face. If this situation had happened to Zhu Yu himself—if another nation, without restraint, dispatched a large force to infiltrate or even openly invade Jing, slaughtering its people and martial artists—even if it didn’t lead to outright war, Zhu Yu would stop at nothing to make sure none of the invaders ever left alive, just to vent his rage.

By the same logic, Zhu Yu, for now, could do nothing about the Star Sect. But he kept this grudge close to his heart, determined that one day, he would repay it in full.

This line of thought led him to recall the other two forces aiding the rebellion: Liu Xi and the Mongols. Because of the death of Consort Li, Zhu Yu had once given Cao Zhengchun three days to resolve the matter, and when the time was up, he was ready to have Liu Xi executed. Yet, before the order could be given, countless people came forward to plead for Liu Xi’s life.

This was not due to Liu Xi’s influence or popularity, but because he was a grandmaster, and there was no evidence linking him to Consort Li’s death. To execute a grandmaster based on mere suspicion was something all the court ministers opposed. Zhu Yu could hardly tell them that Liu Xi had pledged himself to Prince Duan in a plot to seize the throne, so he had no choice but to let the matter drop.

In Zhu Yu’s mind, however, Liu Xi had lost all trust. Still, adhering to the principle of wasting nothing, Zhu Yu assigned Liu Xi a mission—leading a group overseas to Japan to investigate local factions and foment internal strife among them.

So much had happened in such a short time; who knew what was on Liu Xi’s mind? In any case, he accepted the task without complaint. By now, Liu Xi should be adrift on the sea, with some of the East Chamber’s elite at his side.

Zhu Yu foresaw three possible outcomes. The first, and best, was that Liu Xi would accomplish the mission perfectly—if so, his standing in Zhu Yu’s eyes would be greatly restored.

The second, which Zhu Yu considered most likely, was that Liu Xi would be discovered and killed during his scheming. This was a world of martial heroes, after all. Even just among those Zhu Yu knew, the Four Great Constables, The First Under Heaven, and the Storm and Cloud saga all featured powerful Japanese martial factions. There were certainly grandmasters in Japan, perhaps even higher-level masters, so the most probable outcome was that Liu Xi would meet his end there.

The third, and worst, possibility was that Liu Xi would betray him. Though those from the central lands tended to look down on foreign “barbarians,” there was no guarantee that Liu Xi, under duress, would not capitulate. Given Liu Xi’s character, Zhu Yu was truly uncertain.

The last external faction involved was the Mongols. Upon learning of their meddling, Zhu Yu was perplexed—how could they intervene in others’ affairs when they couldn’t even manage their own?

Among the three known forces aiding the rebellion—Prince Duan, Prince Yu, and the Mongols—the Mongols were the largest, but also the easiest for Zhu Yu to retaliate against. At least, that had been his thinking a few days prior.

Once Zhu Yu had devised his plan, the first order was for the East Chamber to gather comprehensive intelligence on the Ming Sect: their power bases, the number of regular fighters (excluding martial experts), their equipment, food supplies, and the current situation within Mongol territory.

With these commands given, Zhu Yu was fully prepared. If the Mongols ignored their own growing rebellion yet meddled in Jing’s affairs, then so be it—he would play along. He merely awaited the return of intelligence; as soon as he had the details, he would initiate contact with the Ming Sect. This time, Zhu Yu would play the role of the great benefactor, making selfless contributions.

If the Ming Sect lacked funds, Zhu Yu would provide them. If they wanted grain, he would have it delivered to them. In need of weapons? Jing would forge them and hand them over for free!

Of course, Zhu Yu was no fool. When the Mongols were finally weakened, there would be no shortage of restless powers and the many tribes of the Western Regions eager to make a move.

By then, the armies of Jing would have every reason to set foot on Mongolian soil as allies of the Ming Sect.

Though the fertile lands of Jing were coveted by all, it was the Mongols who now possessed the greatest expanse. In their heyday, no one dared covet them. But once this once-invincible wolf pack of the steppes neared its end, everyone would want a share of the spoils. At that point, Jing would be conveniently overlooked by many powers.

Just as Zhu Yu was delighting in these imaginings, the intelligence arrived—and what he read left him utterly exasperated.

Yes, the Ming Sect had indeed rebelled, raising banners of revolt across several regions within Mongolia. They waged guerrilla war against Mongol forces, causing endless headaches for the Mongol court. In open battle, the Ming Sect could not defeat the Mongols, but whenever the Mongols tried to strike, they could never find their opponents—forced into defensive maneuvers and fending off constant raids.

At this stage, Zhu Yu was still amused, but the next part of the report marked a dramatic turn.

About six years ago, the Ming Sect had ceased all rebellious activities. Its ordinary followers vanished from sight, and it reemerged as a martial sect within the world of Jianghu. However, it did nothing but seek out the Emei Sect for battle.

At first, Emei and the Ming Sect clashed fiercely, but the Ming Sect was a force capable of challenging great nations. Within two years, Emei could no longer withstand them. On one occasion, the Ming Sect even fought its way to the foot of Mount Emei itself, prompting the other martial sects to take action.

Emei, swallowing its pride, called for aid. The so-called orthodox sects responded: Shaolin, Wudang, Kongtong, Kunlun, Huashan, Songshan… countless righteous factions joined the fray.

Now, it was truly a battle between titans, for the Ming Sect faced half the martial world.

On reading this, Zhu Yu was left speechless, but he could not complain—he recognized it instantly. Wasn’t this the prologue to “Heaven Sword and Dragon Sabre”?

Wait—Heaven Sword? Dragon Sabre?