# Chapter 155: The Way Is Long
Jiang Wang had thought that Yin Guan would come to kill him—after all, he had wrecked the man's plan. But it turned out Yin Guan had gone to face Zheng Chaoyang. And he had never expected Yin Guan could fight Zheng Chaoyang to such a degree. Geniuses there were in this world by the hundreds!
By now Jiang Wang had reasoned out Yin Guan's aim. He must have prepared for this day a very long time. He had pierced not only the Guardian Sacred Beast's weakness, but also the Upper City's great formation. And he had laid his net with care in the Twenty-Seventh City; when the sacred beast carried the Upper City on patrol to this very spot, when all who knew the truth waited for him to be devoured, waited for the beast to be satisfied... he struck with sudden ferocity!
The Guardian Sacred Beast could not, of course, be made his to command—but it was enough to ignite its bloodthirst. The Thousand-Absolute Curse could carry the task out to the end. Ideally, You Kingdom's top fighting force and the sacred beast would wound each other into mutual ruin, and then he could unveil the true battle-strength he had kept hidden for years, raze the Upper City in a single blow, and shatter the kingdom's existing political order.
Out of the ruins, he would rebuild You Kingdom anew.
But by some twist of fortune, he had been drawn out early by Jiang Wang, and the trump cards of You Kingdom's high ranks exceeded his understanding—after all, he had dwelled always in the Lower City, with no chance to learn of much. Not only had Zheng Chaoyang alone held the sacred beast at bay, but the beast itself had not gone truly mad either. And from start to finish, Zhao Cang had yet to make his move, ready at any moment to catch whatever accident befell.
Yin Guan recognized that the plot had failed, and withdrew with decisiveness. But why then had he reappeared outside the city and fought a great battle with Zheng Chaoyang before leaving?
On the surface it was the fight of an unwilling loser, an attempt to try whether he could cut Zheng Chaoyang down. But in Jiang Wang's view, there could be only one reason: Su Muqing. Neither the cursed paper effigy nor the curse laid on Su Muqing's wet-nurse had ever truly threatened Su Muqing's life. But they would sever the bond between her and him, so she need no longer suffer for his sake. And his great battle with Zheng Chaoyang was to display his strength. Thus even after he departed, those still harboring thoughts of Su Muqing would weigh whether they could withstand his wrath. After he had fought Zheng Chaoyang to a standstill, none in all You Kingdom would dare probe his limits again.
Perhaps he still cared for Su Muqing, perhaps not—it no longer mattered. What mattered was that he was still so young, and yet could fight Zheng Chaoyang to a deadlock. Five years hence, ten, twenty—what then? More fearsome even than the strength he had shown was his genius. And more fearsome still than the present was his future.
This also explained why, despite being one of those who had wrecked his plan, he had not killed Jiang Wang. Because Jiang Wang had saved Su Muqing.
As journeys went, this one to You Kingdom could be called hasty; yet it left a profound impression on Jiang Wang. Especially that Yin Guan—so gifted, so mighty, so long in the preparing—had still failed. The Upper City came away almost unscathed. For several hundred years You Kingdom had run thus, and would continue so. As if nothing had changed at all.
And as for Jiang Wang himself, what he faced in turn was a road so long, so arduous!
Jiang Wang raised a finger before him, and the Flame Flower bloomed. He had grown used to this—to releasing the Flame Flower wherever and whenever, and letting it die out again. Along the whole journey he had repeated it tens of thousands of times. He meant to master every last detail of this dao-art, for only so could he glimpse fairer vistas.
Flowers fall and flowers bloom, each in their own time.
He flung his figure aloft and, hand to sword, had cleared the mountain ridges. Through the wind and frost of his road, his fighting spirit had not been blunted in the least. A journey of ten thousand li begins beneath one's feet. The way is long; yet I shall seek it high and low!
The Guardian Sacred Beast came rumbling and went rumbling away. That great tortoise-beast of Bixia bloodline would keep bearing its burden ever onward. It too had grown used to this territory of You Kingdom, used to this kinship of symbiosis. Fed at regular intervals on food rich in essence, its strength could only continue to rise. That it had thrown a small tantrum today counted for nothing: in a life so long it was not worth mentioning.
For most of the folk of the Twenty-Seventh City, today had been a day of thunderous spectacle and sudden terror. A routine examination of governance had stirred the very heavens. They would go on discussing many topics: about Yin Guan; why he had turned traitor, why he was so strong, what heresy he had joined, what evils he had done... and of course, here and there, a voice would rise doubting that he had been driven to it with no choice.
Some even spoke of that scholar of high forehead who was forever chanting doggerel verses, and of that youth with the white hair. They spoke of Zhao Che and his drunken wastrel ways. But however the people debated, they would soon forget.
In the Upper City.
Though the great tortoise-beast was in motion, not a tremor ran through the Upper City—utterly steady. The master of the Upper City was the sovereign of You Kingdom. But all knew the present sovereign had neither the bearing of a cultivator nor the wit for rule. In the ways of wine and song, however, he was gifted beyond any rival—with Zhao Che, the Grand Mentor's son, they might well be called a peerless pair of gifted wastrels.
To court audiences he would never come, of governance he would take no hand. At most, at the sacrifices, he would come out to make a turn and serve as a showpiece. There was no help for it: he was the sole blood of the preceding sovereign, noble by birth. The loyal courtiers could only pin their hopes on the next generation. Thank heaven the present sovereign proved far more prolific than the late emperor—already he boasted three sons and seven daughters, no lack of candidates worthy of nurture.
As for the disloyal... they could only swallow their tongues. After all, whether the Grand Mentor Zhao Cang or the Stele-Bearing Army commander Zheng Chaoyang, both were staunch royalists. Deathly loyal to the late emperor, they had transferred that loyalty to the present one.
Because the present sovereign paid no heed to state affairs, governance rested with the Grand Mentor.
In the great hall.
Zhao Cang sat alone at his seat. Apart from the sovereign himself, throughout all Zhuang Kingdom only he and Zheng Chaoyang held seats in this great hall, set before the assembled ministers. But Zheng Chaoyang never sat, claiming he could not grow accustomed to it.
Now there were but two in the hall. Tortoise-shells were scattered across the table. Yet Zhao Cang did not read the divination; eyes shut, he said: "Marshal Zheng, why did you let that Yin Guan go today?"
Like the vast majority of cultivation schools under heaven, the martial path had been born from the Daoist school. The most ancient Daoist path had, at the very beginning, been the confluence of all the arts whereby humanity explored the road of cultivation. Only across the long ages did directions gradually diverge, and so different schools were born. The cultivators of almost every school passed through such a ladder as Wandering Meridian, Zhou Heavenly Circulation, Heaven-Access, Dragon-Rising, Inner Prefecture, Outer Tower, Divine Presence, True Cave... Their guiding thoughts differed, their leanings varied, which in turn shaped the ways of battle.
The martial school set store by the power of blood-qi, most adept of all at wielding baleful aura, and claimed first place in killing force among all the schools. In today's battle, though battle-strength of tremendous power had erupted, the killing force that set it above cultivators of the same rank had not fully shown itself.
In other words—he had not used all his strength.
Zheng Chaoyang stood like an iron tower, and only after a long silence said: "In all our You Kingdom I have never once seen so gifted a cultivator."
"I was thinking," he said. "A genius like this—if given the chance to grow, could he not become the pillar of You Kingdom? Would he not suffice to guard it?"
Zhao Cang lifted his eyelids slightly, and said with quiet calm: "There have been others more gifted than he. But none had the chance to grow—all died in battle. Before the Guardian Sacred Beast appeared."
In the great hall, thereafter, there fell a long silence.