Chapter 56: The Might of the Heavenly River

One on one, when it comes to spells, magical treasures, or other mystical abilities, cultivators fell far short of Shu Mountain’s standards. However, compared to Shu Mountain, cultivators had their own advantage—a simple one: numbers.

All the orthodox, demonic, and fringe factions of Shu Mountain combined barely amounted to ten thousand people. Such a number in the world of cultivators was like a single drop in the ocean. Because of this sheer population, coupled with the consumption of cultivation resources, wars in the realm of cultivators were frequent. These weren’t mere skirmishes of dozens or hundreds, but clashes between hundreds of thousands or even millions of cultivators.

Thus, cultivators had developed all sorts of large-scale magical weapons and battle formations to harness collective strength for warfare. These massive instruments of war and formations often required the cooperation of tens of thousands. Their might was formidable indeed. One or two alone were manageable, but when seven or eight combined their force, even a Nascent Soul master would not dare face them head-on.

It was for this reason that no Nascent Soul cultivator had descended from the heavens to carve a swath of destruction through the heart of the Tang Dynasty. Yet even without the Nascent Souls in the fray, the intensity of this battle far exceeded everyone’s expectations.

Swarms of beasts surged forth in endless waves. Though these monsters lacked the intelligence to wield formations or magical weapons like humans, their sheer numbers battered the cultivators’ sophisticated strategies to pieces. Across countless miles of coastline, slaughter raged everywhere. Wave after wave, cultivators were drained of their spiritual power by the endless beasts, torn limb from limb.

The entire battlefront wavered dangerously. In just seven days, the Tang forces fell back again and again, contracting their defensive lines by over a thousand miles.

At a place less than twenty miles from a town, a roaring astral river—several miles wide—swept all the charging beasts into its torrent. The Celestial River True Technique, rooted in primordial heavy water, produced an overwhelming spiritual power, renowned as the most robust of all arts beneath the heavens.

Though Guo Xiaoshan’s cultivation time was short, by virtue of this grand technique, he alone held back hundreds of thousands of beasts, so securely that even the Nascent Soul demon leading the horde dared not act rashly.

Yet, despite the might of the Celestial River True Technique, it was a new creation of Chen Yang’s, and lacked matching mystical abilities or spells. Thus, Guo Xiaoshan’s power, though vast, was awkward to wield—he could only rely on brute strength.

In the beginning, the Nascent Soul demon hesitated. Though they too had evolved from beasts, once they gained intelligence, they no longer regarded the mindless monsters as kin, and cared nothing for how many perished. Otherwise, there would be no talk of blood-sacrificing low-level beasts along with the millions of humans in the North.

As the assaults grew fiercer, it became clear to the demon that Guo Xiaoshan had only raw power, not true spells or techniques. “So, just a poser who cultivates power but not mystic arts,” the demon thought, and sent the remaining seventy or eighty thousand beasts into the fray, unleashing surging waves against the river.

The Nascent Soul demon, too, leapt to attack Guo Xiaoshan atop the celestial river.

The difference between demons and beasts was wisdom. With intelligence, demons could learn human arts and even forge magical treasures. Yet these techniques never fit them perfectly, and their power always fell short of humanity’s. Even so, a demon with intellect was ten or a hundred times harder to deal with than a mere beast.

The moment the Nascent Soul demon struck, Guo Xiaoshan broke out in a cold sweat, forced onto the defensive by a barrage of spells and mystical abilities. Were it not for the Celestial River True Technique—created by Chen Yang after integrating the marvels of Shu Mountain’s Daoist arts with this world’s inexhaustible spiritual reserves—Guo Xiaoshan would have collapsed long ago.

Assailed from above by the demon’s spells and from below by endless beasts, even the Celestial River Technique’s brilliance could barely sustain Guo Xiaoshan. Yet in this dire peril, his innate talent was stirred.

He had trained in Mount Wutai swordsmanship under Chen Yang’s tutelage. Pressed to desperation, swordless, he steeled himself and treated the miles-long celestial river as his sword.

Summoning the “Coiling Dragon” defensive move from the Dragon Transformation Sword Art, he reversed the river, which twined around him like a silver dragon. With immense force, he swept the beasts aside, flesh and blood flying everywhere.

With a single stroke, thousands of beasts were pulverized into bloody mist, and over ten thousand were left maimed. The Nascent Soul demon, terrified, hastily retreated a dozen miles.

Seeing the effect, Guo Xiaoshan’s spirits soared. Wielding the celestial river as a peerless blade, he executed the Dragon Transformation Sword Art with sweeping motions; wherever the river touched, monsters died or were grievously wounded.

In less than half an hour, he had slaughtered over half the hundreds of thousands of beasts. The survivors, after repeated failed assaults by the Nascent Soul demon—who narrowly avoided death by the river—fled in all directions.

The Celestial River True Technique truly lived up to its name. Even in such fierce combat, Guo Xiaoshan showed no sign of spiritual exhaustion; on the contrary, he seemed ever more invigorated.

...

“For my people, for the Tang Dynasty!”

With a cry of tragic heroism, a man clad in a dragon-patterned robe, drenched in blood, was impaled by a long tail atop a mountain strewn with corpses.

The Crown Prince of Tang, the youngest advanced cultivator in Eastern Splendor Continent, had fallen in battle.

“So the rumors are true.”

“Let’s go.”

The three Nascent Soul demons exchanged glances, scarcely sparing a look at the breached defensive line they’d struggled so hard to break. Transforming into streaks of light, they sped westward.

In Eastern Splendor, besides Ye Fa and three other Nascent Souls, there were seven more great cultivators. The Tang Crown Prince, Li Chengye, was the youngest and most promising of them all—deemed most likely to break through to the Nascent Soul stage. With such a vital figure dead and Ye Fa and the others nowhere to be seen, the demons were now certain: the rumors about the Dragon Palace were true, and Ye Fa’s group had secretly gone there.

Only six Nascent Soul demons and a few Nascent Soul demons remained to hold the front, while the rest were dispatched to the “Dragon Palace” at the Eastern Sea Eye.

Without the leadership of powerful demons, the low-level beasts fell into chaos. The pressure on the defensive lines eased dramatically, and at the heart of operations, the Tang Emperor immediately sent a message to Chen Yang.

Within the Dragon Palace, a jade talisman in Chen Yang’s sleeve shattered. Smiling faintly, he activated the forbidden arts he’d prepared.

The Heaven-Containing Seal, the Water Mirror Technique, the Heavenly Demon Illusion Array... As these methods took effect, the Crystal Palace rapidly expanded—from three main and auxiliary halls into three massive palace complexes.

A colossal, lifeless black dragon coiled atop the main hall, its overwhelming presence radiating for hundreds of miles.

“So this world’s true dragons are so unsophisticated. Only now does it finally look like a proper Dragon Palace!”

Chen Yang nodded in satisfaction. At his side, Zhong Shenxiu stood silently, pressing a hand on his sword, which trembled and sang with anticipation.