Chapter Nine: The Changing of Dynasties

The night sky of the Box World was studded with stars, dazzling and radiant, cascading like a waterfall.

“Perhaps, for an exiled immortal of the ancient Heavenly Way, more than twenty years is but a fleeting moment…”

Ye Qingyu sat at the edge of a mountaintop cliff, her legs swinging gently as she gazed down upon the mountains. Reflected in her beautiful eyes were the shadows of fierce and savage beasts, yet there was not a trace of fear left within her.

These monstrous hordes of beasts, once disasters incarnate, now seemed to her no more than ants in the dust, easily swept away with a flick of the finger. Only in the deepest recesses of the mountains did a few ancient and powerful beasts remain, capable of exerting some pressure upon her. Yet perhaps out of wariness toward Ye Qingyu, these ancient beast kings had not dared to emerge, choosing instead to dwell in the most remote corners of the valley.

“The blessing of the exiled immortal of the ancient Heavenly Way has transformed the lives of our generation of Xuanqing Sect cultivators…”

As memories surfaced, Ye Qingyu’s delicate features softened with reminiscence. She recalled her very first venture into the Wild Mountain Range—how green and inexperienced she had been, how she had dreaded encountering the savage beasts. She remembered being frightened out of her wits when she came upon two wild bears. Even now, a faint smile played on her lips as she recalled that it was the exiled immortal who had intervened then: a colossal finger descended from the heavens, blotting out the sun, and the bears blocking her path perished instantly.

Now, having received the immortal’s blessing and fought bloody battles for over twenty years, she had rebuilt the Xuanqing Palace within the valley, leading her companions to days of prosperity, bustle, and peace. Revered and loved by all, she had become the first Palace Mistress of Xuanqing Palace.

Her gaze shifted to the Beast Tomb at the heart of the valley. The monstrous, savage, terrifying beasts that had once inspired dread and despair now lay in heaps of bones, piled as high as mountains. Here, the honor of the Xuanqing Sect was enshrined.

On the towering mountain beside her, rows of grand, solemn characters had been carved, recording the deeds of the exiled immortal and chronicling the legacy and history of Xuanqing Palace. This place bore witness to the passage of time.

Contemplating all this, Ye Qingyu sighed softly, stood up, and looked into the distance, her long hair streaming in the mountain breeze.

“After more than twenty years in the valley, in two days, it will be time to hold the sacrificial ceremony and set forth to the mundane Great Jing Dynasty to settle some worldly affairs…”

Old scores from the past, ancient sect hatreds, were at last to be settled.

In the blink of an eye, two days passed.

When the members of Xuanqing Sect in the valley learned that they would soon confront their enemies in the Great Jing Dynasty, the news set them ablaze with excitement. The culprits who had driven them into exile in the wilds—they would never forget. At last, vengeance was within reach, and they could not help but steel themselves for battle, sharpening their blades with fervor.

The emperor of the Great Jing Dynasty was tyrannical and unworthy. Evil sects held sway, traitorous ministers ruled, chaos reigned, bandits and marauders ran rampant, the people suffered, and all righteous sects were wiped out. Such a rotten dynasty deserved to be overthrown! The world needed to be set right again.

Thus, the sacrificial ceremony in the valley was conducted with great solemnity. Ye Qingyu, dressed in a pale blue priestess’s garb and crowned with flowers, radiated an aura of sanctity and solemn grace. She moved with fluid elegance, presenting offerings as she intoned the ancient words of the ritual:

“Resplendent is the Heavenly Way, virtue overflowing in the mortal realm, shining upon the earth; the spirits of the land gather, peace and auspiciousness descend, bringing gentle winds and timely rains; all creatures find their place, the harvests are bountiful, all beings thrive; all creatures find their place, the herds flourish, as in ages past and present; by the grace of the exiled immortal, sweet rain falls, and peace reigns over the four seas; all plants and creatures attain longevity, none left withered; though merit may have an end, the blessing is boundless; the rite is thus completed, may fortune be received, and the legacy flow on; noble virtue and benevolence, like the ever-flowing river, shall be sung for generations; with offerings and prayers, the great ritual is fulfilled.”

Amidst this majestic, awe-inspiring ritual, the members of Xuanqing Sect departed the valley in grand procession, heading for the secular dynasty. Along the way, not a single beast dared block their path; all scattered and fled, fearful that any delay would lead them to join the dead in the Beast Tomb. Birds and beasts fled in all directions, making for a truly spectacular sight.

Ye Qingyu walked upon the air, swift as lightning, accompanied by streaks of rainbow light as her companions, brimming with killing intent, followed her toward the mortal realm.

Upon arrival, all they saw was devastation: corpses littering the wilds, disasters unending, bones of the frozen lining the roads, families torn apart, homes destroyed, children eaten in desperation, bodies dismembered for fuel. Meanwhile, the royal court of the Great Jing Dynasty reveled in luxury, lost in debauchery. Together with the evil sects who held the kingdom in thrall, they feasted and gambled, hunted and played, licentious music filling the air, all lost in pleasure.

Upon the imposing city gates of the capital hung the heads of righteous cultivators, strung together like lanterns, a grisly warning of the fate awaiting any who dared to resist the dynasty.

“The Jing Dynasty must perish!”

Anger burned in Ye Qingyu’s beautiful face as she severed the thick ropes, giving proper burial to the heads of the righteous. Then she led her followers into the decadent imperial palace.

A fierce battle erupted.

Ye Qingyu fought with deadly precision, swiftly slaying the master of the evil sect that guarded the dynasty. The Exiled Immortal’s ancient sword in her hand tore the sky asunder, a waterfall of swordlight cascading down. With a single stroke, she dispatched the aged sect master with ease.

“Grand Preceptor!”

The emperor of the Jing Dynasty turned ashen with terror, his face drained of blood, his courage shattered. Panic-stricken, he collapsed to the ground, his robes soaked.

“Protect the emperor! Protect the emperor!”

He scrambled to his feet, trying to flee, but a blade of sword energy flashed past. He felt a chill at his neck, and his head separated from his body, dying on the spot. The courtiers, imperial guards, and disciples of the evil sect were all seized with horror.

“A tyrant deserves death!”

Ye Qingyu sheathed her sword with a gentle motion, her aura soaring as she gazed upon the emperor she had just slain. Vengeance at last was hers. She could not help but think of her lost kin; her eyes reddened, and her lips pressed together in sorrow.

Scenes unfolded before her mind’s eye: elders of her sect surrounded and slaughtered; loved ones sacrificing themselves so she could escape; murderous disciples of the evil sect and imperial guards closing in. The memories made her jade-like hand, clutching the ancient sword, tremble.

“Kill! Kill these traitors!”

The disciples of the evil sect and the imperial guards charged desperately, determined to slaughter every last cultivator of Xuanqing Palace.

Boom! Boom!

The rest of her companions joined battle, clashing fiercely with the enemy in a melee of violence.

The fighting raged for two days and nights.

Ye Qingyu’s power was overwhelming. When she unleashed the Exiled Immortal’s ancient sword, frost blanketed a thousand miles, snow fell across the empire’s capital, thick drifts piling on streets, taverns, shops, and homes. Sword energy swept out for three hundred miles. Alone, she stood against an army of a million.

The evil sect and the imperial army fought desperately, sacrificing the lives of countless citizens and soldiers, but in the end, all perished beneath Ye Qingyu’s hand.

“It is over.”

Having slain the last disciple of the evil sect, Ye Qingyu stood in the imperial palace, gathered the remaining officials, executed the traitors, and restored order.

Yet the realm was already in chaos.

Princes rose in revolt, lords vied for supremacy, warlords contended for the heartlands, each commanding vast armies and laying siege in pursuit of the throne.