“The great Divine Tool—the River Soldiers will appear soon!”

“It will manifest at the Imperial Mausoleum, at the ley lines of the imperial sovereignty!”

On the very same day the Emperor had received the results of his seers’ and soothsayers’ auguries, word of the prophecy began leaking quietly out of the imperial city into the public through various channels.

Like the faint trembling spreading from the centermost skeins of a vast spider web, the news caused ripples in the domains of the Cultivation World and the Five Main Tribes of Demon Race alike; the news was readily available to anyone who had an ear to it. The site of the Imperial Mausoleum, with its restrictions and the various dangers that skulked within, became known to anyone interested. What should have been a carefully-guarded secret had become as public as a flaming brand in the dark.

It was no longer a secret; but a general knowledge to everyone, even the common folk.

One could not help wondering if it was in fact part of the Imperial Family’s designs to intentionally allow the word to escape for purposes yet unknown.

Many were suspecting if this was a trap to see anyone guileless enough to spring it, as the Imperial Family remained in the shadows, readying itself to pounce.

There was hardly any doubt in the authenticity of the information that escaped the tight confines of the Imperial Palace complex. However, it would be prudent to suspect if part of it was tailored as part of a ruse. There could be integral parts which have been misrepresented or even omitted, which explained how the news could spread like a fire in a barn.

“To act or not to act?”

That was the very same conundrum now felt by almost every faction within the domains of the Cultivators and the Demon Race.

It was a masterful stroke that had kept everyone on their heels as none dared to make the first move. But despite the mind-boggling mystery, none of the sects and orders chose to withdraw; rather, almost all of them dispatched their disciples or acolytes to the site to investigate.

As the saying went, with no risk, came no rewards. Fruits and bounties of labor never came without blood, sweat, tears, and in some cases, death. This was exactly why guilds and sects were founded in the first place: to unify the strengths of individual practitioners of arcane skills in pursuit of a common goal or ideology.

Why else would there be sects and guilds of Cultivators of the arcane skills?

However, Qian Shuxiao had an answer contrary to what most would believe: to bring blessing to everyone!

“Especially the poor,” he was heard saying, “For the poor had lost most, if not all, of what they should have as their own. Nobility is not measured by wealth, as all men are born pure and righteous.”

Suffering built character, just as how, by the hands of Man, an environment could change, Ye Que mused, as he witnessed a surrealistic deja vu—did the Great Tao Sutra not embody part of Qian Shuxiao’s beliefs, he wondered.

For the next few days, Ye Que continued training and meditating. But somehow, he began to experience an exponential increase in his progress, as did Qian Shuhua. He was well aware of Qian Shuhua’s alarming rate of growth that he began to fear her. While most people trained and meditated to the best of their abilities, Qian Shuhua never stopped challenging the greatest extent of her boundaries that she would even endanger herself.

The pale light of sunrise nudged over the horizon.

The ring of shops around the Imperial City of Luoyang, numbering to thirty-six of them, began to fill with a mob of crowds. Every one of them was clad in the same grey linen frock with two words on their chest: Divine Sect.

“Where to at this early hour, Ah Feng?” A female fishmonger asked offhandedly.

“It is the inaugural opening of the Divine Sect Seminary today, Auntie,” Ah Feng replied cheerily, “Anyone can come and have a look. Do come over when you’re free in the afternoon. I’ll teach you how to meditate and train.” He was once a hoodlum, condemned to a life of misery and barbarity. But on this day, he was different; his life was completely tipped over. He was now able to spread the teachings of arcane knowledge and skills, learnings which were once jealously guarded by immortals and deities.

Also present around was Chu Dongnan. Despite his new position as a Branch Master, he was also humbly dressed in the same grey linen attire.

Once, a small-time ringleader of salt smugglers, he had achieved greatness by turning into a Rank 1 martial artist, partially attaining the Pre-celestial Realm. He was filled with myriads of emotions as he began reflecting of his past and his tireless journey up to this day, as the memory of his first encounter with Ye Que and how Ye Que had given him a thrashing was still vivid in his mind.

The one kick from Ye Que had landed Chu Dongnan into a whole new world beyond his imaginations.

A kick that had given him the perspective to the boundless possibilities and potentials that this world had in store.

The row of shops which were once inns and tea houses to the west of Yong’an Street after the Bridge of Long Life was no more; they had been renovated and fitted with a brand new plaque that hung on the main doorway entrance, although the vestiges of the establishments they once were could still be noticed.

The plaque was shrouded in a long cloth dyed in rich scarlet red.

Inscribed upon the plaque would ostensibly be the words: the Divine Sect Seminary.

Before long, the Masters of the thirty-six branches of the order, with all one thousand two hundred and eighteen disciples were present. The courtyard of the ten shophouses which had been refurbished into one large premise for the use of the Seminary, was utterly filled with the thousand-man strong assembly.

Ye Que stood beneath the nameplate of the Seminary, erect and proud. Qian Shuxiao and Qian Shuhua flanked by his side; the former with a manuscript in his arms like a devoted assistant, while the latter with a long, coal-black spear with the semblance of a staunch sentinel.

“The proposed auspicious hour is at fifteen minutes before ten in the morning, Sect Leader! We have sent word to as many people as possible about our opening! Let us commence with all the fanfare we can muster!”

The excitement was evident on Qian Shuxiao’s face as he continued, “Everyone is vying for the River Soldier Divine Tool now. What happens if by a stroke of fortune, you were able to claim it? It would be a travesty when you proclaim yourself and nobody recognizes our name!”

“The mere thought of such prospect is already upsetting enough.”

“Nevermind if it indeed actually happens.”

“What makes you think I’ll be going to the Imperial Mausoleum?” Ye Que hissed with exasperation at Qian Shuxiao. “You think the contest for the Divine Tool is child’s play?”

“That is a contest of life and death.”

Ye Que could not elaborate further. He was not present to witness the manifestation of the River Soldiers before his rebirth, for he was at the of Qiuqiu Sword Sect then, still learning the sword skills. The arduous labors of contesting for the Divine Tools would hardly fall upon his shoulders as a junior; only his seniors which were of higher ranks and realms commanded sufficient power and authority to take part in such endeavors.

But the mere recounts of his seniors were daunting enough for him: scores of prodigies and virtuosos from different denominations all entered the Imperial Mausoleum, including those of the Demon Race, yet only one emerged victorious to claim the ultimate prize: the Divine Tool. The rest were maimed, cleaved, or bloodied; doomed to join the dead that slumbered in the depths of the necropolis. The number of casualties never fell below seven-tenths of the original number that went in.

Seven out of every ten warriors who ventured in the Mausoleum would end up dead, with two of the remaining three badly wounded. A bloody and gruesome game of death in its truest definition.

where the survivability of each contestant vying for the prize hung on a delicate balance.

Ye Que did not hear anything else from his seniors, but the snippet of revelation he caught was enough to send chills down his spine.

The sun rose higher and higher as mid-day came and Qian Shuxiao’s smile slowly faded as the hour grew late, his warmth and cheerfulness evaporating with the swelter of the sun.

“Look at the time, why is none of the guests here yet! The invitations have long been delivered a few days ago!”

“That’s weird.”

“It doesn’t make sense.”

But if Qian Shuxiao could ride on his sword to fly into the air and look at the entire Yong’an Street of Luoyang City, his question would be instantly answered.

It was not the matter of whether the guests were coming, rather, it was a question of if they could come, or not.

An entire battalion of soldiers had been mobilized to bar everyone from going to the Divine Sect Seminary! All points of entry to the Seminary from the Bridge of Long Life of Yong’an Street to the Bridge of Everlasting Peace, from the Vermilion Bird Street in the north to the Xuanwu Street in the south, were closed to the public by the soldiers!

There were two palanquins of ordinary appearance sitting to the right of the Bridge of Long Life. None of the attendants of the palanquins were in sight, save for a sentry armed with a saber who stood steadfastly beside the palanquins. His keen eyes were constantly in motion, scanning the surroundings with the watchfulness of a shepherd watching over his lambs with the poise and mien that bespoke his abilities of a powerful warrior.

A hand reached through the drapes of the palanquin, revealing a cold and vile face with squared aristocratic chins. There was an unmistakable whiff of depravity about the man, a deplorable thirst for grandeur which would have fully personified if only any government and officials present to prostrate themselves at his feet, groveling at his ankles while proclaiming loudly, “Your Highness the Second Prince!”

The Second Prince’s drapes rose a little, followed by the curtains in the next palanquin, revealing its occupant to be Ye Yunhai.

“Please leave this to me, Your Highness,” Ye Yunhai said, his horrid-looking eyebrows dipping slightly, “No man or soul will be able to pass through the barricades to reach the so-called Divine Sect Seminary.”

“I am at ease with you at the helm, Master Ye,” growled the Second Prince, “I trust that the hosts of the Ye Clan would be handle menial tasks such as this at least.” The Second prince stretched an arm out his window, to bath his hand in the sun’s swelter. But his finger had barely touched the sunlight, only to have him jerked his arm back with disgust as if his finger had just grazed a pile of manure and filth.

“My older brother has gone overboard; day in and day out he remained by Father’s side, feeding His Majesty with honeyed words. Not only he wishes to interfere with the River Soldiers Divine Tool, but he even tries to bring his bastard daughter into the fold! What a stupid farce!”

“If his daughter is the one destined to defend the Empire, then I would have been the Celestial Emperor myself…”