My Journey to Immortality Begins with Hunting-Chapter 661 - ‘A Battle for the Ages’, Angling for the Mastermind - Part 1

Chapter 661 - ‘A Battle for the Ages’, Angling for the Mastermind - Part 1

Early August, though it might as well have been mid-autumn already.

On the fringes of Harmony Province, an uprising broke out.

This was the imperial heartland. An insurrection here was like a slap across the Emperor’s face, right beneath the Son of Heaven’s nose.

Yet no one was surprised.

Neither the Son of Heaven nor the Ministry of War and Martial Arts were caught off guard. The Ministry of War had clashed with these 18 rebel factions countless times long before the revolt even began.

Emperor Ying Mo remained unbothered. He believed that the Great Zhou was as unshakable as Mount Tai. Even during the Lotus Cult rebellion a century ago, the dynasty hadn’t fallen. So why would it now?

He handed the reins of command to the ministries, appointed loyal commanders to supervise the frontlines, and continued his debauched life deep within the palace.

When he saw autumn leaves beginning to fall in the imperial gardens, he was struck by a whimsical notion. He ordered his palace maids to strip off their outer robes and chase one another through the trees, playing like children.

The maids froze, confused.

Ying Mo drew his blade and killed one of them on the spot.

The rest, terrified, quickly undressed and forced themselves to laugh as they ran, pretending to enjoy the grotesque game amidst the falling leaves.

Watching them, Ying Mo burst into laughter. He then ordered his attendants to drag the fresh corpse away and feed it to his pet beasts, remarking, “Everything must serve its purpose. Waste not.”

And this? This was just a sliver of the iceberg.

Ordinary people could never fathom how low a mad tyrant’s depravity could sink. But these inhuman atrocities, they were real. They were happening.

Ying Mo sat comfortably in his pavilion, drinking and reveling. Suddenly, he turned to his attendants and asked, “What kind of man is your emperor?”

The attendants hurried to flatter him: “Your Majesty is carefree and unrestrained, the very image of a true spiritual master.”

Ying Mo beamed, nodding in satisfaction.

Moments later, someone reported that the Heavenly Master had arrived.

Ying Mo rose at once to greet him.

The Daoist priest in violet robes was approaching middle age, his eyes calm and serene. Once inside the palace, he pulled a jade box from his sleeve and presented a sacred elixir.

The pill was a deep red, with fine strands of blood swirling within.

Ying Mo pointed at the threads and asked, “Is this the primal blood?”

“It is,” the Heavenly Master replied.

So-called primal blood was crafted through a gruesome process involving the sacrifice of countless virgin boys and girls. Unspeakably cruel.

And it was precisely these monstrous acts committed by the Emperor that had plunged the empire ever deeper into chaos.

Ying Mo swallowed the elixir eagerly, then exhaled with bliss.

“Marvelous,” he said. “I feel so light, it’s as if I could ascend to heaven. The path of harvesting others to replenish oneself, your teachings were no lie. They truly work.”

The Heavenly Master smiled and nodded. The pill’s core ingredients were indeed powerful tonics, refined using secret methods passed down from his predecessors. How could it not work?

However, he simply let out a deep sigh. “Alas, the people of this world do not understand the sacred rites of ruler and subject. They fail to see that this land and all upon it belong to Your Majesty.”

Ying Mo understood. The Heavenly Master was speaking of the rebel armies. The Emperor sneered.

“Such lowly peasants,” he said. “They know nothing of propriety. They don’t realize their sole purpose is to serve me. But with the Grand General and the Lord of Arms in charge, this is hardly worth worrying about.”

With that, Ying Mo eagerly turned the conversation back to the topic of immortality.

The Heavenly Master, for his part, was well-versed in the arts of longevity and the arcane secrets of the ancient world. He rambled from one topic to another, weaving together all sorts of cryptic anecdotes and forgotten lore.

Suddenly, Ying Mo asked, “Heavenly Master, have you ever seen the Divine Mother?”

The Heavenly Master had, in fact, heard tales from his dying master, whispers of the West, fragments of truth buried under layers of secrecy. His old master had died with deep regret, entrusting this disciple to carry on his will and pursue what he himself could not.

And so the younger Heavenly Master had inherited that burden.

Now, hearing the Emperor’s question, he paused briefly to consider his words, then replied, “I myself have never been so fortunate, but my master once glimpsed the lands of the western immortals. He said that place is steeped in the miraculous. Once inside, one does not age, nor die. Time itself seems to halt. There, dwells the Divine Mother. Black-feathered crows fly in and out of her palace, feeding her and attending to her needs. The western tribes revere a totem of a sacred crow, modeled after that very bird.”

He paused again, as if recalling something from long ago, then continued, “In the time of Emperor Xuan, envoys were regularly sent westward, offering tribute to the Divine Mother.”

This, of course, was a closely guarded secret. Even the existence of Sheng’er back then was classified at the highest level, so secret that not even court historians dared to record it. Though less than 70 years had passed, six emperors had come and gone. Much had already faded into obscurity.

“So she really does exist!” Ying Mo was elated. He leaned forward, eyes glittering with obsession. “I am the master of the mortal realm, and she the mistress of Heaven. Isn’t that a perfect match?”

The Heavenly Master blinked, then quickly offered a smile and nodded. “Your Majesty speaks with divine insight.”

But inwardly, he sneered.

If not for his greater plan, to channel the fury of the entire world and use it to unlock the mysteries of the Human Emperor’s Martial Canon, would he really waste time indulging this deluded fool?

A mortal emperor, full of himself, daring to speak of wedding the Divine Mother? The audacity bordered on blasphemy.

Still...this was an era before the supernatural had returned to the world. And whoever could seize the power of the transcendent would become the protagonist of this new age.

˙·٠✧🐗➶➴🏹✧٠·˙

Skyscale Mountain.

Li Yuan sat cross-legged, the Human Emperor’s Martial Canon resting in his lap.

He had pored over this breathing method countless times, practiced it over and over.

And with each attempt, he understood a little more.

This wasn’t just a breathing method. It was a foundational martial art. Perhaps a rudimentary, entry-level technique, but undoubtedly the key to unlocking a new epoch.

The Human Emperor had defied the Heavens, leaving this path behind so that future generations might walk it.

Though it might be basic, it was still a path. And once a path existed, others would follow. From that trail would sprout countless more, like buds branching into limbs, those limbs reaching skyward, forming a towering tree of power that would stretch beyond the clouds.

Li Yuan also reflected on the Dusk character he had been contemplating.

In the past, that word might well have been part of the heavenly seal.

But in the new era, the heavenly seal had yet to appear.

So, the Dusk character seemed less like a single skill, and more like a whole system, a cluster of spells or powers driven by some new force. In game terms, from what Li Yuan remembered before his transmigration, it resembled a druid’s nature-based curse magic.

The breathing method was a cultivation technique.

Dusk was a combat art.

With both in hand, he should, by all logic, be able to wield them.

And yet, something was still missing.

What is it? Li Yuan wracked his brain but came up with nothing. He had experimented with every possibility he could think of. Nothing worked.

˙·٠✧🐗➶➴🏹✧٠·˙

On Skyscale Mountain, the crowds had long since dispersed. The rebel armies had already descended into the valleys below.

In the distance, smoke rose like wolves howling into the sky. The clash of weapons echoed, blades flashing, horses screaming, and soldiers dying.

These were not just skirmishes between armies. This was war waged on two fronts, brute military force and elite martial prowess.

In an era without spiritual energy or grand formations, even the mightiest warriors would eventually be ground down and killed by attrition. It was no different from the ancient wars of Li Yuan’s own world.

So-called tiger generals and brilliant strategists, once surrounded by enough foot soldiers, were as mortal as anyone else.

Far off in the haze of battle, a banner had risen. It bore the single word, Divine.

“The Divine Mother spoke through dreams. Her chosen son walks the earth. The wicked Zhou must fall, and today is the day!”

This slogan had begun to spread like wildfire.

The Divine Sovereign Yang Jiang, claiming to act on the Divine Mother’s will, vowed to purge the mortal world and save all of humanity.

The other 17 rebel leaders followed suit, proclaiming themselves Divine Lords. Their elite warriors were Divine Generals, and even their foot soldiers bore the title of Divine Soldiers.

The High Priest of the Divine Crow Church, however, refused the title of Divine Lord. He kept his original name but declared that he alone could receive the Divine Mother’s revelations.

From these divine revelations, he concocted a so-called holy water. Before each major battle, all Divine Soldiers would drink it, chanting that Divine Mother spoke through her dreams and that her son walked among us.

The results were a surge of excitement, a rush of strength, and into battle they charged, fearless and wild.

Li Yuan had never seen this holy water for himself, but he suspected it contained something not unlike a stimulant. It certainly wasn’t real magic, at least not yet.

Because of his status as the Divine Monarch, much of the intelligence from the rebel forces below was brought up the mountain to keep him informed of their progress.

˙·٠✧🐗➶➴🏹✧٠·˙

Time, relentless and patient, ground on like sun and moon polishing away at an ant. Before long, winter arrived.

As the first snow blanketed the ground, the fighting down below finally began to ease.

Six of the 17 rebel factions had been annihilated by the empire’s lightning strikes. But the remaining 12 had dug in, forming a ring around the Central Capital, like a noose slowly tightening across the vast plains of Harmony Province.

Among them, the rebel forces from Skyscale Mountain had seized control of 12 cities, and more towns and villages than anyone could count. Their numbers had swelled to a staggering 600,000.

And that was just one faction.

Across all 12 remaining factions, the rebel army now numbered over five million, and it was still growing. Every day, more joined the cause.

Thanks to the disastrous reigns of the last two emperors, the Great Zhou dynasty had finally succeeded in forging a rare achievement, and that universal hatred.

It was a hatred even deeper, even wider, than during the Lotus Cult uprising a century ago.

Back during the Lotus Cult uprising, most of the land was ravaged by natural disasters. Famine, disease, ghost domains, and other calamities fell from the heavens themselves. And so, if the people harbored hatred, it was hatred aimed at the skies.

But now, the heavens had quieted.

It was the Emperor who had begun tormenting the people.

Naturally, the backlash was fiercer than ever before. The uprising spread like wildfire, one rebel banner raised was like a torch thrown into a vat of oil. Decades of pent-up hatred against the Ying dynasty ignited in an instant.

The goodwill once earned by the Central Capital Princess and Emperor Xuan had been completely spent.

Now, the people wanted nothing more than to see the Ying Clan fall.

Yes, the Ministry of War and Martial Arts were powerful. But the rebellion had become an unstoppable force.

In less than six months, people openly began referring to the rebel regime as the Divine Dominion.