Departure

The panel lit up.

"Do you wish to spend ten thousand taels of silver to simplify the Profound Abyss Dragon-Tiger True Canon?"

Chen Chong selected "Yes." The banknote vanished from his hand, and light flowed across the panel. Lines of text appeared and faded, as though something were deducing, calculating, and reorganizing. Then—

Simplifying... Simplification successful. Profound Abyss Dragon-Tiger True Canon—Dragon-Tiger Self-Cry.

Chen Chong did not quite understand. Dragon-Tiger Self-Cry? What did that mean? He stared at the four words on the panel, his brows knitting together.

As though it possessed human intelligence, the panel began demonstrating before his eyes. A phantom emerged upon it, dragon-shaped on the left and tiger-shaped on the right. The dragon soared, the tiger leaped—an awe-inspiring sight.

When the dragon moved, it coiled and wound; when the tiger leaped, it pounced and flipped. As they advanced, the majesty carried by dragon and tiger was like a cry.

An invisible but palpable tremor spread from the phantom, shaking even the air into a faint quiver.

Chen Chong understood. Dragon-Tiger Self-Cry meant using his own body to imitate the postures and majesty of dragons and tigers, creating a resonance-like vibration while moving.

This vibration was not merely for show. It could stir the sinews and fascia, blood and qi, and bones within his body, allowing his whole body to enter a special state of resonance.

He began to imitate it. Twisting left, twisting right, hands and feet on the ground, back and waist arched, he slithered forward like a dragon. Then he stood again, kicked off with both feet, and pounced forward with both hands, mimicking a tiger's leaps and lunges.

He twisted back and forth, occasionally flopping about. He felt like a seal performing at a zoo.

He sprawled on the ground, kicked his legs backward, arched his body forward, and even let out an "Awoo." The posture was neither pretty nor ugly. It was simply strange.

Yet the experience points on the panel began to increase. They jumped from "Mastery 32/1000" to "33/1000," then to "34/1000."

Every time he flopped, the number moved. Chen Chong flopped about even more gleefully.

If passersby happened to approach the courtyard wall, they would hear strange twisting sounds coming from within, mixed with cries of "Awoo! Awoo!" They would probably think the household kept a dog that had gone mad. Or perhaps two.

The county yamen.

The main hall was brightly lit, with many people seated within. They were all imposing figures in extraordinary attire—some dressed in silk, others in brocade, jade pendants hanging from their waists and thumb rings on their hands.

The heads of the various families, clan elders, and core disciples filled the chairs on both sides of the hall.

Some slowly sipped tea from their cups, some rested with their eyes closed, while others spoke quietly with those beside them.

One person sat in the seat of honor. He was in his forties, tall and straight-backed, with a square face and an air of official authority between his brows. He wore a blue official robe, a black horn belt around his waist, and a cloud goose embroidered on the rank badge over his chest.

He was the county magistrate of Dingshan County, surnamed Zhou, and had held office for three years. County Magistrate Zhou set down his tea cup and swept his gaze over everyone present, his expression far from pleasant.

"Since that is the case," he said, his voice steady but concealing a faint chill beneath it, "we can only withdraw first. Dingshan County will be your Dingshan County."

The expressions of those below changed somewhat. They were no longer so calm.

One person paused while setting down a tea cup, another exchanged a glance with someone nearby, and someone else lowered his head to look at his own fingers.

Those words had laid everything bare. Everyone felt some pressure.

Dingshan County possessed abundant resources and supported no small number of families of every sort. Many lineages that had been passed down for generations and could be called aristocratic houses were seated here.

The Li Family, Wang Family, Zhao Family, Sun Family, and Chen Family—the five great lineages—controlled Dingshan County's grain shops, cloth stores, pharmacies, salt and iron trade, and carriage businesses. The county town was said to belong to the government, but it would be more accurate to say it belonged to several great lineages.

Yet the roads were rugged, and its connections with the outside world were not particularly close. There was little interaction.

The government's control here was not strong. County Magistrate Zhou had been in office for three years, but there was only so much he could do.

Taxes required the approval of the great lineages, and mobilizing men required their consent. Altogether, he had only three hundred soldiers under his command, fewer than a hundred of whom could truly fight.

County Magistrate Zhou had figured it out by now as well. The people under his command were his own people. As an official in a martial world, he had to keep a firm grip on the strength beneath him.

But this time, the northern rebels had come with overwhelming force. Even the imperial court's armies had been defeated. If he threw his few hundred men into the fray, they would not even make a splash. He did not want his own men charging at the front, and these great lineages did not want theirs doing so either.

Relying on those soldiers, it would be difficult to contend with the rebel army.

When two armies clashed, the number of powerful martial artists greatly affected the battle's outcome. One Bone-Forging Stage martial artist could equal a hundred Skin Tempering Realm fighters, while one Tendon Vibration martial artist could equal fifty Flesh-Nourishing Realm fighters. Yet among his three hundred soldiers, not even half had reached the Skin Tempering Realm.

He also understood the thoughts of every great lineage clearly. Once war began, the casualties would be impossible to estimate.

The battlefield changed in the blink of an eye, and no one could control whose losses would be greater or fewer. Once any lineage showed signs of decline, the others would surely swarm forward and carve it up between them.

That was why they had been unable to reach an agreement from the very beginning.

The Li Family said the Wang Family should provide men. The Wang Family said the Zhao Family should provide grain. The Zhao Family said the Sun Family should provide money. The Sun Family said the Chen Family should contribute strength.

After going around in a circle, no one wanted to make a move. County Magistrate Zhou still made one final effort and convened this last round of persuasion. But the results were clearly far from ideal.

He rose to his feet and straightened his official robes.

"Take care of yourselves."

He left. His steps were steady, his back straight. Only after leaving the county yamen gates, when the night wind poured into his collar, did he let out a long breath.

This departure would certainly affect his official career.

If Dingshan County fell, he, as county magistrate, would not be able to escape blame. But there was no helping it. So long as the green hills remained, there would be no fear of running out of firewood.

Preserving his strength was what mattered most. This northern upheaval had gathered too much momentum. Even he could not clearly see the future.

The wind gradually swept past. Leaves along the distant streets had actually begun to fall. Withered yellow parasol-tree leaves were caught up by the wind, spinning as they drifted over the walls and landed on the stone steps before the county yamen.

County Magistrate Zhou stood upon the steps, gazing toward the residences of those great lineages in the distance. Lanterns hung high in those courtyards, their warm light aglow. When the autumn wind reached them, it seemed to grow gentler by several degrees.

He recalled visiting the Li Family once when he had first taken office. It had been late autumn, yet flowers bloomed within the Li Residence as though it were spring, warm and balmy. Camellias blossomed beneath the corridors, koi swam in the ponds, and the sweet fragrance of osmanthus filled the air.

That was a perpetual spring built from piles of silver. Yet he, the county magistrate, lived in the rear hall of the yamen and even had to calculate every piece of charcoal burned in winter.

County Magistrate Zhou withdrew his gaze and walked down the steps. His carriage was waiting for him.

He got into the carriage, and the curtain fell, shutting the night outside. The axle creaked, the horses' hooves tapped against the bluestone pavement, and the carriage gradually departed.

The fallen leaves before the county yamen grew thicker still.