In the days that followed, the war between the Mystic Court and the New World settled into a prolonged tug-of-war.
Chu Mo controlled the Three Halls, constantly dispatching troops to the front. Batch after batch of Mystic Court cultivators were sent into the New World, while the impostors who had replaced them were sent back to the Mystic Court.
He and his fellow disciples from the Hezhen Society worked in perfect accord, slowly bleeding the Mystic Court's reserves dry.
Their actions were exceedingly covert. Even when someone occasionally grew suspicious and submitted a memorial, the Youxuan occupying the upper ranks erased it.
And so it went, month after month, year after year.
The Mystic Court's cultivators entered the New World in batches, then died in batches or "returned alive." As time passed, the Mystic Court's army gradually gained the upper hand, but the impostors behind the lines grew ever more numerous.
In the end, impostors could be found almost everywhere, inside and outside the court, above and below, along every street and alley. Indeed, genuine people were now the minority.
Yet just as Chu Mo thought everything could continue smoothly until he replaced the Mystic Court's last genuine person, something unexpected happened.
"The Heavenly Emperor suddenly wants to summon the heads of the Three Halls and the Eight Departments?"
Chu Mo looked at Shen Qingxi in surprise, not having anticipated this turn of events.
Beside him, Shen Qingxi nodded, his expression grave. "If His Majesty were only summoning one or two people, we could beg off with excuses about secluded cultivation or being away. But he's summoning everyone. If none of us go, the Heavenly Emperor will certainly grow suspicious. But if we do go..."
He did not finish, but Chu Mo understood what he meant.
He had long since