Chapter 52: Five Years

The Ancestor Howling at the Moon sent wolf howls echoing for miles, disturbing the peace within Feather God City. Many soldiers were roused from sleep, their faces filled with displeasure, and began whipping the hunting dogs. They cared little for the true cause—if the howling came from wolves, the blame must fall on these wolfhounds.

To the feathered folk, these dogs were nothing more than creatures that wagged their tails for scraps, fit to be beaten or scolded whenever the mood struck. Such things had become a matter of course, yet they remained oblivious to the widening cracks beneath the surface.

To subjugate the wolf packs through violence might be effective, but the real folly was allowing these wolves to gain intelligence. Yet from the high priests to the commoners, no one noticed this subtle shift. The feathered people were proud, deeming themselves noble, blessed and watched over by the gods, and thus looked down on all other sentientless creatures. The only exception, the one they truly regarded with caution, was the merman spoken of in the priests' worried whispers.

But that danger was distant, more legend than reality.

Time flowed swiftly, and in the blink of an eye, five years slipped past all who dwelt there.

Five years later, Yun Zhao had grown as sturdy as a wild ox. In a society where the average height was about one meter seventy, the nineteen-year-old Yun Zhao towered at two meters thirty. His body brimmed with power; one glance revealed muscles taut as if they might burst. Simply standing there, he inspired awe and the sense that he could stand alone against ten thousand.

He was now known as the foremost warrior of the feathered tribe, a true totem fighter. He had battled tigers, faced dozens of wild beasts alone without fear, and captured the beast king amidst the chaos of a thousand-strong army. It could be said that Yun Zhao's current strength was second only to the high priestess Qing.

In these five years, no matter how hard Yun Zhao cultivated, the spiritual energy would ceaselessly replenish his flesh and bones. Now, it seemed his body had reached the pinnacle of perfection—no matter how much further he practiced, the influx of spiritual energy could no longer bring further improvement. Yet, should he stop, his strength would slowly diminish, so Yun Zhao could do nothing but continue, maintaining his peak.

Meanwhile, Priestess Qing's cultivation began to show marked progress. The ethereal core within her was gradually coalescing into solid form. Moreover, she felt as though the energy from her cultivation was infusing her eyes, as if they were about to awaken to new perception.

The liver opens to the eyes, the kidneys to the ears, the lungs to the nose, the spleen to the mouth, and the heart to the tongue. By opening these seven orifices, linking pain and sensation throughout the organs, body and spirit would merge as one, forming the golden core. This was Qing's most orthodox path of cultivation.

During these five years, with the ancestral orders, the treatment of the hounds had steadily declined, leading to growing discontent among many of the canines. Yet some remained loyal, voicing not a single complaint.

As for the Ancestor Howling at the Moon, his own path had reached an impasse. Ever since forming his inner core, all his spiritual energy was absorbed into it. But he discovered that to progress further, to move beyond merely storing energy, he required a complete human form. Gaining a human body would be difficult, but no matter—he had time. Only when he achieved it would he enact his plan. This posed no real obstacle.

...

Beneath the sea, the city-states were in constant turmoil. Since the death of King An, King Xu had ascended, and the entire merman royal court had fallen into chaos. Some supported Prince Xu, others the second prince, and still others the third; ambitious figures even plotted to seize the court, as General Haiyu of the royal guard did, holding the merman king hostage to command the lords.

Today, the soldiers of Qu Shui City attacked South Wind City, clashing fiercely in a certain stretch of sea. The lord of Qu Shui led the king beast into battle, routing the South Wind forces. Yet the South Wind army was not so easily defeated. To prevent any single city from dominating, other cities quickly moved to encircle Qu Shui, plunging the region into ever greater confusion.

In these battles, the value of the king beasts became evident. Lord Qu Shui, Quan Ying, rode his king beast through the fray, unmatched beneath the waves—only another noble equipped with a king beast could challenge him.

After the first battle where a king beast was deployed, others began striving to capture such creatures for themselves. Failing that, they sought the offspring and descendants of king beasts. Any sea beast with special abilities could be pressed into service.

Given these circumstances, the cities with king beasts, unable to settle the conflict quickly, adopted a new strategy: amassing troops and biding their time. They sought suitable sea beasts for their king beasts to mate with, ensuring a future supply of powerful offspring.

Quan Zhi of Wise City did just this. He stroked his king beast, remembering how it had once saved his life in a charge a year ago, deepening his trust to the point where not even the allure of his beautiful concubines could distract him—he insisted the king beast always be at his side.

Still, Quan Zhi understood that if he wished to seize the royal throne, a single king beast would not suffice. He needed more.

Within the royal court, the new king, Prince Xu, shed his former timidity and grew somewhat tyrannical. The maid who once scolded him, boasting of being the eldest prince's favored companion, now could only fawn and scheme at Xu's side in hopes of advancement.

Countless people now revolved around Prince Xu, which filled him with exultation and made him relish his new life. Although his claim to the throne was dubious—especially with the second and third princes still alive—the court was his, and so he was the legitimate merman king.

True, the real power lay with General Haiyu, commander of the royal guards, but Haiyu gave Prince Xu sufficient respect. After tearing down the palace roof, he handed the palace over, provided Xu did not meddle in affairs. To Haiyu, Prince Xu was merely a figurehead. If he himself were ever defeated, he might yet try to surrender, hoping for a slim chance of survival.

...

In Eastern Province, on the sacred Jumu Tree, wood spirits with emerald-green skin leapt back and forth along the trunk, playing and laughing with endless delight. The Jumu seemed to enjoy their games, letting them frolic on its vast body without complaint.

Suddenly, one wood spirit giggled and asked, "Master Jumu, what's at the top of your tree? We've never been there, and we're so curious!"

"No one is allowed up there!" Jumu was startled by the question, snapping out of its playful mood and answering sternly, "That is the dwelling place of the gods. Should any of you dare enter, you will be uprooted and destroyed—no hope of survival!"

All the wood spirits were stunned by Jumu's reaction and hastened to promise that they would never climb to the treetop.

"It's not just me—you must do the same. I often grow weary and fall into deep slumber. When I sleep, it falls to you to guard this place. You must never let any living being pass through. Can you do that?"