Volume One: The Turmoil of Yan and Yun Chapter Seventy-One: Undercurrents (III)

Is Heaven sentient? This is a well-known debate in the Dao Abyss Continent, frequently posed at the various Grand Dao Conclaves. Young talents, whether newly emerging or world-renowned, have long been divided into two camps over this very question, and their discussions have spread from the conference halls to the common folk of the Divine Dynasty, who are now similarly split.

One camp believes that Heaven is indeed sentient. They argue that excessive exploitation of nature leads to disasters, and from this springs the doctrine that “when humanity loses the Way, Heaven will claim them”—a host of theories with this as their cornerstone.

The other camp holds that Heaven is as insentient as stone or sand, and from this flows the idea that “if Heaven had feelings, it too would grow old”—and a myriad of philosophies follow in its wake.

Now, this question is once again raised, but the context is a conversation among beings of the highest Daoist cultivation.

Even among the most formidable, the divide remains. One faction, led by Li Jingxing and Dou Xiaotong, has inferred, from countless subtle clues, that the world is indeed sentient. The reason that living beings cannot sense this, they suggest, is a matter of cultivation—only those who reach the highest peaks are worthy of perceiving Heaven’s presence.

The opposing side, with the former Emperor and Wei Sanmu at its helm, maintains that Heaven is nothing but the manifestation of rules. Unless there is concrete evidence, all supposition remains just that; what people call “defying Heaven and changing fate” is simply a matter of defying a rule, not a sentient being.

Now, Xu Hai was closely connected with Li Jingxing’s school, so Fengqi had assumed the old man would share Li’s perspective. Yet, to his surprise, the elder said, “If Heaven is truly sentient, why does it remain so distant and unmoved by the joys and sorrows of mortals?”

Fengqi was taken aback, thinking, For a man of your heretical sect, why concern yourself with human joys and sorrows?

Shui Dongliu sneered, “It seems your lunatic master has influenced you deeply.”

The old man snorted, “The master is a true hero, not someone a hypocrite like you is fit to criticize.”

Having just suffered a decisive defeat in their physical contest, Shui Dongliu perked up at the chance for a verbal spar, eager to reclaim some dignity.

He cleared his throat, preparing to speak, but was interrupted by Fengqi’s voice, “One who cannot accept joy and sorrow can hardly be called a hero.”

The old man frowned at him, thinking, Does this boy truly not fear death?

Shui Dongliu, too, frowned at Fengqi, marveling at his nerve.

“A hero is a collection of noble virtues, not just raw strength,” Fengqi continued. “It’s a word that shapes the spiritual faith of an entire people—it’s not one to be used carelessly.”

The old man gazed at Fengqi for a long moment.

Shui Dongliu did the same.

The air grew heavy with silence.

At length, the old man sighed and said, “Shui Dongliu dares exchange words with me because he knows he has backup. But you—your cultivation is so minor. How do you dare speak out when dragons converse?”

Fengqi was momentarily stunned, then glanced at the unconscious Dugu Zhe, realizing the Crown Prince had long since made preparations.

“I don’t see you as dragons—merely people older than me. Sooner or later, I’ll reach your height,” Fengqi replied. “As for why I dare speak… Do you think that if I said nothing, you wouldn’t kill me?”

The old man nodded slightly. “Indeed. Since I’ve taken Xu Hai’s side, both you and the Crown Prince must die.”

Fengqi asked, “Have you never considered the possibility of guards around the heir?”

The old man shook his head. “It’s not that I never thought of it—just that I didn’t expect it.”

Fengqi said, “True. Even the heir is not worthy of the Wind Guard’s constant protection.”

The old man was unsurprised that Fengqi could guess who was protecting him in the shadows, and sighed, “Aren’t you afraid of the return of the Underworld?”

This question was clearly not addressed to Fengqi or Shui Dongliu. With Zhou Xichen mortally wounded and Dugu Zhe unconscious, it could not be them.

The hem of Fengqi’s robe fluttered, and a whisper of wind sounded at his ear.

The Wind Guard appeared before the old man, speaking softly, “Guarding the Underworld is important, yes, but it’s never the task of one alone. There are plenty willing to act.”

The old man replied, “If a being of the highest Dao stirs, there’s no way the Bloodshed Pavilion wouldn’t know.”

The Wind Guard shot him a glare. “The world may be riddled with your spies, but with such trash, how could you possibly keep track of the great powers of the Dao?”

The old man shook his head, thinking, You know nothing of what the Bloodshed Pavilion has become.

The Wind Guard fell silent for a moment, then said, “It seems your infiltration runs deep.”

A faint smile appeared on the old man’s face, but he said nothing.

The Wind Guard asked, “Who went to Wuyang?”

The old man said, “Only now do you think to ask? Isn’t it a bit late?”

The Wind Guard frowned. “The Dragon Ascension Formation and the Ten Thousand Swords Array are unmatched in this age. Even if the Bloodshed Pavilion sends everyone, what does it matter?”

The old man’s smile grew wider. “Then let’s watch and see, shall we?”

The Wind Guard sensed something was amiss.

Fengqi suddenly thought of a possibility, but found it wildly implausible.

Shui Dongliu’s voice was cold as frost. “You’ve allied with the Underworld!”

The old man responded, “In days past, Dugu Feiyun could sign a pact with the Demon Lord. What’s wrong if we strike a few minor deals with the Underworld?”

Shui Dongliu said icily, “The late Emperor did it for the sake of all humanity. And you?”

The old man replied, “We are human too. Are we not doing this for humanity as well?”

Suddenly, the Wind Guard spoke up, “It seems it’s too late for me to rush back now.”

The old man said, “This is Wuyang’s calamity to bear. No one outside Wuyang can take its place.”

The Wind Guard said, “So your target is the Divine Emperor.”

The old man whispered, “The Crown Prince and Heir are too young. Making them the center of the plot is too petty.”

The deaths of Dugu Zhe and Fengqi would entangle countless problems, and with the right agitation, public outrage would surely be stirred. This was not something the Divine Emperor or the Northern Prince could resolve—once ignited, it would lead to rivers of blood. If the North defected to Bohai, the very foundations of the realm could crumble.

But even this was too small a game.

The master of the Bloodshed Pavilion had been the greatest general of his age; he never cared for the gains and losses of any one place or moment.

“It seems the Pavilion Master’s ambitions are far greater,” said the Wind Guard. “His desire to destroy the world is not unfathomable. But does the Azure Tower wish for annihilation too?”

The old man said, “All I need do is follow the Pavilion Master. As for the others... whether a ship rides high or low in the water, there will always be differences, but as long as the course is set, that’s all that matters.”

In the end, it was all about being swept along.

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