Chapter Sixty-Six: The Irritable Grand Preceptor

What was rare was that, apart from Zhang Kui, the other soldiers of the Abyssal Army and Nezha showed not the slightest trace of surprise at the scene before them.

As for Nezha, he was simply there to watch the excitement, never one to mind things getting out of hand, and he had no idea what the title "Human Emperor of Jiangyuan" truly signified.

But these soldiers, they should certainly be aware of the exalted status of the Human Emperor—so why did they all seem so unfazed, as if nothing unusual was happening?

Could it be that Wen Zhong had instilled such ideas into them?

It seemed that, no matter who it was, boasting was a habit none could break. If not for the fact that Jiangyuan had seen Wen Zhong’s perfect loyalty and goodwill scores through the system, he would certainly have felt a sense of distance from him, perhaps even harbored constant suspicion.

A subject whose achievements overshadow his ruler is never a good thing; add to that Wen Zhong’s prestige in the Shang Dynasty, and it would only take a moment for him to topple his king.

Fortunately, Wen Zhong truly regarded him as a junior, and when boasting to his subordinates, it was probably equal parts pride and amusement.

Jiangyuan didn’t mind any of this—as long as Wen Zhong could defend the Shang Dynasty well, what was wrong with being treated like a son? That was certainly better than losing his life.

“Now that I have seen Your Majesty, I can tell that you have truly changed for the better. My only request of you, Sire, is but one: execute that demoness Daji!” Wen Zhong fixed Jiangyuan with a resolute gaze as he spoke.

Jiangyuan’s heart gave a violent jolt at these words. Here it comes, he thought, why is it that everyone is always so intent on targeting my Daji?

“Grand Preceptor, let us not speak of this matter again. Even Uncle Bigan nearly dashed himself to death upon the Nine-Tiered Hall and could not change my mind. There’s no use, Grand Preceptor, in pressing further,” Jiangyuan replied, his face utterly impassive.

There was no more to be said; it was fortunate he had foreseen this and had not brought Daji with him.

Poor Daji—regarded by all as the very cause of Shang’s decline, when in truth she herself was a woman of bitter fate.

Yet, Jiangyuan’s determination to protect Daji was not out of sentimentality; it was simply that Daji was just too alluring. If he was to be a tyrant, how could he not possess the most beautiful woman of his age? Would he still count as a tyrant then?

As Wen Zhong heard Jiangyuan’s words, fury rose again in his eyes. His quick temper flared, and he sneered coldly, “I am not here to merely discuss this with Your Majesty. Bigan is a civil minister, weak in strength, able only to remonstrate with his life.”

“I, however, am different. I still possess some strength, and am not as pedantic as those civil ministers. If Your Majesty will not agree, I shall act on my own.”

“No matter what, that demoness Daji must not be allowed to remain in Shang and bring calamity upon us!”

Jiangyuan was stunned—was this old man really so decisive? If he did not agree, would Wen Zhong truly take matters into his own hands?

He became ever more certain that his decision not to bring Daji was correct.

“Grand Preceptor, please do not make things difficult for me. I know better than anyone what Daji’s situation is. I can assure you, Grand Preceptor, that what happened before will not happen again.”

“I have crossed the Abyssal Gate and traveled through most of Shang’s realm. Does Grand Preceptor still think I am as foolish as before? This kingdom is mine; I will not surrender it lightly,” Jiangyuan said coolly.

Wen Zhong was taken aback. Had the King truly traveled across most of the lands of Shang?

Looking at the resolute and dignified king before him, Wen Zhong suddenly felt the weight of age. For the first time, he sensed that he was growing old.

Though he had always known his body was aging, he had never felt his heart grow old—until now, seeing the king standing so firmly before him, he felt a sense of powerlessness.

Perhaps for every man, old age begins when he can no longer control the younger generation.

With this realization, Wen Zhong sighed with disappointment and no longer pressed Jiangyuan to execute Daji. He felt the king must have his own judgment.

Jiangyuan, seeing the look on Wen Zhong’s face, felt a pang of regret. Was this, then, the sorrow of a hero in his twilight years?

“Is there nothing else Grand Preceptor wishes to ask?” Jiangyuan took the initiative to change the subject.

Wen Zhong replied, disheartened, “Your Majesty seems changed; I would like to know what you have experienced during this time.”

He would never refer to himself as a mere subject in the king’s presence, for, no matter how exalted the king became, he was still Wen Zhong’s junior. The king knew well his blunt nature, and had never minded it. Wen Zhong was a minister who had served through several reigns, and his status in Shang was unparalleled.

Jiangyuan felt a twinge of anxiety at the question.

If anyone in the entirety of Shang knew the former King Zhou best, it was none other than this old minister before him. If he made a single mistake in his words, would he not be exposed?

“I have experienced so much; what is it that Grand Preceptor wishes to know?” Jiangyuan replied as politely as possible, adopting the tone of a junior conversing with an elder.

In truth, Jiangyuan had already come to regard Wen Zhong as a true elder. For so many years, he had guarded the Abyssal Gate and protected humanity without complaint or regret—such a man deserved respect from all.

“Then tell me, Your Majesty, how you came to change so suddenly,” Wen Zhong asked casually.

Jiangyuan’s heart skipped a beat. This old man was not only decisive but so precise in his questioning!

He racked his mind for a suitable answer, but in the end, finding nothing perfect, he could only improvise: “Grand Preceptor, let us say I was suddenly awakened. Some time ago, I had a terrible dream.”

“In my dream, the feudal lords all rebelled and besieged Shang. Because of my own folly and excess, I lost the people’s support, and in the end, Shang was destroyed. My own fate was to end my life atop the Star-Picking Tower.”

“That dream shook me deeply, and so I awakened.”

As he finished, Jiangyuan felt almost proud—he was a genius, for even he believed his own story. And in fact, it was the truth: in the original course of history, this was precisely the fate of King Zhou. It was wholly believable.

If not for awakening the system, he would likely have met the same end.

Wen Zhong fell into deep thought upon hearing this, his brows furrowed. Then, anger filled his face, and he raised his twin whips once more.

Jiangyuan’s heart lurched—could it be he had been exposed? But he hadn’t seen the Grand Preceptor open his Heavenly Eye!

Wen Zhong’s twin whips struck together, and he shouted, “I would like to see which of the feudal lords dares rebel! Your Majesty, just give me the names of the traitors—upon my return, I will slaughter them all!”

Hearing such righteous fervor from the Grand Preceptor, Jiangyuan finally felt relieved, warmth blossoming in his heart. So, the Grand Preceptor was thinking only of him.

He smiled kindly and said, “There is no need for such agitation, Grand Preceptor; it was only a dream, not worth such commotion. Moreover, you must continue to defend the Abyssal Gate; it would not do for you to leave.”

But Wen Zhong would not let the matter rest. Sternly, he said, “How could Your Majesty’s dreams be the same as those of ordinary men? Surely they are portents. Now that the greatest threat among the Eastern Yi, Shi Ji, has been eliminated, I am free to act. Killing a few traitors is no trouble.”

Was this really necessary? This old man was even more troublesome than Nezha! If he took action now, would that not ruin everything Jiangyuan had been carefully preparing and accumulating?

If the Grand Preceptor intervened so forcefully, how would Jiangyuan, with only the cultivation of a True Immortal, ever hope to survive the War of Investiture?