Chapter 86: Outside the Walls of Xiqi

Yang Jian found Nezha’s bashful expression rather amusing and decided not to exchange any more words with him. At this moment, Yang Jian regarded Nezha as his own lucky star. It was just as the old saying went: “Misfortune hides within fortune; fortune is born of misfortune.” Although Nezha had interrupted his secluded cultivation and advancement, that very disruption had, by some twist of fate, led him to meet King Zhou and achieve the rank of Golden Immortal.

Jiang Yuan had already put away the Lamborghini that had been stealing his Tyrant Points. Although his points were steadily increasing now, he knew full well these points came at the cost of his reputation, bit by bit. Not a single Tyrant Point was earned by luck or windfall. Not only was there no easy gain, but the wretched system occasionally siphoned away his points as well. Was it easy being a wage slave?

“Your Majesty, where are you headed? This doesn’t seem to be the right direction,” Yang Jian asked curiously. His impression of Jiang Yuan was quite favorable: a man of his word, not cruel nor bloodthirsty.

“I intend to pay a visit to Xiqi,” Jiang Yuan replied with a smile. “I’ve already been to the Northern Barbarians and the Eastern Yi; only the Ji family’s Xiqi remains. I want to see what the state of the world is like now.”

“And after Xiqi?” Yang Jian pressed, still curious. He doubted Jiang Yuan’s purpose was as simple as a tour.

“Why so many questions? Just follow along,” Nezha muttered quietly from the side. He suspected Yang Jian’s friendliness was an act, probably meant to impress Old Jiang. He himself wouldn’t be fooled by such appearances.

Yang Jian glanced at Nezha and smiled, saying nothing. Now that the grudge over his failed cultivation had been settled, he saw little reason to concern himself with this impish child. He could now understand why Jiang Yuan protected Nezha: the boy had no guile, spoke and acted on impulse, and his thinking was delightfully unconventional.

“Afterwards?” Jiang Yuan arched his brows. “Afterwards, I’ll return to Chaoge and wait for the world to descend into chaos and for the heroes to rise.”

Yang Jian’s eyelids twitched at these words, alarmed. “Why do you believe chaos is coming?”

Jiang Yuan laughed carelessly, “It’s not my opinion, but the course of history itself. The vassals will not long remain content in subjugation, especially the four great marquises of the southeast, northwest, northeast, and southwest. Though I’ve given them a warning, ambition is boundless. You’re a disciple of the Celestial Sect; if nothing unexpected happens, your master will soon summon you to rebel against the Shang dynasty. How will you conduct yourself then?”

Jiang Yuan had posed a question that left Yang Jian uncomfortable.

“Since I have decided to pledge allegiance to the Shang, the outcome is not for my sect to decide. If Your Majesty does not disappoint me, I will not let Your Majesty down in turn,” Yang Jian declared with righteous resolve.

Jiang Yuan clapped Yang Jian’s shoulder approvingly. “That’s precisely why I helped you ascend to Golden Immortal. With your word, I am reassured.”

Yang Jian was puzzled. “Your Majesty knew me before this?”

Jiang Yuan paused, realizing he’d spent too much time with Nezha and his own reasoning was slipping. Unlike Nezha, Yang Jian was not careless; he weighed words carefully and could extract important information from them. How should he answer? He couldn’t claim to be a prophet who could see past and future; besides, this world of Investiture of the Gods differed greatly from what he knew. There were many saints openly, and who knew how many hid in secret. He knew of two saints and several demi-saints lurking beneath the abyss. Even Shennong was still alive—what was impossible?

“Actually, you and the Shang dynasty share a certain fate,” Jiang Yuan said, beginning to activate his passive skill: making things up.

“Oh? Would Your Majesty care to elaborate?” Yang Jian’s eyes brightened with interest.

“There’s nothing much to tell. My eldest son, the crown prince of Shang, you should know him; he mentioned you to me,” Jiang Yuan replied casually.

Yin Jiao and Yang Jian shared the same master, Guang Chengzi; surely senior and junior disciples would know each other.

“Who does Your Majesty mean?” Yang Jian asked, still unsure.

“Yin Jiao,” Jiang Yuan answered.

Yang Jian suddenly understood. “So Junior Brother Yin is the crown prince of Shang?”

“You didn’t know?” Now it was Jiang Yuan’s turn to be surprised.

“Our master never reveals his disciples’ identities, nor do we seek to investigate each other’s backgrounds,” Yang Jian explained.

Jiang Yuan immediately grasped Guang Chengzi’s intention: to prevent his disciples’ affiliations from intersecting, so that he himself would not discover their connections too soon.

“I see,” Jiang Yuan feigned surprise, though it was indeed news to him.

“But I doubt Junior Brother Yin would speak highly of me,” Yang Jian frowned, puzzled.

When Yin Jiao first arrived at the mountain, he was arrogant and dismissive. Yang Jian had planned to mind his own cultivation, but the newcomer insisted on challenging him, declaring, “You’re the eldest disciple, so you must be strong, but I’ll surpass you. From now on, I’ll be the chief disciple of Kongtong Mountain!”

Yang Jian ignored Yin Jiao’s childish words. It wasn’t up to him to decide who would be chief disciple; besides, his own strength was unmatched. A mere newcomer posed no threat. However, the boy was as troublesome as Nezha, provoking him regularly after learning some skills. After consuming immortal fruit bestowed by their master and gaining three heads and six arms, he became even more unruly. Finally, Yang Jian, exasperated, taught him a harsh lesson. Perhaps his hand was too heavy, for Yin Jiao never dared to challenge him again.

Soon after, Yang Jian heard Yin Jiao had returned home. Now he realized that home was the royal palace of Chaoge.

“Oh? Tell me more,” Jiang Yuan smiled, wondering if his lie would be exposed.

Yang Jian recounted the events.

“I didn’t know Yin Jiao was the crown prince; otherwise, I wouldn’t have been so harsh,” Yang Jian apologized.

Jiang Yuan caught the implication: even if he’d known Yin Jiao was his son, Yang Jian would still have struck him?

“No matter. It’s good for him to suffer some losses. The sooner he learns that there’s always someone stronger, the better—otherwise, who knows what trouble he’ll cause in the future.”

With these words, Jiang Yuan glanced meaningfully at Nezha. No wonder Nezha and Yin Jiao fought the moment they met—they were birds of a feather.

Jiang Yuan and Yang Jian continued their conversation, letting bygones be bygones. Soon, the party arrived outside the city of Xiqi.