Nightwatcher-Chapter 466X. Unmatched in the Nation

# 466X. Unmatched in the Nation

In the azure sky, the clouds suddenly collapsed and vanished completely, leaving only a clear blue expanse.

The descending power from the heavens, the yet-unseen presence, seemed intolerant of even a speck of dust in its gaze.

Between heaven and earth, a pair of eyes opened, filled with all-seeing wisdom and unshakeable calm.

Amidst mountains and seas, a towering phantom a thousand feet tall emerged, robed in Confucian garb, wearing a Confucian cap, his face indistinct, long beard flowing.

Perhaps it was an illusion, but even the blazing sun in the sky seemed to dim slightly.

This apparition stood, with the boundless sky above, and the vast ocean beneath.

The moment it appeared, pure energy swirled within a hundred li of Mount Jing, and the sound of scholarly recitation echoed faintly through the void.

Compared to this, the refined qi accumulated over a thousand years by the Cloud Deer Academy was like the light of a firefly.

The Confucian Sage!

Founder of the Confucian system, a man who transcended rank.

Since his passing more than twelve hundred years ago, this was the first time his heroic spirit had ever been summoned.

In that instant, the statue of the Warlock God trembled violently. The entire altar and valley shook as if in an earthquake.

Within a hundred li of Mount Jing City, all living beings prostrated themselves in terror.

Irbu and Uda Batu trembled all over, spines bent, stubbornly refusing to bow. As third rank warlocks, this was their last little shred of dignity.

The Great Warlock Sarun Agu gazed up at the sky-reaching figure, lips faintly trembling.

He murmured, "The Confucian Sage..."

Since the dawn of human civilisation, rites and institutions have changed and replaced each other, one could even call it a chaotic mess. But if one were to view “history” as a long river, from an overarching perspective, the evolution of human history could be split into two simple eras:

Before Confucianism and after Confucianism. freeweɓnovel.cѳm

Before its birth, institutions were unstable, and society was in a relatively chaotic state.

After its emergence, humanity finally had a foundation, a constant amid change.

Across the hundreds of thousands of years since the Age of Gods and Demons, in terms of fortune alone, neither the ancient human emperors nor the countless monarchs of later generations could match even a fraction of the Confucian Sage.

As the one who laid the foundations for human culture, it was as if he was destined to be born for this task.

Wei Yuan’s eyes were replaced by a wash of pure light, showing an indifference born of divinity. His flesh cracked with fine fractures, while the Confucian cap and carving knife shimmered with light, repairing and rupturing his body in an endless cycle.

In this moment, he bore not only a power beyond rank but also the most immense fortune ever granted since the rise of mankind.

That no one had summoned the Confucian Sage’s spirit since his death was not without reason.

Wei Yuan lifted his head, gazing at the airborne Emperor Zhende, and said coolly, “Go on, strike.”

Emperor Zhende stared back coldly.

He swung the sword.

The sword light blazed. Time and space themselves seemed to freeze. Never had such brilliance been seen in sword qi, for in all of history, no swordmaster had ever transcended rank.

“Ah…”

Cries of agony rang out across the battlefield. A few experts who had dared to look suffered horrifying mutations.

Some erupted with sword qi from within and were instantly torn apart.

Some turned iron-grey, becoming statues.

Some suddenly ignited and were reduced to ashes, leaving behind two black, oily footprints.

Some crumbled into yellow sand; some turned to wood, bark-like patterns appearing on their skin as green leaves sprouted from their pores.

Zhang Kaitai and the others shut their eyes tightly, heads lowered, not daring to face the sword light.

Terror exploded within them.

When the utmost powers of Jiuzhou did battle, entire provinces could be turned into wastelands with ease.

The brilliant sword light reached him.

Wei Yuan raised his foot and stomped forward, his voice like a mighty bell: “Before the Confucian Sage, who dares act with impunity!”

The thousand-foot phantom mimicked the motion, lightly stepping forward.

At that step, the ocean surged into a tsunami thousands of feet tall. Mount Jing collapsed entirely, landslides, tidal waves...

The power of a single step from the Confucian Sage levelled mountains and rivers, and turned the earth into a vast marshland.

The five-coloured sword light exploded with a roar, dissolving into pure five-elemental force that dyed the sky in dazzling hues.

Sarun Agu, Emperor Zhende, Irbu, and Uda Batu, all four elite experts, were struck in the chest by a sweeping current of clear energy. Like leaves in the wind, their bodies rapidly fell apart.

They stood their ground, forcefully healing their injuries, but their auras had plummeted, and their morale was utterly shattered.

Their combined sword strike, already beyond rank, was reduced to nothing by a single step from the Confucian Sage.

The dissipated five-element sword qi altered the very laws of nature here, towering trees sprouted from the sea, streams flowed from stone, and flames burned upon the ocean’s surface...

It wasn’t that the sword lacked power.

It was that the Confucian Sage was simply too strong.

Emperor Zhende’s aura grew unstable. The dark radiance entwining his body turned into black flame and began to devour him.

His cultivation path lay in the Human Sect, and he too was susceptible to karmic fire. For decades he had used his status as monarch to suppress it.

Now, weakened by the clear energy, the karmic fire struck back.

He drew a deep breath, inhaling the world’s spiritual energy. The Yang Spirit body, famed as indestructible by Daoist tradition, radiated golden light and extinguished the karmic flames.

…

Wei Yuan’s face turned a shade paler. Ignoring the four defeated enemies, he turned and headed towards the altar in the valley.

The power of the Confucian Sage was constantly wearing away at his body. Even with the carving knife, the scholar’s cap, and Zhao Shou’s blessing, it remained a burden too heavy to bear.

Summoning an existence beyond the ranks came at a cost.

There was no mysterious backlash of arcane arts, just the simple truth of “exceeding one’s capacity.”

As Wei Yuan turned, the Confucian Sage’s shadow turned as well, stepping towards the valley.

No one dared block the Confucian Sage’s path, not even the first rank.

Sarun Agu gazed at the figure in azure, his tone calm and gentle despite the reversal of fortune.

“Wei Yuan, your talent is extraordinary. Even if the Warlock God broke free, you could still survive. Why go this far?”

Back when the Confucian Sage sealed the Warlock God, there had been a great secret. Across all of Jiuzhou, fewer than ten people knew the truth.

When the nation falls and people slaughtered, how could he survive alone? Wei Yuan remained silent, striding steadily toward the valley.

He still had one more enemy.

As Wei Yuan walked through the air and neared the valley, he was blocked by a barrier.

This barrier was formless yet tangible, unseen, but perceptible. It barred him from entering the valley.

Inside the valley was another world, one that rejected his presence.

Only an existence beyond the ranks could block another.

The Warlock God had begun to affect reality, its power leaking through.

Only fortune could contend with fortune.

Wei Yuan raised the carving knife and gently tapped the invisible barrier. A hum vibrated out, and the knife bounced back.

Sarun Agu watched from afar and said,

“The Warlock God has begun to seep through the seal and affect reality. He is no longer a sculpture to be slaughtered at will. It’s a shame you reacted too quickly. Had we delayed another two or three years, the Warlock God could have drawn on far more fortune.”

Wei Yuan turned his neck to look at Sarun Agu in the distance.

“You’re hinting that I should exhaust the Confucian Sage’s limited strength trying to break this barrier, leaving me no power to seal the Warlock God.”

Sarun Agu replied frankly, “Do you have another choice?”

Wei Yuan smiled faintly. “Who says I don’t?”

…

Within Mount Jing City, the white-robed arcanist appeared. Soundlessly, he passed through the closed city gates and arrived at the Church of the Warlock God’s headquarters.

“Come… out…”

He stammered through the words, then gently stomped his foot. A formation spread from him at its core, covering the nearby streets and buildings.

A Teleportation array!

One by one, armoured cavalry suddenly appeared, sabres in hand. At their head was a youth more beautiful than a woman.

The townspeople stared in stunned disbelief at these heavenly invaders. Judging from their armour and appearance, they quickly realised these were Great Feng cavalry. Their faces changed dramatically.

They couldn’t understand, why had the Great Feng’s army suddenly appeared in their city?

Yan shared borders with Great Feng across three provinces. With its many defensible passes, it had always been confident and unafraid, frequently launching raids on the border in alliance with Jing and Kang. Plundering, killing, and pillaging were common. Even the riffraff of the streets could scoff with disdain:

“The Central Plains are like women, easy to bully.”

Only we attack the Great Feng, the Great Feng attacking us was ridiculous.

Even after the Battle of Shanhai Pass, this view hadn’t changed.

Nangong Qianrou raised his sabre high, his aura cold and sharp as he shouted:

“For six hundred years since Great Feng’s founding, the Church of the Warlock God has slaughtered our people and stolen our women. The blood debt is endless. The people of the three northeastern provinces have long suffered their tyranny. Soldiers of Great Feng, slaughter the city with me!”

“Slaughter the city!”

“Slaughter the city!”

“Slaughter the city…!”

Their deafening roar shook the heavens.

Ten thousand heavy cavalry charged into the streets, killing wantonly, turning the city into a hell on earth.

A blood debt, repaid in kind!

…

“Wei Yuan!!”

Seeing the massacre unfold in Mount Jing City, the Master of Wisdom, Irbu, roared in fury:

“Only a being beyond the ranks can seal another! You’re just a mortal, do you not fear death?!”

Now that matters had progressed to this point, the Rank Three expert felt true despair.

Wei Yuan was neither a disciple of the Confucians nor a lowly commoner. As a second rank martial artist, he could have lived freely and safely, why seek death?

“I said I’d strike the Church of the Warlock God, so I’m striking the Church of the Warlock God.”

Wei Yuan looked away from Mount Jing City and turned to the Great Warlock Sarun Agu, smiling.

“In years past, the old veterans used to call me the Great Feng’s God of War, I can’t let them down.”

With no hope of supply lines, he had pierced through Yan’s impregnable passes, brought his army to its capital, drawing away most of the forces from both Yan and Kang. Then, under cover of subterfuge, he had crossed the ocean to strike Mount Jing City.

He summoned the river dragons of the dragon tribe to counter the Master of Rain’s storm.

With the carving knife, he had gravely wounded a Rank One Great Warlock and forced the former emperor Zhende to show himself.

He called forth the Confucian Sage’s heroic soul and struck down every top expert on the enemy’s side.

He had sent Nangong Qianrou to rendezvous with Sun Xuanji, so that they could strike at Mount Jing City at the crucial moment and shake the Warlock God’s fortune.

From the moment of setting out until now, how to march, where to divide his forces, which routes to take, whose help to seek, how many enemies they would face, and who they were… every step had been calculated.

The Jianzheng once said, “In the world today, there are very few who can match me on the chessboard. Wei Yuan is one of them.”

With every death in Mount Jing City, the fortune the Warlock God could borrow weakened.

Wei Yuan raised the carving knife and gently traced a line across the now eggshell-thin barrier, cutting it open.

Irbu and Uda Batu looked on with unwilling expressions as Wei Yuan entered the valley.

Sarun Agu and the former Emperor Zhende watched as well. The former remained calm; the latter, cold-eyed.

…

The altar rose hundreds of feet high, just slightly lower than the surrounding peaks.

Wei Yuan looked up at the towering altar. The stone steps layered upon each other, ninety-nine in total. At the summit stood the deity worshipped by the Church of the Warlock God, the founder of the warlock system.

One of the rare few beyond-rank beings since the Age of Gods and Demons.

To say he was "like a god, like a demon" was no exaggeration.

Wei Yuan withdrew his gaze, lifted his foot, and stepped onto the first tier.

In that instant, the heavens unleashed a murderous will; the earth, too, exuded deadly intent. This space was repelling him, targeting him, exerting a terrifying pressure.

Wei Yuan paused, then ascended to the second step.

The phantom of the Confucian Sage cast down a beam of pure light, resisting the pressure of heaven and earth.

Wei Yuan lifted his head and bowed to the phantom of the Sage. “No need.”

He had summoned the Confucian Sage not to slay enemies, but to seal the Warlock God.

Sarun Agu had urged him to break the barrier with the Sage’s power precisely to sap the strength of the Confucian soul little by little. By the time Wei Yuan reached the altar, how much strength would remain?

Wei Yuan was not a tool, not merely a vessel to bear the soul of the Sage.

On the contrary, he was the one destined to seal the Warlock God in this age.

The Confucian Sage was his tool.

The second step. Third. Fourth…

After the twentieth step, with each pace Wei Yuan took, a new crack opened in his body. His high-ranked martial body, nearly immortal, strained to heal the wounds, barely keeping balance.

After the fiftieth step, he looked like a porcelain figure pieced together, his entire body, even his elegant face, covered in fractures.

He finally stopped. It was unclear whether he was exhausted or simply too overwhelmed by the pressure to continue.

“To not transcend beyond ranks, is to remain mortal. What difference is there from an ant?”

A faint sigh echoed, as though from the ancient times.

With the voice came an irresistible force. Heaven and earth together conspired to crush Wei Yuan.

Two paths lay before him: the first was to use the Confucian Sage’s power to ascend. But whether any power would remain to seal the Warlock God once he reached the summit, who could say?

The second was to turn and retreat, withdraw with the Great Feng army.

…

“A deity. So majestic…”

Wei Yuan muttered, and a long-buried memory broke through the fog of time.

Forty years ago, during the reign of Emperor Zhende, a brutal war broke out in the three northeastern provinces.

The Warlock God issued an oracle: Destroy the Great Feng and seize its fortune. The three northeastern nations gathered two hundred thousand troops, and stormed Xiangzhou, Jingzhou, and Yuzhou. Every three days there was a masacre, not a soul was spared, elderly, women, children, all slaughtered like worthless weeds.

For a hundred li, not a single human trace. Bones littered the wilds.

Crueller, more savage than the Yao or barbarians.

Even today, the elderly who lived through that war still bear its shadow.

It was after that war that the court stationed a hundred thousand troops in the three provinces for a decade. The common folk would rather become vagabonds than return, so deeply had the Church of the Warlock God frightened them.

When the court later recompiled its household registers, it found that in Xiangzhou, Jingzhou, and Yuzhou, spanning ten thousand li, out of ten households, nine were empty. The dead numbered in the millions.

Wei Yuan’s ancestral home was Yuzhou.

Of the Wei clan, only one youth survived.

Old memories surfaced. But he was no longer that azure-robed youth of years past. Wei Yuan laughed wildly:

“Looking back forty years, the hatred of my country and my family have come to this day. Now, I want to know, can a god cage this ant?”

A cloak of azure ascended. The prison made by heaven and earth might has well have not existed.

Ninety-nine steps. He climbed them all in one breath.

The man standing before the Warlock God's statue was now a broken, barely human figure.

Wei Yuan sneered in contempt. “So this is all a god amounts to.”

In the last four thousand eight hundred years, only two people of the Central Plains had ever set foot on the Church of the Warlock God's sacred altar.

Twelve hundred years ago, the Confucian Sage.

Twelve hundred years later, Wei Yuan.

Only these two.

…

The Great Warlock Sarun Agu sighed. “Wei Yuan, the Warlock God's awakening is inevitable. The Central Plains are barren of talent, the Confucians are in decline, and lack momentum. Fortune wanes, and the Jianzheng is no longer at his peak. Why struggle against the tide?”

With that, he gently traced a finger across his wrist, letting blood flow. He formed a hand seal, his voice like a great bell resounding across heaven and earth:

“I Offer a sacrifice to the Warlock God.”

Beside him, Irbu and Uda Batu solemnly cut their own wrists and formed identical seals.

Blood flowed from the wrists of three high-ranking warlocks, not dripping to the ground, but transforming into crimson light, drifting towards the distant altar, towards the statue of the Warlock God.

A Blood Offering Ritual!

The Church of the Warlock God's Blood Offering Ritual.

Hearing the Great Warlock’s voice and witnessing this scene, the other warlocks understood, the Church now stood at the very brink of life and death.

Hundreds of warlocks left the battlefield without hesitation. One by one, they slit their wrists, formed seals, and offered themselves to the Warlock God.

Nalan Yan felt his body growing cold, his life draining away with his blood, becoming strands of crimson radiance drifting toward the valley and into the statue that had been worshipped for a thousand years.

You soldiers of Great Feng may be fearless, but are we the followers of the Church of the Warlock God so afraid of death?

The Church had ruled the northeast for over four thousand years. When had they ever been driven to such desperation?

Even if we die today and our cultivation is for naught, we will see to it that Wei Yuan, that Great Feng, fails at the final step.

In his final moments, Nalan Yan suddenly turned his head to look at the azure-clad figure. He thought of his father, who had died at the Battle of Shanhai Pass.

Who would have thought both father and son would die at the hands of the same man?

Nalan Yan slowly closed his eyes and passed away silently.

One warlock after another fell, becoming shrivelled corpses. They died without a sound, without resentment, without regret.

Their wills merged with the Warlock God’s statue. This was the Church’s final resistance, the warlocks’ curse sent forth to Wei Yuan, and to the Confucian Sage.

…

_Crack..._

On the sacrificial altar, the statue of the Warlock God split open with a sharp crack, spraying out a flurry of tiny stone fragments.

Waves of black smoke streamed from the statue’s brow, blotting out the sky, obscuring the sun and the blue heavens, turning day into night.

In the blink of an eye, the black fog enveloped a hundred-mile radius around Mount Jing City, rolling like storm-tossed waves.

A commoner’s wrath, and blood spatters three feet. An emperor’s fury, and corpses pile in the millions.

Then what of a god’s?

The slaughter halted once more. The few survivors around Mount Jing City raised their heads, faces stricken with terror, gazing at the black fog above.

Suddenly, the black mist collapsed like the sky falling, condensing above the altar into a towering shadow a thousand feet tall, its features indistinct.

Those who dared look directly at it died on the spot.

The towering black figure stood in opposition to the thousand-foot-tall illusion of light, like two primordial giants facing off at the dawn of time.

"Confucian Sage!"

A distant, grand, ethereal voice came from within the black shadow, tinged with rage, with hatred, with lament.

With it came a peal of thunder, the skies turned, and a terrifying storm descended.

"You will regret this."

The vast voice echoed again.

Wei Yuan knew, this was directed at him.

He said nothing, merely turned to glance at the distant battlefield, where the Great Feng’s soldiers still fought to the death.

Those who died on the lands of the Church of the Warlock God, those who fell at the Battle of Shanhai Pass, they shed their blood and laid down their lives for something. In the end, it could be summed up in four words: for country and people.

*I, Wei Yuan, brought them here to die. Was it not for these same four words?*

The shadow loomed from above, overlooking them coldly, like a god gazing upon mortals, upon ants.

It raised a hand, pressing down with a single finger.

The wrath of a god, was undoubtedly terrifying, but what right do mortals have to even grasp such fury? To the divine, they were no more than ants, snuffed out by a fingertip.

A sound like breaking bones echoed. The god’s attack had yet to land, but its might alone shattered Wei Yuan’s entire skeleton.

His spine buckled as if bearing a mountain. He could no longer raise his head.

At that moment, Wei Yuan was like a porcelain vessel on the verge of collapse, cracks covering every inch of him.

It was all too similar to when the golden avatar of the Buddhist sect forced Xu Qi’an to kneel during their contest of powers.

In that moment, he seemed to hear Xu Qi’an’s roar, he heard the roars of tens of thousands of the capital’s people.

Light suddenly burst forth in Wei Yuan’s eyes, clear and resolute.

*In this life, I revere no gods, worship no Buddha, trust no kings, only the people.*

*If the gods are without compassion, then they are my enemies.*

Wei Yuan slowly straightened his body. His bones were all broken, including his spine. That he could still stand tall, perhaps it was belief alone holding him up.

In today’s Jiuzhou, few still know why the Confucian Sage sealed the Warlock God.

Few know why the Emperor Gaozu went back on his word.

Few know that in ancient times, the Warlock God once corrupted the Central Plains and severed the destiny of the human race.

Wei Yuan did not want the backbone of civilisation to collapse. He would not let the people of the Central Plains bow and live as slaves for generations.

The wrath of all living beings coalesced into a single finger, descending from the heavens.

With trembling hands, he raised the carving blade, fresh blood streaming like a river.

A hand reached from behind, gripping the blade together with him.

At some unknown moment, the enormous phantom of the Confucian Sage had vanished, and now stood behind Wei Yuan, like the firmest support of this great man born a thousand years later.

Wei Yuan’s hand no longer trembled.

A thousand years ago, there was the Confucian Sage. A thousand years later, there is Wei Yuan!

This scholar, full of righteous fervour, raised his voice in a furious roar at the Warlock God:

"You would corrupt the fortune of my Great Feng? Cut off the destiny of the people of my Central Plains? Did you ever ask me, Wei Yuan?"

Wei Yuan gripped the Confucian Sage’s carving blade and thrust it forward.

It burst forth in a dazzling light.

Twelve hundred years had passed since the Confucian Sage last struck.

This blow spanned a millennium.

There would never again be a blade so brilliant, nor a spirit so unrestrained.

Power surpassing all known ranks exploded above the altar.

The sky collapsed.

The black shadow condensed by the Warlock God crumbled inch by inch, breaking apart into waves of destruction that swept across heaven and earth.

This power rolled over hills, flattening them; swept across oceans, raising tsunamis; passed through cities, reducing them to ruins.

Nangong Qianrou led the retreat of the heavy cavalry, riding at the front, eyes bloodshot, face contorted.

*Father, you must survive.*

Zhang Kaitai and the other Gold Gongs and high-rank warriors also fled, racing against death itself.

Everyone fled, panic-stricken, with no thought for direction.

Long, long after, the aftershock finally dissipated. Everything in its path had been levelled.

The Church of the Warlock God’s headquarters, Mount Jing City, became history.

Only the altar, sealed by the Confucian Sage and protected by divine power, remained intact amid the apocalyptic devastation.

Wei Yuan stood proudly on the altar, his scholar’s robe in tatters.

"Why…?"

A faint voice echoed from the void, no longer grand or mighty.

The shadow of the Confucian Sage stepped into the statue of the Warlock God behind him. The cracks sealed themselves.

The Warlock God was sealed once more.

*Why?*

Wei Yuan turned wearily to gaze upon the Central Plains.

He had risen to prominence in the 6th year of Yuanjing, driving off the barbarian cavalry and becoming a rising star of Great Feng. Later, he masterminded the campaign at Shanhai Pass, winning a battle that reshaped Jiuzhou.

Then he crippled his own cultivation, entered the court, and stood against the ruling factions, suppressing the nobles as a eunuch. Glory, achievements, and power, he held them all in his hands, shining beyond compare.

Looking back on his life, many aspects puzzled his political enemies even after decades of study.

No heirs. No family. Completely alone.

He treated the gold and silver, prized by fellow eunuchs, as dirt.

Was it possible he truly had no desires after decades in the dangerous tides of court life?

Wei Yuan’s gaze seemed to pierce through thousands of mountains and rivers. He saw the Lesser Sage Hall atop Qingyun Mountain, saw the stone stele within it, and saw the crooked handwriting upon it.

Why?

Wei Yuan whispered, “To ordain conscience for Heaven and Earth, to secure life and fortune for the people, to continue lost teachings for past sages, to establish peace for all future generations!”

He closed his eyes, and never opened them again.

…

In the autumn of the 37th year of Yuanjing, Wei Yuan led an army of one hundred thousand to conquer the headquarters of the Church of the Warlock God and sealed the Warlock God.

Mount Jing City became a ruin. Hundreds of thousands of lives were lost.

This marked the first time in history that the iron cavalry of the Central Plains breached the sacred grounds of the Church of the Warlock God.

His name was etched into the annals of history.