My Journey to Immortality Begins with Hunting-Chapter 595 – Your Father?!? - Part 1

At Swan Pavilion, gold and jade glimmered in extravagant splendor. A maiden cradled her pipa, her fingers dancing over the strings, producing soft, mournful music, notes that oozed decadence and sorrow.

The members of the Clear Stream faction, led by Song Yehuang, were seated one after another, their expressions grave and unsmiling.

Strikingly, the Princess of the Central Capital wasn’t seated at the head of the banquet as custom dictated. Instead, she sat in the first position to the left.

Song Yehuang sat second to her left.

This empty seat at the head, left waiting, symbolically vacant, was meant for the He Clan Technically, the Empress Dowager herself could’ve sat there without raising eyebrows. But everyone present knew she hadn’t come.

In her place was He Shoukang, the head of the He Clan

Zhao Chunxin sat a few places further down, not because she was of lesser rank, but because she didn’t fight for status. If she had, she could’ve easily sat much closer.

Today, her battle-scarred face was laced with a chill. Inwardly, she was already prepared to die.

The imperial capital had become a storm-tossed sea of rumors. Whispers filled the streets, claiming the mysterious inheritance of the Bladeseekers lay hidden in the Eastern Sea.

She didn’t believe a word of it.

The techniques of the Bladeseekers were the creation of that man. Why would they be in the Eastern Sea?

She had tried to speak up, to warn them, but no one listened. She had spoken. They had refused to believe. But she believed. And so, she didn’t go to the Eastern Sea. She knew her path was to protect Zhen'er.

Zhen'er was that man’s daughter. That man, her old acquaintance, her mentor, a shadowy mastermind who stirred the heavens with a flick of his sleeve, had once asked for her help.

And when Zhao Chunxin agreed, she had bound her fate to Zhen'er’s without hesitation.

Today, she could sense that a war was coming. A great one. There might be no turning back.

The tension between the Clear Stream and He Clan factions had reached a breaking point, so fierce it could only be described as a blood feud. There was no way the Clear Stream faction would just bow their heads and accept defeat.

The previous Emperor had only tried to play a balancing game. All he’d done was meet Song Yehuang in secret.

But the noble families hadn’t tolerated even that. They struck swiftly, using the excuse of a demonic beast frightening the Emperor. And just like that, he was dead.

The Human Emperor had ruled with absolute power for over 30 years, ushering in a golden age of martial cultivation. Though martial power had since declined, the land was fertile, ready for harvest, ideal for a new emperor to make his mark.

But the tigers and wolves wanted to tear the country apart. How could they let the Emperor do anything real?

Chivalry had become chaos. When martial strength became law, what did an emperor amount to?

Ji He was no Human Emperor. And as the Human Emperor’s son, that pride in his blood would never allow him to accept being a puppet. So, in the end...he died carelessly, like a piece in someone else's game.

Everyone thought the same thing. Zhao Chunxin did. The Clear Stream faction did. And so did the noble families, with the He Clan at their head.

But since the Princess of the Central Capital had proposed this banquet herself, and brought the entire Clear Stream leadership with her, the He Clan and the rest of the noble families had no excuse to abstain. They showed up in full force, took their seats, and quickly filled the hall with murmured conversation and carefree laughter.

One side sat in solemn silence. The other reveled in wine and jokes. The contrast couldn’t have been starker, water and fire sharing the same table.

Inside, the soft plucking of the pipa mixed with bursts of laughter created the illusion of a festive, harmonious banquet.

But outside, the world was a frozen battlefield. Snow blanketed the ground, and the air was sharp with killing intent. Martial artists armed to the teeth swept through the snowfields, pine forests, riverside docks, and mountain slopes surrounding the tower. Their movements carved through the white landscape like blades, quick and precise, as they hunted for hidden foes.

Before long, the sounds of fighting broke out in several corners.

Just because the Princess gave no orders didn’t mean the Clear Stream faction hadn’t made preparations.

Even if the Clear Stream faction truly had made no plans, there were still loyal warriors. Those who believed in the Clear Stream faction and those who bore grudges against the He faction would come to fight of their own accord.

Inside the pavilion, it was all wine and pleasantries. Those within were calm and composed, welcoming their enemies with smiles.

Outside, it was war. Those without carried weapons and wagered their lives.[1]

In the snow, the Clear Stream fighters clashed with the He faction martial artists. No words were exchanged. No need. They attacked on sight.

At first, the wind and snow muffled the sounds of battle. But once high ranking cultivators made their move, the noise was impossible to ignore.

Thunderous booms echoed from the mountains, the river, and deep in the forest.

The thunder rose, then fell silent.

The echoes reached Swan Pavilion.

A Clear Stream member clenched the wine jug and poured himself a bitter cup.

On the other side, a He faction noble burst into raucous laughter. “What a lovely thunderclap in broad daylight! Sounds just like New Year firecrackers, auspicious, very auspicious! Hahaha!”

Still laughing, he raised his cup high, clinked it with those beside him, and toasted the coming year.

The He faction stood strong. The Clear Stream faction was weak. Today’s banquet was no different from throwing eggs at a stone.

The He faction and their allied families never believed this was a “surrender banquet.” No—they saw it as a decisive strike. A trap. The Princess of Zhongjing had used herself and the entire Clear Stream leadership as bait for one final battle.

The Clear Stream had always been slippery. No matter how many times the He faction tried to catch them, they slipped away. On the surface, both sides smiled politely in court. But in the shadows, they had already fought and bled countless times.

Today, all those elusive rats had gathered in one place.

The He faction wasn’t about to let this chance slip by.

With the last obstacle on this land soon to be swept away, the Great Zhou would finally be carved up freely among the noble families. Of course the He faction was elated.

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Far away, the snowstorm howled. Thunderous clashes echoed across the land.

Ranks of soldiers in gleaming armor, their blades catching flashes of cold light, marched swiftly through the dense, snowy forest under the command of noble family generals. Officially, they were there to protect the distinguished guests in Swan Pavilion. But in truth, they were preparing to place the Clear Stream faction under soft house arrest.

“Sir, the full 10,000 of the Crane Wing Army are now assembled.” A general in black armor raised his hand and saluted the finely dressed man beside him.

The general in black armor was no ordinary officer. He was the commander of the Crane Wing Army. Only someone of his rank could command such a force, ten thousand elite soldiers, each one a formidable sixth rank martial artist.

As for the once-feared 30,000-strong armored cavalry of Ocean Province, that force had long since been dismantled by the noble clans, scattered, reassigned, or simply killed off.

This 10,000-man army had been rebuilt from scratch by the nobles, who poured their resources into creating a new blade of pure steel. And the Crane Wing Army was only one of two such elite units.

Today, the nobles had specially deployed this one. Not because they expected trouble, but because they couldn’t afford to leave anything to chance.

Standing beside the black-armored general was a well-dressed man, a senior figure from one of the great houses, here in his official role as military overseer.

“Mhm...” The overseer gave a lazy nod.

The general asked, “If the Clear Stream faction resists, what are our orders?”

“Resistance? That’s treason. Kill them all. Then we seize their property, wipe out their families. Simple,” the overseer replied flatly.

“And if it’s the Princess of the Central Capital herself who resists?” the general hesitated.

Everyone knew her reputation, status, and prestige. She was untouchable.

But something about today felt different.

“If she can be captured, capture her. If not...let her run. Then send someone with a personal grudge to track her down and kill her,” the overseer said coldly. “And when that’s done, we publicly execute the assassin. Tie up the loose ends.”

“Yes, sir,” the general responded. Then, after a pause, he asked cautiously, “If the Star Manor turns traitor too...are we allowed to raid their estate?”

The overseer gave him a long look. “So you’ve heard that rumor as well? Looking to get your hands on the Human Emperor’s Martial Canon?”

“N-no, sir!” The general hurriedly denied it.

“The last person to see the Human Emperor alive was the Princess of the Central Capital. And rumor has it, the Emperor gave her his life’s teachings, compiled into that very book.” The overseer sneered. “But the strange thing is she’s never shown it to anyone. Never used it to empower herself. Not even once.”

“So... it doesn’t exist?” The general frowned.

“No,” the overseer said. “It definitely exists. She’s just never used it.”

“Why not?” the general asked, puzzled.

The overseer scoffed. “Because that foolish woman’s probably afraid it’ll throw the world into chaos. So she hid it.”

Resources were already drying up. If a new, powerful faction emerged now, the struggle between old and new martial clans would be inevitable. Even without that, just the existence of such a canon would drive the world into a frenzy. It would be war in all directions.

The general, of course, understood all this. He sighed and shook his head. “The Princess of the Central Capital...she’s a good person.”

The overseer snorted. “Good people don’t live long. They’re also usually idiots.”

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Central Capital.

At a certain corner of the city’s garrison, a brawny man in armor ducked into a tent, his face lined with anxiety.

“Big Bro, all the Clear Stream people went to Swan Pavilion...and I just saw the Crane Wing Army leave their camp too. What should we do?”

Inside, another man was calmly sharpening his sword. His expression didn’t change as he replied, “Old Song didn’t summon us. Neither did the Princess. So what can we do?”

The burly man growled, “No, this isn’t right. The Princess has shown us so much kindness. I joined the army because everyone in our village owed her a debt. Back when we left for the capital, the whole village turned out to see us off, and they all told us to be good soldiers for the Princess.”

He slammed his fist against the side of the tent. “And now the Princess is in Swan Pavilion. The Crane Wing Army’s headed there too. How can we just sit here and do nothing?”

The man sharpening his sword said nothing.

The big man pressed on, voice rising with urgency. “There’s no way this ends well for her! And if something happens, what are you going to say to the folks back home? That the Princess was surrounded and you just stayed put? That you sat on your hands while she died?”

The man stopped sharpening. He held the sword up to the light, gave it a few testing swings, and said, “It’s fast enough now.”

Then he stood up, smacked the burly man on the back of the head, and said, “Who said we’re not going? Pass my order. We’re heading to the eastern gate for routine patrol. Then...we leave the city.”

To take a garrison out of the capital without orders, that was a crime punishable by death.

But the commander didn’t care. He couldn’t stand by and watch the Clear Stream faction be slaughtered. He couldn’t stand by and let the Princess die. And he sure as hell couldn’t sit back and let the He faction seize unchecked power.

He was a farm boy. He knew exactly what would happen if the He faction took over completely. If he didn’t draw his sword today, he’d spend the rest of his life drowning in shame and regret. What man with fire in his blood could live with that?

And this commander of the city garrison, he was only the tip of the iceberg.

1. FYI, without can be used to mean outside too. I really just didn’t want to do, “Outside it was war. Those outside...” ☜