The Empress's No.1 Lackey-Chapter 709 - 465. A Century-Long Battle Started Early (5k)

On the summit of Luo Mountain, the sky was dim with clouds, densely packed, with vague lightning serpents wildly dancing, as if brewing a thunderstorm from the Nine Heavens.

Xu Zhenguan, clad in the Dragon Robe, held the Ancestor Divine Weapon, his brows fierce as he gazed at the figure of Wu Xiankui.

This first martial artist of the era initially appeared from afar, above the river. Yet with one step, he crossed the distance, appearing ten meters away from the Empress.

"Wu Xiankui! So it is you."

Xu Zhenguan’s voice was chilling, his face like a mask of cold frost, resembling the winter day of the Xuanmen Coup three years ago.

There was not much surprise in his tone, as if he had long suspected it.

As he spoke, his gaze landed on the solitary and corpulent form of Wu Xiankui, who had come from the East Sea on a bamboo raft.

The latter wore coarse linen garments, and his disheveled hair, black and white, was tied casually behind his head with a silk ribbon.

His face, appearing over fifty, bore no particular peculiarities except for a fire-red mark shaped like a heavy date imprinted on his brow, brilliant and eye-catching.

Perhaps from sitting alone on the cliff facing the sea for so many years, his complexion was particularly roughened by the encroaching sea winds.

Wu Xiankui stood with hands behind his back. Despite the coarse linen garments, there was an innate Grandmaster’s demeanor, his eyes calmly meeting the angry gaze of the Empress, his tone understated:

"Your Majesty knew I would come?"

Xu Zhenguan grasped the sword hilt tightly, ignoring the wild dance of lightning above, and spoke coldly:

"I grandly conduct the Sealing, watched by the world; there are always some who do not want me to have my way. However, with the danger of Luo Mountain, even if there truly were a hundred thousand rebel troops coming to kill, they could not charge to the summit. Nor could any martial artist, demon of spell magic, or anyone below Heavenly Human threaten me in the least!

Heavenly Master Zhang does not involve himself in earthly matters, and I trust that. Count it over, only Xuan Yin and you in Yu Country can threaten me, that is all."

Wu Xiankui nodded and said plainly:

"Xuan Yin Monk has secluded himself in the capital, watched by Zhang Yan Yi. So, the only one who can come and stop you is me."

Xu Zhenguan suddenly sighed gently, his eyes carrying disdain and disappointment:

"Who would have thought that the dignified master of Qingshan would also stoop to such petty acts? What benefit has the Eight Princes promised you to make you come to stop me?"

Wu Xiankui, decorated with a fire-red imprint on his brow, responded with unexpected candor:

"As long as I intervene, when the Yu Royal Family changes hands, they will allow Qingshan into the Imperial Palace to access the Grand Ancestor Emperor’s tower and inscription."

The so-called tower, undoubtedly the location Zhao Douan visited twice to study the ’Martial God’ inheritance.

The so-called inscription, the promise to permit outsiders to view those five mural paintings.

In other words, Prince Jing and others promised to allow Wu Xiankui to comprehend the Royal Family’s secret ’Martial God’ inheritance.

"Traitor to the Country!"

Even with prior expectations, hearing this answer personally, Xu Zhenguan’s anger still erupted.

Indeed, in the world, what else could move a strong person like Wu Xiankui, who stands atop the martial peak, other than this?

High official rank and wealth?

A beautiful wife and concubines?

Or mundane power?

To Wu Xiankui, they are all like fleeting clouds, only the Royal Family inheritance truly captivates him.

As long as Xu Zhenguan exists for one more day, Wu Xiankui cannot achieve his desire.

So, a group led by Prince Jing contacted him, and with this as compensation, managed to request his intervention this once.

"Traitor or not, it’s all your Xu family’s affair,"

Wu Xiankui’s expression remained composed:

"I don’t deceive you. Qingshan’s centuries-old commitment to battle with the Royal Family is not far off, so today might as well be brought forward a few months. If you win, I will return to the East Sea and never again interfere with your royal family struggle. If you lose, the Royal Family Secret Inheritance will be the stake of this battle."

Xu Zhenguan’s pale face showed a mocking expression as he suddenly laughed:

"I understand now, you are afraid. Afraid that after I advance upon Sealing, you won’t be able to win in next year’s martial contest, so you willingly came here riding the tide."

For the first time since appearing, Wu Xiankui frowned tightly and said indifferently:

"How Your Majesty thinks, I do not care. All my life I’ve only pursued martial arts; the Yu country’s Royal Family has weakened generation after generation in martial arts, unable to surpass Qingshan. Relying on the so-called ’Dragon Qi’ magic to boost themselves in hopes of winning, how honorable is that?"

With that, Wu Xiankui seemed disinterested in further conversation, he calmly said:

"Words are of no benefit. If Your Majesty wants me to leave, then draw your sword."

Xu Zhenguan’s smile disappeared, leaving only authority in her eyes, as she nodded lightly:

"Very well."

Whether interception or competition.

No matter how skilled one is with words, it’s better to silence with a sword.

The opposition’s interference was indeed expected, truly without any unnecessary words.

Suddenly, on Xu Zhenguan’s Dragon Robe, the embroidered golden dragon became vividly lifelike, breaking free from the Magic Robe, encircling the Five-Colored Altar, radiating light.

The Magic Artifacts left by the Grand Ancestor were certainly not just the Taia Sword!

Xu Zhenguan extended a sword.

Wu Xiankui’s coarse linen garments and disheveled long hair fluttered wildly in the wind, as he stepped forward, an imposing aura like a towering mountain surged skyward, dispersing the vast overcast clouds.

The Sorrow God’s spell was suppressed by the martial truth nurtured over sixty years of viewing the sea by this foremost martial artist.

The martial artist threw a punch.

Even the evil gods from all directions had to retreat thrice.

"Wu doesn’t take advantage of you, a match it is, does petty evil dare to observe?"

Wu Xiankui’s hair and beard shook in the wild wind, as the scar on his brow burned intensely like a raging flame.

This time, having traveled westward from the East Sea, passing the Jiangnan Water Veins, he fostered an unstoppable martial momentum like great rivers, accompanied by an overwhelming Qi Mechanism like a waterfall from the Nine Heavens, cascading down.

As fist and sword clashed, upon Luo Mountain, clouds and mist churned like a furious sea.

The serpentine rivers below exploded with a heaven-crumbling roar, and everything within thirty miles turned their gaze.