Chapter Eighteen: Twilight of the Gods

“How can you say there wasn’t? At first, we allied with the Four Divine Guardians and were preparing to demand an explanation from the Yanbei royal palace. But who could have expected that the Yanbei dynasty would bring in a national advisor from some unknown place? That wretch wielded bizarre methods and used some unknown artifact that could suppress our divine souls. It was that battle that left the Four Guardians gravely wounded; many died, others were maimed.”

“Deprived of incense offerings, we could only watch helplessly as our cultivation dwindled day by day.” The hatred burning in Xi Bojun’s eyes was so intense it sent chills down one’s spine.

“I suspect the one who ruined your incense was that national advisor,” Yi An nodded, recognizing how ruthlessly severing one’s foundation could destroy them.

In truth, these divine guardians were little more than spirits of the immortal realm. Without a physical form, they relied solely on incense to maintain their spiritual bodies. Once the incense ceased, their fate was only to dissipate, returning to the elements.

“To survive, we were forced into the demonic path, barely clinging to existence. Tell me, is that wrong?” Xi Bojun asked.

“From your perspective, of course it isn’t. But what of those you harmed, those innocents who died? What wrong did they do?” Yi An replied.

It was difficult to judge; everyone was struggling to survive. Even ants seek to live, so why not the divine guardians? In his heart, Yi An knew he too would not simply resign himself to extinction.

“This world is one where the strong devour the weak. If you’re not strong enough, you’ll be swallowed up by someone else the very next moment. In earlier years, I protected one side; now, what I do is merely their indirect repayment.” Xi Bojun had once resisted, but over time, he grew accustomed.

Compared to survival, any notion of justice seemed pale and powerless.

Yi An shook his head, choosing not to argue further. He asked, “Then who governs the order of the mortal realm now?”

“It’s the humans themselves, of course. Aside from the powerful dragon clans who still retain their foundations, even the underworld is in turmoil. The Ten Lords of Hell have each seized their own territory, but I don’t know the details,” Xi Bojun recounted everything he knew.

Suddenly, Xi Bojun’s soul trembled violently, and a surge of pure, blazing energy scattered his soul in an instant.

“You… you broke your word… Heart Demon…” Xi Bojun’s voice was filled with unwillingness and rage, but before he could finish, he was utterly destroyed.

“Unfortunately, a vow to the Heart Demon is useless against me. Some promises must be kept, even at great cost, but keeping faith with a demon is the height of folly,” Yi An shook his head.

Mercy for the enemy is cruelty to oneself.

This phrase had been proven countless times and could be called a universal truth.

Though Xi Bojun now seemed pitiable, he was a demon of the Night Wanderer rank. If he bore a grudge against Yi An, it would haunt Yi An’s days and nights.

This time, the opponent was caught off guard; Yi An relied entirely on luck to ambush him. Otherwise, a mere Foundation Establishment cultivator trying to take down a Night Wanderer would be nothing but wishful thinking.

…

Glancing at the sky, the first light of dawn had begun to show. Yi An made his way toward Hangzhou city.

Before long, he arrived outside the northern gate of Hangzhou.

Though it was still early, the gates were wide open, and vendors bustled in and out, entering the city.

Within the city, the streets were paved with smooth stone blocks, and shops lined both sides as far as the eye could see. From the sheer scale, Hangzhou far surpassed Yingchuan.

Taking in the prospering scene, Yi An couldn’t help but praise, “Hangzhou truly deserves its fame as a grand city.”

Hangzhou was vast.

To find a single person within was like searching for a needle in the sea.

Thankfully, Master Yinshan was renowned throughout the land. Even after stepping down, his status remained influential.

Yi An made a few inquiries and quickly learned the location of Master Yinshan’s residence.

Contrary to expectations, the house was modest, almost indistinguishable from those of ordinary folk.

Knock, knock, knock.

Yi An stepped forward and rapped on the door. Soon, a burly man appeared.

Yi An’s gaze sharpened, sensing danger. With his keen perception, he easily discerned that the man before him was a martial artist of the postnatal realm, his aura restrained and breath steady.

“Friend, what business do you have here? If you wish to see the master, I must tell you he’s recently taken ill and cannot receive visitors,” the man said, eyeing Yi An warily.

This was not Master Yinshan putting on airs.

It was simply that over the years, scholars visiting him had never ceased.

If that were all, it would be tolerable.

But the key was that their motives were impure—they did not visit him in earnest, but merely sought to borrow his integrity to enhance their own reputations.

Worse still, some repeatedly sought to become his disciples out of personal ambition.

Thus, Master Yinshan had simply closed his doors to guests.

Yi An, unaware of these circumstances, feared Master Yinshan might be in peril. After all, a martial artist of the postnatal realm guarding the house spoke volumes.

Otherwise, why would such a formidable fighter be content to serve here?

“In my opinion, it’s not the master who is unwell, but you who are hiding something!” Yi An said coldly.

“Hmph, another presumptuous scholar. I’ve shown you courtesy, but don’t push your luck,” the burly man snapped, glaring fiercely. Most scholars would tremble and flee under such a look.

But what happened next left him dumbfounded.

The so-called “frail scholar” reached out and seized him.

He found himself utterly powerless to resist. Yi An’s hands were like twin mountains, holding him immobile.

“Who are you, and what’s your purpose here? Are you one of those traitors’ lackeys?” the man roared, his gaze toward Yi An now full of wariness.

Even those at the peak of the postnatal realm could not restrain him so completely.

Yi An’s cultivation was thus self-evident.

As for “traitors,” he referred to the corrupt ministers at court.

Over the years, if not for his protection, those ministers would have long since harmed Master Yinshan.

Yet what skill did they possess, to command even a martial artist of the innate realm?

In the past, even at the most perilous times, he had only ever faced fellow postnatal martial artists; before an innate cultivator, he felt utterly powerless.