Chapter 179: The Western Court
A deafening explosion shattered the stillness, sending clouds of dust rolling through the Jade Garden. Another grand pavilion crumbled under the force of immense qi, the sound of shattering stone resounding across the land.
Yet, as the dust settled, an even more formidable presence began to surge from the depths of the Demon Emperor Citadel. A mighty aura roared to life, sweeping across the battlefield like a tidal wave.
Sensing this overwhelming energy, the Scale Clan Chief and the Fang Clan Chief instinctively turned their gazes toward the Demon Emperor’s Palace, their fists tightening.
“It seems… His Majesty is aware.”
“I can also sense the aura of the Heavenly Demon General.”
“Brother Mu Le, you’ve truly dragged me into a disaster this time.”
“Perhaps we’ve been delayed, but Shu He has already infiltrated the heart of the palace. That alone is a victory. I only regret not slaughtering a few more cultivators, ensuring this matter becomes truly irredeemable.”
The Scale Clan Chief murmured to himself against the biting cold, then cast his gaze toward the Western Court. Earlier, the clash of sword qi had erupted there, suggesting the presence of a guardian who had encountered Shu He. However, now that the sword intent had faded into silence, his heart found some measure of ease.
At that moment, the Grand Heavenly Demon General descended with his elite vanguard, their black armor gleaming like obsidian under the pale moonlight. The mere act of their landing sent tremors through the streets, their steel-clad ranks forming a storm-like formation that darkened the entire avenue.
Without hesitation, the demon soldiers stormed into the Jade Garden. The sounds of battle within intensified into a furious crescendo.
Yet, four figures remained outside. Without uttering a word, they leaped onto the ruined tower with a single bound. Their footfalls shattered the snow-laden tiles beneath them, sending shards of frost scattering through the night air.
With unrelenting precision, the four warriors struck simultaneously, seizing the Scale and Fang Clan Chiefs by their shoulders. In an instant, they were dragged down from the tower’s peak, pressed to the ground by an unyielding force.
Neither chief resisted. Not a flicker of struggle crossed their features. No pleas for mercy escaped their lips.
They were not traitors nor usurpers. They had never defied the emperor’s rule.
As the Demon Emperor himself had once said, they were merely warriors seeking to free their people, willing to shoulder the burden of such treachery for the sake of the demon clans’ return to the Nine Provinces.
Thus, even as they knelt in shackles, their backs remained straight, their spirits unbroken, standing proud as ancient pines.
A hush of approaching footsteps interrupted the scene. From the swirling snowfall emerged a lone figure clad in a simple white robe, the cold clinging to her form like a shroud.
Princess Feng Yang.
Her complexion was pale, her expression solemn as her gaze swept over the battlefield, finally settling upon the two chieftains.
“Does war, steeped in blood and ruin, truly serve the demon clans?” she asked, her voice cold as the winter wind.
The Scale Clan Chief lifted his head, his eyes resolute. “Your Highness, our people belong to the Nine Provinces. We were forced into exile within these barren snowfields. It is our duty—our responsibility—to reclaim what was lost, so that our descendants need not suffer as we have.”
Feng Yang’s gaze darkened. “And if our people all perish in battle? What then? What legacy will remain?”
“At the very least, we will have tried. If we do nothing, we will never have a chance.”
“Call it what it is—selfish ambition,” she retorted, her tone sharp. “Spare me your feigned righteousness. Prepare to spend the rest of your days within the Frozen Prison atop Twin Peaks.”
Mu Le, the Scale Clan Chief, met her eyes with unwavering resolve. “Your Highness, I acknowledge my sins, but I will not rot within a cell. After tonight, I will offer my life on the battlefield, a final tribute to His Majesty.”
The weight of past words echoed in Feng Yang’s mind—her father’s decree, her brother’s grim resolve:
[If the human envoys suffer even a single casualty, leave none alive.]
[If the envoys perish, the war to reclaim the Nine Provinces is set in stone.]
Her breath caught. Her face grew paler still.
“Where is Shu He?” she demanded.
A rare, contented smile graced Mu Le’s lips. “He has already slipped into the Western Court. The sword intent that once flared there has now vanished. Your Highness, this is not my choice. This is fate’s decree.”
At that moment, the chiefs of the Fur and Claw Clans arrived. The concealment artifacts that had masked the Scale and Fang Clans’ actions had shattered, allowing them to sense the turbulence within the Jade Garden. Rushing to the scene, they caught Mu Le’s final words and could not help but wear bitter smiles.
Though they had clashed over policies and ambitions, they had never been true enemies. Yet, witnessing the Scale and Fang Clans throw themselves so utterly into this gamble, they found themselves at a loss for words.
Feng Yang clenched her teeth and stepped forward into the Jade Garden.
The battle in the central courtyard had reached its end. The elite warriors of the Heavenly Demon Realm had subdued the last of the Scale Clan’s generals, pressing them into the dirt. The effects of their demon transformations had faded, leaving behind only raw, unrelenting battle spirit that burned within their eyes, filled with unwillingness and defiance.
On the opposite side, Yan Chuan, Huo Hong, and their fellow warriors stood, their breath ragged, their robes torn and bloodied. Though wounded, they remained standing, wary and unyielding.
Yan Chuan scoffed. “So, this is how the demon clans extend their hospitality—enticing us with a banquet, then sending assassins in the dead of night?”
Feng Yang spoke before tensions could flare further. “Last night’s events were a grave misunderstanding. Rebels within the city acted without sanction. The demon court will see justice done.”
Yan Chuan sneered. “Spare me your excuses. The demon clans are clearly unreliable hosts. How could we dare linger any longer? We came as envoys, hoping to prevent sinister hands from fanning the flames of war between our peoples. But if war is what the demon clans seek, then know this—we do not fear battle.”
“Please, stay your wrath,” Feng Yang urged. “Before drawing conclusions, let us first confirm—was there truly any loss of life?”
Her gaze turned toward the silent, ominous Western Court.
The battle in the Central Courtyard and Eastern Wing had raged without pause, with sword aura filling the skies, even as the warriors from the Demon Emperor Palace arrived. Yet, one place stood apart—the Western Wing, where the human envoys resided.
Before anyone reached it, the courtyard had already fallen into an eerie silence, as if death itself had taken residence.
Feng Yang, despite her noble status and formidable prowess, found herself hesitating at the threshold of the Western Wing. A foreboding chill coiled around her heart.
The Demon General Shu He, though not the strongest in combat, ranked among the top three within the Scale Clan. Earlier, the Scale Clan’s chief had revealed that Shu He had infiltrated the Western Wing long ago.
Thus, Feng Yang could not predict what awaited her beyond that door.
Throughout the journey, Ye Han had followed closely behind his royal sister. Observing her long hesitation, he instantly understood her fear.
“Is there anyone still guarding inside?” Feng Yang turned, her gaze landing on Elder Yan Chuan of Spirit Sword Mountain.
Leaning on his sword, Yan Chuan responded, “Since nightfall, Ji You has been stationed within the courtyard. Not a single soul has crossed my blade to breach the Western Wing.”
Jiang Chen Feng arrived from the Eastern Wing just in time to hear this and frowned. “No, I saw Ji You draw his sword.”
Yan Chuan’s expression froze. “What?”
Hearing this, Ye Han instinctively glanced at his royal sister. Her face had turned even paler than when she first learned of the Scale and Fang Clans’ assault on Jade Garden.
At that moment, Gong Shu Chou arrived from the Eastern Wing, his left sleeve drenched in blood. Seeing the Scale and Fang Clan chiefs, his fury surged, and he immediately raised his foot to strike. It took much effort from those around him to hold him back.
Soon after, Jiang Yan, Yan Qiu Bai, and Jiang Yue Rou also arrived, their swords in hand. Their eyes burned with barely contained rage at the sight of the demonfolk before them.
“Who entered the Western Wing?” someone demanded.
“Demon General Shu He,” came the grim reply. “His talent lies in speed, and he excels at assassination.”
“…What?”
Only now did Jiang Yan, Yan Qiu Bai, and Jiang Yue Rou sense the shift in atmosphere. They turned to Jiang Chen Feng, their expressions tense.
“What happened? What is this about the Western Wing?”
Jiang Chen Feng looked at his cousin. “During last night’s chaos, the deadliest demon general slipped into the Western Wing without a sound.”
Yan Qiu Bai’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Impossible! The only way in is through the Central Courtyard or Eastern Wing. Elder Yan and Elder Huo were guarding those passages, both warriors of the Boundless Martial Stage. How could they not notice?”
“And that,” Jiang Chen Feng said grimly, “is what makes it terrifying.”
Gong Shu Chou wasted no more words. Striding forward, he unsheathed his sword and shattered the Western Wing’s gate. The others followed closely behind.
Upon entering, their first sight was devastation.
The snow pines planted throughout the courtyard had been severed at their trunks, their fallen halves buried beneath fresh snowfall. The doors and windows bore deep sword gashes, while a heavy wooden beam had been cleaved and now lay collapsed in ruin. Even the snow on the ground appeared shredded, sliced into scattered fragments.
And the blood—
Long before they had stepped inside, they had already glimpsed the crimson splatters dotting the snow-covered earth. These were no ordinary stains; the blood had been so hot upon spilling that it had melted deep craters into the icy ground.
Seeing this, everyone’s breath caught. It was as if they could already envision the fate of the envoys—slaughtered within their chambers, slain as they fled, butchered in their sleep—piled together in heaps, blood pooling into rivers.
This was the signature of the bloodthirsty demon general.
Shu He was terrifyingly cruel. He took pleasure in stacking the corpses of his victims and gazing upon his work in solitude.
Feng Yang was the last to step inside. The sight of the ruined courtyard made her delicate hand tremble within her sleeve. A storm of snow and wind seemed to swirl within her eyes.
Meanwhile, the Scale and Fang Clan chiefs, who had remained composed thus far, now revealed a different expression. Their gazes burned with fervor, scanning the scene as though searching for confirmation—had the envoys been wiped out entirely?
Yan Chuan, unable to contain his fury, roared, “Why… why was Ji You left here alone? He is merely of the Mystic Enlightenment Stage!”
Gong Shu Chou frowned. “That was his own arrangement.”
“And why would he do that?”
“He stationed the elders at the Central Courtyard, Eastern Wing, Flower Pavilion, and Bamboo Grove, ensuring that no intruder could breach them. His arm has yet to fully recover, so he chose to remain in the safest place—the Western Wing.”
Huo Hong, pressing a hand to his wound, narrowed his eyes. “It seems he has doomed himself.”
The Scale and Fang Clan chiefs exchanged glances. Only now did they realize that none of these warriors had attended the banquet tonight; instead, they had all remained to guard Jade Garden. And it was all arranged by that Mystic Enlightenment human.
A man capable of orchestrating the entire battlefield… the thought sent a chill through them.
But it was over now. Everything was over.
Just then, a faint noise came from deep within the courtyard.
Everyone turned sharply, their focus snapping back to the present. Without hesitation, they rushed past the bamboo grove lining the Western Wing’s entrance, pressing toward the heart of the residence.
What they saw made them stop in their tracks.
The destruction within the courtyard was even worse than at the entrance. Debris lay everywhere.
And just as they had feared… there were bodies in the Western Wing.
The scene before them was unlike the past carnage, yet its stark brutality sent a chill through the marrow.
A single corpse lay in the snow, yet it was no human—it was a demon, lean and wiry in build. His body was sprawled face-down in the blood-soaked frost, his form half-buried within the snowdrifts. Or rather, a nest of crimson. The once-pristine snow had been thoroughly stained with his life’s essence.
Seven sword wounds marred his back, carved deep to the bone. The lacerated flesh, now frozen solid under the Snowy Expanse’s frigid touch, had long since ceased to bleed, though the evidence of its loss surrounded him.
Before him, in the places where his hands had once gripped weapons, there remained only two elongated furrows in the snow—marks left behind by fallen blades, now absent from the scene.
Seated to the corpse’s left, upon the stone steps of the Western Wing’s eastern chamber, was Ji You. A thin gash traced diagonally from his chin to his cheek—a memento of a strike aimed at his throat. He had dodged, yet not entirely. His robes, too, bore testament to the battle’s ferocity, sliced from collarbone to shoulder. That, too, had been an attack meant to skewer his heart. He had evaded, but not unscathed.
The sound of approaching footsteps echoed in his ears. He turned his gaze toward the source, his sword intent still lingering in the crisp morning air. Seated before the threshold, his eyes were keen as blades, an aura of cold steel surrounding him.
Yet as his gaze swept over the faces of the Heaven’s Chosen from the Immortal Sect, he noted that none were missing. A quiet sigh of relief settled in his heart.
Then, their focus shifted—first to the corpse, then to the scars etched across the courtyard. Their eyes finally landed upon Ji You, filled with disbelief.
He had slain the demon general, Shu He.
Through the tumult of last night’s chaos, an unseen yet perilous battle had raged within the Western Wing—a place many had assumed to be abandoned. Some believed that the envoy housed here had surely perished, that this place would be littered with corpses stacked high.
Yet, contrary to all expectations, Ji You had stood alone and cut down one of the most formidable and deadly demon generals.
Among those gathered, none found this outcome more difficult to accept than the chiefs of the Scale Clan and Fang Clan. To them, the Western Wing was the least concerning battlefield in the grand scheme of the night’s massacre. Yet now, the one they had placed their faith in—the blade that had felled so many lives—lay unmoving, never to rise again.
Feng Yang, the princess of the demon court, regarded Ji You in silence, lost in thought. Eventually, she turned away, her expression unreadable.
It was at that moment that Ji You’s voice broke the deathly silence that had shrouded the Western Wing.
“This demon was truly formidable. I never expected that with nothing but his bare hands, he would leave me covered in wounds…”
“…”
“???”
Ye Han had not entered the courtyard with the others. Instead, he stood at a distance, summoning three Heavenly Demon Generals and commanding them to encircle the entire Western Wing with their forces.
His initial assumption had been the same as the others—Ji You, alone within these walls, meant the complete annihilation of the human envoy.
For he had witnessed Shu He’s speed firsthand, knew well of the terrifying talent that made him a ghost in the battlefield. With such a gift for swiftness and subterfuge, no one could escape him.
Their father, the Demon Emperor, had made his command clear: if the humans were to die, then the deed must be done thoroughly. The Immortal Sects of the human race were fractured and prideful; if the massacre was complete, they would have no recourse.
As the elder sibling, Ye Han understood his sister Feng Yang’s heart. Even if it were their father’s decree, she would not blindly obey. If the slaughter had to be done, then it must be he who bore the burden.
“Even I would rather not face Shu He alone,” murmured Chao Cang, the Heavenly Demon General standing watch at the gate.
“You’re not alone in that. I’ve heard even Mu Le, though willing to employ him, preferred to keep his distance. Shu He was far deadlier than his realm suggested.”
As these words fell, Feng Yang stepped forward from the courtyard, her gaze locking onto Chao Cang with unyielding intensity.
“Arrest all who participated in tonight’s treachery,” she commanded. “Deliver them to the Demon Emperor’s Palace—including the Scale Clan and Fang Clan’s chiefs.”
Ye Han turned to her, his brows knitting together. “Feng Yang, I understand your hesitation, but you cannot act out of sentiment. Let me handle what comes next.”
“Royal Brother, I am fulfilling our father’s decree.”
“???”
“Shu He is dead. The human envoy remains unharmed.”
At her order, the demon soldiers and generals moved swiftly. Those already subdued were dragged away, shackled in enchanted restraints.
In the midst of the chaos, Ye Han stepped forward into the courtyard, his mind clouded with confusion. His eyes landed on the fallen figure of Shu He, his body still and cold, wounds uniform and precise.
Speed was Shu He’s greatest weapon. Many could not even graze his robes, let alone strike him.
And yet, before him lay the undeniable truth: every strike had found its mark, and each had been delivered with merciless precision.
Silence overtook him. After a long pause, he turned his gaze westward.
Ji You had already been placed into a wheelchair, his arms limp at his sides. He was being pushed forward, his frail frame exuding the air of a sickly scholar. And yet, his eyes met Ye Han’s with quiet defiance.
Dawn broke beyond the snow-capped peaks, its pale light piercing through the lingering mist. The Jade Garden, which had been embroiled in bloodshed through the night, now lay eerily still. But the remnants of battle remained—shattered stones, ruined structures, and blood that had yet to fully sink into the frost.
The chiefs of the Scale Clan and Fang Clan, architects of the night’s bloodbath, were shackled and led away along with every demon general who had taken part in the assault.
But the Demon Emperor did not come to meet them.
Instead, at the palace gates, a lone figure awaited.
Shan Dian, the High Chancellor, stood in solemn silence. As the captives were brought before him, he descended the steps of the grand hall, lowering his head in mock courtesy.
“His Majesty is greatly disappointed in you. He has no wish to see you.”
The Scale and Fang Clan chiefs clenched their fists but said nothing.
Shan Dian sighed. “This is not easing the burden upon His Majesty. You have forced his hand.”
Mu Le let out a weary breath. “We are guilty.”
“Indeed,” Shan Dian replied. “And so, you shall reflect on your sins in the Frozen Prison.”
(This novel is translated and hosted on Bcatranslation)