Chapter 40
The Eternal Ming Empire
For over twenty thousand years, the Ming Dynasty has reigned supreme over the vast continents of Tianhua and Fenglong, two jewels in the crown of a world divided into eight great landmasses. The saga of this enduring empire began with the legendary first emperor, Ming Haoyue, and his indomitable ally, the great Bai Hu, the Martial Sovereign.
Together, they forged a realm of unprecedented might and majesty. They swept across Tianhua and Fenglong like a storm, their armies an unstoppable force that crushed barbaric tribes, banished ferocious beasts and other creatures, and tamed the very land itself. From the ashes of conquest rose the Great Celestial Dragon Empire, a civilization that would stand as a beacon of power and culture for millennia to come.
For five thousand years, the empire flourished in a golden age of peace and prosperity. Minor disturbances were quelled with ease, barely ripples in the vast ocean of imperial might. It seemed as though the Ming Dynasty's rule would last until the very stars fell from the sky.
But even the mightiest empires can be shaken by the winds of change.
After the first emperor's death, the Martial Sovereign, having reached the pinnacle of cultivation, ascended to a higher realm of existence. His departure left a void that even the vast imperial court struggled to fill. The reins of power fell to Ming Haoyue's great-grandson, Emperor Ming Zhenhai – a man of great ambition, but perhaps not the wisdom of his illustrious ancestors.
It was then that the first cracks began to appear in the empire's immaculate facade. Chun Mowang, governor of the prosperous Yunhai province, saw an opportunity in the shifting tides of power. Proclaiming himself a living saint, Chun amassed a following of devoted cultists and disgruntled noble families, earning the infamous title of the First Heavenly Demon.
What followed was a war that would scar the face of the empire for generations. Chun Mowang's rebellion spread like wildfire, fueled by dark sorcery and charismatic propaganda. Entire cities fell to his demonic armies, their populations either slaughtered or converted to his twisted cause.
Emperor Ming Zhenhai, initially dismissive of the threat, soon found himself fighting for the very survival of his dynasty. The imperial army, long accustomed to peace, struggled against Chun Mowang's fanatical followers. Battles raged across the continent, turning fertile valleys into graveyards and reducing ancient cities to rubble.
The conflict reached its zenith at the Battle of Thousand Sorrows Plain. For seven days and nights, the sky burned with mystical fire as cultivators on both sides unleashed devastating techniques. The earth itself cracked and heaved, swallowing entire regiments. It was said that the rivers ran red for a month after the battle's end.
In a stroke of desperate genius, Emperor Ming Zhenhai turned to an unlikely ally – the reclusive Sword Sages of Mount Jianfeng. Their intervention turned the tide, their legendary blades carving through Chun Mowang's defenses like paper.
The Heavenly Demon, cornered and facing defeat, attempted a final, cataclysmic ritual to ascend to true godhood. The resulting magical backlash obliterated his stronghold and a significant portion of his army, bringing the war to a sudden, if pyrrhic, end.
The rebellion's aftermath left deep scars on the empire. Entire bloodlines had been extinguished, vast tracts of land lay barren, and the people's faith in the Ming Dynasty's mandate of heaven was shaken to its core.
The once-unshakeable Ming Empire found its grip on power loosening. The cultivators, who had long been a pillar of imperial strength, sensed weakness in the empire's leadership and saw an opportunity to assert their independence.
This mass exodus of cultivators from imperial control gave birth to a new sociopolitical landscape known as the Jianghu. They became a nebulous realm existing parallel to, yet separate from, the official imperial structure. It was a world of its own, populated by cultivators, martial artists, and those who lived by their own code, outside the bounds of imperial law.
Within the Jianghu, three major factions emerged, each with its own ideology and goals:
The Orthodox Faction: These cultivators maintained a respectful, if distant, relationship with the empire. They valued traditional cultivation methods and moral codes but were unwilling to submit to imperial authority after witnessing years of war and perceived weakness. Many renowned sects and schools aligned themselves with this faction, seeing themselves as guardians of cultivation traditions rather than servants of the empire.
The Unorthodox Faction: Viewing the empire as ineffective and stifling to their cultivation, these practitioners sought to push the boundaries of conventional methods. They were not openly hostile to the empire but saw its rigid structure as an obstacle to reaching greater heights of power. This faction attracted many ambitious cultivators and those interested in exploring unconventional or forbidden techniques.
The Demonic Cult: Led by Chun Yemo, the eldest son of the infamous Chun Mowang, this faction sought nothing less than the complete destruction of the existing power structures. They embraced dark and often cruel cultivation methods, believing that the end justified any means in the pursuit of power. The Demonic Cult was a constant threat, not just to the empire but to the other Jianghu factions as well.
It was the time of the rise of the great sects and families. The emergence of the Jianghu created a complex, multi-layered society within the empire's borders.
For a time, an uneasy peace held between the empire and the Jianghu. A tacit understanding was reached: the empire would not interfere with Jianghu affairs, and in return, the Jianghu would not directly challenge imperial authority. This arrangement allowed both sides to coexist, albeit with constant tension simmering beneath the surface.
However, this delicate balance was always at risk of tipping. The Orthodox Faction often found itself playing peacekeeper, mediating disputes between the empire and the more radical elements of the Jianghu. The Unorthodox Faction pushed the boundaries of this agreement, occasionally crossing lines that provoked imperial ire. And ever-present was the threat of the Demonic Cult, whose nefarious schemes threatened to plunge the realm back into chaos.
As years passed, the Jianghu became an integral part of life in the Ming Empire, a shadow realm of martial arts, mysticism, and intrigue. It was a world where a beggar might be a grandmaster in disguise, where ancient feuds could erupt into spectacular duels in the middle of crowded marketplaces, and where the next crisis threatening the empire was just as likely to come from a Jianghu sect as from external enemies.
The age of absolute imperial control was over. A new era had dawned, one where power was balanced precariously between the throne and the hidden masters of the Jianghu.
Then, after seven hundred years, the fragile equilibrium between the empire and the Jianghu was shattered when a new threat emerged from across the seas. The Hongshan Empire, hailing from the distant continent of Xuanwu, allied itself with the Demonic Faction in a bid to conquer the Great Celestial Dragon Empire.
For a millennium, the land was engulfed in a war so brutal it made the previous conflicts seem like mere skirmishes. Blood-soaked battlefields stretched from the coastal regions to the heart of the empire. Cities fell and rose again, their walls bearing the scars of countless sieges. The sky itself seemed to weep, stained crimson by the auroras created from the clash of powerful cultivation techniques.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
The Great Celestial Dragon Empire, despite its internal strife, found itself united against this common foe. Imperial armies fought alongside Jianghu cultivators, their former differences set aside in the face of annihilation. The Orthodox and Unorthodox factions, once at odds, now stood shoulder to shoulder against the invaders and their demonic allies.
It was during this time of unprecedented crisis that legends were born. The first generation of the Seven Dragons and Five Phoenixes rose to prominence, their names etched into the annals of history:
Zhao Tianhong, the Crimson Dragon, whose fiery techniques could incinerate entire armadas.
Lin Qingyi, the Azure Phoenix, whose mastery over wind and water turned the tides of battle, literally and figuratively.
Wei Shenzong, the Golden Dragon, a peerless strategist who outmaneuvered even the wiliest of demonic cultivators.
These heroes, and their equally illustrious companions, became the stuff of legends. Their battles against the Hongshan Empire's mightiest cultivators and the Demonic Faction's most twisted practitioners became epic tales, told and retold around campfires and in grand halls alike.
The war reached its zenith during the Siege of Tianjing, the imperial capital. For a hundred days and nights, the city withstood a relentless assault. It was here that Wei Shenzong orchestrated his masterpiece, the Battle of a Thousand Deceptions, luring the enemy into a trap that would-
"Li- Jon Li? Hello?"
Jon's head snapped up from the book, his mind still half-lost in the annals of history. "Huh?" he mumbled, blinking rapidly as he tried to focus on Yulian's face.
The abrupt transition from epic battles to the quiet library left him momentarily disoriented. He could almost hear the clash of swords and the roar of mystical beasts fading away, replaced by the soft rustle of pages and Yulian's expectant gaze.
"Sorry, what were you saying?" Jon asked, reluctantly closing the tome before him, his finger marking his place. He couldn't help but cast a longing glance at the pages, eager to dive back into the story and discover the outcome of the Siege of Tianjing and the fate of the legendary Wei Shenzong guy.
Yulian extended a worn, leather-bound book towards Jon. "I was saying that I found one of the cultivation books you were looking for."
She leaned in, her eyes scanning the pages of Jon's current read. A smile tugged at her lips. "The Eternal Ming Empire? This is a very good book... for propaganda," she chuckled, her voice tinged with amusement.
Jon rolled his eyes, closing the tome with a soft thump. "Well, it's a history book about the empire. Of course they'd make themselves appear as the absolute forces of good. I half expected to read about emperors who could shoot rainbows out of their—" He caught himself, remembering where he was. "...eyes."
Yulian nodded, her expression growing distant. "Hmm, no one is absolutely good in this world."
Something in her tone piqued Jon's interest. He couldn't resist the urge to prod. "Even your Tang clan?" he asked, his voice taking on a teasing lilt.
As the words left his mouth, Jon's mind raced. Tang clan... I know I heard that before... Oh right, every other xianxia novel ever. They're masters of medicine and poison i think. This idea consolidated Jon's theory of truly being in an universe similar to the ones he would read in the past.
Yulian sighed, her fingers absently tracing the spine of a nearby book. "Yes, even the Tang clan is not perfect. We have our... issues."
Don't we all, Jon thought, making a mental note to dig deeper into that particular can of worms later. Out loud, he said, "Thanks for the book. I promise not to use it to overthrow any governments or accidentally ascend to godhood. Probably."
As he reached for the cultivation manual, his elbow knocked against a precariously balanced stack of scrolls. They cascaded to the floor in a papery waterfall, scattering across the polished wood. "Ah, crud," Jon muttered, diving to gather them up.
Yulian moved to help, her graceful movements a stark contrast to Jon's frantic scrambling. As they worked, Jon couldn't help but notice the titles on some of the scrolls. 'Secrets of the Jade Cauldron', 'Mist Walker's Almanac', 'A Thousand Ways to Brew Tea and/or Deadly Poison'.
"Light reading?" he quipped, raising an eyebrow at Yulian.
She smiled enigmatically. "A Tang never reveals her secrets."
"Right," Jon nodded sagely. "Because if you did, you'd have to kill me. With tea. That may or may not be poison."
Yulian's laughter echoed through the library. "You're an odd one, Jon Li," she said, shaking her head.
"I prefer 'charmingly unique'," he retorted, finally managing to restack the scrolls without further incident. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a date with some qi channels and probably a headache."
The history books could wait, for now, Jon had to know what Jianyu meant by 'how are you still alive'.
As he settled back into his chair, Jon opened the cultivation manual, its pages crisp and filled with intricate diagrams. As he began to read, he found himself immersed.
The foundation of cultivation, the text explained, lay in the three dantians: lower, middle, and upper. Nothing new so far, he mused
The lower dantian, also the main one, located in the abdomen, served as the primary reservoir for qi. This dantian was crucial, absorbing, storing and circulating the vital energy needed for cultivation to the other dantians.
The middle dantian, nestled in the chest, acted as a refinery and distributor. It processed raw qi into more refined energy, feeding it into the body's meridians.
The upper dantian, residing in the head, was the most enigmatic. It governed spiritual perception and higher-level techniques.
Connecting these power centers was an intricate network of meridians, channels through which qi flowed. The book detailed exercises to open and expand these pathways, each one more challenging than the last.
Jon focused even more as he read about the rigid progression of cultivation realms:
Qi Condensation. Foundation Establishment. Core Formation. Nascent Soul. Meridian Gates. Divine Sense. Void Transcendence. The Wall. Sainthood. True Immortal.
"Well, isn't that just a lovely..." Jon muttered, rubbing his temples.
The book went on to explain how each realm required exponentially more time and resources to achieve. What might take a few years in Qi Condensation could take decades or even centuries at higher levels.
As he delved deeper, Jon learned about the importance of balancing the body's yin and yang energies, harmonizing with natural forces, and the dangers of qi deviation. I guess it's like yoga, but if you do it wrong, you explode. Wonderful.
The text also touched on external aids: spirit herbs, pills, mystical beasts, and legendary weapons that could accelerate cultivation. Hmm. I don't suppose there's an Amazon for phoenix feathers and dragon scales? A shame.
Despite his sarcasm, Jon found himself oddly fascinated. The system, for all its mystical trappings, had a certain logic to it. It was like a cosmic game of snakes and ladders, where the ladders were made of willpower and the snakes were... well, probably actual mystical snakes.
But then, his eyes widened as he came across a crucial detail in the cultivation manual: "To embark upon the path of immortality, one must attain the first realm, Qi Condensation, before the age of 25 or so. After this, the window of opportunity closes forever."
Window. The word echoed in Jon's mind, triggering a memory from his arrival in this world. That demonic cultist who'd ambushed him... what was it he'd said? Something about Jon's window almost being closed.
"Wait a second," Jon muttered, a cold realization dawning. "I'm 25. Did that bastard actually..."
With rising panic, Jon flipped through the pages, searching for the cultivation do's and don'ts. He found the section soon enough, near the end.
His eyes raced across the text: "One should never, under any circumstance, force open their dantian. The process must be undertaken methodically, lest it result in crippling or death."
"Oh, oh no" Jon grumbled.
He read on, the book's clinical tone at odds with the dire warning it conveyed:
"The lower dantian, situated in the abdomen, serves as the primordial crucible of cultivation. Its natural opening marks the first step on the path to transcendence. When forcibly breached, however, it disrupts the delicate balance of one's innate qi."
Jon's fingers tightened on the book's edges.
The text continued mercilessly:
"Following a forced opening, the body will temporarily sustain the new qi flow through hastily formed meridian pathways. This grants a fleeting illusion of power, masking the critical damage inflicted upon one's cultivation foundation."
His eyes darted to the next paragraph, dread mounting with each word:
"This precarious state can persist for a maximum of two days. During this time, the patient may experience heightened senses and seemingly enhanced abilities - the last gasps of a body desperately attempting to regulate its disrupted energy systems."
Jon's mind raced. How long had it been since his encounter with the cultist? More than two days, certainly, but for some reason, the days since his arrival in this world blurred together.
The final passage hit like a sledgehammer:
"As there is no known remedy for such a condition yet, the chaotic energy will inevitably overwhelm the unprepared meridians. This results in a cascading failure of vital organs, leading to a swift and agonizing demise."
Jon closed the book, his face a mask of forced calm betrayed by the slight tremor in his hands. He finally understood Jianyu's question. "Well," he said to the empty air, "shit."