Tome of Troubled Times

Chapter 636: Would You Help Me or the Venerable

Chapter 636: Would You Help Me or the Venerable

Zhao Changhe ignored the blind woman’s sarcastic remark.

Old Xia had advised him not to rely too heavily on the Heavenly Tome, and Zhao Changhe wholeheartedly agreed with this view.

After all, Old Xia had reached his terrifying level of power with just one page of the Heavenly Tome. Clearly, his success was not solely due to the tome—it came down to his own skill and determination. From the moment Zhao Changhe acquired the first two pages, he had made a conscious effort to control his reliance on them. He would not allow himself to snatch up each new page in a blind rush. That self-discipline was crucial for his growth. Of course, he was not about to explain this to the blind woman. He would allow her to believe he was too distracted by “women” to focus on the Heavenly Tome—it was a convenient misunderstanding.

It was enough to confirm that the material before him was Night Flowing Sand. This unexpected discovery carried far greater significance than he had anticipated.

Night Flowing Sand was the final component needed to forge the Night Emperor’s sword. For the longest time, its absence had stalled the forging process.

Lady Three had always been somewhat defensive about her failure to find it, and to an extent, it was not entirely her fault. Without any leads, who would waste time chasing after something so elusive? There were always more pressing matters to attend to. But it was not for lack of trying—Lady Three had spent months scouring the overseas realms of the Spirit Clan and come back empty-handed.

The sheer irony was staggering. Something so rare that it had been presumed lost to some uncharted, secret realm had been right here, hidden in plain sight—so abundant that it had been extravagantly used to construct this artificial sky. Judging by its lavish use, there were likely reserves left over beneath the platform.

Zhao Changhe scratched his head, somewhat annoyed with himself. He had never asked Old Xia about it before. Back then, he had opposed Xia Longyuan at every turn, and he’d been too proud and stubborn to ask questions. It was not as if Old Xia lacked treasures. Having spent the first half of his life traversing countless secret realms, he had surely encountered some of the most challenging ones.

Moreover, Old Xia had slain gods. This act of his still echoed through legend. The conflict with the Buddhist faith, for instance, was because Xia Longyuan had killed one of their divine beings. With that being the case, it was only natural for Xia Longyuan to possess relics or war spoils from the Buddhist faith—and perhaps others of equal significance.

“You could have mentioned this sooner,” Zhao Changhe muttered. “We’ve been here before...”

“How many times do I have to tell you? I’m not your guide. Why should I teach you where to find treasures? What exactly do you think our relationship is?” The blind woman scoffed coldly. “You’re always thinking about how to use me, pestering me for advice on this or that. What’s in it for me?”

“Hey, we might be close, but accusing me of that counts as slander, alright? When have I ever wanted to use you like that?”

“...” The blind woman chose to ignore him.

You don’t want to use me? Please. I know you and your father-in-law both despise me. The only question is whose methods will be crueler—yours or his.

Zhao Changhe ignored the sharp edge in her silence, his focus turning back to the platform. After a moment’s contemplation, he began searching beneath it for a hidden chamber. Given the sheer scale of the resources here, there had to be something stored away—leftover treasures or materials. If this really was Night Flowing Sand, then forging the Night Emperor’s sword could finally begin in earnest.

At his current mastery of sensing energy flows, hidden mechanisms were no great challenge. The faint, unusual fluctuations of energy betrayed their presence to his trained eye. Sure enough, Zhao Changhe found the hidden door beneath the platform in no time. Using his Crane Controlling Art, he manipulated the mechanism from a distance, opening the door from within.

The sight that greeted him was unexpected.

Instead of the vast trove of top-tier treasures he had envisioned, the chamber was filled primarily with materials—surplus supplies from constructing the underground sky. Some appeared to be earlier experimental components. Judging from the state of things, even Dragon Bird had likely been a prototype.

Zhao Changhe chuckled to himself. So Old Xia had been tinkering here all along—testing, refining, and working toward his endgame. And we all thought we were fighting him at his peak.

It seemed that in the latter half of his cultivation journey, Xia Longyuan had lost interest in collecting treasures. Otherwise, he would not have ignored so many secret realms across the world. In many ways, his approach was utterly unconventional.

At the center of the underground chamber, there burned an unusual kind of earth fire. Above the fire sat a forge, its design extraordinary and otherworldly. It emanated a faint glow that lent the entire space a mystical, xianxia-like aura.

Through his newfound ability to sense energy flows, Zhao Changhe could see that the earth fire was connected to countless ley lines, drawing upon the energies of the mountains and rivers. It stirred the flames of the Southern Li Fire[1]—also known as Vermillion Bird’s fire.

This was the source of his estrangement from the concept of forging the Night Emperor’s sword. It also explained why, despite his status as a martial arts genius, his understanding of arrays and formations remained shallow—never rising beyond a cursory grasp.

Xia Longyuan, on the other hand, had approached it differently. He, too, had glimpsed the truth of the stars but only in part. He lacked Zhao Changhe’s deeper, more rigid convictions, which allowed him to unify the knowledge of two worlds more fluidly. By bridging them, he had begun constructing his own celestial canopy—one uniquely his.

For Zhao Changhe, this was a priceless reference. A path carved by another traveler who had crossed the bridge between worlds.

Standing before the earth fire and the forge, Zhao Changhe hesitated for a moment but eventually turned away. He chose instead to study the celestial canopy above.

He reached out and touched the flowing sky—soft as silk, ever-shifting like liquid sand. As his fingers traced its surface, a glimmer of understanding lit up his eyes.

The solution was deceptively simple. It only needed a shift in perspective. Imagine the “sky” not as a flat screen but as a dimensional sand table, with stars arranged at varying distances and heights, flowing like grains of sand in motion.

Some stars would appear closer, others farther away, and this dynamic interplay would create the impression of both depth and movement. It would not challenge his prior knowledge of the universe, yet it would ground itself within the truth of this world’s martial arts. A comprehensible, usable model of the stars, one close enough to grasp yet vast enough to inspire.

That simple shift in thought, intuitive yet profound, was the spark of genius. It offered endless possibilities.

If he used this conceptual astral intent to forge the Night Emperor’s sword, could he succeed?

“We greet the Empress Dowager!” the voices of guards echoed from above, their tone deferential. Zhao Changhe turned, his thoughts interrupted, to see Huangfu Qing descending gracefully onto the platform.

“I heard you came looking for me earlier?” Huangfu Qing stepped forward, mounting the high dais. Her expression carried a faint trace of grievance. “I thought you were too busy entangling yourself with Tang Wanzhuang... or indulging in your little game of toying with the Empress. You’ve had no time for me these past two days...”

“What nonsense is that?” Zhao Changhe replied with a smile. “Haven’t you been too busy to spare me a thought as well? Everyone’s overwhelmed right now. This isn’t the time for romance—there’s always tomorrow. Have you finally cleared some time?”

“Hardly. There’s too much to handle, on all fronts.” Huangfu Qing sighed. “It’s endless.”

“Then why come here?”

“Because... the treasures here, including the earth fire and the celestial canopy, were simply ordered to be guarded by the venerable. She hasn’t had time to deal with them herself. Now that I’m somewhat free, I came to see whether these should be relocated to the main altar. When I heard you were here, I decided to take a look.”

Zhao Changhe smiled faintly, the corners of his lips curling. “Ah, so this is now considered the Four Idols Cult’s spoils of war, eh? Does that mean I can’t take it?”

Huangfu Qing hesitated slightly. “I don’t think the venerable would forbid you entirely... But surely you don’t intend to take everything, do you?”

Zhao Changhe reached out and wrapped an arm around her waist, leaning close to murmur in her ear. “Qing’er...”

The sudden intimacy made her shiver slightly. “What... what do you want?”

“If I say I want it all,” Zhao Changhe whispered, his breath warm against her skin. “Would you help me... or help the venerable?”

Her body stiffened as the words sank in. For a moment, her thoughts scattered, her composure faltering under his touch.

1. Li here refers to the Li trigram. The fire mentioned is seen as the highest refinement of fire, capable of burning away material and spiritual imperfections, believed to be a fire that both illuminates and destroys. ☜