Shen Gongbao’s eyes flashed with a dark aura as he thought about Jiang Ziya. The jealousy in his heart threatened to overwhelm him. He simply couldn’t understand—why, in the eyes of their teacher, was he always inferior to Jiang Ziya?
He then began issuing orders to construct a sacrificial altar, while surreptitiously deceiving battlefield civilians from all corners, rounding up unnoticed refugees and imprisoning them beneath the altar.
Meanwhile, on the West Zhou side, odd occurrences were noted, with people disappearing inexplicably. However, in these times of natural disasters and human calamities, coupled with the ever-present threat of devils and demons, such things were not rare.
To speak honestly, people disappeared on a daily basis—it was just a matter of scale. Ji Fa didn’t care much about this. In these times, only the nobility counted as people; as for the rest, well...
If West Zhou were in a better state now, he would certainly care about them. But given the current state of affairs, he couldn’t bother with others anymore. He didn’t know what the Heavenly Mandate truly was; he could only push forward desperately, even if it led into darkness. This approach wasn’t necessarily wrong.
Jiang Ziya wanted to intervene in this matter, but upon surveying the situation, he realized there was no one useful at hand.
Yang Jian, having exerted significant effort fighting the Asura earlier, was now in retreat to recover his arm. Old Jiang couldn’t ask him for help right now—Yang Jian had come to assist them, not to be treated like a workhorse.
As for Yang Ren, his mind was still not sharp, constantly wielding the Armor Summoner repaired by Yun Zhongzi as he yelled every day about searching for other summoners of the Five Elements Armor and defeating the Netherworld Demons.
Lei Zhenzi remained intact, but with his arrogant demeanor, he was hardly suited for accomplishing tasks.
Even someone as dependable as Wei Hu had gone into retreat as soon as the fighting paused. His meaning was clear: "I came to fight battles, not solve mysteries."
The remaining disciples of the Chan Sect’s third generation were even less reliable—each had their heads in the clouds, and their abilities were inferior to Lei Zhenzi’s.
After counting and recounting, Jiang Ziya could only dispatch Lei Zhenzi along with a few Chan Sect disciples for investigation.
Lei Zhenzi wasn’t particularly invested in the task. Bringing along several senior and junior disciples, he indiscriminately hunted nearby demons, feasted on wild game daily, and treated the matter lightly.
Meanwhile, Shen Gongbao took advantage of the chaos, continually collecting refugees from both Shang and Zhou territories. As for the direction of Qinyang City, he dared not approach—even he thought Li Jing was dangerously uncanny; anytime their paths crossed, misfortune seemed certain for him.
Shen Gongbao wasn’t foolishly stubborn. Completing his own tasks and achieving his goals were paramount. After all, he sought victory over Jiang Ziya, not Li Jing.
On the frontlines, Wen Zhong received updated reports but voiced no objections to the pause in hostilities. "Let it rest, then," he thought. He understood this war wouldn’t end anytime soon.
Fortunately, Great Shang’s territories were vast and rich in resources. Time was still an advantage on their side.
Wen Zhong dispatched several skilled mystics and intermediaries to connect the dots. With his status, summoning major experts was out of the question, but a pack of slightly talented demons and devils was eager to curry favor with him.
Up until now, Wen Zhong felt no regret for his past actions. He had grown deeply entangled in worldly affairs, and as a cultivator inherently prone to obsession, it was impossible to discern whether he had been overcome by tribulation energy or simply lost his mind.
Yet for him, regret was irrelevant. He believed that through his efforts, the world would ultimately belong to Great Shang.
Indeed, his approach seemed to embody the true teachings of the Jie Sect.
The frontlines flowed like rivers of blood, while Chaoge remained bathed in music and dancing. Yin Shou continued to hole up in his residence, focused on cultivation. No unrest stirred in Chaoge under his hand, and apart from requiring a hefty supply of resources, Great Shang’s exterior showed no signs of impending collapse.
Yin Shou cared nothing for the anomalies within his kingdom, obsessing solely over cultivation and his dream of eternal life. Without Nezha in Chaoge, however, life had become somewhat dull for him.
In Nantang, on the other hand, fervent infrastructure development was underway. The common people were blissfully unaware of the ongoing war.
Nezha had left behind an entire arsenal of cultivation-based spells for infrastructure: the "Three Rooms and One Hall Spell," the "Concrete Mixing Spell," the "Clay Kneading Spell," and the "Drying Spell."
These were merely adaptations of basic spells—not difficult to achieve. But in the past, cultivators cultivating Qi were invariably arrogant, treating such practical applications with contempt.
Nantang, however, held a different ideological climate. As the Great Sage Master, Nezha roamed freely and served as a role model for this region’s cultivators.
He proved that an Immortal devoted to creating blessings for the people was the true Immortal—those who disappeared for prolonged cultivation only to vanish without return were nothing but charlatans!
The people of Nantang quickly grasped Nezha’s core philosophy around cultivation: use what is useful, discard what is not, with a focus on practicality.
Nantang raised neither idle people nor idle gods.
Within the Blood Sea, the Ancestor of Nether River remained in retreat, researching the Dao of Reincarnation, unaware of the "surprises" his subordinates were preparing for him.
Buxun was busy mobilizing the Asura forces, determined to show everyone the consequences of underestimating the Asura King!
After another half-year of preparation, Shen Gongbao finally completed everything necessary.
He looked upon the magnificent altar with great satisfaction. Modeled after Chaoge’s Taiping Palace, it was designed to emphasize grandeur. As for the slaves who constructed it, they were promptly imprisoned underground to await further reuse.
What Shen Gongbao did not know was that, beneath the altar, a shadow flickered briefly, setting down a fearsome, snarling head and a blood-colored longsword.
On this day, torrential winds and rain raged, shrouding the skies for a hundred miles. Though it was midday, darkness descended as if it were night, with no sunlight to be seen.
Jiang Ziya stood grim-faced, peering into the distance and calculating incessantly. Yet, given his cultivation, he might manage divination for common civilians, but as for a cadre of elite warriors from the Blood Sea? What could he possibly uncover?
He promptly decided to move his troops and investigate directly. After a year of recuperation, Ji Fa once again provided him with sufficient military forces. Regardless of the cost, at least Old Jiang now had soldiers to command.
From this perspective, Ji Fa demonstrated better leadership than Bo Yikao by far. Ji Chang clearly understood his son’s capabilities.
On Li Jing’s end, ominous signs began to emerge as well. However, this time, he refrained from intervening further—he had already stepped in once to mediate, and it was impossible to keep acting as a peacemaker while they tore into each other like dogs. Intervening again would make him less wise and more foolish.
He knew that until one side was utterly destroyed, the war would never cease.
"Let them fight," he thought, "as long as South Tang remains uninvolved."
Jiang Ziya led his troops to the gates of Chuanyun Pass. Shen Gongbao stood atop the walls, loudly proclaiming, "O great Asura King, I beseech you to descend into this mortal realm and sweep away all enemies before us!"
The skies, initially overcast with black clouds, transformed into a blood-red hue. Long prepared, Demon King Buxun descended from the heavens, his feet resting upon the Karma Fire Red Lotus. Donning a black royal robe and crowned with flowing tassels, he led Nether River’s ultimate elite Asura warriors, landing directly upon the altar.
There was no need for Shen Gongbao to convince them. With a wave of his hand, Buxun shouted, "My sons, show these fools the might of our Asura Clan!"
All the elite Asura warriors, their eyes burning crimson, charged directly at the Zhou Army. Each one seemed possessed by madness, eager to ensure no enemy escaped their grasp.