Lord of the Earth

The Eternal Land, Black Iron Canyon.

A huge open-air armory was shrouded in dark red smoke and a pungent smell all year round. The stench of rust, the sour sweat of human slaves, and the faint but persistent smell of blood mingled together.

Tens of thousands of ragged, emaciated Song slaves, their backs hunched, toiled like ants between the scorching furnaces and anvils. Their calloused hands, covered with old and new blisters, mechanically wielded hammers, forging batches of military equipment!
Snapped!
A burly Jurchen soldier with a pigtail lashed his leather whip across the back of an old slave who was moving a little slower, tearing the skin and leaving a bloody welt.

"Haven't you eaten, you pig Song! Hurry up! If you delay the supply of military equipment, I'll throw you all to feed the ghosts!"

The Jurchen soldiers cursed and spat as they spoke.

puff!
Another Jin soldier grinned and kicked another old servant in the lower back. Caught off guard, the servant stumbled and fell toward the red-hot anvil next to him.

"laugh--"

With a sickeningly soft crack, accompanied by the smell of burning flesh, the old servant's arm was instantly scalded and oozing oil. The excruciating pain caused his whole body to spasm, but he bit his lip tightly, only letting out a suppressed groan, not daring to even scream loudly.

This was because his wife and daughters were still in the "laundry house" set up by the Jurchens.

That place, ostensibly for washing clothes, was actually a den of iniquity where the Jurchen soldiers indulged their lust. Even the royal women of the Northern Song Dynasty could not escape humiliation, let alone the families of these ordinary slaves.

Resistance meant the tragic death of loved ones.

Deep in the canyon, inside a relatively intact but still simple tent, the atmosphere was completely different from the noisy and hot outside, but rather more oppressive.

The former Emperor Huizong of the Song Dynasty, Zhao Ji, was wearing a slightly worn but still neat pale yellow robe. He was lying on a rough wooden table with a slightly yellowed leather scroll on it.

He held a slightly worn but still sharp wolf-hair brush in his hand, concentrating intently as he wrote continuously.

The slender gold script flowing from the tip of the pen is elegant and sharp, with each stroke revealing a faint light that emanates from the characters, creating a strange fluctuation that can make people feel depressed and their minds crumble.

This was something he was forced to do for the Jurchens—using his unique talent for calligraphy and painting to write these special documents that could weaken the enemy's fighting spirit.

"Zhao Ji, hurry up! Today, the higher-ups want you to hand over one hundred 'letters of surrender'... If you're this slow, it'll probably be dark by the time you finish... I don't want to stay here with you for that long!"

A Jin general, with a stout, mountain-like body and a face full of scars, sat there like a mountain of flesh, covering his nose in disgust at the two men!
Upon hearing this, Emperor Qinzong Zhao Huan, who was grinding ink nearby, clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

He knew that with each word his father wrote, his inner humiliation deepened. These words, which should have carried elegance and integrity, had now been forced to become tools for aiding and abetting evil.

But upon glancing at the obese figure and sensing the aura of a "Saint Realm" expert, his clenched fist involuntarily loosened...

Just then, the tent flap was roughly pulled open.

A Jurchen soldier first glanced arrogantly at Zhao Ji and his son, his eyes filled with disdain, then turned to the general, his face instantly plastered with a fawning smile, and bowed.

"Lord Tuotuo! There's a little girl, the grandniece of this Song emperor, who will turn twelve next year. According to the rules, she should 'contribute her population to the Great Jin.' Recently, we've been fighting the Yougui tribe at the front lines, and many of our brothers have suffered heavy losses. We can use her to reward the army and boost morale."

"Oh? Royal bloodline? That's top-quality stuff, so naturally we should make good use of it."

Upon hearing this, the bloated Jurchen general glanced mockingly at Zhao Ji and Zhao Huan, whose faces had instantly turned deathly pale, a cruel smirk creeping onto his lips:

"Zhao Ji, you and your son, did you hear that? You should be grateful for the kindness of the Great Jin! If it weren't for our protection, you would have become food for the ghosts long ago!"

He paused, his tone becoming even more contemptuous.

"However, having been in this Eternal Land for fifty years, you Song people, besides producing offspring like pigs and dogs, haven't even been able to cultivate a single decent saint. You're utterly useless! You're not even worthy of carrying the shoes of our Great Jin!"

"you!"

Zhao Huan's eyes were bloodshot, and he took a step forward, causing a faint, almost negligible fluctuation of spiritual energy around him.

"Huan'er!"

Zhao Ji hurriedly grabbed his son's arm tightly, his voice dry and hoarse, filled with endless sorrow and helplessness, "Endure...endure for a moment and the storm will pass. He is a Saint..."

Tuotuo saw this and let out an even more arrogant and triumphant laugh.

"Hahaha! As expected of a Song emperor, he does have some self-awareness! Before noon tomorrow, have him washed clean and sent to the laundry department!"

After saying that, he snorted heavily and waved his hand as if shooing away flies.

Then, swaying his obese body, he swaggered out of the tent.

"Father! What a disgrace! What a disgrace!"

As soon as the Jin general left, Zhao Huan's pent-up anger finally erupted, and he slammed his fist hard on the muddy ground beneath his feet.

boom!
With a muffled thud, his fist, brimming with anger, smashed a crater nearly ten feet deep into the ground, the flying dirt staining his already faded robe.

“We…we were once the emperors of the Great Song Dynasty! We once held the reins of power over the world! Now we can’t even protect our own blood relatives, and we have to watch her be humiliated…this…this is more painful than killing us!”

Zhao Huan's voice was trembling with sobs, and his whole body was shaking.

"Emperors...heh...that's all in the past. Now, you and I are nothing but fish on the chopping block, prisoners under the emperor's feet."

Emperor Huizong raised his head, as if looking through a tattered tent at the empty sky. Two streams of turbid tears slid down his wrinkled cheeks and dripped onto the front of his old dragon robe.

When Bianjing fell, the Jingkang Incident occurred, and my father and I were captured and taken north, suffering endless humiliation… We thought we had reached the end, but who knew that fate would turn around, and in this eternal land, the same tragedy would repeat itself, even more so than before! Oh, vast heavens, why have you been so cruel to the Song dynasty? Why have you been so cruel to my father and me?

The two people in the tent were none other than Emperors Huizong and Qinzong of the Song Dynasty, whose lives were marked by profound tragedy in Chinese history.

In the second year of the Jingkang era, the Jin army captured Bianliang, the capital of the Northern Song Dynasty, and the Northern Song Dynasty perished.

The two of them, along with thousands of members of the imperial family, concubines, and court officials, were captured and taken north. They endured the humiliating "sheep-leading ceremony" and were given the highly insulting titles of "Duke of Ignorance" and "Marquis of Double Ignorance."

The women suffered even more tragic fates, with most ending up in places like the laundry bureau, where they endured inhuman torture. Empress Zhu, the wife of Emperor Qinzong, could not bear the humiliation and drowned herself...

"When we were first captured, the Jurchens, out of consideration for our past as emperors... did not dare to treat us too harshly, even though we were prisoners, and we still had people to serve us..."

Zhao Ji muttered to himself, his eyes somewhat dazed.

This "talented emperor," renowned for his calligraphy and painting skills, even created thousands of poems during his years of house arrest. Although he lost his freedom, his life was still quite "comfortable."

However, all of this changed completely after they arrived in this "land of eternity".

Logically, as emperors in Chinese history, they should have had the opportunity to descend as kings, accompanied by some ministers and soldiers, to occupy a corner and have a place. However, perhaps because their reputation as "tyrants" was too prominent in the long river of history, they were judged by the rules of the Eternal Land to be classified as "difficult to judge as good or bad".

As a result, when they arrived at this place, they were still in a state of being captured by the Jin Dynasty!
If it weren't for their reputation as "tyrants" being so "resounding" in history, and the fact that Emperor Huizong of Song, Zhao Ji, possessed the unparalleled skill of the Slender Gold style of calligraphy and painting, which was recognized as a powerful "talent" in the Eternal Land and had considerable value, they would have been different.

They probably don't even have the meager survival they're currently enjoying.

"How hateful! Several treasures of our Great Song Dynasty that contain the fate of the nation, as well as my innate spiritual brush, have all been seized and suppressed by those golden dogs, who have also been depriving us of cultivation resources! Otherwise, with the talents and characteristics of you and me, Father, how could we have stopped at the first or second level of the extraordinary realm in the past fifty years?"

Zhao Huan beat his chest and stamped his feet, wanting to fight to the death.

But when he thought about the "gap in strength" between the two sides, he became discouraged again!

Just like when the Song Dynasty was about to perish, instead of fighting to the death, it ceded territory and paid reparations in an attempt to maintain peace for a long time!
"After all, you and I still have some use to us, so these golden men won't kill us, will they?"

Two Song Dynasty emperors, their faces wet with tears, supported each other and murmured something to each other.

"Ding Ding Ding!"

Just then, a heart-wrenching scream of terror suddenly came from outside the canyon, followed by a shrill wail and the chaotic sound of weapons clashing!
"Enemy attack! The Ghost Clan has invaded!"

A Jurchen soldier, his face covered in blood, stumbled and crawled into the camp, shouting in terror.

However, before he could finish speaking, a jet-black mist, exuding a chilling aura, attacked from behind like a venomous snake, instantly coiling around his neck!

From within the mist, a withered, bony claw with exceptionally sharp nails suddenly shot out and made a light slash!
"Pfft!"

Blood gushed out like a fountain, and the Jin soldier's head was severed from his body. The headless corpse staggered a few steps before collapsing heavily to the ground. Hot, viscous blood sprayed onto the tent flap, leaving gruesome, mottled stains.

They are ghosts!

On the steep cliffs on both sides of the canyon, countless dark figures surged down like a tide. These alien races were formed from constantly rolling black mist, without a fixed physical form. Only their scarlet eyes gleamed with a cruel and bloodthirsty light in the mist, and their claws were extremely sharp, capable of easily tearing apart even steel armor forged from spiritual weapons.

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!

These ghosts moved with the speed of the wind, and wherever they went, whether it was fierce Jurchen soldiers or numb Song slaves, they were torn to shreds as if they were made of paper.

A Song Dynasty slave attempted to escape into the depths of the canyon, but was easily pierced through the chest from behind by a ghostly claw. His still-beating heart was forcibly ripped out, and the next moment he turned into a wisp of black smoke and was absorbed into the ghost's body.

"It's the Ghostly Soulbreakers! Run!"

A Jin soldier roared and raised his heavy iron shield to block, but the ghostly claws swept across, and the iron shield was split in two like a piece of paper. The soldiers behind him were also cut in half at the waist, and their limbs and internal organs were scattered all over the ground!
This race is considered a "higher race," and its adult individuals possess strength comparable to humans at the fifth level of the Transcendent Realm.

These elites generally possess "extraordinary" level power!

With such strength, they could contend with powerful creatures of the same level, such as dragons and behemoths. These Song people, who were dressed in rags and whose cultivation resources were extremely exploited by the Jin people, and even most of the ordinary Jin soldiers, were as powerless as lambs to the slaughter in front of them!

Of course, the Jurchens were once a powerful "dynasty" that destroyed the Northern Song Dynasty, and their legacy remained.

"What kind of monster dares to attack my Great Jin camp! You're courting death!"

A thunderous roar erupted from the center of the canyon!
Immediately afterwards, a powerful holy might spread out, and a huge illusory image of a Dharma body appeared, enveloping the entire "Black Iron" Canyon!

The image resembled a ferocious, tusked wild boar, its body covered in hair like upright spears.

"Whoosh whoosh-!"

With Tuotuo's control, the hair all over the wild boar's body suddenly shot out, transforming into countless golden spears that rained down on the ghosts surging into the canyon!
"Puff puff!"

A series of piercing sounds rang out, and the hundreds of ghosts charging at the front were instantly pierced by golden arrows, leaving countless holes in their misty bodies.

However, the Ghost Clan's innate ability "Etherealization" was now on display. The holes pierced by the arrows did not cause them to perish immediately. Instead, they rushed towards the corpses of the Jin or Song people who had just died, absorbing the soul energy that had not yet completely dissipated. The black mist rolled and quickly healed the wounds, and the injuries began to recover at a speed visible to the naked eye!
"Damn it, there's actually a Saint Realm warrior here... But it's alright, human souls are a great tonic... I can recover my condition after consuming them!"

A wraith, wounded by an arrow and weakened, scanned the battlefield with its crimson eyes and quickly locked onto the direction of a tent.

The two former emperors, Zhao Ji and Zhao Huan, had reached the quasi-saint level in cultivation. Their soul essence was much stronger than that of ordinary people, making them an excellent tonic for him!
The latter immediately let out a sharp screech, turned into a plume of black smoke, and rushed straight towards the tent!

"Oh no, the Spectres are coming at us..."

Upon seeing the wisp of black smoke exuding an extraordinary aura, the expressions on the faces of the Zhao father and son changed drastically. Although they possessed extraordinary cultivation, they lacked weapons and combat experience...

Faced with such creatures that feed on slaughtering humans, they probably wouldn't last two rounds...

"Your Majesty! Go quickly! This old servant will cover your retreat!"

An old eunuch named Li Zhong, who had been guarding the tent like a shadow, stood in front of Zhao Ji and Zhao Huan without hesitation.

He was over eighty years old, with completely white hair and a thin build.

Because of the scarcity of resources, his cultivation level was stuck at the ninth level of the Transcendent Realm. He was only wearing a thin gray eunuch's robe, but his withered hands gripped a rusty short knife tightly, and his cloudy old eyes flashed with a resolute light.

"Li Zhong! You..."

Emperor Huizong looked at the old servant who had served him his whole life, his eyes reddening.

"Your Majesty! You gave me my life! I have served you my whole life, and it is my honor to be able to serve you and the Crown Prince today! Go quickly!"

Li Zhong shouted hoarsely. Before he finished speaking, he turned around and burned the little remaining essence blood and lifespan in his body, bursting out with a speed far beyond his usual speed, fearlessly facing the ghost that pounced on him!
"Pfft!"

The ghost's claws pierced Li Zhong's gaunt chest without any resistance.

But at the last moment, Li Zhong poured all his strength into the short sword and stabbed it fiercely into the ghost's misty body!

"Ow—!"

The ghost let out a painful shriek, and the mist churned violently, noticeably dimming.

However, more ghosts were attracted by the commotion and swarmed over. Countless sharp claws instantly tore Li Zhong's body to shreds, turning it into a cloud of blood mist that dissipated.

Emperors Huizong and Qinzong, taking advantage of the brief opening created by Li Zhong's sacrifice, staggered out of the tent.

The entire armory was engulfed in flames; screams, ghostly shrieks, and the crackling of burning buildings mingled together, creating a true scene of hell on earth. (End of Chapter)