A family of loyal martyrs, starting with nine wives to continue the family line.

Wei Zhao looked up at the chanting in the dark clouds and was stunned for a moment.

Good guy.

Zhang Yan isn't just a complete con artist.

Wei Zhao stared at Zhang Yan on the high platform, his spear tip still raised.

If Zhang Yan wanted the Holy Fire Sect to continue fighting to the death, he wouldn't have released such a chant.

If you want to surrender, there's no need to make it so complicated.

Unless the chanting wasn't meant for him, but for millions of refugees.

Wei Zhao suddenly understood, but he felt no relief whatsoever.

This method is indeed ruthless, and it is indeed effective.

The Holy Flame Cult relies on its divine facade to control the people. Zhang Yan is now personally turning that facade over to tell everyone that the New Martial Arts is the true destiny, and the Holy Flame should be extinguished.

This is more effective than cutting Zhang Yan a hundred times.

But what will be the cost?

Zhang Yan stood before the burning bronze pillar of sacred fire, his crimson-yellow Taoist robe gleaming in the firelight.

He looked at Wei Zhao, his face no longer showing the superiority of a wise teacher, only weariness.

Zhang Yan changed his tune.

"His Majesty."

He chuckled, but his voice was terribly hoarse.

"I'll call you Your Majesty now, and this time, we're even."

Wei Zhao remained silent.

Zhang Yan looked at Wei Zhao and continued, "These are all the sins I, Zhang Yan, have committed."

He pointed to the women and children who had been abducted in the distance, his voice low, but it was carried out layer by layer by the mechanisms on the bronze pillar and the chanting in the clouds.

"I opened soup kitchens to save lives. I burned land deeds to give them a way to survive. I killed corrupt officials because they truly deserved to die."

"But now, the village is empty, the fields are destroyed, the grain has been boiled, the children have been dragged to the battlefield, and the elderly have died by the roadside."

Zhang Yan's lips twitched slightly.

"Put this on my head."

Someone in the crowd burst into tears.

It wasn't the frenzied shouting from before, nor was it a cry forced out by a knife; it was a very low and chaotic sob.

Someone knelt on the ground, trembling as they held their child.

Some people tore off the yellow cloth from their foreheads, clutched it in their hands, unsure whether to throw it away or hide it.

Wei Zhao felt a tightness in his chest as he looked at it.

This is the kind of scene he fears most.

He showed no mercy in killing Han Dashan, Zhou Laodao, and Lu Song.

But these people in front of us are not purely enemy troops.

Some of them had robbed grain, some had shouted to kill officials, and some had simply been drawn here by a bowl of porridge, a word of peace, or a sacred torch.

They need to be resettled.

They must be accommodated.

Otherwise, even if Zhang Yan dies today, Wang Yan and Li Yan will still emerge tomorrow.

Zhang Yan looked at Wei Zhao and suddenly bowed deeply.

"We will need Your Majesty to set aside past grievances and take good care of them in the future."

He paused, his voice becoming even hoarse.

"After all, these are your people."

Wei Zhao tightened his grip on the gun.

Good guy.

Even on his deathbed, he still tried to burden me.

But he really has to take on this responsibility.

Because Zhang Yan is right.

These people are his subjects.

It's not firewood from the Holy Fire Cult, not a tattered account from the old Wei dynasty, not a tenant farmer from a noble family, nor a nuisance that can be casually abandoned in the wilderness.

If Xinwu wants to rule the world, he has to take over the mess that the world has left behind.

Wei Zhao said coldly, "I will make arrangements for them."

As soon as these words were spoken, all the nearby refugees looked up.

Wei Zhao did not avoid their gazes.

Why are you hiding?

If an emperor doesn't even dare to look this far, what kind of emperor is he sitting on the dragon throne?

Those who lay down their weapons will not be killed.

His voice echoed across the battlefield.

"The people who were taken hostage were registered. Those who could return to their hometowns did so, and those who had no land or food were provided with grain, seeds, and resettlement land by the imperial court."

"But I will not let go of any of the altar leaders, key members, those who drugged and forced soldiers to their deaths, or those who coerced ordinary people to stand in the line of duty."

Finally, his gaze swept over the followers of the altar who were hiding behind the crowd.

"Anyone who dares to take advantage of the chaos to incite further violence will be executed."

Liu Jingshuang raised her long sword.

Huo Qingluan's heavily armored troops also advanced half a step.

The Imperial Guard crossbowmen all raised their arms.

This is more substantial than any imperial edict of benevolence and righteousness.

The refugees heard a way out.

The altar master saw a dead end.

This is enough.

Zhang Yan looked at Wei Zhao and finally nodded.

"Then I'm relieved."

Zhang Huo grinned, blood still flowing from his shoulder.

"Brother, has it really come to this?"

Zhang Yan looked down at his lacerated wrist and cursed.

"If I had known I was going to die anyway, I should have stuck two more needles into the emperor earlier."

Wei Zhao's eyes turned cold.

Liu Jingshuang's knife also moved half an inch.

Zhang Yan immediately waved his hand, his smile looking more like a grimace.

"Just kidding, just kidding. Emperor Xinwu, don't be so petty."

Wei Zhao almost laughed out of anger.

Even at a time like this, you're still being sarcastic.

These three brothers are all troublesome.

If they hadn't turned the Holy Fire Cult into this mess, with their sheer audacity and skill, they could have really accomplished something in a chaotic world.

pity.

Once you go astray, you can't turn back.

Zhang Yan looked at his two brothers and extended his hands.

Zhang Huo first placed his hand on it.

Zhang Yan cursed and swore, and also put his hand on it.

The three people stood at the front of the high platform, with the bronze pillar of the sacred flame burning even brighter behind them.

The thin copper wires tightened from under the wooden board, the mechanism clicked and clacked, and several pieces of yellow cloth suddenly fell from both sides of the platform, as if covering something.

Wei Zhao's eyelids twitched.

"Back off!"

The Imperial Guards immediately stood in front of him.

However, Zhang Yan neither attacked nor used any hidden weapons.

A plume of white smoke suddenly shot out from below the platform, and the three brothers' bodies slowly lifted off the wooden platform.

It really floated up.

It wasn't the kind of leaping up that comes with light-footed kung fu, nor was it using leverage to flip over; rather, it was as if something was supporting it, lifting it up inch by inch.

Wei Zhao's eyes twitched as he watched.

What the hell is this mechanism?

The world of low-level martial arts is not fantasy.

He cursed inwardly, but his eyes were fixed on the three men's waists.

Sure enough, there were extremely thin black threads in the smoke, obscured by the dark clouds and firelight, and could not be seen at all without careful observation.

trick.

It's still a magic trick.

But for the common people, this was enough.

What they saw was the sage teacher ascending to heaven.

What we witnessed was the final manifestation of the sacred flame.

What I saw was the chanting of Buddhist hymns in the clouds, proclaiming time and again the rise of the new Wu.

Zhang Yan rose into the air and looked down at the millions of refugees.

"Holy Flame followers, heed my command!"

Countless people knelt down.

"Put down the knife."

Zhang Yan's voice was carried away by the wind.

"Return to Xinwu."

Zhang Huo laughed loudly.

"Stop fucking following us around! Go back to farming! Live or die!"

Zhang Yan also shouted, his voice shrill and piercing.

"If the altar master dares to deceive you into going to your deaths again, tie them up and hand them over to the New Martial Army! In exchange for grain!"

Wei Zhao: "..."

This third brother is truly a talent.

Even at a time like this, they still remember to teach people how to exchange grain.

But it happens to be useful.

Someone in the crowd actually threw a knife.

Just then, another bolt of lightning struck from the dark clouds.

The three Zhang brothers had already risen to a height of several hundred meters. The black rope was swallowed up by the cloud shadows, leaving only three reddish-yellow dots.

boom!

A thick, bright bolt of lightning struck down.

Three people in the center.

The flames exploded in mid-air, swallowing up the reddish-yellow Taoist robe, the wooden crown, the black rope, and the mechanism.

Zhang Yan, Zhang Huo, and Zhang Yan didn't even leave behind a scream.

The ashes were swept away by the wind and scattered among the million Holy Fire Cult members and the hundred thousand new military soldiers.

The chanting of Buddhist hymns rang out again.

"The new martial arts flourish, the sacred flame is extinguished, the world is unified, and peace reigns in the Central Plains!"

"The new martial arts flourish, the sacred flame is extinguished, the world is unified, and peace reigns in the Central Plains!"

Again and again.