Starting as the heir of a marquis's mansion, I gained access to a summoning system.

Thirty-six years ago.

What did my father, Dongfang Wudi, do thirty-six years ago?

All he knew was that when his mother, Princess Qin Lanyin, married his father, there was a great upheaval within the dynasty. Half of the high-ranking officials opposed the marriage, believing that the growing power of the empress's family would inevitably lead to disaster. But in the end, the late emperor overruled the objections and betrothed the princess to the Marquis of Weeping Blood.

Thirty-six years ago, the remnants of the Underworld Palace risked exposure to steal the secret files—what exactly was written in them?

"Take it down." Dongfang Weiwo's voice was as cold as ice.

Fu Hongxue didn't respond. He had already vanished from the carriage shaft, and the next second, a black light pierced the hundred-foot distance between the ruins of the post station and the forest. Before the withered-handed old man who had received the animal hide scroll could even retract his hand, the black blade was already on his wrist—

Before the blade arrived, the aura of the blade preceded it. The withered-handed old man grunted, and the animal hide scroll in his hand flew out.

But Fu Hongxue did not catch the animal skin scroll. He spun his blade in mid-air and slashed at the back of the neck of the leading man in black, forcing him to turn around and block. At the same time, he used the back of his blade to slap the animal skin scroll toward the direction where Dongfang Weiwo was.

The yellowed animal hide rolled up in an arc and landed precisely on the muddy ground in front of the carriage.

The three men in black paled simultaneously. Ignoring the old man injured by the sword energy, they turned and fled with all their might. The withered old man in the eerie green light also disappeared in a twist, leaving only a charred patch on the spot, as if it had been burned by something scorching hot.

Fu Hongxue stood still, knife in hand, and did not give chase.

He glanced at the rolled-up animal hide on the ground, then at the direction of Dongfang Weiwo, awaiting the young master's instructions.

Dongfang Weiwo slowly stepped down from the carriage, bent down and picked up the animal skin roll. The surface of the animal skin was yellowed and brittle, with traces of insect damage on the edges. A faded vermilion seal was stamped at the seal, and the words "Zhenfu Division · Secret · Permanent Seal" could be vaguely discerned.

He didn't open it.

He held it in his hand, feeling the weight of the animal skin scroll and the heavy years behind it.

"Clean up the battlefield, obtain statements from the two Xuanjia Guards, and find out how they infiltrated the branch's secret archives. The remnants of the Underworld Palace have spies in the west; dig them out by tonight."

"yes."

Fu Hongxue sheathed his sword and walked towards the still-shaken Xuanjia Guards of the Zhenfu Division in the distance.

Dongfang Weiwo returned to the carriage, and before the curtain fell, he placed the rolled-up animal skin on his lap.

Secret files from thirty-six years ago. Something the Underworld desperately wants to reclaim. Are the "Eastern family's heritage" and "the royal family's hidden power" mentioned in Father's letter also related to the turmoil of thirty-six years ago?

He didn't open it yet.

It's not that I don't want to, but opening it now will distract him completely.

Fighting simultaneously on four fronts—Jiangnan, the East Sea, the capital, and the northern border—every decision could potentially impact the entire world's situation. This animal-skin scroll carries too heavy a burden; it requires a quiet, solitary night to unravel.

Right now, the carriage has entered the city gate of Pingyang County.

At the city gate, a centurion from the garrison quickly approached, bowing as he handed over an urgent military report:

"My lord, an urgent message from the capital—the patriarch of the Four Extremes Sword Sect has entered the imperial mausoleum, and Wei Zhongxian did not stop him. However, strange noises are coming from deep within the mausoleum, the entire mausoleum mountain is shaking, and a golden light has appeared in the direction of the Zichen Hall where the emperor is in seclusion, suspected to be the awakening of the hidden power within the imperial forbidden area."

Dongfang Weiwo took the military report, but did not open it; he simply nodded.

"Understood. Prepare pen and ink; I need to issue three commands in quick succession."

at the same time--

In Jiangnan, mist swirls across the river. The bell of Wanfo Temple abruptly stops ringing. Zen Master Liaochen stands on the highest stone step in front of the temple gate, looking towards the two pillars of sword-like light that stretch across the sky on the north bank of the river.

Ye Gucheng's sword intent was sharp as a thorn, while Ximen Chuixue's sword intent was as cold as snow. The two completely different sword intents intertwined around Bai Yujing, pressing down on the spiritual veins of the entire river, making it hard for them to breathe.

The three thousand monks behind Liaochen stopped chanting, and all eyes were on the old monk's back.

"Uncle-Master," a white-robed monk whispered, "the sword formation locks the spiritual veins; we won't be able to leave Jiangnan for three months."

Liao Chen turned around, and a faint golden light suddenly appeared in his cloudy old eyes.

"Within three months?" He chuckled. "That Bai Erlong leader from Jiangbei miscalculated one thing—we can't leave Jiangnan, but can they get in?"

He opened his right palm, and an old bronze bell trembled slightly within it.

"This is something that fell from the body of the Demon God Lü when he ravaged the Underworld Palace. I've kept it all this time, waiting for this very day."

The white-robed monk's expression changed slightly: "What does Martial Uncle mean...?"

"The sword formation locks the spiritual veins, but it can't lock away inner demons." Liao Chen put the copper bell back into his sleeve. "Have someone investigate and find out the true origins of the Azure Dragon Society's leader."

East China Sea, Wanshe Island.

Pang Ban stood on the highest reef on the island, the sea breeze ruffling his dark robes, the short blade at his waist, which he rarely drew, trembling slightly. Three hundred miles away on the sea, the black mist at the exit of the Penglai Passage was already as thick as ink, and the vanguard banners of the Black Tide Army were faintly visible.

But Pang Ban's attention was not on that.

He looked down at his right palm—the scorch mark left when he clashed palms with General Blackstone was slowly healing, but the demonic energy at the edge of the wound was still eroding outwards.

"Interesting," he murmured to himself, glancing up at the black mist passage. "To leave poison in my palm with a single strike from a distance... the demons of the Southern Frontier Continent are indeed far stronger than their counterparts in the Eastern Continent."

Behind him, a figure landed silently. Tie Zhongtang carried the banner on his shoulder, his face still somewhat pale, but his fighting spirit remained undiminished.

"Eastern Ghost Emperor, the Black Tide vanguard is already assembling, and is expected to officially cross the sea within three days. My injuries have healed by 70%, and I am ready to fight."

Pang Ban glanced back at him, a faint smile playing on his lips.

"Within three days? Then let's make sure they can't come within three days."

He turned and walked toward the central point of the Ten Thousand Demons Converging Formation on the island, his robes fluttering like clouds.

"Activate the first layer of the grand formation and drain the spiritual energy from that sea area. No matter how fierce the Black Tide army is, without spiritual energy, they're just a bunch of rootless trees. I want to see if General Black Stone dares to come to my island across a dead sea."

Tie Zhongtang bowed and accepted the order, then turned and strode away.

Pang Ban stood at the center of the array, letting the crimson light surging from the ground envelop his entire body. He closed his eyes, and the image of Dongfang Weiwo's young and composed face appeared in his mind.

"Rest assured, young master. The East Sea will not be lost."

Outside the gate of the imperial mausoleum in the capital city.

The patriarch of the Four Extremes Sword Sect pushed open the heavy stone door, and the myriad sword energies in his sleeves silently disappeared, making him appear as a hunchbacked old man wearing an old robe.

Behind him, all the other sword cultivators of Wan Jianhe stopped thirty feet outside the underground palace gate, none of them daring to take even half a step inside.

A wisp of stale, dry dust, mixed with a very faint metallic scent, wafted from the cracks in the stone gate.

The ancestor stepped into the underground palace, his footsteps echoing in the empty passageway.

At the end of the passageway, a stone chamber stood empty except for a shallow stomping mark on the floor in the center, as if someone had sat there cross-legged for countless years. Beside the stomping mark, there was a scratch about a foot long on the floor—as if it had been casually carved with a finger.

The old man squatted down and reached out to touch the scratch.

"...Not here."

He spoke softly, his voice carrying an emotion that was hard to define—a mixture of disappointment and relief—"He's really gone. But he left the halberd outside. Was it intentional, or did he forget?"

He stood up and glanced at the four walls of the stone chamber—the walls were covered with dense carvings, but they had all been shaved off by sword energy, leaving only a rough, uneven stone surface.

The only intact part is a line of extremely fine writing on the dome directly above the stone chamber, as small as a mosquito's leg, which is impossible to notice unless you look up carefully.

The old ancestor looked up and his pupils suddenly contracted.

The text read:

"I've taken my things. Don't bother looking for them. They'll come back when the time is right."

There was no signature.

But no one in the world can imitate that style of writing.

The patriarch stood there, silent for the duration of an incense stick burning. Then he turned and walked out of the underground palace, saying something to the sword cultivators of the Ten Thousand Swords River outside that astonished everyone:

"Let's go back to the mountain. We're not fighting anymore."

The sword cultivators of Wanjian River exchanged bewildered glances. Their sect leader was still imprisoned in the Xuanjingtai dungeon. Their patriarch had personally come down from the mountain to rescue him, and now, before the rescue was even complete, they were already giving up?

The ancestor did not explain.

He glanced back at the tightly closed stone gate of the imperial mausoleum, a faint trace of apprehension appearing in his aged eyes.

"He's still here. He just doesn't want anyone to find him. So we shouldn't look for him."

He didn't say those words aloud; he kept them to himself.

Pingyang Prefecture, the rear hall of the Zhenfu Division.

Dongfang Weiwo sat at his desk, with three newly written orders laid out in front of him.

The first instruction was given to Bai Yujing of Jiangnan: "Liao Chen may possess a relic of the Demon God Lü. Be cautious. If it is confirmed to be a demonic artifact, immediately retreat a hundred miles and isolate yourself with a sword energy barrier. Do not make direct contact."

The second order, given to Pang Ban of the East Sea, was: "Within three days, drain the spiritual energy of the sea to force General Black Stone to appear ahead of schedule. If he forcibly crosses the sea, trap his vanguard with the Ten Thousand Demons Paying Homage Formation, and then behead him once his main formation is deployed."

The third message was to Shi Zhixuan in the capital: "There's something strange about the imperial mausoleum's underground palace. The Four Extremes Ancestor withdrew his troops immediately after leaving the palace, which means he saw something inside. Find a way to find out what he saw."

The three warrants were sealed and handed to the secret guards to be issued.

Dongfang Wei rubbed his temples, his gaze falling on the yellowed animal skin scroll on the corner of the table.

The moonlight was bright outside, and the drumbeats had sounded three times.

He reached out and picked up the rolled-up animal skin.

It's time to watch.