Chapter 131: Heaven’s Punishment Order 

"Do you think that by intertwining two lines, merging the small with the large, you can stand against me?" Ming Han spoke with effortless composure, flipping a hand to catch those two copper coins between his fingers. "You fail to realise that everything you’ve seen and heard along the way has always been within the palm of my hand."

He twirled the coins idly before closing his fingers around them. "Since you’ve summoned the larger one, I shall call forth someone as well. Let’s see whose puppet reigns supreme."

Not far away, a coffin lid had already crashed to the ground. The twin deities of the Sun and Moon raised their spears in unison. Heat surged through the air, the very earth beneath them turning into a cauldron fit to boil all creation. The Empress's spiritual power dominated the battlefield.

Ming Zhuo, with his severed finger, flicked away a spray of blood. His brow furrowed, filled with unrestrained fury. "You sought shortcuts through Tongshen, feared your own puppets turning on you, spent your life questioning fate, power, and strength—yet you couldn’t even protect your sister or your throne. And you think you’re my equal? Rubbish!" His voice cracked like a whip. "This isn’t about me against you—it's about me against myself!"

Half of his body was entangled in puppet strings. Amidst the glow of his blood, he summoned lightning directly.

The heavens roared in fury. The night sky, already fragmented by the tangled fate threads, was instantly illuminated by violet light. Even as the ground seethed with heat, dark storm clouds gathered in an instant. A torrent of purple lightning dragons lashed down alongside a sudden deluge of rain!

Peng, peng, peng!

Thousands of bolts of lightning struck Ming Han’s position. Smoke and debris exploded in every direction. The writhing mass of puppet strings trembled violently as if slashed apart by an invisible blade—more than half were severed in an instant.

Through the swirling smoke, Ming Han emerged unscathed, flanked by two red-gold sacred artefacts. He dusted himself off, his voice calm yet sharp. "When it comes to commanding lightning, there is none in this world more formidable than you. But you have only one life. Half of it has already been spent summoning the Empress, and now you wish to use the other half to sustain the Imperial Lord. How much longer can you even hold on?"

Blood sigil curse markings crept up Ming Zhuo’s neck and chin—signs of overextending his spiritual energy. Ming Han was not wrong. He was burning through his own life force.

Summoning the Ming clan's rulers to slay the Fallen God had already pushed him past his limit. And now, without deliberately calling upon Hui Mang, his body had instinctively begun drawing upon the last remnants of the spiritual power Hui Mang had left him.

"No matter how fiercely you struggle, you still cannot escape my control." Ming Han sighed lightly. "The puppet strings I placed on you are far more than those I gave to others. Enough—rather than letting you exhaust your own life, why not lend me another hand in toppling these two Heavenly Pillars?"

"If you want to bring down mountains, you should at least ask whether this person agrees." Ming Zhuo placed his blood-soaked hand behind his back, turned his gaze, and looked into the distance. "I told him not to compete, but he just refuses to understand me. Imperial Lord, don't make me lose."

Luo Xu spun his blade, his silver hair flowing despite the absence of wind. "Order."

His incantation was brief and direct, unlike that of ordinary people. This was precisely the uniqueness of the Tianhai Imperial Lord—for sometimes, the spirits they borrowed power from were not limited to the Four Divine Guardians.

A silver light first ignited in the east, followed closely by the south, north, and west, linking together in the sky to form a massive "manji" symbol large enough to cover the ground beneath. The source of these four beams was none other than the very Heavenly Pillars that Ming Han sought to destroy.

The legendary Silver Command of Heaven's Punishment Order spun upward, ascending to the center of the "manji" formation. Thousands of miles away, in the temples of the four mountains that enshrined the crimson-gold sacred treasures, alarm bells rang out in unison.

"Du!"(1)

Jiang Xueqing abruptly raised her head. Though still blindfolded, the moment the alarm sounded, she had already gripped her sword and risen to her feet. The disciples behind her gasped in shock and cried out, "What is that sound?"

"This is the Imperial Lord’s command—someone is trying to break the laws of Tianhai." Jiang Xueqing strode swiftly toward the temple gates, issuing orders with precision. "Station guards to protect the temple, keep watch over the Red-Gold Firefish. From this moment on, Beilu Mountain is locked—no one may enter, only exit. And—summon Shifu from seclusion immediately!"

"Du!"

Nanhuang Mountain’s Qiankun Sect had fallen into complete chaos. Dozens of disciples crowded inside the temple, shouting anxiously at the now-empty altar. “You all kept fighting over it, and now the sacred treasure is lost! This is great—now that the Silver Heaven's Punishment Order has summoned the heroes, it must be because the Imperial Lord discovered this, and he’s gathering the sects to attack us!”

“We kept fighting? You’re like a mangy dog with a broken spine—no backbone at all!”

“Where is Cui Changting? Before this mess, he was strutting around like he owned the place, acting every part of the senior sect leader. Now that disaster is upon us, he’s turned into a coward, hiding away!”

“The moment he left, the treasure disappeared. Who’s to say he didn’t steal it to buy his way into wealth and power? How did Qiankun Sect end up raising such a disgrace? Never does anything decent—just drags everyone else down with him!”

The altar frame sat askew, covered in dust, as if unable to bear the weight of the alarm bells' accusations. With a loud huala sound, it collapsed. The arguing disciples barely spared it a glance, too preoccupied with blaming Cui Changting. No one knew who was the first to bolt, but by the time anyone regained their senses, only a few bewildered young disciples were left inside the temple.

"Du!"

At Shaman Sect, the atmosphere was tense. An elder, shrouded in a long robe, stretched out a pair of withered hands, burning incense in service of the gods. The faint fragrance of Baoluo incense drifted through the hall. In the center, a fish-handled incense burner sat among them, but as the alarm bell tolled, the burner’s head suddenly and inexplicably snapped off.

The gathered disciples shuddered in unison, inhaling sharply.

The leading elder remained silent for a moment before sighing deeply. "Since the decline of the Bai Tai Shao, our sect has merely watched from the mountains, standing idly by while the six provinces warred. We refused to aid the Ming clan, yet we would not submit to others either. But the world cannot exist without order. Now that the Heavenly Sea shows signs of collapse if we continue to remain bystanders, I fear we will bring about an irreparable catastrophe."

Amidst the tolling alarm bells, murmurs spread among the gathered crowd. The elder slowly rose to his feet, letting his robe slide down to reveal an aged face.

“The Ming clan has acted without righteousness, and heaven’s punishment will come upon them in due time. We were entrusted by the Empress to guard West Xikui Mountain. Everyone, hear my advice.” His cloudy eyes swept over the assembled figures, pressing down upon them with silent weight. “If the sky collapses, who among us can remain unscathed?”

"Du!"

The shrine at Dongzhao Mountain stood empty, its disciples already gathered solemnly outside.

A young man, barely in his early twenties, spoke up. “Of the Four Mountains, our Kuwu Clan has declined the most. Fellow brothers and sisters, please listen to me. Since our Shifu passed away, we have been divided, turning what was once a strong sect into scattered factions. To be honest, I have no interest in the conflicts beyond our walls, and the position of the clan leader should rightfully belong to the most capable.”

At this, he took the Kuwu Clan’s token from his robes and placed it gently on the stone table in the courtyard.

“In the past, when ‘The Thousand-Gold Brush, Ruyi Lang’ still lived, whenever disaster or turmoil struck the Six Prefectures, our Kuwu Clan never hesitated to act. Though our renown has faded, I believe our hearts remain the same.”

There was a hint of shyness in his demeanour, but he only nodded to the disciples, speaking to them as if among friends.

“Our sacred treasure was lost—that is our own failure in guarding the mountain. There is nothing to argue about. To live, to seek the Dao, and to commune with spirits is not just for the sake of power and prestige. My brothers, my sisters, this time, I ask you to stand with me once more and guard the Heavenly Pass.”

The bell’s sound was piercing, reverberating across Dongzhao Mountain. They were a young group, the youngest barely eleven or twelve, yet each one held a brush in hand and answered in unison: “We follow the clan leader—to guard the Heavenly Pass!”

"Du!"

The tolling of the bell echoed, and the Silver Heaven’s Punishment Order stood firm like a stabilising pillar of the sea, locking the manji formation in place with an aura so resolute that it seemed capable of holding up the sky itself.

Ming Han praised, “One decree commands all heroes. To guard the Heavenly Pass, the Tianhai Imperial Lord must personally oversee it. You know, I’m quite curious—Luo Xu, you were born to bear the name ‘Xu.’ Have you never once resented the Ming clan?”

Luo Xu replied, “Whether I have or haven’t is none of your concern.”

Ming Han chuckled. “You refuse to answer directly, which means you have. You entered the capital to meet Ming Zhuo, intending to break your Soul-Promise Contract and kill him, didn’t you? But he was far too intriguing, making it impossible for you to do so.”

Luo Xu seemed to ponder for a moment. “Was this also within your calculations?”

Ming Han said, “I was only forty per cent sure, gambling that you wouldn’t find a way to sever the Soul-Promise Contract. But as it turns out, even heaven favours me, forcing the two of you together—like a pair of ill-fated lovers.”

Luo Xu, however, suddenly smiled. It was at odds with his usual languid demeanour, carrying instead an unshakable certainty. “With or without the Soul-Promise Contract, I would have entered the capital to see him at least once in this lifetime. And as long as I see him once, I will make sure heaven returns him to me.”

Ming Zhuo clenched his severed fingers, raising his chin slightly. His amber eyes gazed at Luo Xu. “Heaven has no say in this. You should ask me.”

Ming Han laughed. “It seems I haven’t treated you two so poorly after all—born together, dying together, monarch and monarch, companions even in the underworld. What a beautiful union.” Like a matchmaker, he gave a tug on his puppet strings. “Since it’s a celebration, let’s have the Lord himself offer his congratulations.”

From within the silent bronze coffin, a hand suddenly stretched out, grasping the coffin’s edge.

Ming Zhuo could only control the severed fingers on his hand, yet with Ming Yao’s movement, his insides felt as though they had been set ablaze. A wave of blood surged up his throat, but he grinned instead, completely indifferent. “What now? You want the Empress to officiate my wedding? Too bad—you lack the stature to summon her.”

Ming Han responded mildly, “Oh?”

With a sharp pull of the puppet strings, the figure inside the coffin began to rise. But Luo Xu had already appeared at the coffin’s edge, his blade angled as he drove it deep inside—its edge resting precisely in front of Ming Yao.

The Twin Gods of Sun and Moon bellowed in fury, “Outrageous!”

They thrust their spears forward in unison, but Luo Xu didn’t even glance their way. As if performing a trick, he flicked out two small copper coins. “Banishment!”

The coins spun through the air and embedded themselves in the chests of the Twin Gods. These were not the legendary Yin-Yang Coins, just ordinary trinkets Luo Xu carried with him. By all logic, mundane objects should have had no effect on divine beings, so the Twin Gods barely hesitated as they struck, intent on taking Luo Xu’s life.

Yet the moment their spears neared him, they melted away like snow. The radiant glow of the sun and moon dimmed, flickering like dying candle flames before dissolving into nothing.

“They were never the true deities—just fragments of their spirits,” Ming Han observed. “A single Banishment was enough to expose them. Others might fear this technique of yours, but I, as the fourth ruler of this lineage, know you and your father all too well. Your power—this ‘Banishment’—is borrowed from the Heavenly Sea itself.”

Summoning two relics, Ming Han’s golden aura flared, his puppet strings glimmering. “If you think this trick is enough to stop the Empress, you’re delusional. Ming Zhuo, go on.”

The strings tightened around Ming Zhuo’s unbroken hand, pulling with brutal force. His chest convulsed, his clenched jaw audibly grinding—gāzhī gāzhī. The cruse markings crawled across his face as blood surged up his throat. He spat a single word through gritted teeth: “Ming—” 

He did not call out Ming Yao’s full name. But in this moment, only three people were present: Ming Yao, himself, and Ming Han—the one controlling him. Even half a name was enough.

“Pā!”

The blade Luo Xu had wedged into the coffin split apart instantly. The hand gripping the coffin’s edge clenched with force, and a figure sat up from within.

“Noisy.” The woman’s voice was low, carrying a hint of irritation and weariness. “Noisy to death—”

The two ordinary copper coins shattered into countless fragments, disintegrating into dust as a scorching wind swept them away. Relics trembled, the Four Mountains quaked, the manji formation, and even the land itself shuddered.

She pressed down on the coffin’s solid frame, then rose with a sudden, powerful motion. Three golden crows swirled around her like darting fish.

Tall and clad in heavy armour, she bore the insignia of a gold crow upon her left shoulder and a silver fang inked into her right arm. Across her chest, delicate yet distinct, was the emblem of a white rose. The Empress opened her eyes. In them, ambition surged like an untamed tide.

She spoke, “Rain falling this much; is Heaven lamenting for the Lone King?”

The Author Has Something to Say

Thanks for reading

Foot Notes

1. 笃 (Dǔ) means “sincere” or “true”, but it’s being used here more as a sound effect.