Chapter 133: Heaven’s Punishment

The gale roared like a stallion’s mane, tearing off limbs, lifting across the sea in a frenzy, raising a thousand white waves. The Boundless Heavenly Sea had become a boiling cauldron, shrieking and howling within the encirclement of the Zhenhai bronze beasts. It churned and surged with unstoppable force, as if driving ten thousand wild horses to trample the Six Prefectures into dust.

Amid the vast and turbulent skies, an elder of the Shaman Clan stood with hands clasped behind his back. No one knew how much time had passed before he slowly turned his face northward and cupped his hands with distant reverence.

“Sanhai-jun,” he called, “it has been many years since we last parted. I see your temper for clashing over the Dao hasn’t changed a bit.”

From the far north came Jiang Shuangke’s voice, clear and sharp across the raging sea. “When I saw the seal upon West Xikui Mountain holding firm, I knew it must be you who now holds command. Huang Yi, for your age, you still have more backbone than your petty, scheming brothers.”

Huang Yi’s long robes fluttered, revealing a head of grizzled hair. He gave a wry smile. “Yishi Niang, your tongue still cuts sharper than a sword. But tell me—how many sects in this world are blessed like your Posuo Sect, to raise nothing but hard-boned disciples?”

Though they stood one in the west and one in the north, separated by tens of thousands of li, their voices carried across the Heavenly Sea as if they stood face to face. It was clear—these were no ordinary cultivators, but titans among men, whose cultivation had long surpassed the realm of the mundane.

Jiang Shuangke replied, “Since you’ve come, I trust you’re here for the same reason as I—to hold back the Heavenly Sea.”

“Not bad,” Huang Yi said, raising a hand and pointing toward the furious waters. “The four Great Seals of Zhenhai were the anchor chains of the heavens. Two are now broken, and the remaining pair may not hold much longer against the sea’s wrath. The Imperial Lord has activated the Manji Array to lift the heavens, standing alone below to bear the weight of the ocean. He buys time for us, and for our two sects to raise the Zhenhai once more.”

“In that case,” Jiang Shuangke turned slightly, speaking to the disciples gathered behind her, “let the Posuo Sect take the lead in restoring this Great Zhenhai Seal.” She stepped forward, voice like rolling thunder. “The first form of the Hellfire Sword Technique—once the blade is drawn, there is no turning back.” Her gaze swept across the line of disciples, “Everyone, cut a path for your master.”

The disciples answered in unison, their voices ringing like the clash of blades. With practised precision, they raised their swords together. In that instant, as wind howled and whitecaps surged, the blazing karmic fire of Posuo flared from beneath their feet, rising high in a blazing spiral—and with a thousand swords drawn, it shot forth and pierced the sea!

The roaring tide of the Heavenly Sea, once galloping like ten thousand wild steeds, faltered at once. The ocean split in two, cleaved down the middle by that single stroke. The two shattered Zhenhai bronze beasts, half-sunken and forgotten, rose again in full view.

"A fine generation of disciples, truly," sighed Huang Yi, regret etched deep in his voice. "Had I turned my brothers back from the edge sooner, perhaps our sect would not have fallen to silence. Yishi Niang, should fate allow us another day, let us hope that among our disciples, one may rise to settle the score between us."

With that, he exhaled long and deep, raising both palms. The treasure mirror upon his chest flared with brilliant light. "Today, allow me—and these brave young ones—to carve open your path. Go, and raise the Great Seal of Zhenhai once more!"

Fragrance like cold jewels drifted through the air. The disciples felt their swordtips lighten, as if two broad, steady hands had come to bear the sinking weight for them. The stance Plucking Vanguard burst forth like a bamboo spear—unyielding, unstoppable—once more taming the furious waves of the Heavenly Sea!

Jiang Shuangke stepped across the storm on air, one hand stretched toward the south, the other drawing power from the east as she called out an incantation: “Backtrack!”

In a flash, the crumbled Zhenhai beasts drank back their scattered fragments, their wrathful eyes restored, their claws whole again. They swelled and towered, rising swiftly to their original forms.

“Seal!”

From the twin bronze beasts, brilliant golden sigils surged outward like living flame. As they blazed into being, the peaks of Xikui Mountain and Beilu Mountain answered the call—two more circular seals erupting into the sky.

Jiang Shuangke stood at the heart of the storm, raising her hand high. The four seals spun around her, one chasing the next, crashing into one another like thunderclaps. At last, they fused into a single great array above her head—a radiant formation, powerful enough to answer the might of the manji array below.

Golden light surged through the grand array, the etched sigils interlacing like ancient scripture. Within, a single bold stroke of dark ink unfurled and spread, anchoring the raging tide of the Tianhai. The character Zhen—Seal—flared at the center, the very same mark left behind at Dongzhao Mountain by that young man of the Kuwu clan.

All voices rose as one: “Zhenhai!”

The broken lattice of the swastika array blazed once more, its scattered motes gathering swiftly to cradle the fraying edge of the Tianhai. The storm broke; the downpour ceased. Amid the silence, Luo Xu thought he heard a distant, echoing call.

Silver sparks lit up around him, rising from his skin like fireflies. One by one, they streamed into his body, merging with the hidden veins of power buried deep within. His silver hair danced like living silk. With two fingers pointed earthward, Luo Xu cried: “Break!”

The two Yin-Yang Coins imprisoned between Ming Han’s fingers cracked with a sharp snap. The void—the chaotic rift where Yin and Yang had turned inside out—began to fold in on itself, dragging Ming Zhao and the copper coffin back into the breach.

If Ming Zhao could not be stopped, then the next best move was to sever the summoning—shatter the seeds that bound Yin to Yang, cut off the bridge between worlds.

Ming Han let the powdered shards of the bronze talisman fall between his fingers like ash. “What a pity,” he said softly. “To bring these two seeds together, I had Wenle devour a green eagle. And now… shattered so cleanly, they’ll never be used again.”

But the bronze powder was not the only thing he cast into the air.

Along with it flew a second treasure—a streak of living gold—the crimson-gold spirit mouse that had gone missing from Dongzhao Mountain.

With both hands, Ming Han manipulated invisible threads, drawing up Ming Zhuo like a marionette. Through Ming Zhuo, he controlled Ming Yao, and with this single movement, the tide of the battle turned. The spirit mouse darted through the air like a bolt of wildfire, racing straight toward Ming Zhao, claws extended in a frenzied dash. The Queen had once wielded a red-gold Li Bird, and that alone was enough to bring down two of the Pillars of Heaven. Now, with a red-gold Spirit Mouse added to the fray, the world itself might not survive the weight of what was coming.

The Queen had brought down two Heavenly Pillars with nothing more than a crimson-gold Lí Bird. Now, with a crimson-gold Spirit Mouse added to the mix, the heavens themselves might split, and the earth might crumble.

Ming Zhuo bit through his tongue once more, blood welling on his lips as he roared: “Thunder!”

But the sky no longer answered him. Ming Han sneered, “You’re also at your wits’ end.”

Ming Zhuo’s voice was calm, even mocking: “Is that so?”

With a crackling zīla, lightning burst—not from above, but from the ground. A slicing wind followed, sharp as a honed blade, cleaving straight toward Ming Han. He twisted aside, narrowly dodging, but not cleanly—blood sprang from a fresh cut on his cheek. His hand shot out in retaliation—only to seize nothing but a crumpled, ragged paper effigy.

Moon Mirror and puppet arts surged to life together. That shout of Thunder had only been bait—a feint to fool Ming Han. In the instant of his distraction, Ming Zhuo’s arm snapped forward and caught the crimson-gold Spirit Mouse mid-leap.

The paper decoy landed near Luo Xu, where Ming Zhuo had flung it. His spirit energy depleted, he had no strength to summon the full power of his powdered-faced puppet servant on his own. He needed Luo Xu’s force to activate the Moon Mirror—but there had been no time to speak, no time to plan. This attack relied on nothing but instinct and trust—their long-honed understanding of one another.

Ming Han snarled, “The two of you—a perfect act of stealing the heavens and swapping the sun!”

Ming Zhuo clutched the Spirit Mouse tightly in his hand. Blood from the severed fingers behind his back soaked into the fabric of his robes. He slammed his foot down on the puppet strings, cold eyes sweeping toward Ming Han. “Kill him.”

The silver gleam that had been coiling within Luo Xu burst forth with a vengeance. Before Ming Han could react, it was already behind him, poised to strike.

Ming Han hissed, “So it’s come to this—”

His head parted clean from his neck, rolling to the ground with a soft thud. Yet even as it tumbled, he wore a smile and finished his sentence: “I only wanted you to understand what it means when the heavens themselves can no longer be turned back.”

The puppet strings snapped taut, lifting Ming Zhuo’s body skyward. Luo Xu lunged forward and caught him at the waist. Just then, the Silver Heaven’s Punishment Order above them suddenly sank, humming violently in the air.

“When a man is cornered,” Ming Han laughed heartily, reforming midair from a cloud of black mist, “he’s no different from a rat in a jar—always the most entertaining. You two pride yourselves on your flawless teamwork, think you’re locking horns with my cunning, but you always forget—I'm someone who likes to leave an opening. That last one... was my plan too. The red-gold spirit mouse? A gift to you. But this Heavenly Gate—I'll be the one to break it!”

He slammed his palms together, sweeping aside the countless puppet threads. And just as Ming Miao was about to be drawn back into the void of yin and yang, he pulled the final string.

“The Zhenhai Seals are shattered. The Imperial Lord has failed his duty,” Ming Han declared. “Queen—by the strictest law—let Heaven’s Punishment fall!”

So that was his scheme all along. Breaking the two mountain seals, summoning Ming Yao—none of it was the endgame. It was all to deliver blame to Luo Xu. To let the sea of the heavens flood in full, the Punishment Order must be stripped from the hands of the Tainhai Imperial Lord. Without that divine token, even if Ming Zhuo, Luo Xu, and the forces of all four mountains possessed the strength to reach the heavens, they would be unable to stand as Hundun once had and halt the flood in a single breath.

Three golden crows spun before Ming Yao’s chest. Her armor shimmered; behind her, a spectral imperial cloak seemed to unfurl. That was the might of the Queen Edict descending. She turned her gaze to Luo Xu—just one glance.

That single glance was enough. The silver glow went out, and the Silver Heaven’s Punishment Order dissolved into drifting frost, vanishing into the storm.

The divine law was iron. The Tianhai Imperial Lord had failed. Heavenly judgment meant stripping the Luo Clan of their title, reclaiming the Silver Heaven’s Punishment Order granted by the Queen, and forbidding the Luo line from ever again drawing spiritual power from the divine guardians or the Boundless Heavenly Sea.

The manji grand array failed in an instant. A piercing crack resounded. The four sacred mountains trembled as one. The Great Zhenhai Seal above Jiang Shuangke’s head shattered on the spot. The suppressed sea surged up like a beast unchained, baring its fangs at everyone below.

The disciples of Posuo Gate staggered back in panic, some falling outright. Jiang Xueqing gripped her sword tightly, standing in the heart of the crashing tide. She cried out, “Shifu!”

“The Punishment Order’s gone. We can’t hold the heavens anymore!” Huang Yi’s mirror shattered as he clutched his chest in pain. “All you little friends—quickly leave the Heavenly Sea! Now!”

But amid the howling wind and crashing waves, Jiang Shuangke stood motionless. She looked at the ruins of the shattered seal and murmured, “Heaven’s punishment, is it...”

Huang Yi raised another incantation to shield the disciples from the flood, calling out to her: “The Imperial Lord won’t survive this. The breach in the Heavenly Sea can’t be held. Yishi Niang, you must return to the mountain at once—evacuate the people!”

Jiang Shuangke said, “If our seal falls too, this world will drown in an ocean of wrath. Where would the people flee then?”

“There’s always a place to go!” Huang Yi urged.

Jiang Shuangke untied the wine gourd at her waist. “You’re right. There’s always a place. As for mine—it’s long been chosen.”

A bad feeling seized Huang Yi. He stepped forward, anxious. “Your Shifu once went mad guarding Heaven’s Pass. Are you truly going to follow the same path? Listen to me—”

Jiang Shuangke downed the wine in one gulp, then cast the gourd into the Heavenly Sea. Pressing her palm to her sword hilt, the wind blew her loose hair against her cheeks. “You said it yourself. My master went mad guarding Heaven’s Pass. As his disciple... how could I do any less?”

Before her stood the silhouettes of the great demon and her sworn brothers and sisters. Through them, she seemed to glimpse the good days of Beilu Mountain once more. She stepped forward, thumb resting gently against the hilt of her sword. The blade was already humming.

“In this life, this lifetime, I’ve only ever learned one move.” Jiang Shuangke laughed, wild and bright, and chanted aloud, “So what if the waves come crashing? Let them come! I, Yishi Niang, will cut the heavens down with one sword!”

She pressed down. Her sleeves flared like wings. The sword shot out in a single, thunderous stroke. Myriad waves froze. Mists parted. That one sword—only one—lashed out with golden light and hellfire fire entwined, and slammed into the very heart of the Heavenly Sea like a stake driven by the will of heaven itself.

Even if the sky must fall—before her, it could only fall halfway!

“Shifu!” cried the disciples in unison.

Huang Yi swung his sleeve wide, not daring to look again. With all his strength, he shoved the disciples behind him. “Go—now!”

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