Chapter Eleven: The Righteous Cause of Heavenly Strategy (Third Update)

“Because the Celestial Strategy Pavilion is remarkable.”

“In what way?” Li Fu asked in confusion.

“Don’t tell me you don’t know? So many people come to the Celestial Strategy Pavilion precisely because of the Tower of Three Thousand Mystical Spirits…” Yang Zixu looked at Li Fu as if he were a fool.

“The Tower of Three Thousand Mystical Spirits? Wasn’t that destroyed during the reign of the Sacred Empress?” Li Fu suddenly recalled what was recorded in the books of Dao Xiang Village.

Legend had it that in ancient times, the world was saturated with spiritual energy. Everyone could live for ten thousand years, move mountains and collapse peaks, and cross five thousand miles in a single instant. Yet, for reasons unknown, all of this faded away into the river of history. By the era of the ancient Qin, a thousand years ago, though it wasn’t as glorious as the distant past, people still lived five thousand years, cultivating to the extreme, soaring through the skies and beheading enemies from ten thousand steps away.

But after the Han dynasties, these figures, who now seemed like myths, had long since vanished. The feats of moving mountains or walking on air had become mere legend. The ultimate achievement in cultivation was now simply a modest extension of one’s lifespan. Most people nowadays lived no more than three hundred years, and to reach even that, cultivation was required. Ordinary folk could not live past a hundred.

The Tower of Three Thousand Mystical Spirits was a sacred ground for cultivation. According to the records, it was forged by ancient masters, able to gather the sparse spiritual energy of heaven and earth into one place. The aura within the tower far surpassed that outside, making cultivation twice as effective with half the effort.

This treasure was inherited from the previous dynasty, and there were three such structures: one held by the royal family, one by the Divine Strategy, and one by the Celestial Strategy. But by now, they were of little practical use…

“Yes, the Sacred Empress dismantled the tower in her reign. But a few years ago, the Grand Preceptor—your master—rebuilt it with the original materials,” Yang Zixu explained.

“Is it useful? That thing…” When Li Fu had first read about the tower in the ancient texts, he’d thought it was nothing more than a useless relic.

If it had truly been effective, the Tang Empire would not have needed to wage endless wars. During Emperor Taizong’s time, set a promising talent in the tower for a century, and the empire’s borders would have been secure. Why then should the imperial treasury bleed year after year for campaigns across the realm?

“I think it’s useless, too. But rumors keep spreading—one tells ten, ten tell a hundred. Soon, everyone believes that staying in the tower for a few years will grant immortality.” Yang Zixu shrugged helplessly.

“How many join the Celestial Strategy for that?” Li Fu found it absurd that people would fight to enter the twin pavilions of the Tang for such a fanciful promise.

“Of course not! Only those who read too many books of monsters and oddities believe that. Most people join because of the inscription on the stone pillar,” Yang Zixu said earnestly, pointing to the tall stone pillar before the main hall.

Carved into the pillar were seven bold characters: “Eradicate the Wicked, Celestial Strategy’s Duty.” This was the pride of the Celestial Strategy.

Many within the pavilion had yet to return from the Northwestern Army; the forces still garrisoned the northern frontiers. Though the recent invasion of the Rongdi was repelled, the border troubles remained unresolved.

Since the founding of the Tang Empire eight hundred years ago, its borders had rarely known peace. The Rongdi eyed the north hungrily, while the southern Yan and the barbarian tribes of the northwest were persistent irritants, never fully eradicated.

In the past centuries, the Rongdi and the barbarians had grown stronger. Twenty years ago, they formed an alliance that nearly rivaled Tang itself, forcing the empire into repeated border wars, sapping its strength.

Internally, the Tang was far from united. In the military alone, the Divine Strategy Pavilion, led by the Shangguan clan, was ever at odds with the Celestial Strategy. Since the Sacred Empress’s reign, the court had suffered three bloody purges. The white jade steps before the Hall of Supreme Harmony still bore faint red stains—traces of blood that once flowed there.

The succession of emperors was always accompanied by slaughter; none could stand aside. Even the wise Lord Changsun and the godlike General Xue perished in those storms.

Whether the Divine Strategy, with a hundred years of legacy, the even older Feathered Forest Guard, or the provincial armies—none retained their old iron resolve. Defeats on the battlefield and flattery at court only worsened matters.

The Celestial Strategy, meanwhile, constantly shifted its forces across Tang’s vast territories, desperately guarding the empire’s borders. In the past decade alone, a million of its soldiers had fallen in battle. Wave after wave of Celestial warriors marched to the frontiers, where they found eternal rest.

The tireless devotion of the Marquis of Martial Valor did not bring glory, but rather, heightened suspicion from the royal family. In the war of the northern frontier, the Marquis’s supplies were cut off, and seventy thousand troops fought the Rongdi on empty stomachs. If he hadn’t seized the taxes of the four southeastern prefectures, the Celestial Army would have perished by the hands of their own people, even before facing the enemy.

Suspicion toward the Celestial Strategy came not only from the Eastern Capital’s Divine Strategy and the royal family. Many princes, garrisoned with heavy troops across the provinces, rarely led their men into battle. Instead, they eyed the Celestial Strategy and the throne in the Hall of Supreme Harmony with trepidation and ambition.

All this stemmed from a single imperial edict of Emperor Taizong. The Celestial Strategy was his creation, and his most trusted force. Perhaps, fearing a repeat of the chaos during his own ascension, or for reasons unknown, he decreed in his final years that the Celestial Strategy must forever defend both Tang and the royal bloodline.

Yet fate is fickle, and the succession of emperors brought endless turmoil. Even Emperor Taizong could not have foreseen what would come.

Fathers and sons turned to murder; brothers became enemies. When Taizong’s son, Emperor Gaozong, died suddenly, a woman rose to become empress.

During the Sacred Empress’s reign, loyal ministers were cut down one after another, and none dared oppose her. Only the Celestial Strategy worked in secret to protect Gaozong’s bloodline, which enabled the late emperor to ascend and restore the throne to the Li family.

“I think most people join the Celestial Strategy because it has always dedicated itself to safeguarding Tang. That so-called Tower of Three Thousand Mystical Spirits is just an ancient pagoda, nothing more,” Li Fu mused, glancing at Yang Zixu with a smile.

“You really believe in that tower? Aside from Tang’s wine priest, who has ever lived that long? Even His Majesty is just over two hundred, and now he is visibly fading,” Yang Zixu scoffed.

“Then why did you bring up the tower?” Li Fu was exasperated by his companion’s antics.

“Why not? Besides, on the battlefield, what good is cultivation, no matter how high? Can you defeat a hundred by yourself, or snatch a general’s head from an army of ten thousand?” Yang Zixu retorted with a cold laugh.

“But let me warn you—be wary of Li Yuanhua. He has many followers in the Celestial Strategy. From what happened today, it’s clear he’s already dissatisfied with your new title as Young Pavilion Lord. He’s a petty man. While you’re here, he’ll be looking for a chance to move against you, perhaps even strike directly,” Yang Zixu said gravely.

“Let him come. Since I’m here, I’ll settle in. What’s there to fear?” Li Fu replied quietly, a piercing light flashing in his eyes.

By now, most people had dispersed from the great hall. Inside, the three Divine Generals of the Celestial Strategy and Yang Ning appeared to be deep in discussion, even arguing. Xu Changhai kept glancing toward Li Fu, whose curiosity was piqued by their conversation.

After a while, Xu Changhai, looking troubled, approached and said, “Young Pavilion Lord, the Office of Ceremonies…they request your presence.”