pjbooks Chapter 110 Victory Celebration Banquet
Chapter 110 Victory Celebration Banquet
In the Apostle Realm, beneath the eternal dark golden sky, nine of the twelve thrones still glow faintly in the void. At the end of the circular arrangement, the two completely collapsed empty thrones and the seventh throne, which is slowly disintegrating, resemble three wounds that cannot be healed.
The screen repeatedly played the two sword strikes Jiang Chen used to kill Balsaron outside Liangzhou Fortress—the silver sword light cleaved through the demon king's formation, and the golden sword sea crushed the abyss's true form.
"Baal," Kahn spoke up, "you said before that the seventy-two demon kings wouldn't last an hour against Jiang Chen. You overestimated them—they only withstood two sword strikes."
Baal's dark eyes swirled with unprecedentedly complex emotions, his short, fiery hair burning even more fiercely than usual, yet his voice was much lower. "I thought they could at least force him to use his Sword Domain. He didn't even activate it, killing over forty Demon Kings with just a few strikes of his sword intent. Only when Balsalon used his Abyss True Body did he draw that golden sword. That was his natal flying sword—I sensed the aura swirling around it, a sword that had cleaved through the Heavenly Dao."
"I traced the trajectory of that sword strike." Thran opened his eyes at some point, the empty space in his eye sockets reflecting the countless sword shadows across the Gobi Desert. "That sword strike didn't sever Balsaron's true abyssal form, but rather the legal connection between him and the abyss's origin. Before unleashing that strike, Jiang Chen scanned all the energy nodes throughout Balsaron's body with his divine sense. Then, his sword precisely severed every energy channel leading from the abyss's depths to Balsaron's core. Balsaron said, 'As long as the abyss exists, the demon god will never die'—but Jiang Chen has temporarily severed his connection to the abyss."
"It can even seal the abyss." Mephistopheles's silver-gray short hair turned pure black, an instinctive reaction as she fully activated the Mirror Law to analyze Jiang Chen's sword intent. After a moment, her hair color slowly faded back to silver-gray, her voice carrying a hint of almost imperceptible frustration, "What exactly do sword cultivators in the immortal cultivation civilization cultivate? Sword intent, sword domain, sword path, myriad phenomena—I copied the form of his sword moves, but I can't copy the true essence contained within them."
Kahn leaned back on the throne, his amber pupils reflecting the still-looping images on the light screen. Jiang Chen sheathed his sword, brushed the abyss fragments off his school uniform, and strode towards the Liangzhou city gate, his shadow stretched long in the morning light.
"That fool Balsalon used the Law of Corruption to directly confront the Celestial Emperor's Myriad Phenomena of Sword Dao. The essence of the Law of Corruption is 'to corrupt all existence into its own nourishment,' but the essence of the Myriad Phenomena of Sword Dao is 'to sever all existence.' Corruption is transformation, severance is negation. Transformation requires a process, negation does not." Kahn's lips curled slightly upward. "He didn't die unjustly."
"The Demon Realm has lost face big time this time—no, it's worse than just losing face. More than half of the seventy-two Demon Kings have been killed, and the seventh pillar of the Demon God cannot be reassembled within a hundred years. Not only has the human defense line on the front line of the Abyss not been breached, but because of Jiang Chen's sword intent that sealed the edge of the rift, all the low-level demons heading east from Black Wind Canyon were blocked. That sword intent has not yet dissipated; it is actively filtering—demons of D-rank and above that approach are directly shredded, while those below D-rank are let through for humans to practice on. He has turned the Abyss Rift into an automatic filter."
The runes in the light membrane around Sorg's eyes swirled rapidly, as if performing high-speed calculations. "He's helping humanity build a defense line—using his sword intent as a permanent defensive barrier. This behavior has gone beyond the scope of an 'individual strongman'."
"Thran," Kahn turned his head, "you previously said his strength was 'individual strength,' and that he couldn't replace us on a civilizational level. Do you still think so now?"
Seran remained silent for a long time. So long that the emptiness in his eyes began to shrink slightly. Then he spoke, his voice as soft as wind blowing across a dried-up riverbed: "I reflected his future—not entirely; the core of the True Essence System remains outside my scope. But I saw what he would do next." He paused. "He's already training disciples. One named Wang Kai, who taught him cultivation in an abandoned factory. Another named Shen Qingxue, who, although lacking spiritual roots, was taught body cultivation methods. If he introduces cultivation civilization into this world, it won't just be a problem for Jiang Chen—it will be a problem for a group of cultivators. Individual strength has its limits, but the strength of a civilization has none."
In the void, there was a deathly silence.
Kahn opened his eyes, his amber pupils reflecting the three crumbling empty thrones and the figure in a school uniform on the light screen. Then he slowly uttered a sentence that sent a chill down the spines of all the apostles—
"And we can only watch."
...
There was no wine at the victory celebration banquet at Liangzhou Fortress.
Two thousand garrison soldiers sat at a makeshift table in the inner city square, with canned goods, compressed biscuits, and hot noodles urgently transported from the rear in front of them. The steam from the noodles rose in the morning light, mingling with the dry wind of the Gobi Desert and the smell of gunpowder emanating from the scorch marks on the city walls that had not yet been cleaned.
Zhao Tiecheng sat at the front table, the bandage on his left arm now replaced, its whiteness almost blinding. He grabbed a can with his right hand, pried open the lid with the back of his sword, and then pushed the entire can to the center of the table.
"Eat up. We still have work to do after this meal."
The soldiers began to eat. No one spoke; only the crisp sound of metal chopsticks hitting their lunchboxes and the slurping of hot soup noodles being sucked into mouths filled the silence. These sounds were exceptionally clear in the stillness, like a ritual announcing their return to life.
Jiang Chen sat at the corner table, a bowl of hot noodles in front of him. The noodles had swelled up a bit, but he still picked up a piece with his chopsticks and chewed slowly. As he picked up the bowl, the cuff of his school uniform sleeve was pulled up, revealing a golden sword mark extending from his palm on his wrist—the mark left after the Severing Thoughts Sword merged into his body, usually hidden under his skin, only appearing when he relaxed.
"You really don't drink?" Zhou Tianze sat down next to him, carrying a military water bottle filled with locally brewed barley wine from Liangzhou. "This is Old Zhao's treasured wine, which he brought up from the underground warehouse himself just now."
Jiang Chen shook his head and placed his chopsticks on the rim of his bowl. "Alcohol can numb the mind. I'm used to staying sober."
Zhou Tianze paused for a moment, then burst into laughter. The laughter carried far across the quiet square, drawing the attention of many soldiers. Lei Di slammed the kettle down on the table, his left eye, healed by Jiang Chen, gleaming moistly in the morning light. "Stay sober. Do you know why I've drunk my whole life? It's to blur my consciousness, to stop myself from constantly thinking about those who have died. And you, you haven't drunk a drop in a thousand years, yet you remember it all?"
Jiang Chen picked up his bowl and continued eating his noodles without answering. However, he chewed the noodles a little slower than before.
Chen Beiyuan had appeared behind him at some point. The head of the Awakened Ones Bureau had changed out of his full combat gear and was now wearing his dark blue Chinese-style jacket again. His white hair was tied in a small bun at the back of his head, his face was thin, his eyes deep-set, and his eyes still possessed the smooth, rounded texture of black pebbles worn by time. He sat down opposite Jiang Chen, holding a bowl of noodles, but didn't immediately pick up his chopsticks. He placed his hands folded on the table, looking at Jiang Chen.
"In this battle, you killed more than forty demon kings, shattered the abyss true form of the seventh pillar demon god, and sealed the abyss rift with your sword intent. The border will be quiet for at least a while, not just in Liangzhou, but along the entire western border," Chen Beiyuan said.
Jiang Chen put down his chopsticks. He knew that Old Chen still had something to say.
"These past two days," Chen Beiyuan picked up his bowl and stirred the noodles with his chopsticks, "many people have come to see me. Commanders from the Dragon Kingdom's Supreme Academy of Sciences, the military, and various war zones, as well as the heads of the powerful families who have been providing the General Administration with spirit crystals from the rear. They all have only one question—what exactly is cultivation? The Awakened System is a path that humanity has painstakingly explored over three hundred years, and now you've proven that this path is insufficient in the face of truly powerful enemies. They want to know, how do we take the other path?"
His tone remained calm, as if he were presenting a report with a pre-written summary. But Jiang Chen noticed that the old man's grip on the chopsticks was a little tighter than usual.
The noise in the square gradually subsided. Chen Beiyuan looked at Jiang Chen, his voice low, so low that only the two of them could hear. "I didn't tell them that you had no obligation to answer this question. You helped humanity kill two apostles, destroy a demon god, protect Liangzhou, and save 120,000 lives. Humanity can never repay this debt of gratitude."
He put down his chopsticks, stood up, picked up his bowl, and prepared to eat elsewhere. After taking a few steps, he heard Jiang Chen's voice behind him.
"Old Chen."
Chen Beiyuan stopped walking without turning around.
"I've already taught two people in the abandoned factory." Jiang Chen's voice was calm, yet clear in the quiet square. "One is named Wang Kai, who has all five elements of spiritual roots. I plan to have him follow the orthodox path of cultivation. The other is named Shen Qingxue, who doesn't have any spiritual roots, but I'm teaching her body cultivation. Body cultivation has a lower threshold and a lower ceiling than cultivation, but in this world, it's sufficient."
Chen Beiyuan turned around and saw Jiang Chen leaning back in his chair, his right hand on the table, his fingers tapping lightly on the rim of the bowl.
"The foundation of cultivation civilization is spiritual energy. This world doesn't have spiritual energy generated by the Heavenly Dao, but I can use my true essence to set up arrays and create artificial spiritual energy. Although the concentration is not as high as the spiritual veins in the cultivation world, within the array's coverage area, reaching the Golden Core stage shouldn't be a problem. As for higher realms—that requires time and more resources," Jiang Chen said.
Chen Beiyuan's eyes lit up. "I can find you a site with spiritual energy. No, I'll have people search the whole country, find every suitable place to build an array."
The soldiers still eating in the square sensed something, put down their chopsticks, and looked over. They didn't understand the technical terms—artificial spiritual energy, array coverage, Golden Core stage—but they saw the expression on Old Chen's face. It was their old commander, whom they had followed for decades, now with slightly reddened eyes, just like when he first heard the news of victory.
"Let's call it Qingyun Academy," he said.
Chen Beiyuan was stunned for a moment, then understood the meaning of the name. In the Twelfth Apostle Hall, Morgana forced Jiang Chen's master, who was deep in his sea of consciousness, out so that the whole world could see him: the middle-aged man wearing a blue robe, with long white hair tied back with a jade hairpin, who asked him, "Do you still have your sword?"
His name is Qingyunzi.
Jiang Chen wanted to inscribe his master's name on the world's first cultivation academy.
"Alright. Let's call it Qingyun Academy." Chen Beiyuan's voice was a little hoarse. Then he turned and walked towards the command tent. "I need to get those old guys in infrastructure to draw up blueprints overnight."
Two seconds of silence fell over the square, then applause began. First, at the front table, then the second, the third, and then the entire square. Two thousand hands, bandaged and covered in bloody cuts, clapped together at the same instant, the sound reverberating through the alloy walls of Liangzhou Fortress, carrying far and wide. The wind from the Gobi Desert blew in, carrying fine sand from the blank band marked by the distant sword, stinging slightly on faces, but no one closed their eyes.