Chapter 225: The Fall

This year, Zhang Rongling was forty, and Chen Luo had already turned sixty-three.

His hair had gone white, and wrinkles had crept onto his face. Yet, years of rigorous cultivation had slowed the aging process, keeping his spirit at its peak.

Zhang Rongling’s aura of dominance grew with each passing day. He remained impassive, his true feelings hidden from all others. Those around him felt a deep sense of reverence, as if standing before one of the senior statesmen. Now, Zhang Rongling had once again become a flag-bearer for the New Faction. His personal influence, intertwined with the New Faction’s power, had grown so significant that his standing in the party was paramount.

“A chance,” Zhang Rongling thought.

In the small courtyard at the back of the residence, Zhang Rongling and Chen Luo sat side by side at the pond, fishing rods in hand.

The scene was idyllic: blue-green ponds, rustic green-bricked courtyards, and a simple tree casting shadow at dusk on them. A scene straight from ancient Chinese painting.

During their seven years in Earth Province, the two had developed a shared hobby of fishing—not to catch the prize, but to enjoy the process. Zhang Rongling’s accumulated tribulation energy only grew stronger, his power increasing by the day. Yet, the external Eldest Elder FusionSpirit seemed to be weakening, as tribulation energy began to erode his very Dao foundation.

The Dao foundation was the bedrock of every Foundation Establishment cultivator. Once damaged, the path to enlightenment was forever lost.

“The troublemaker is Imperial Son-in-Law Qi,” Zhang Rongling began. “The involvement of the princess and Prince Rui is troubling. Prime Minister Zhou clearly wants no part in this affair, so he’s tossed it my way.”

Zhang Rongling sat here as usual, expressing his views on the matter.

“What do you plan to do?” Chen Luo asked, posing his fifth question.

The Heart Demon Tribulation was also a type of heavenly tribulation, divided into various trials.

Each choice presented a tribulation, and Zhang Rongling’s decisions were/tests of his character.

“Of course, I’ll be fair and impartial,” Zhang Rongling said, his eyes glinting with calculation.

“Only by maximizing benefits can I achieve my goals. I need a good reputation; only greater renown will help me reach the pinnacle of power!”

If a person’s moral hue could be seen, Zhang Rongling would now appear purely gray. Gone were the shades of black and white, making it impossible to discern whether he was good or evil. When interests aligned, he would be a good person, an incorruptible, benevolent lord. When interests conflicted, he would be the greediest official, a villain capable of extracting everything in his path.

His initial intent had never wavered; he still pursued ‘glory, rank, and fortune’.

“This will offend many people,” Chen Luo observed, his gaze fixed on the fishing rod in his hand.

He could clearly sense that the Heart Demon Art was drawing even more power. When the heavenly tribulation had targeted Elder FusionSpirit, the Heart Demon Art had intercepted a portion of its energy. This redirected power became the primary source of strength for the Heart Demon Art.

Previously, Chen Luo had always felt that his cultivation progress with the Demonic Heart Art was too slow. Even after integrating the Blackstone Secret Technique later on, the speed of his Qi Refining remained only average. Compared to the Demon Bone Array Sigil Art, there was no contest. At the time, Chen Luo couldn’t understand why the mummy’s brain would choose to impart that particular technique, but now he knew.

Only by giving up something can you receive something.

Zhang Rongling set down his fishing rod and stepped out of the little courtyard.

Watching his retreating figure, Chen Luo looked away. His body became like a black hole, beginning to absorb the surrounding tribulation qi.

In that year, Zhang Rongling took control of the Dali Temple and, under immense pressure from all sides, investigated the ‘Imperial Son-in-Law Murder Case.’

With an iron face and unquestioned integrity, he executed one person after another. Among the implicated were over twenty imperial relatives, and more than a hundred officials—from the capital to the provinces—were implicated. The nation was sent into a frenzy. This single case shook the world, and Zhang Rongling’s name made its first appearance throughout the land. Countless scholars took him as their idol, while those whose interests were violated gnashed their teeth in hatred. Yet these events did not hinder Zhang Rongling’s ascension. After resolving this case, his name became deeply rooted in the emperor’s heart. Nominated by the Cabinet, he stood on the threshold of joining its ranks.

The Zhang Manor’s gates became a bustling marketplace overnight.

Time slipped away like sand through an hourglass, and before Zhang Rongling knew it, two more years had passed. He was now forty-two.

At long last, he caught wind of a breath-taking prospect: His Holiness the Emperor, with a stroke of his vermilion-painted brush, had selected Zhang Rongling to join the imperial cabinet.

Tomorrow, all would be decided.

If this move was successful, he would have a shot at the Prime Minister’s seat by the time he turned fifty. At that point, his influence would eclipse all others, his power unsurpassed in the realm! With such momentum, even the formidable Senior Official Zhou would be unable to contain him. More and more individuals were drawn to his side, creating a subtle shift towards forming a third party separate from the ruling New Faction.

Night had fallen.

A gentle rain whispered down from the heavens.

Zhang Rongling stood in the courtyard of his residence, his eyes fixed on the lanterns that lined the corridors. The red paper globes swayed in the rain-washed breeze, casting flickering shadows. In thedistance, small fish occasionally broke the water’s surface to gulp for air. The ripples from their exhalations intertwined with those from falling raindrops, causing the pond to become a chaotic canvas of intersecting circles.

“Second Uncle, I’ve finally reached this point,” Zhang Rongling murmured, glancing back at Chen Luo.

The man behind him, now at the ripe age of sixty-five, had graying temples that testified to the passing years. Yet, unlike most elderly individuals, Chen Luo’s vital energy remained robust thanks to his mastery of Qigong—the art of cultivating one’s life force. Dressed in a set of coarse gray robes, he stood against the backdrop of falling rain, his figure taking on an ethereal quality. It was so refined and subtle that one could easily overlook his presence without deliberate attention.

Zhang Rongling was well aware of Second Uncle’s abilities and knew he had been cultivating a health-preserving technique. Judging by his current state, Second Uncle’s cultivation must have been quite successful.

Should I try cultivating too? The thought flashed through Zhang Rongling’s mind. He wanted to be as spirited at sixty as his Second Uncle was now.

“Congratulations.”

Chen Luo’s gaze pierced through the Zhang Manor, noticing that over the distant sky, tribulation qi once again began to surge. The Heavenly Tribulation wouldn’t allow Zhang Rongling’s journey to be smooth sailing; it would certainly present him with new calamities, forcing him to face one dire choice after another, leading to his eventual downfall.

As if confirming Chen Luo’s suspicion, a sudden burst of chaotic sounds erupted outside, followed by the clashing of armor. It seemed a large group had forcefully invaded the manor.

The tranquil rain-soaked night had been abruptly shattered.

“Who are you?! Do you know what place this is?!”

“Aiyo.”

Zhang Rongling’s face turned cold, a sense of foreboding rising in his heart.

Bang!

The wooden door at the back courtyard burst open, and two rows of soldiers filed in. A martial general, with one hand resting on his sword, entered through the door. His gaze swept around the room, finally settling on Zhang Rongling.

“Lord Zhang, we meet again.”

The martial general wore a smug grin, his eyes flashing with the delight of revenge. During his years in power, Zhang Rongling had made no shortage of enemies, and this general was among them. Though Zhang Rongling might not have remembered how he’d slighted this man, the general certainly hadn’t forgotten.

“Are you aware of the penalty for leading soldiers to forcibly enter the residence of an appointed official of the court in the middle of the night?” Zhang Rongling asked, sensing that something was amiss.

But his expression remained unchanged as he waited—for news from his subordinates to reach him.

“Ha ha, I don’t care about any penalties. I’m just following orders here.” With that, the general pressed down on the hilt of his sword and turned to speak to the soldiers behind him. “Seal off Zhang Manor. No one is allowed in or out before sunrise.”

“Yes, sir!”

The soldiers swiftly scattered, completely surrounding and sealing off Zhang Manor.

Zhang Rongling and Chen Luo found themselves locked inside the rear courtyard, isolated from the world and completely unaware of what was happening outside. The soldiers’ torches illuminated the yard so brightly that the light drizzle falling from the sky went almost unnoticed.

Soon, another set of hurried footsteps approached.

A young eunuch dressed in imperial attire emerged swiftly, bowed his head, and whispered into the ear of the martial general. He then slipped something into the general’s hand. Throughout this exchange, the eunuch never once glanced at Zhang Rongling, hastily departing after completing his task.

Zhang Rongling’s heart sank as he recognized the eunuch. They had crossed paths before; this was someone close to the emperor.

“Lord Zhang, it’s time to receive the imperial decree,” said the martial general.

The general gazed at the sealed document bearing the imperial seal, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. He knew that the affairs behind the scenes had settled, and all that remained was the grand finale. Zhang Rongling, the new favorite half a beat behind, was destined to lose his momentum in this seismic shift, once again to be cast aside by the masses.

Those he had previously antagonized would surely seize this opportunity for retribution.

Such is the nature of power. When one reaches a certain pinnacle, the only path left is to continue climbing. The moment one falters, those once loyal turn against them, uniting to thrust their once formidable leader into an abyss of limitless depth.

“When did the military take on the role of announcing imperial decrees? By the laws of our dynasty—”

“Lord Zhang, discretion is advisable. Today is not as before; His Majesty passed away last night, ascending to the heavens. The imperial decree I hold bears the seal of the new emperor.”

As the military general spoke, he unfurled the imperial decree and began to read its contents aloud:

“The southwest is under pirate assault, defiant to the celestial might of our sacred dynasty. Minister Zhang is hereby ordered to swiftly proceed and suppress the rebellion.”

His mission was clear: Zhang Rongling was to be dispatched from the capital! Otherwise, such a military operation would never be entrusted to a civilian official—in fact, one holding the prestigious position of shangshu. It was evident that these conspirators had meticulously planned every detail. Digging deeper, it was even possible that the passing of the late emperor was orchestrated by this very group. Standing alone in his courtyard, Zhang Rongling suddenly felt a chill run through him.

For the first time, he truly grasped the Old Faction’s formidable power.

By eliminating him—a symbol of the New Faction—the remaining elderly statesman, Prime Minister Zhou, would undoubtedly fare no better. His best hope would be to retire from public service; worse still, he might face imprisonment, leaving his once-esteemed reputation in shreds.

As dawn broke over the horizon, all fell into place. Zhang Rongling braced himself for his second expulsion from the capital.

The imperial decree offered no leeway, demanding his immediate departure to the southwest due to urgent military circumstances.

Inside the carriage:

This time, only three people accompanied him on the journey out of the capital. Notably absent was the woman who had once sat alongside Chen Luo.

“Second Uncle, I’ve grasped another profound truth.”

Zhang Rongling’s eyes sparkled with newfound insight. This time, his demotion differed from the last. As a capital official dispatched to quell an uprising, his mission was clear: complete the task and return home. Of course, those in the capital possessed a thousand ways to ensure he never returned. Missing this chance would forever prevent him from ascending to the highest ranks of power.

“Who knew games could be played like this? I was too rigid before,” Zhang Rongling mused, his mindset shifting yet again. Externally, his body was now engulfed in black flames, his aura having plunged to the initial stage of Foundation Establishment. The collapse of his Dao Foundation accelerated further.

This tribulation is coming to an end.

With Zhang Rongling’s final transformation in mindset, the Demonic Heart Tribulation utterly failed. All that remained was for the tribulation fire to burn everything down—a waiting game until death. Chen Luo, on the other hand, absorbed an increasing amount of power. The Demonic Heart Art no longer required active control; it absorbed the tribulation energy at an unimaginable speed by itself. The spiritual energy dragons within him rapidly condensed, this process even quicker than consuming pills aided by spirit meridians.

Upon reaching his destination, Zhang Rongling’s behavior starkly contrasted his actions seven years prior.

This time, he delegated the suppression of wokou to his subordinates while he focused on amassing wealth by any means necessary. Drawing on his experience as the administrator of Earth Province, he swiftly aligned himself with local potentates and exploited the populace. In mere half a year, he amassed a vast fortune.

With money paving his way, he quickly established connections with influential figures in the capital who hadn’t yet been purged. He even managed to ingratiate himself with a eunuch at court. Moreover, he struck a deal with the wokou, turning these roving bandits into his personal weapon. Whenever his greed threatened to leave unexplainable gaps in his accounts, the wokou would emerge to wreak havoc—burning, killing, and plundering—thus neatly covering his tracks.

Colluding with eunuchs and secretly harboring fugitive bandits.

Under his governance, countless people found themselves unable to endure their desperate circumstances and took up arms in rebellion. Rebellion was far from uncommon in the Holy Dynasty; nor was it as serious an issue as one might imagine. In its three-hundred-year history, the dynasty had weathered over two hundred peasant revolts, including nineteen major uprisings. Such local disturbances were easily suppressed by the authorities.

It would merely necessitate a minor increase in public security expenditures.

Having cast aside the last vestiges of his conscience and succumbing to unbridled desire, Zhang Rongling found himself hurtling towards the abyss, the fog of delusion gradually eclipsing his once clear vision.