Li Qingqiu was indeed very interested in Li Yang's Dragon Soul.
He had Li Yang demonstrate it once and quickly discovered that the Dragon Soul could greatly enhance Li Yang's physical strength and vital energy. In actual combat, it provided at least threefold amplification.
As Li Yang's cultivation continued to rise, the Dragon Soul's power would only grow stronger. Its potential was limitless.
After some thought, Li Qingqiu decided to teach Li Yang the Heavenly Thunder Step.
The Heavenly Thunder Step combined offense and defense, with countless applications in battle. Even if Li Yang's lightning affinity wasn't especially strong, simply mastering the basics would still raise his overall strength.
Half an hour later, Li Yang left with a satisfied smile.
Li Qingqiu then gestured toward Chai Yunshang, who approached with a complicated expression.
She had witnessed Li Yang's cultivation session just moments ago.
She had to admit—her own aptitude was far inferior to his.
For the first time, she began to feel that coming to the Sect Master for instruction might be a waste of his time—time that could be better spent on Qingxiao Sect's many other geniuses.
'The Sect Master's time is precious,' she thought. 'Qingxiao Sect has so many gifted disciples. I shouldn't be wasting such a resource.'
Just as she was about to speak, Li Qingqiu said, "Your potential goes far beyond this. I can see that your innate talent hasn't truly awakened yet. Given time, you might become the strongest person in the entire sect."
Those words made Chai Yunshang's eyes widen.
A surge of strength instantly welled up from within her heart.
All her discouragement vanished, replaced by excitement and determination.
She believed in Li Qingqiu's judgment.
Everyone in Qingxiao Sect knew that the Sect Master had the ability to see through hidden potential. Several disciples had already been discovered and elevated by him, shining brilliantly ever since.
Encouraged, Chai Yunshang straightened her posture as Li Qingqiu began teaching her the Rejuvenation Ghost-Immortal Needles technique.
…
The setting sun hung low on the horizon, bathing the imperial capital of Zhenyang in a cold winter glow. The city carried a somber grandeur beneath the crimson sky.
Inside the Crown Prince's Mansion, Crown Prince Yan Lan stood silently before a portrait.
The painting depicted the founding emperor of the Great Li Dynasty, dressed in dragon robes, a treasured sword in his hand, flanked by the civil and military heroes who had built the nation alongside him.
Behind Yan Lan stood a line of officials in court robes. Every one of them held high office.
At the front were two elderly men, both aged and frail in body, yet their brows still carried an aura of power and dominance. Even the age spots on their faces seemed to lend them authority.
"Your Highness," said a stern-faced middle-aged official, "what are you still waiting for? Aside from the imperial palace itself, every other government office in the capital is already under our control. All we need is your command, and we'll follow you into the palace to pay a visit to His Majesty!"
The moment he spoke, the other officials quickly echoed him.
"We can't delay any longer! The longer we wait, the more likely something will go wrong."
"His Majesty has fallen into obsession with forbidden arts and has abandoned his duties! We may endure this, but the people cannot—and neither can the soldiers defending the borders!"
"That's right! The northern barbarians glare hungrily from beyond the walls, and southern tribes have begun to stir. The Great Li may appear strong and unshakable, but to outsiders, we're already a fat piece of meat waiting to be devoured."
"For the sake of the realm, Your Highness must not hesitate any longer!"
Their voices grew louder and more impassioned.
It had been over one month since they first decided to act, yet Yan Lan still refused to make a move. His hesitation drove them to frustration and disbelief.
Tonight, even if the Crown Prince refused to rebel, they would no longer allow retreat.
Yan Lan slowly turned around. The golden glow of dusk streamed into the room, but he stood in the shadows, his expression hidden from view.
"Pass down the order," he said at last, his tone cold and unyielding. "Assemble the troops. At the Hour of the Dog, we march on the palace gates. Our target—Qianwu Hall."
The room fell silent for a breath before erupting into excitement.
The officials' faces lit up with joy, and they bowed deeply, each accepting the command.
Yan Lan stepped forward out of the shadows. His face was pale, eyes filled with ruthless resolve and murderous intent.
The officials followed close behind as they crossed the threshold together.
Snowflakes lifted into the air, scattering like shrapnel from an explosion across a calm lake.
The setting sun vanished behind the western wall of the city, and darkness swallowed Zhenyang Imperial Capital.
Armored warhorses thundered through the streets, their riders galloping straight toward the imperial palace. Along the way, citizens and merchants slammed their doors and shuttered their windows.
They knew—the heavens above the Great Li were about to change.
By the time the morning sun rose, the dynasty would face an earth-shaking transformation.
Boom—
The palace gates were blasted open.
Cavalry wielding long spears surged in like a raging river. The pounding of hooves shattered the night's peace within the palace walls.
On the inner ramparts, figures in white appeared one after another. Each carried a curved blade at the waist, their faces hidden behind silver masks.
Seeing the cavalry storming forward, one of the white-clad guards shouted, "Insolence! Forcing entry into the imperial palace is a capital crime! If you persist in your folly, your entire nine generations will be executed!"
His voice rolled like thunder through the palace night, but the charging soldiers didn't stop. They pressed on.
At once, the masked guards leapt down like white cranes descending from the sky.
Hundreds of them swept forward like crashing waves of snow.
The first clash came with a deafening roar.
Steel met steel. The ringing of blades and the screams of men echoed through the palace, breaking its ancient silence.
Yan Lan stepped out from beneath the main gate.
He was now dressed in a purple brocade robe, a sword hanging at his waist.
Golden-armored soldiers rushed past him on both sides, each carrying a torch. Behind him followed rows of high-ranking officials.
"Li Si!" Yan Lan called out coldly as he walked.
"Present!"
An official behind him answered loudly, his voice firm and steady.
"Have your men advance from the Left Imperial Forest Path—no one is allowed to escape the palace grounds!"
"Yes, Your Highness!"
"Luo Yujian!"
"Here!"
"Send your city guards through the Right Imperial Forest Path. Search every palace and courtyard. Find all imprisoned children and captured martial artists!"
"Yes, Your Highness!"
Yan Lan strode like a dragon, his movements powerful and unhurried. As he issued one command after another, an endless stream of soldiers poured into the palace. The sound of boots striking the ground grew louder with every step.
Soon, he reached the chaotic main avenue within the palace. He ignored the fighting around him. Even when blood splashed across his robe and severed limbs landed at his feet, his expression didn't change in the slightest.
Just as he passed through the inner palace gate, a shadow dropped from the sky—a man wielding a longsword, aiming straight for Yan Lan's neck.
In that instant, sword light flashed. Another figure leapt from behind Yan Lan, slashing upward. A wave of sword qi shot skyward, hurling the attacker backward. The impact tore open a deep, jagged crack across the inner palace wall.
Dozens of Heaven-Guardian Guards appeared behind Yan Lan.
They wore dark brocade uniforms, each holding a sword in one hand and a curved blade strapped to the back.
In perfect coordination, they charged to both sides, cutting down every enemy in front of the Crown Prince.
Yan Lan's gaze turned toward the massive palace in the distance—perched at the highest point of the imperial complex.
That was the hall where all ministers met the emperor.
Qianwu Hall.
Under the dark night sky, snow began to fall.
The Qianwu Hall loomed like a monstrous demon crouching in the shadows, its presence heavy and suffocating.
More imperial guards and mysterious martial experts appeared again and again, yet none could get close to Yan Lan. Over one hundred Heaven-Guardian Guards surrounded him in formation, escorting him forward.
Among them was Jia Yi, his expression dark and filled with regret.
'This operation must succeed,' he thought, gritting his teeth. 'Otherwise, the consequences will be unimaginable.'
He swung his blade hard, cutting down an approaching eunuch in one clean strike.
Yan Lan's pace was steady—not too fast, not too slow. Every step landed with the weight of conviction. The frail, sickly look he once carried was nowhere to be seen.
But after walking nearly one li, a fit of coughing overtook him.
Even so, he didn't stop. The officials following behind didn't so much as glance at him—they merely kept in step with their prince.
They passed through one palace gate after another until the view suddenly opened wide. Before them lay a vast square, at the center of which rose a long flight of white stone steps. At the top stood the majestic Qianwu Hall.
Nine figures stood guard before the hall.
Each wore black garments and a demonic mask, their hands gripping various weapons—swords, spears, halberds, and hooks.
Jia Yi's pupils shrank when he recognized who they were.
His face turned pale.
The Prohibition Guards!
"Kill!"
One of the A-rank Heaven-Guardian Guards bellowed and charged. The rest followed without hesitation, surging up the white stone stairs like a rain of arrows.
In the distance—
On the roof of a tall tower overlooking the capital, two figures in black stood side by side. Both wore straw hats and black veils that concealed their faces, leaving only their eyes visible. Judging from their builds, they were clearly a man and a woman.
The man held a sword, and so did the woman—but on her back was a long object wrapped in black cloth, shaped like a staff.
They were Jiang Zhaoxia and Xu Ning.
Their gazes were fixed on the distant palace, where fires already burned fiercely. Soldiers flooded the surrounding streets, sealing off every path in or out.
"Quite the grand spectacle," Xu Ning said calmly. "Looks like the Crown Prince might actually win."
Jiang Zhaoxia replied, "The Crown Prince has had the palace surrounded for a full month. The Emperor still hasn't struck back. Either he's fallen completely into madness, or he's planning something. We'd better go take a look for ourselves."
Xu Ning nodded. It had been a long time since she last received a mission from her master, and this one had to be completed flawlessly.
The two of them leapt off the rooftop and vanished into the dark night.
…
Boom—
The doors of Qianwu Hall burst open.
A Prohibition Guard flew backward through the doorway, tumbling through the air before landing heavily. He drove his sword into the ground to steady himself, yet still slid backward nearly two zhang before stopping.
The Heaven-Guardian Guards rushed in. Yan Lan followed behind them, the bright moon hanging high above his head, casting a long shadow of his figure across the hall floor.
The Prohibition Guard climbed to his feet, breathing hard. His hands trembled around the hilt of his broad sword.
Yan Lan ignored him. His gaze shifted to the darkness beyond.
There, on the dragon throne, a shadowed figure sat motionless—his chest rising and falling faintly.
"Father Emperor," Yan Lan said coldly, "your son has come to claim the throne—for your sake. You shall be the first Supreme Emperor since the founding of the Great Li Dynasty."
His tone was calm, yet carried unshakable dominance.
He halted his steps. Dozens of Heaven-Guardian Guards fanned out before him in three neat rows. Behind him stood the officials and their personal retainers and guards.
From within the shadows came a faint, raspy breath—like an ancient dragon slowly awakening.
"Well done," came a hoarse voice from the darkness. "I have waited for this day… for a very long time. You truly resemble me as I was back then. I, too, once stormed into this Qianwu Hall and forced my elder brother to abdicate."
The Emperor's voice was slow and cracked with age.
Hearing those words, Yan Lan frowned. To him, that story was nothing but disgrace—a stain of fratricide that would forever mar the Zhao family's name in history.
"At that time," the Emperor continued, "my royal brother pleaded with me to turn back, to stop before it was too late. But he had already laid countless traps within this very hall."
As the Emperor's voice echoed again, shadows stirred on both sides of the grand hall.
From the darkness emerged groups of Prohibition Guards, silent and grim.
Then, upon the steps before the dragon throne, another figure appeared—Xuan Gong, the Grand Director of the Bureau of Martial Prohibition. His eyes gleamed coldly in the dark, reflecting like blades of ice.
The air in Qianwu Hall grew heavy, filled with the scent of blood and the faint hum of killing intent.
The true battle for the Great Li throne had just begun.