72: All the states and counties in the world surrendered!

Outside Chang'an City, in front of Xuanwu Gate.

The wind stopped, and the snow also stopped.

The world was in dead silence, with only the Three Thousand Sword Immortals, like three thousand ancient, unmelted snow-capped mountains, standing silently.

They carried long swords on their backs, their Faces expressionless, and even their breathing seemed to have merged into the cold air.

That invisible and intangible, yet mountain-heavy Sword Intent, congealed above Chang'an City, pressing down on every armored soldier on the city wall, making them gasp for breath.

The city gate was tightly closed behind them, separating two worlds.

Inside the city was the Great Tang Dynasty of the human emperor; outside the city was Shu Mountain, detached from worldly affairs.

Just in this suffocating standoff, a figure soared into the sky.

He was dressed in a faded gray Daoist robe, wore a Xiaoyao Scarf (Xiaoyaojin - a type of Daoist headscarf), and leaned on a bamboo staff.

His figure was a bit hunched, but his steps were exceptionally steady, each step seemingly treading on the pulse of heaven and earth.

He walked step by step in the air, traversing the Void Realm!

It was none other than the Great Tang Dynastys National Preceptor, Commander of Bad Boys, Yuan Tiangang.

He faced the Three Thousand Sword Immortals alone, with no trace of fear on his Face.

His cloudy old eyes calmly swept over the white sword formation in front, finally landing on the person leading the formation.

That person had a graceful figure, white clothes purer than snow, and an ethereal temperament; it was Daoist Feng.

Yuan Tiangang stopped, and from dozens of feet away, his old yet resonant voice rang out, clearly reaching everyone's ears.

"Poor Daoist Yuan Tiangang, greetings to all Fellow Daoists of Shu Mountain."

He did not put on any airs as the National Preceptor, but merely greeted the disciples of an old friend like an ordinary old Daoist.

"I am an old acquaintance of Daoist Qingwei of Shu Mountain. Today, could you please, for the sake of this old man's Face, temporarily depart! This old man will personally visit to express my gratitude another day."

His voice carried a plea, yet also contained an undeniable weight.

This was the weight of the Great Tang Dynastys National Preceptor, and also the weight of Daoist Qingwei's old friend.

Any School in the Jianghu, facing Yuan Tiangang's words like this, would have to seriously weigh their options.

However, Shu Mountain was not a Jianghu School.

Daoist Feng's figure remained still, only nodding slightly and bowing to Yuan Tiangang from afar, her movements as elegant as a crane spreading its wings.

Her voice was clear and cold, devoid of worldly Qi, and through some mysterious method, it not only echoed outside the city but also resonated simultaneously in every corner of Taiji Hall.

"National Preceptor, we have come by imperial decree of the heir apparent, and only obey Your Highness's imperial decree of the heir apparent."

"If Your Highness orders us to leave, we will certainly leave and will not bother you further."

...Inside Taiji Hall.

When Daoist Feng's clear and cold voice rang out, the air in the entire hall was instantly sucked dry.

Li Shimin, who had just stood up, suddenly stiffened.

The anger in his eyes, as if doused by a basin of ice water, instantly solidified, turning into a killing intent colder than ice and... an unbelievable humiliation.

What did it mean, 'only obey Your Highness's imperial decree of the heir apparent'?

What did it mean, 'if Your Highness orders us to leave, we will certainly leave'?

This was no longer just slapping his Face.

This was trampling the dignity of him, the Khan of Heaven, the Emperor of the Great Tang Dynasty, underfoot and then grinding it with his toes!

He, Li Shimin, an emperor who had emerged from a sea of corpses and blood at Xuanwu Gate, how could he have ever suffered such a great humiliation!

All the Civil and Military Officials, every single one of them, were stunned.

Fang Xuanling's hand, hidden in his sleeve, trembled uncontrollably.

Under Du Ruhui's lowered eyelids, a sharp glint flashed, clearly indicating an inner storm.

Zhangsun Wuji's Face was even paler, his lips trembling, but he couldn't utter a single word.

And Qin Qiong, Cheng Yaojin, and Li Jing, kneeling on the ground, were completely plunged into despair.

It's over.

Everything is over now.

Their sons were not just messing around with Your Highness; they were caught in a terrifying vortex that could overturn the entire Li Tang Dynasty!

This Immortal army, which only obeyed Your Highness's command, had blocked all their escape routes!

"Your Majesty..."

Wei Zheng's throat moved, and he painstakingly uttered two words, but found himself unable to say anything more.

To admonish?

How to admonish?

Should he advise Your Majesty to bow to his own son, to the Three Thousand Sword Immortals outside the city?

Where would the prestige of the Li Tang Dynasty be then?

Where would Your Majesty's Face be then?

But if he didn't bow... thinking of the legend of the Three Thousand Sword Immortals annihilating 150,000 Turks cavalry overnight, even Wei Zheng, with his extraordinary courage, couldn't help but feel a chill emanating from his bones.

The entire hall fell into an eerie silence.

Outraged?

Of course, outraged!

Every minister loyal to the Li Tang Dynasty felt a fire burning in their chest.

But, they dared not express anger.

Who dared?

Dare to be angry at that calm and collected Your Highness, who had everything under control?

Or dare to be angry at those Immortals outside the city whose words could reach the imperial palace?

Everyone's gaze converged on Li Shimin on the Dragon throne.

They saw that this usually majestic and decisive emperor was now staring fixedly at his son, Li Chengqian, with an expression they had never seen before.

There was no roaring anger in his eyes, only a deep, all-consuming darkness.

His chest heaved violently, and the knuckles of his hands gripping the armrests of the Dragon throne were white from exertion, veins bulging like coiling, enraged Dragons.

He wanted to kill.

Everyone present could feel that the emperor wanted to kill.

But he couldn't.

Because his son, the son he had always considered mediocre and incompetent, was now silently telling him: Father, times have changed.

Now, you cannot kill me.

And Li Chengqian, meeting his father's gaze that almost seemed to flay him alive, deepened the smile on his Face by a few points.

He even bowed slightly towards the Dragon throne, his posture extremely humble, yet the words he spoke were utterly malicious.

"Father, you see, these friends of your son are still reasonable."

"As long as you hand over those treacherous officials, they will leave immediately and will not disturb the people of Chang'an in the slightest."

"After all..."

He raised his head, scanning the Civil and Military Officials with their varied expressions, his voice not loud, but every word struck at the heart.

"...After all, your son is also thinking of Father, and of the Li Tang Dynasty's Foundation, lest Father be misled by villains and ruin this eternal Foundation."

Li Chengqian's voice slowly echoed in Taiji Hall, every word like a poisoned silver needle, precisely piercing the nerve endings of everyone present.

The hall was in dead silence, even breathing sounds were choked by an invisible hand.

The officials either lowered their heads or cast down their eyes; no one dared to look at the emperor on the Dragon throne, and no one dared to directly Face Your Highness, who was smiling but more terrifying than a demon.

Li Shimin's chest heaved violently, and beneath his bright yellow Dragon robe, a primordial beast on the verge of breaking its shackles was imprisoned.

He stared at Li Chengqian, and in those eyes that had seen countless seas of corpses and blood, there was now only bottomless darkness, wanting to completely devour and tear apart his own son.

Just as the iron-hard atmosphere was about to break—"Report—!!"

A hoarse, cracking shout suddenly came from outside the hall, like a sharp blade cutting through the suffocating silence.

"Urgent dispatch—!! Jing Province emergency report—!!"

The sound came from far to near, carrying the desperate resolve of a horse ridden to death and the mournful cries of a human bleeding.

The hall doors were violently thrown open, and a messenger in tattered armor stumbled in, his helmet long gone, his Face covered in a muddy mixture of dust and sweat, his lips cracked, and his eyes bloodshot.

He collapsed in the center of the hall, using his last strength to pull out a wax-sealed secret report, soaked with sweat, from his bosom, holding it high above his head.

"Your... Your Majesty!"

The messenger's voice was like a broken gong, "Jing Province... the 150,000-strong army of Jing Province has left Jingxiang, and wherever their forces point, the prefectures and counties along the way... surrender at the mere sight of them!"

"Boom!"

These words, like a Nine Heavens thunderbolt, exploded in everyone's minds!

All the Civil and Military Officials, every single one of them, were stunned.

Fang Xuanling felt a sudden darkness before his eyes, and his body swayed, almost losing his balance.

Du Ruhui suddenly looked up, and for the first time, a look of horror appeared in his usually calm eyes.

Zhangsun Wuji's Face was ashen, his lips trembling, but he couldn't say a word.

Surrender at the mere sight of them?

What did that mean?

That wasn't a village, a town!

Those were the prefectures of the Li Tang Dynasty!

Those were the counties of the Li Tang Dynasty!

Those were Your Majesty's cities!

That was the Foundation they had fought for with countless lives of their comrades, sword by sword, spear by spear!

How could they... surrender at the mere sight of them?!

Were the generals defending the cities, the local officials, all blind, deaf, and had they forgotten whose salary (fèng lù - official's salary) they ate, whose empire they defended?

"What did you say?"

Li Shimin's voice was terribly low, like a ten-thousand-year-old black ice, every word carrying an bone-chilling coldness.

He slowly rose from the Dragon throne, looking down at the prostrate messenger.

"Say it again, what happened to my prefectures and counties?"

That mountain-crushing, ocean-roaring imperial pressure made the messenger tremble like a fallen leaf in the wind. He kowtowed, crying out: "Your Majesty! It's true! Xiang Province, Deng Province, Tang Province... before the army even arrived, the city flags had already been changed! The defending generals opened the gates, the officials came out to welcome them, and the common people... the common people lined the streets!"

Li Shimin's body swayed violently.

Great humiliation!

This was a humiliation more heart-piercing than the Three Thousand Sword Immortals besieging the city!

Those Immortals were outsiders, an incomprehensible force.

But these prefectures and counties were the Foundation of his Li Tang Dynasty!

They were the lands where his Khan of Heaven's authority reached!

His people, his officials, his soldiers, had actually surrendered without a fight!

"Why?"

Li Shimin's teeth ground together, almost squeezing out these three words, "Give me a reason! Why did they surrender! Is my butcher's blade not fast enough?!"

The messenger was scared to the point of Soul Flying Away and Spirit Scattering. He dared not look up, only screaming with all his might: "Because... because Qin Huaiyu, Cheng Chumo, and the others... they... they held Your Highness's imperial decree of the heir apparent token!"