Rebuilding the Immortal Cultivator Clan Chapter 1880: 1409: Pending Fix
Previously on Rebuilding the Immortal Cultivator Clan...
Almost two hours had elapsed since Li Zhirui dispatched a band of Rangers to scatter letters and Memory Stones across various locations, and it was only at this point that the Confucian faction snapped out of their stupor, hastily sending out disciples to seize those items.
Yet, just as the Confucian faction began to steady themselves, the Legalist faction, Military Family, and merchants sprang into swift motion.
These groups refrained from directly clashing with the Confucian faction to avoid complete enmity and potential vengeance down the line, considering the Confucian faction's lingering power.
As a result, instead of getting involved personally, they followed Li Zhirui's example by hiring ordinary folk to widely disseminate scandalous tales about the Confucian faction throughout the counties surrounding the Capital City.
The Confucian faction hadn't even sorted out the chaos in the royal capital and Capital City when disastrous reports started pouring in from surrounding areas.
In an instant, the Confucian faction found themselves overwhelmed and scattered, desperate to stamp out the spreading flames but utterly unable to douse them anytime soon.
“This is awful! This is awful! A catastrophe has struck!”
Right then, a Confucian disciple burst inside with messy hair and ripped clothes, his face twisted in terror, as he cried out, “Sirs, Green Mountain Academy, White Crane Academy, Sea View Academy, and eight other academies in the city are surrounded by massive crowds of people, all yelling… yelling…”
“What exactly are they yelling?” a certain Great Confucian demanded in a grave tone.
The disciple faltered a few times before murmuring, “Burn these wicked dens!”
Plop——
A number of white-haired old men, struck by those words, felt their chests tighten painfully, their frames shaking as they slumped feebly backward.
Luckily, chairs stood right behind them, and nearby disciples rushed to prop them up, sparing them a harsh tumble to the floor.
“Wicked dens? Hahahahaha…”
An elderly figure let out a bitter laugh, his tone laced with sorrow and hopelessness, his breathing fading into frailty.
No sorrow cuts deeper than a shattered spirit!
For these veterans who had poured their entire lives into upholding Confucian teachings, who could have foreseen such a damning judgment falling upon them one day?
This struck at the core of their being, rejecting them and all the storied Confucian sages who came before!
Thank goodness companions were at hand to ensure his well-being, or he might have perished from sheer anguish!
“Whose scheme is this? It’s clearly aimed at ripping out the roots of our Confucian legacy!”
The room buzzed with frantic worry, yet beyond seizing those letters and Memory Stones, no one could devise another plan.
With so much time already wasted, who knew how many ears had caught the whispers, and the tales kept racing onward, beyond any hope of halting them.
“Our urgent task now is to swiftly calm this raging fury among the people.”
A calm voice suddenly filled the chamber.
“Saint Meng! What brings you forth?” All stood up in respect.
Daqian's Confucian faction boasted seven Saints altogether, though five wandered far abroad, leaving just two to guard the homeland; they seldom showed themselves, often lost in scripting tomes or unraveling old scrolls.
Besides Saint Meng Jun present now, the remaining one was named Du Ji.
“We felt a wild surge in the Confucian fortune; if mishandled, our faction could truly crumble from this blow!” Another voice chimed in—it was Saint Du Ji, who had also just arrived.
Horror gripped everyone at those words; they hadn't grasped the peril's depth, assuming the turmoil would fade and order would restore itself in time.
“Saint Meng, Saint Du, please step in at once to rescue our Confucian faction!”
“We beseech you, Saints!”
The assembly cried out in desperate unison, yearning for the two Saints to act; no matter their private doubts, none wished to witness the Confucian downfall.
“While brute force might quell things fast, it would only worsen matters, fueling deeper hatred among the masses toward us, so such a path is forbidden.”
Meng Jun shook his head firmly, then added: “From the beginning, I've shared the answer: soothe the people's wrath.”
“Openly confess the errors and vow to all that the wayward disciples from before will face Confucian justice, and restore the lands in Guan Province to the wronged folk.”
“This…”
At that suggestion, numerous faces in the room clouded with doubt.
They themselves, or their kin, had reaped plentiful gains from Guan Province, and surrendering them now? It stung like carving meat from their own bones.
“Hmm? Any dissent here?” Du Ji's cold stare raked across the gathering, instantly blanketing the space in heavy, stifling pressure.
Before the two Saints, submission was the only choice, lest dire repercussions follow!
“Who do you suspect is pulling the strings? Perhaps that Venerable Emperor?” Once the others departed, Du Ji inquired.
“Hard to say, but his influence surely plays a part, with other schools piling on to twist the knife—how else could it escalate so wildly?”
“Ha! Who'd have guessed our Confucian faction warranted such attention; it's almost flattering!”
He vowed silently to uncover the true instigator behind it all, for mercy would be the last thing on his mind!
…
Meanwhile.
Li Zhirui lingered in a visitor's chamber, gazing down at the bustling avenue below teeming with fired-up crowds, a pleased grin spreading across his features.
The primary aim of his Daqian training journey had at last been fulfilled, imperfect as the outcome might be, yet triumph was undeniable.