Chapter 108: A Different World

At the break of dawn, the morning dew clung to the air of Yanwu County, shrouding everything in a misty haze. Feng Yewu instinctively tightened the collar of his garment, a chill running through him.

Lu Jue led the horse out from behind the inn, and the two hurriedly set off on their journey.

...

In the far north, the mountains were sealed beneath heavy snow.

A strange flicker of light darted through the endless white, coming to rest in the rear courtyard of the Northern Prosperity Prince’s mansion.

After the light faded, Yang Guang stood silently beside the artificial rockery in the courtyard. Chen Sinian, the Prince of Changwu, had been waiting there long before.

“Your Highness,” Yang Guang greeted with a nod and a respectful gesture.

Chen Sinian looked at Yang Guang, surprise flickering in his eyes as if sensing a change within him.

“You’ve advanced to Grandmaster?”

Yang Guang nodded slightly, his expression calm, yet his heart stirred with awe.

Since childhood, he had followed Chen Sinian in leading troops, always believing that Chen’s skill was at the Grandmaster level. Having not yet reached Grandmaster himself, Yang Guang had been unable to fully perceive Chen’s true strength.

Now that he had attained the Grandmaster realm, he realized Chen Sinian remained as unfathomable as the deep sea—his aura profound and endless.

On this continent, things had shifted subtly from the past life of Feng Yewu.

After Feng Yewu encountered Lu Jue, the wheels of history seemed to veer off course. Politics, military strategy, and all facets of life appeared unchanged, yet the cultivation realms of the people had transcended conventional understanding.

Riding his horse, Feng Yewu pondered deeply. After all, no one would believe he had been reborn, just as Lu Jue’s explanation of martial artists differentiating between Grandmasters and Saints seemed incredible.

“Has the emperor not heard? The Southern River King was once also a Grandmaster. Our Ye Dynasty has held a dominant position in the Central Plains, bordered by the Tidi to the north, shaking the Eastern Barbarians and restraining the Southern Barbarians, precisely because many warriors have reached Grandmaster level. Those who have become Saints are counted only among the other three tribes combined.”

Lu Jue looked at Feng Yewu with curiosity, surprised by his ignorance of what was common knowledge—even Wang Chang Geng’s daughter, Wang Jia, knew this.

Feng Yewu, having just ascended the throne upon his rebirth, had been too preoccupied with affairs to delve into such matters.

He didn’t answer Lu Jue’s question directly but smiled faintly and inquired further.

“Though I’ve heard of them, I’ve never understood clearly—what exactly are the realms of Grandmaster and Saint?”

Hearing this, Lu Jue thought of her busy governance after ascending the throne and felt a pang of sympathy. He refrained from pressing further and patiently explained.

“Martial artists have numerous meridians within their bodies. Through long practice, true energy accumulates inside. When this energy fills the body, they approach the Grandmaster threshold. Awaiting an opportunity—be it life or death, or some divine sign—they break through and become Grandmasters.”

Feng Yewu nodded, half understanding. Since Lu Jue began teaching her swordsmanship, she had sensed a certain power stirring within, faint but present—now she realized it must have been the true energy Lu Jue spoke of.

Lu Jue observed her nodding and continued.

“Upon breaking through the Grandmaster realm, one’s true energy transforms into a force coursing through the blood. With a mere gesture, one can move mountains and rivers.”

Feng Yewu’s eyes widened in surprise. Move mountains and rivers?

“Then such a person is no ordinary mortal?”

Lu Jue smiled faintly and shook his head.

“Grandmasters have pushed human limits, able to travel a hundred miles a day, but they are still mortal. Their strength is finite. Though fifty could not approach them, hundreds or thousands of soldiers could still overwhelm and execute them.”

Only then did Feng Yewu feel somewhat relieved. Hearing that many martial artists in the Ye army were Grandmasters, many must possess such skill. The Ye army’s hundred regiments were led by the Prince of Changwu; if Wei Siyuan and Chen Sinian fought together, she might once again fall into the tragic fate of her past life.

“How many Grandmasters are among the major feudatories?” she asked with curiosity, unable to discern their strength herself.

After a moment’s thought, Lu Jue analyzed.

“Among the seven great feudatories, the Prince of Huainan is lazy, fond of wine and women, and does not practice martial arts. The Prince of Pingyi is said to be close to Grandmaster but has not broken through. The Princes of Xiyue and Kangchuan are merchants with no interest in martial arts. None of these four have reached Grandmaster.”

Feng Yewu furrowed her brow. From Lu Jue’s reckoning, the Princes of Beichang and Changwu must both be Grandmasters.

It seemed fate still played out similarly. The three men who had forced her to abdicate and met their deaths in her previous life included two formidable fighters this time. Wang Chang Geng, whom she had long targeted, was also close to Grandmaster.

Seeing Feng Yewu silent, Lu Jue hesitated before speaking.

“In fact, one of these three may have nearly reached the Saint realm.”

Feng Yewu’s heart skipped a beat and she blurted out, “The Prince of Changwu?”

Lu Jue was not surprised she guessed correctly and smiled wryly.

“When the late emperor reigned, eight princes guarded and expanded the borders. The Prince of Changwu was the first to break through to Grandmaster, and he was only eighteen then.”

Feng Yewu was amazed. Eighteen and already a Grandmaster? Decades had passed since, making Lu Jue’s guess plausible.

Lu Jue sought to comfort her.

“Reaching the Saint realm cannot be determined by years alone. It is far beyond mere opportunity. Martial Saints are exceedingly rare throughout history. The title ‘Martial Saint’ signifies unity of heaven and man. Each Saint’s ascendance stirs celestial omens and heralds strange phenomena.”

Feng Yewu listened, finding no relief in Lu Jue’s words. Omens? Was her rebirth itself such a portent?

...

At the Northern Prosperity Prince’s mansion, Chen Sinian read the letter Yang Guang handed him, his deep gaze revealing no hint of anger.

The letter detailed Chen Pingwu’s actions upon arriving at Yanwu County, meticulously recorded by Yang Guang, including his own pursuit and attempted assassination of Chen Pingwu.

After reading, Chen Sinian returned the letter, his expression indifferent, unmoved even by Yang Guang’s near-fatal attack on Chen Pingwu.

“Though matters did not unfold entirely as I instructed, the outcome remains the same. You have fulfilled my orders.”

Yang Guang nodded slightly, awaiting further instruction.

Chen Sinian looked silently at the obedient Yang Guang before speaking softly.

“Though you have reached Grandmaster, you must understand your place.”

His voice was heavy; though calm, it compelled Yang Guang to swallow nervously, suppressing any thought of defiance.

The terror of that night haunted Yang Guang for life.

In the icy wilderness, surrounded by vicious wolves, a gravely wounded Chen Sinian had faced Yang Guang—who had turned ferocious after slaughtering hundreds of wolves—and struck him unconscious with two powerful slaps. That absolute strength and emotionless depth in Chen Sinian’s eyes left an indelible mark on Yang Guang’s soul.