Cutting Flesh to Feed the Eagle: Who Is the Eagle

The distribution of heaven and earth's destiny concerns the life and death of every domain. The Eastern Wasteland was already poor in resources; if its share of destiny was cut in half again, the eerie barrier of the Eastern Wasteland would collapse in less than ten years. By then, without the Central Continent even needing to lift a finger, the eerie tide would swallow the Eastern Wasteland whole.

As for the other three domains, although their shares were not reduced, seeing the fate of the Eastern Wasteland, who would dare to follow Wang Hao to oppose the Central Continent?

"Good plan," Perfected Chiyan revealed a cruel smile. "I'd like to see what kind of expression Wang Hao will have when the new plan is announced tomorrow."

Everyone laughed.

Only Jiang Tianchen didn't laugh. He felt something was off. Wang Hao's performance on the White Jade Square today was too calm, so calm that it seemed he had anticipated everything. Was his remark, "The judges take turns, next year it comes to my house," just a casual arrogant boast, or did he really have something to rely on?

Jiang Tianchen couldn't figure it out.

But he faintly felt that tomorrow's meeting might not go as smoothly as he expected.

Meanwhile, on the Canglan Plains, in the Great Zhou Encampment.

A banquet was laid out in Wang Hao's central military tent. It wasn't any exotic delicacies, but roasted meat typical of the Eastern Wasteland, strong liquor, and wild vegetables gathered from the foot of the Kunlun Mountains. Elder Wugu, Zen Master Du'e, and Tuoba Xiong sat around the campfire, each with a bowl of strong liquor in front of them, the fumes of which stung their eyes.

"Your Majesty," Elder Wugu raised his liquor bowl. "Today at the White Jade Square, you spoke the words that our four domains have held back for ten thousand years. This old man toasts you a bowl."

Wang Hao smiled, clinked bowls with him, and downed it in one gulp.

Zen Master Du'e pressed his palms together: "This poor monk observes the precepts and does not drink alcohol, so I will substitute tea for liquor, toasting Your Majesty's courage." He picked up a bowl of coarse tea, took a light sip, and then set it down. "However, this poor monk has one thing he does not understand—Your Majesty made enemies of the sixteen sacred lands in public today, are you not afraid of their retaliation?"

Wang Hao tore off a piece of roasted meat, stuffed it into his mouth, and mumbled: "Afraid? Of course I am. Any random one of the sixteen sacred lands could crush the Eastern Wasteland. But I am even more afraid of one thing."

"What is it?"

"I am afraid that the descendants of the Eastern Wasteland will forever live under someone else's rules." Wang Hao put down the roasted meat, his expression unusually serious. "Zen Master, in your Western Buddhist Kingdom, has anyone died because of the Central Continent's exploitation?"

Zen Master Du'e fell silent.

"Yes," he said in a low voice. "Seventy percent of the Western Territory's spirit stone veins were taken away by the Central Continent. The people of the Buddhist Kingdom severely lack cultivation resources, their realms cannot advance, and when facing the eerie anomalies, they can only fill the gap with their lives. Over the past century, three hundred and sixty temples in the Western Territory were breached by the anomalies, and no less than two hundred thousand monks have passed away."

Wang Hao then looked at Tuoba Xiong.

Tuoba Xiong gripped his liquor bowl tightly, his voice hoarse: "The Northern Region has to hand over one million spirit stones to the Central Continent every year. Our own tribesmen can't even scrape together enough spirit stones for heating through the winter. The previous patriarch—my father—froze to death in the snow to save spirit stones for the children in the tribe to cultivate."

The large tent fell quiet.

Wang Hao picked up his liquor bowl and stood up.

"That is why I stood up today. Not because I want to be a hero, but because if no one stands up, the four domains will forever be slaughtered cattle and sheep. I don't want to be cattle or sheep. I want to be a human being. And I want everyone in the Eastern Wasteland, everyone in the Southern Frontier, everyone in the Western Territory, and everyone in the Northern Region—to be human."

He raised the liquor bowl high.

"You four. I invited you here tonight not to form an alliance, nor to ask you to state your stance. I just want to say one sentence—"

He tilted his head back and downed the strong liquor in one gulp.

"Tomorrow, let's stand up together."

Elder Wugu picked up his liquor bowl. Zen Master Du'e picked up his tea bowl. Tuoba Xiong picked up his liquor bowl.

The four bowls gently clinked in mid-air.

There was no alliance treaty, no blood oath, no signing of documents. Just the sound of four bowls clinking together, carrying far into the night breeze.

Wang Wudi sat in the corner of the large tent, watching this scene with a trace of complex emotion flashing through his eyes. He had lived for over three hundred years and seen countless emperors and generals, but he had never seen anyone like Wang Hao. This great-grandson of his had skin thick enough to anger people to death, and a heart black enough to pit people without mercy, but the moment he raised his liquor bowl and said "let's stand up together," everyone would involuntarily believe him.

Not because he was incredibly strong.

But because everyone knew—he was sincere.

Outside the tent, the night was as dark as ink.

The sixteen high platforms on the Kunlun Mountains gleamed with a cold light under the moonlight.

And on the Canglan Plains below the mountain, the bonfires of the Eastern Wasteland encampment burned ever brighter.

Tomorrow.

Everything would be revealed tomorrow.

The second day of the Kunlun Assembly was shrouded from the very beginning in an oppressive atmosphere of an impending storm.

On the White Jade Square of Tianxu Peak, the seating was still arranged as yesterday. The high platforms of the sixteen sacred lands were still high above, and the green jade seats of the four domains' representatives were still three feet lower. But everyone felt the difference as they walked into the venue—yesterday's resentment was suppressed and enduring, but today, that resentment had turned into a restless undercurrent.

When Wang Hao walked up to the green jade seat, Elder Wugu of the Southern Frontier nodded to him, Zen Master Du'e of the Western Territory gave a slight nod, and Tuoba Xiong of the Northern Region even stood up, cupping his fists in a salute in front of everyone. On the high platform of the sixteen sacred lands, the corner of Jiang Tianchen's eye twitched. Wang Hao smiled and returned the salute, sitting down boldly in his chair. He pulled a handful of Kunlun fire spirit fruits from his sleeve, placed them on his lap, peeled one, and popped it into his mouth.

"Old Wei," he lowered his voice.

"Sire."

"How are the bets looking today?"

Wei Zhongxian's mouth twitched, and he whispered, "Sire, today is the formal meeting, there is no betting pool."

Wang Hao sighed, looking regretful: "What a pity. I thought of a great wager last night—betting on whether the Central Continent acts up first or we do. The odds could have been at least one to three."

Wei Zhongxian remained expressionless: "Sire, can you please attend the meeting seriously?"

"I am very serious," Wang Hao said righteously. "I am seriously thinking about how to scheme against people. Is that not the most serious matter?"

Wei Zhongxian decided to shut his mouth.

Clang—

The Kunlun Bell rang, and the second meeting officially began.

Jiang Tianchen stood up, his voice still as plain as water, but everyone could hear the sharpness beneath that plainness. "Today's agenda—the distribution of heaven and earth's destiny. According to the ten-thousand-year ancestral system of the Kunlun Assembly, the hub of the world's destiny is in the Kunlun Mountains, jointly managed by the sixteen sacred lands. The distribution of destiny has always been comprehensively assessed by the sixteen sacred lands based on factors such as the global situation, the contributions of each domain, and the threat of eerie anomalies."

He paused for a moment, his gaze sweeping across the faces of the representatives of the four domains.

"After joint deliberation by the sixteen sacred lands, the destiny distribution plan for this session is adjusted as follows—"

Elder Wugu gripped his armrest tightly. Zen Master Du'e's prayer beads stopped at his fingertips. Tuoba Xiong's breathing became heavy. Wang Hao was still eating his fruit.

"The Central Continent, remaining at fifty percent. The Southern Frontier, remaining at fifteen percent. The Western Territory, remaining at ten percent. The Northern Region, remaining at five percent."

Jiang Tianchen's gaze landed on Wang Hao, an almost imperceptible sneer appearing at the corner of his mouth.

"The Eastern Wasteland, reduced from the original twenty percent to ten percent."

As soon as these words were spoken, an uproar swept through the venue.

It was not an uproar of anger, but of shock. Everyone knew the Eastern Wastelands would be targeted, but no one expected the Sixteen Holy Lands to be this ruthless—cutting their destiny share by half outright. This was forcing the Eastern Wastelands onto a path of ruin.

The leaders of the Southern Borders exchanged glances. The monks of the Western Reaches softly chanted to Buddha. The rugged men of the Northern Domain's snow plains clenched their fists. But no one spoke. Because they had not been reduced. Their interests had not been touched. They could be angry, they could be sympathetic, but they would not stand up—because standing up meant they might not even be able to protect their own shares.

This was Jiang Tianchen's calculation. Use the meat of the Eastern Wastelands to feed the eagles of the three regions. Once the three regions were full, they wouldn't join the Eastern Wastelands in causing trouble. And once the Eastern Wastelands had its flesh carved away and its blood bled dry, it naturally wouldn't have the strength to cause trouble anymore.

Jiang Tianchen smiled as he looked at Wang Hao. He was waiting. Waiting for Wang Hao to rise up in a violent rage, waiting for Wang Hao to hurl abuse, waiting for Wang Hao to say something extreme, so that the Sixteen Holy Lands could justifiably expel him from the Kunlun Assembly, or even suppress him right then and there.

But Wang Hao did not fly into a rage.

He didn't even stop peeling his fruit. He peeled the skin of the Fire Spirit Fruit completely clean, stuffed the flesh into his mouth, and chewed slowly. As the juice overflowed from the corners of his mouth, he casually wiped it away with his sleeve. Then he raised his head, met Jiang Tianchen's gaze, and revealed a brilliant smile.

"Sect Master Jiang, may I ask a question?"

Jiang Tianchen nodded. "Speak."

"Who is getting the ten percent destiny share that was cut from the Eastern Wastelands?"

Jiang Tianchen said flatly, "It will be taken back into the Central Province's main treasury, to be used for the overall coordination and deployment of anomaly prevention across the world."

"Overall coordination and deployment." Wang Hao savored these words, his smile deepening. "Sounds nice. Doesn't it just go straight into the pockets of the Central Province's Sixteen Holy Lands? Sect Master Jiang, let's speak plainly—your Sixteen Holy Lands of the Central Province taking half of the world's destiny isn't enough, you still have to snatch another ten percent from the mouth of the Eastern Wastelands. Are your faces made of Kunlun white rock? So thick and hard."

Jiang Tianchen's face darkened. "Wang Hao, mind your words."

"What's wrong with my words?" Wang Hao spread his hands. "I didn't insult anyone. I am merely stating a fact—for ten thousand years, your Sixteen Holy Lands of the Central Province have been doing the exact same thing: using the name of ancestral rules to rake the world's resources into your own embrace. The spirit stones handed over by the Eastern Wastelands, the divine materials offered as tribute by the Southern Borders, the Buddha bone relics presented by the Western Reaches, the ten-thousand-year profound ice offered by the Northern Domain—these things pile up in the treasuries of the Sixteen Holy Lands, molding and gathering dust. Meanwhile, the common people of the four regions, in order to gather these tributes, starve to death, freeze to death, or are swallowed by anomalies."

He stood up and walked step by step toward the Kunlun Stone Stele in the center of the white jade plaza. His pace was not fast, but every step fell on the beat of the heartbeats of the thirty thousand people present. He walked up to the stone stele, looked up at the four ancient, simple characters—Kunlun Dao Discussion—and suddenly smiled.

"Kunlun Dao Discussion. How wonderfully these four characters are written. When I read ancient texts as a child, the books said that the Martial Gods who founded the Kunlun Assembly ten thousand years ago did so to give the world's cultivators an equal place to discuss the Dao. No division between the Central Province and the Eastern Wastelands, no division between Holy Lands and rogue cultivators. Everyone sitting down together to jointly discuss grand strategies to deal with the anomalies."

He turned around, facing the high platform of the Sixteen Holy Lands.

"But what about today? What has the Kunlun Dao Discussion become? It has become sixteen landlords sitting on a high platform reading out leases to their tenant farmers! You call this discussing the Dao? You call this fairness? You call this ancestral rules?"

His voice suddenly rose, like thunder rolling across the horizon.

"I will tell you what ancestral rules are! Ancestral rules are the laws established by the Martial Gods to let the living beings of the world survive! Not indentured servitude contracts written to keep your sixteen families immortal for ten thousand years!"

Sound waves rolled over, shaking the clouds above Tianxu Peak until they surged. On the sapphire seats, the breathing of the representatives from the four regions grew heavier and heavier. A young leader from the Southern Borders suddenly stood up and shouted loudly, "Well said!" The old man beside him hastily pulled him down to sit, but it was already too late—more and more cultivators from the four regions stood up, staring burningly at the high platform of the Sixteen Holy Lands.

Jiang Tianchen's expression finally changed.

It was not anger, but shock. His meticulously designed scheme to sow discord was as fragile as paper in the face of Wang Hao's words. Wang Hao was not crying foul for his own Eastern Wastelands at all; he was crying foul for all four regions. He connected the ten percent destiny cut from the Eastern Wastelands with the eight million lives swallowed by anomalies in the Southern Borders over the past century, the squeezed spirit stone veins of the Western Reaches, and the frozen tribesmen of the Northern Domain. He made everyone realize—the Eastern Wastelands' today was the tomorrow of the Southern Borders, the Western Reaches, and the Northern Domain.

Elder Wugu stood up. Zen Master Du'e stood up. Tuoba Xiong stood up.

Behind them, the leaders of the thirty-six nations of the Southern Borders, the representatives of the twenty-six Buddhist kingdoms of the Western Reaches, and the patriarchs of the snow plain tribes of the Northern Domain all stood up.

Hundreds of auras erupted simultaneously, converging into a vast torrent that crashed toward the high platform of the Sixteen Holy Lands. The expressions of the sixteen Sect Masters changed at the same time, releasing sixteen oppressive auras simultaneously. The two imposes clashed in midair, causing the Kunlun Stone Stele at the peak of Tianxu Peak to emit a buzzing tremor.