Chapter 291: Siege—Cities Fall
After hearing this, Little Eight sounded deflated. “Are you messing with me? Do you know when Southern Yun Kingdom gets wiped out by the Child of Destiny in the original world? Damn it—five years later. Five years!”
“So long?” Nan Xun said. “But the big boss clearly told me Southern Yun’s fortune would be exhausted very soon.”
Little Eight replied, “Even when it’s exhausted, it can still hold on for a while. Don’t you humans have a saying—a centipede may be dead, but it doesn’t fall right away? Southern Yun was the top of the four nations for many years, after all. We’ve already been in this world for six years, my dear. If we wait another five, that’s eleven years.”
“Huh? Six years already? That fast?” Nan Xun exclaimed, then gave a flat “oh.” “I was useless for the first three years because I spent them in Zuiyue Pavillion. But can you blame me? The body you found for me had zero chance of getting close to the big boss. If you’d given me the body of a harem concubine, I’d have crossed paths with him in minutes.”
Little Eight bristled. “You think it’s easy to get close to the big boss as a concubine? The harem isn’t someplace just anyone can enter! Sure, making you Princess Yao wasn’t bad—but her magnetic field didn’t match yours, so you couldn’t use her body.”
Nan Xun sighed inwardly. Little Eight sighed in her head.
Based on what Little Eight said, Nan Xun thought Qi Hengqing would attack Southern Yun in at least three years. Unexpectedly, just half a year later, he began to move. No one knew what benefits he promised the Western Desert Kingdom, but he formed an alliance with them.
With the two nations joining forces and attacking from east and west, Southern Yun lost two border cities overnight.
When the battle report reached the imperial capital, the old king was sleeping soundly. Upon hearing the news, he was so shocked that he fainted on the spot.
“National Preceptor! Go—fetch the National Preceptor!” the old king roared before losing consciousness.
The situation was urgent. This time, Gong Moran did not refuse. When he went to the emperor’s chambers, he brought Nan Xun with him—straight inside.
Nan Xun looked at the old king on the bed, his age showing plainly, and felt a surge of emotion. When she first entered the palace, the old king still looked vigorous. How had he become like this in just a few years?
The moment the old king awoke, he urgently called for the National Preceptor.
Gong Moran stepped forward and inclined his head slightly. “Your Majesty, I am here.”
“National Preceptor—what do you think of this war?”
Gong Moran said calmly, “Eastern Lin and the Western Desert have allied and are attacking from east and west. This has clearly been planned for a long time. Southern Yun has no chance of victory.”
The old king hurriedly said, “My National Preceptor must have a solution, right? You’ve protected Southern Yun for generations—the great National Preceptor whose sorcery reaches the heavens!”
Nan Xun edged closer to the big boss, afraid the somewhat deranged-looking old king might swallow her lord whole. With his eyes wide and his face full of dependence, he looked almost ferocious.
Gong Moran sighed softly. “When Your Majesty previously went to war with Eastern Lin, I cast spells many times. My sorcery has yet to recover. And with attacks from both east and west, I simply cannot be in two places at once.”
After a pause, he offered his advice. “Your Majesty must dispatch envoys through the night to the Northern Wu Kingdom and persuade them to ally with Southern Yun. Only then is there a slim chance of survival.”
The old king frowned. “Why do you say that, National Preceptor? The Yunwu Mountain Range lies between Northern Wu and Southern Yun. The journey back and forth is long—distant water cannot put out a nearby fire!”
“That’s why the troops must hold the line until Northern Wu’s reinforcements arrive,” Gong Moran said.
Hearing this, the old king’s body—struggling to sit up—slowly collapsed back down. He stared straight at Gong Moran and said in a deep voice, “National Preceptor, you must help our generals hold. You must.”
Gong Moran did not answer directly. He only said, “Though my sorcery has not recovered, the sixteen disciples under me can shoulder great responsibility.”
These sixteen did not include Gong Nineteen—the big boss excluded her outright.
That very day, Gong Moran selected twelve disciples and split them into two groups, led respectively by Gong Two and Gong Six, sending them to the eastern and western border cities to assist in defense.
However, over the next half year, Southern Yun’s cities continued to fall one after another. Eastern Lin’s army advanced as if through empty ground, unstoppable. In several cities, the governors even raised white flags and surrendered before the enemy attacked.
Worse still, despite repeated pleas for help, Northern Wu showed no intention of assisting Southern Yun. In fact, the final envoy sent to persuade them was beheaded.
Inside the main hall of Moran Pavilion.
Gong Moran was playing chess with Nan Xun when he suddenly sensed something. His hand holding a piece froze.
“My lord, what is it? Has another city fallen?” Nan Xun asked anxiously.
Gong Moran lowered his gaze slightly and said coolly, “Gong Two and the others are dead.”
Nan Xun opened her mouth, fell silent for a long moment, then said, “My lord should call Gong Six and the others back. No matter how powerful their sorcery, they aren’t you. They can’t face the Western Desert’s hundred thousand troops alone.”
Gong Moran rubbed her head. “Don’t worry, Duoduo. They know their limits. What interests me is how Gong Two and the others lost their lives so easily. It makes me suspect there are those skilled in sorcery among Eastern Lin’s forces.”
Hearing this, Nan Xun immediately asked Little Eight what was going on.
Little Eight replied, “Well, here’s the deal. With destiny on his side, Qi Hengqing happened to save a reclusive old man. Coincidentally, that man was a survivor of the ancient Witch Clan—and a highly respected elder at that. He harbors deep hatred for Southern Yun. Hearing that demonic forces were at work there, he came to lend Qi Hengqing a hand.”
“Damn it,” Nan Xun muttered. “The Child of Destiny really is the Child of Destiny. What else can I say?” She quickly asked, “Does that elder know the big boss is also a survivor of the Witch Clan?”
Little Eight said, “Back then, the old man saw his entire clan exterminated with his own eyes. He thinks the big boss is just a thief who stole their arts—after all, many Witch Clan manuals were taken away. I’m telling you, if he knew the big boss was the Holy Maiden’s child, he’d hate him even more. If it weren’t for the Holy Maiden, the Witch Clan’s location wouldn’t have been exposed, and they wouldn’t have been wiped out.”
“The Witch Clan sounds powerful—how were they wiped out so easily?” Nan Xun asked, puzzled.
Little Eight replied, “You think everyone’s as strong as the big boss? Not everyone could summon wind and rain. Southern Yun’s founding emperor was brilliant—no, wait, insidious. He took the Holy Maiden’s token, invited several elders to the palace as ‘guests,’ and treated the entire clan to fine wine. Trusting the token, the Witch Clan lowered their guard and drank… and then—well. You get it.”
Nan Xun’s gaze turned cold. Suddenly, she hoped Southern Yun would fall sooner rather than later.
“My lord, let’s leave this place,” Nan Xun said suddenly, hugging Gong Moran tightly, her voice muffled.
Gong Moran kissed her forehead. “Duoduo, soon. Very soon, I’ll take you away.”
Nan Xun: Heh. If I believe that, I’m a fool.
