Chapter 1774: The Old Man

"If there's one defining trait of your Alchemy Association, it's your ability to endure."

"You desire eternal life too much. You know that even when you reach the end of your days, you can seal yourselves beneath the Grand Historian's Office. You believe that one day, your descendants will find the secret to immortality and bring you all into eternity together..."

"So, you are willing to sacrifice everything for immortality—time, energy, heart's blood... After all, you have endless lifespans to squander in the future. What does it matter if you gamble away a few decades of your life now to build trust with His Majesty?"

"And so, generation after generation of Alchemy Association presidents, leading generation after generation of members, have burned their lives away to build those miraculous super-walls for the eight great prisons, constructed countless towers to hold back disasters, and frantically built the boundary trains that shuttle between the prisons..."

"Lord Chong... have you ever ridden a donkey?"

"If you hang a carrot in front of a donkey, you can trick it into working tirelessly for an entire day... Is there anything better in this world than that?"

Lord Chong stared blankly at Duke Zhao, his thoughts completely shattered. For over three hundred years, their Alchemy Association had been smugly satisfied with having gained the Emperor's trust and operating under the guise of the Grand Historian's Office. He still remembered the previous president pulling him aside, analyzing how to exploit the Emperor's greed for immortality to gain greater power step by step...

But now, it seemed this was nothing more than a three-hundred-year-long delusion of the Alchemy Association. From the very beginning, Ying Fu had never taken them seriously; he had simply treated them as nuclear-powered donkeys!

"Impossible... He is the First Emperor! Doesn't he want immortality?! Is he really willing to just die of old age like this?!"

Lord Chong shouted hysterically, as if clutching at a final straw.

"Who told you that the current Majesty is the same one from the past?"

Duke Zhao let out a cold snort.

Lord Chong’s expression stiffened once more.

"Setting aside the Philosopher's Stone, which can only help the spirit achieve immortality... even if there were a way to make the flesh immortal, so what? There are as many paths of the Divine Dao in this world as there are stars. Do you really think His Majesty only has your Alchemy Association as a crutch?" Duke Zhao continued unhurriedly.

"Furthermore, for these past three hundred years, not only have you been using the shell of the Grand Historian's Office to expand your influence in the shadows, but His Majesty has also been using the core of your Alchemy Association to expand the Grand Historian's Office bit by bit... Whether it's the method for refining the Philosopher's Stone or other legacies of the Association, others have already mastered them all."

"Don't talk about just killing you now; even if the entire Alchemy Association were slaughtered, someone would immediately step in to take your place... When the sun rises, the Grand Historian's Office will still be the same Grand Historian's Office, the most loyal right-hand man of His Majesty."

Duke Zhao raised his hand, patted Lord Chong on the shoulder, and said earnestly:

"So..."

"Don't take yourself too seriously, Lord Chong."

"In His Majesty's eyes... you are nothing."

Lord Chong was pinned to the giant rock, his lips cracked, his face ashen...

He knew that no matter how desperately he and the Alchemy Association fought back, there would be no result... The destruction of the Alchemy Association was a foregone conclusion. They were like pawns squeezed dry in Ying Fu's hand, tossed into a pool without even a ripple.

"Regardless, thank you for the contributions your Alchemy Association has made to humanity..."

"After all, without you burning yourselves so desperately, how could there be the impregnable human fortress we have today?"

As Duke Zhao finished speaking, the aura of the Book Divine Dao erupted once more. A dense, sky-covering torrent of ink and brushstrokes surged from the wooden box behind him, instantly drowning the terrified Lord Chong.

……

Chengtian Boundary.

Imperial Study.

A slender brush glided gently, sharp strokes penetrating the paper. A faint scent of ink permeated the air. A figure sat behind thin beaded curtains, only an aged silhouette vaguely visible.

Suddenly, the figure seemed to sense something, and the fluid movement of the brush faltered slightly...

He held the brush in the air for a silent moment before slowly setting it down.

"Your Majesty, what is wrong?"

He Jing, serving before the beaded curtains, asked respectfully.

"Chong Zhiqiu is dead." Ying Fu’s voice sounded calm.

He Jing’s brows lifted slightly, but he did not seem surprised by the result. He spoke unhurriedly, "The Grand Historian's Office was slaughtered by the Mockery Disaster, and the former Chief, Chong Zhiqiu, died in an ambush in the Gray Realm... This news will soon spread throughout the court."

He paused for a moment and continued:

"The Grand Historian's Office is the pillar of Chengtian. Since they have been wiped out, new personnel must naturally be added... I fear the noble families will once again fight tooth and nail for those few spots."

"With new meat on the table, those jackals will likely quiet down for a while, shifting their gaze away from Your Majesty and focusing on their own internal strife."

"Of course, who gets into the Grand Historian's Office and who doesn't is still up to Your Majesty."

As He Jing finished speaking, a fit of weak coughing sounded from behind the beaded curtains.

"Cough, cough, cough, cough, cough..."

He Jing’s expression changed, and he immediately asked, "Your Majesty, shall I call the imperial physician now?"

"...The imperial physician cannot add to one's lifespan." Ying Fu paused for a moment, as if he had finally made up his mind. "Even if the vacancies in the Grand Historian's Office can attract the attention of those parasites... as long as I do not appear, they will never rest."

"Your Majesty means..."

"It is almost time." Ying Fu spoke slowly. "He Jing... are you ready?"

He Jing’s expression turned solemn. He knelt on both knees before the beaded curtains and answered without hesitation:

"Your servant is ready to offer his life for Your Majesty at any time!"

"I do not need your life... I only need ten years."

Ying Fu waved his hand casually behind the curtains, and the wall on the side of the Imperial Study flipped like a chessboard, exposing a black and red wall to the air... At the edge of the wall, an exquisitely crafted gambling table sat quietly, covered in dust, as if it hadn't been used for many years.

He Jing took a deep breath, walked straight to the side of the gambling table, and sat down. He looked ahead, his expression one of readiness to face death.

Meanwhile,

An aged figure dressed in simple white clothing walked slowly from behind the beaded curtains.

He was an old man whose every feature exuded majesty. His hair was white, like withered branches about to fall in winter. He hunched his body, his breathing shallow and frequent, yet the imperial pressure radiating from his every movement was still chilling.

He sat down slowly at the gambling table, his deep eyes fixed on He Jing, who felt his heart tremble as if staring into a vast starry sky.

"Let us begin..."

Ying Fu lifted the black round cup on the table, a single die resting quietly inside.