Chapter Twelve: Harvesting the Fate Cluster

"Master Huo!"

"Master Huo, we've all cut off our queues!"

"That's right, we've all cut them off! Immortal Master bestows martial power—let us in quickly!"

"We want to fight the foreign devils just like you, Master Huo! Just now was incredible! You fought all those armed foreigners alone and left them in utter defeat!"

Huo Yuanjia was nearly overwhelmed by the fervor of his fellow martial artists.

Just moments ago, Huo Yuanjia had burst out from the press hall like a reincarnation of the Conqueror himself, as if possessed by a diamond-bodied titan. With a single punch, he shattered a brick wall, sent barricades flying, bullets bounced off his muscles, distorted slugs squeezed out without a drop of blood! He moved like the wind—bullets couldn't touch him, and in a blink, he covered more than twenty meters! He sent the foreigners tumbling head over heels!

As martial artists, they had suffered long enough at the hands of foreign guns and cannons. Who wouldn't want to vent their pent-up rage?

Cutting off their queues?

What of it? As long as the Immortal Master bestowed martial prowess, not only would they cut off their queues—if he commanded, they'd march on the capital itself, seize the emperor's throne for him without hesitation!

Besides, the Immortal Master feared not the foreigners; he summoned the Dragon King, overturned the ironclad warships into the river, and called upon the Lords of Thunder and Lightning to annihilate the foreign invaders! With such divine might, such legitimacy—who in all of China could possibly resist? Who would dare? Witnessing the Immortal Master's power on the Central Plains' battlefield, armies would surrender at the mere sight.

Receiving martial endowments was secondary. With the Immortal Master so near, could health and longevity be far behind?

It was easy to imagine the burning eagerness of those martial artists who had been named, and the equal measure of disgust they harbored for the foreigners attempting to sneak in.

Were it not for the residual power of their foreign status, those would-be gatecrashers would have suffered more than a few surreptitious blows—they might have been openly beaten or even killed. The martial artists could not conceal their hostility, shifting in an instant from impatience to receive their gifts to a fervent wish that Huo Yuanjia simply dispose of all the foreign journalists.

"Master Huo, throw these foreigners out! Don't let them steal our techniques!"

"Exactly! The Immortal Master's martial gifts are not for the eyes of barbarians!"

"They may intend harm against the Immortal Master!"

And these were the milder voices. Harsher ones rang out everywhere.

"Opportunities for immortality are rare; there may not be enough to go around. What right do foreigners have to partake? Better to kill them and be done with it!"

"Master Huo, the Manchus and foreigners are in collusion. We've all cut our hair; there's no turning back today. If we let them stay, they're sure to leak our secrets!"

"Spill their blood! Use them as an offering for our cause!"

Having just shorn their queues, their hair wild, eyes bloodshot, their words grew more sinister with each utterance, ghastly as vengeful spirits. The foreign journalists were truly terrified; now, even if they wished to flee, there was no escape.

"We're only journalists, you savages!"

"We protest!"

"Yes, why are you discriminating against us?"

A few naïve foreign women journalists could not help but raise their objections.

And now, objections were all they could muster. Had it been a few hours earlier, they would have haughtily rebuked these people, called for their own ministers to send troops, and demanded apologies and reparations from these backward, yellow-skinned monkeys.

"Enough. Seize them all and leave the rest to the Immortal Master," spoke Nong Jin-sun.

He was Huo Yuanjia's childhood friend, and as a member of the revolutionary party, his words carried weight second only to Huo Yuanjia himself.

The martial artists had already surrounded the foreign journalists; with someone taking the lead, the dozen or so foreigners were swiftly captured, each man more enthusiastic than the next.

"Jin-sun, this..." Huo Yuanjia frowned.

"Yuanjia, you have received the Immortal Master's great favor—a blessing of immense fortune. You must put the Immortal Master first in all things." Nong Jin-sun cut him off. Everyone could see that Huo Yuanjia was favored by Lan Yi, the Immortal Master. Whatever the reason, this favor must not be risked over something that might displease the Immortal Master.

Whether revolutionaries or martial artists, despite their zeal, they were all shrewd. They understood that Lan Yi, who bestowed martial power, could just as easily become a ruthless demon—one whom no one could restrain, not even the foreigners with their ironclads.

In the wisdom of the riverine civilization, in a world where rites and music had crumbled, it was better to chain a man to the throne of sainthood and hope his actions would match a sage's, than to trust in the virtue of others.

But Lan Yi cared nothing for such tricks.

From the moment he stormed the international press hall, Lan Yi had shown no mercy. Though he had not slaughtered the innocent, his coldness and dominance were plain to see. Apart from Huo Yuanjia, no one else dared speak a word in his presence.

Of course, Huo Yuanjia was the sole exception.

Nong Jin-sun, Chen Qimei, and other revolutionaries had already prepared a contingency plan: to offer women.

These foreign women journalists, now captured and awaiting the Immortal Master's judgment—should he desire them, it would be a matter settled in a word.

Huo Yuanjia cared little for such machinations. He simply strode out, intent on awaiting the next wave of foreigners and officials.

"Yuanjia, don’t forget to cut your queue!" Nong Jin-sun called after him.

...

...

"Immortal Master! Please, bestow martial power upon me!" Zhao Jian clasped his hands in respectful salute to Lan Yi, who hovered in midair.

Lan Yi glanced at him, his colorless eyes flickering twice.

"Your aptitude is adequate."

Zhao Jian’s aptitude was, indeed, more than adequate. He had once fought Huo Yuanjia to a standstill at the height of Huo’s ferocity and earned the title of undefeated across three provinces.

In some respects, Zhao Jian was even better suited to martial cultivation than Huo Yuanjia after his spiritual transformation—he might reach the state of spiritual refinement even faster. More importantly, Zhao Jian possessed a life cluster, precisely the one Lan Yi’s Fate Diagram, the "Celestial Treasure Codex," required.

"You carry something I desire. If you are willing to give it to me, I promise to elevate you swiftly to mastery in energy cultivation and grant you a scroll of true technique."

At these words, Zhao Jian paused, then nodded emphatically.

"I am at the Immortal Master’s disposal."

"You will not regret it."

As soon as Lan Yi finished speaking, Canghua flashed forth, whirling and stabbing toward Zhao Jian. Though anxious and fearful, Zhao Jian stood his ground. In the next instant, countless tendrils of Canghua pierced his flesh; a tingling numbness spread through him, and, though still standing, his consciousness grew hazy.

Sharper than any surgeon’s scalpel, Canghua darted and probed within Zhao Jian’s body. Soon it located, at the nape of his neck, a region especially attuned to spiritual energy: a dormant life cluster, never before infused with spiritual power.

The "Prison Suppressor" life cluster.

Location: nape of the neck.
Ability: Subdue the heart’s wild monkey, unite spirit and will.

In plain terms, it was a combination of iron will and natural coordination—its effects subtle when used alone. In the artificial divine realm of 1909, without spiritual nourishment, it would be even less remarkable.

But placed within the "Celestial Treasure Codex," paired with other life clusters, the "Prison Suppressor" would unlock an earth-shattering effect: the Inferno Thunder Prison.

Inferno Thunder Prison—across the Three Realms and Six Paths, only those who have mastered the void in martial arts can withstand it; in the Dao, only those who have traversed the starry river might hope to fathom it.