Three days passed in a flash. On the training grounds in the Lu Family’s backyard, three figures stood from morning till night, like a still life painting that only sprang to life with the whistle of their fists.
Lu Yun stood at the forefront, his expression as calm as still water, his gaze fixed on the every move and breath of the two men before him.
Lu Fu and Lu Jingjun stood side-by-side. They had both changed into short training clothes, cuffs tied tightly to reveal their solid forearms.
Lu Fu stood on the left, his posture as straight as a pine tree, his aged face filled with concentration. Lu Jingjun stood on the right. Both men’s expressions were focused, their eyes locked on Lu Yun’s every action, afraid of missing a single detail.
Now that they had both broken through to become Grandmasters of Huajin, they were qualified to learn the fist techniques Lu Yun had used during his own time at the Huajin level.
Mountain-Breaking Inch Force Fist.
Lu Yun had obtained this fist art when he first broke through to become a Grandmaster of Huajin. From there, he had progressed from the Mountain-Breaking Inch Force Fist to the Ten Thousand Valleys Struggle Fist, advancing from a Grandmaster of Huajin to a Grandmaster of Divine Intent.
He had come so far on his journey that every move and stance of this fist art was carved into his very bones. He could execute it as fluidly as flowing water, even with his eyes closed.
Now, Lu Yun intended to pass it on to Lu Fu and Lu Jingjun.
The next moment, he flexed his wrists. "Watch closely."
Then, Lu Yun moved. His first punch was slow—so slow that Lu Fu and Jingjun could see how every inch of his muscles exerted force.
The subsequent punches demonstrated everything from the twist of his waist and hips to the arch of his spine, the dip of his shoulders, and the extension of his arm, all culminating in a clenched fist where a thin layer of True Qi imbued with Divine Will condensed upon his knuckles.
Lu Yun then explained the detailed process: how Qi had to surge from the Dantian, flow along the meridians, pass through the Twelve-Layered Tower, travel along the Hand Three Yin Meridians, and finally converge at the knuckles.
He demonstrated once, twice, three times... from morning till night, from sunrise to sunset.
Although Lu Fu was older, his comprehension was exceptionally high. In his youth, he had followed Lu Yun across the land, building a solid foundation. Now, every move and stance he made was imbued with a steady maturity.
After breaking through to Huajin, his years of accumulated experience allowed for rapid growth. He learned everything quickly. Concepts that would have taken him months to grasp in his youth, he could now perform a rough approximation of after just a few viewings.
Lu Jingjun, on the other hand, had the advantage of youth and strength. His stamina was abundant, and coupled with his considerable talent, he also progressed at a divine speed.
Within three days, the two had practiced the fist art until it was second nature.
Lu Yun stood before them, watching their earnest expressions. The corner of his mouth curled up slightly, and he said with satisfaction, "Alright, that’s enough for today. Go back and digest what you’ve learned. We’ll train again tomorrow."
Lu Fu and Lu Jingjun answered in unison, "Yes!"
Yun Port City was teeming with people, the streets a constant flow of bodies. In recent days, a tide of humanity pouring in from all directions had left the city guards and municipal government scrambling to keep up.
The train stations and docks were packed, the streets and alleys thronged with shoulder-to-shoulder crowds. Some were families fleeing disaster in the north, while others were individuals from the south, carrying their belongings on their backs as they sought out relatives and friends.
Still others had heard the many rumors about Yun Port City and had made a special journey to see the truth for themselves.
Fortunately, experts from the major martial arts schools had volunteered to help maintain order. For instance, if disciples of the White Cloud Sect were standing guard on a street corner, a Martial Artist from the Gong Family would be posted at the end of the alley.
Many Martial Artists arriving from other regions also courageously volunteered to join the patrol teams.
Thanks to these combined efforts, the vast Yun Port City remained orderly, without the slightest hint of chaos.
Amidst this extraordinary bustle, a group of people marching down a street in the southern district drew particular attention with the yellow banners they carried.
The banners were a brilliant yellow, dazzling in the sunlight. Embroidered upon them were two bold, ostentatious words: "Yellow Heaven."
"The Azure Sky is dead! The Yellow Sky shall prevail!"
The man in the lead bellowed at the top of his lungs. He was dressed in a short yellow tunic, a yellow turban wrapped around his head, and a yellow sash at his waist. Dressed in yellow from head to toe, he looked like a walking candle.
The man waved his arms as he walked, his expression impassioned. "The Yuan Family has retreated in defeat, and our land is fractured! The remnants of the Yin Court are stirring from the ashes, and foreigners exploit our people!"
"Join the Yellow Heaven Empire! Under the leadership of the Tiangong General, the Daxia New Country will be great again!"
"Tiangong!"
The dozen or so people behind him roared in unison, mimicking their leader by raising their banners and waving their arms.
The procession had a certain imposing air as it moved down the street. Passersby turned to look, and some even stopped to stare with curiosity, as if watching some strange new spectacle.
A few people took the pamphlets offered to them, casually flipped through a few pages, and then handed them back.
A few idlers sauntered over, grinning. "This Yellow Heaven Empire of yours... do you provide meals?"
The leader froze, clearly not expecting anyone to ask such a question.
He subconsciously scratched the back of his head, then declared with a serious expression, "We do! The Tiangong General has decreed a world of great harmony, where everyone has food to eat!"
The idlers let out a boisterous laugh. They clearly didn’t take him seriously, simply using the pamphlets as fans to cool themselves as they slowly wandered off.
One of them even looked back and added, "As long as there are meals, that’s all that matters. When I get hungry someday, I’ll come looking for your Yellow Heaven Empire."
This scene left the members of the Yellow Heaven Corps staring at one another in bewilderment. They had traveled far and wide, visiting many places.
In the past, they were treated like madmen. Everywhere they went, they were like rats scurrying across a street—everyone wanted to beat them down.
Guards would drive them away on sight, striking them with rifle butts. The common folk would dodge them, taking wide detours to avoid them. The slightest misstep would earn them a beating with clubs and rifles, with nowhere to even cry foul.
But here in Yun Port City, no local guards came to stop them. The guards in their black and white uniforms just stood across the street, watching them with utterly calm expressions, as if they were observing a troupe of street performers.
The people here didn’t shy away or dodge them. Some even came closer to watch the spectacle, asking all sorts of questions as if they were tourists on a sightseeing trip.
’What the hell... Isn’t this the ideal world the Tiangong General always talked about?’
In their group was a young woman in a yellow turban. She wasn’t tall, but rather small and slender. The yellow headscarf framed a round face.
She seemed tired from all the shouting. She stepped forward, tugged on the leader’s sleeve, and said in a soft voice, "Brother, let’s go to the teahouse for some tea. Everyone’s tired of shouting."
Hearing this, the leader glanced back at his group. The throats of the dozen or so members were practically smoking. A few were already too hoarse to speak, their lips chapped and dry.
Their faces were flushed from the sun, but they stubbornly kept their banners held high.
"Alright, let’s go rest at the teahouse."
The group turned into a teahouse on the side of the street. It wasn’t large, but it had a quaint, antique facade. A couplet was hanging by the door: "Fragrant tea captivates the arriving guest / Joyful laughter makes them all forget the rest."
As soon as they entered, the Shopkeeper came to greet them. He was a portly man in his fifties, dressed in a long silk gown.
He sized up the group in their yellow clothes and turbans without the slightest hint of surprise, simply greeting them with a warm, beaming smile. "Valued guests, will you be having tea or a meal?"
The leader was somewhat surprised by the Shopkeeper’s pleasant demeanor and quietly replied, "Just tea."
The Shopkeeper led the way attentively, chuckling as he walked. "Right this way! Upstairs, please! You folks are from the south, aren’t you? With the Yellow Heaven Corps?"
"I believe I read about you in the newspaper. From Jiangze Province, wasn’t it?"
The leader stopped short. He turned his head to stare at the Shopkeeper. "Shopkeeper, are you interested in joining our Yellow Heaven Empire?"
The Shopkeeper blinked, then burst out laughing, the fat on his face jiggling. "Hahaha, I think I’ll pass on that. But I wish you heroes the best of luck in achieving your goals."
"Besides," he continued, "no matter who we are, we’re all Daxia People. It’s the same here in Yun Port City."
"Our Lord Lu has said that as long as you don’t cause trouble or do anything heinous, it doesn’t matter if you’re the Yellow Heaven Corps or the Lifeless Lotus Sect—you’re welcome to drink tea in peace!"
He paused, then added, "A group from the White Lotus Sect came through just last month."
"They sang on the streets for three days straight until their voices gave out. In the end, I was the one who brought them tea."
The leader suddenly fell silent. He stood there, motionless, as if processing what he’d just heard.
When he finally sat down, the leader looked up at the street scene outside the second-story window.
People came and went on the street below, talking and laughing. Vendors hawked their wares, children ran about, and old folks rested in the shade of the trees.
There were no gunshots, no angry shouts, none of the suffocating oppression that made it hard to breathe.
Just then, the young woman in the yellow turban leaned against the windowsill and pointed downstairs, her voice filled with surprise. "Brother, look!"
A few children were gathered around a guard, giggling and asking for candy.
Watching this scene, the leader suddenly smiled. He remembered the Tiangong General’s words.
A world of great harmony, where everyone has food to eat and lives with dignity. Where everyone can speak and walk freely, without fear and without needing to hide.
Standing now in this unfamiliar city, watching the pedestrians who didn’t shy away and the smiling children, the leader suddenly felt that it was all a bit surreal.
’Alright, it seems the Tiangong General wasn’t wrong after all,’ he thought. ’A place like this really does exist in the world.’
"Brother," the young woman’s voice sounded again, "do you think... wouldn’t it be wonderful if our home was like this, too?"
Her voice was so quiet it was as if she were talking to herself, or perhaps asking a question that could never be answered.
The leader abruptly stood up, his gaze sweeping over his companions who were still resting and drinking their tea. "Let’s go."
The young woman froze, her body snapping upright from where she’d been leaning against the window. Her eyes went wide. "Go where?"
The leader didn’t turn around. He just stared out the window at the bustling street below. "To pledge allegiance to Lord Lu!"
「Meanwhile, a thousand miles away in Jiangze Province...」
The atmosphere inside the Yellow Heaven Empire’s simple palace was fraught with anxiety. It was called a palace, but in reality, it was just a converted old government office.
The only indication that this was the "Imperial Center" was the newly mounted plaque above the door. The three words "Yellow Heaven Hall" were traced in gold and shone quite brightly in the sun.
A large man in a yellow turban burst in frantically. He dropped to his knees with a THUD, his lips trembling as he tried to speak.
"General! Catastrophic news!"
It was, of course, catastrophic news. Not a single one of the subordinates sent north to Yun Port City to recruit followers had returned.
They weren’t captured. They weren’t killed. They had all fucking defected.
Not only had they refused to return, but they were now trying to recruit their own people to join the other side.
Telegram after telegram had come pouring in, all with more or less the same message: "Reporting, General. Yun Port City is wonderful. You should come enjoy the good life, too."
The hall fell silent. The few Yellow Turban Warriors standing on either side looked at each other, but none dared to speak.
The Tiangong General, Huang Jiao, sat on the main seat, a telegram clutched in his hand. He read it once, then read it again.
He didn’t fly into a rage, nor did he slam the table. A smile suddenly broke out on his face, a face deeply lined by the passage of time and hardship.
"How interesting... That Lu Yun... has already done what I have been trying to do."
"And it seems he has done it almost too perfectly. Interesting... very interesting. Send down the order. I’m going north myself."

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