The Empress's No.1 Lackey

Chapter 1286 683: The White-Haired Lady Official Gazes Upon the Divine

On the northern snow plains, the biting wind whipped up coarse snowflakes, striking the hard city walls.

"You've waited a long time."

Upon hearing the familiar voice echoing in her ears, Ji Yue, being a woman, could no longer maintain her precarious stance and collapsed weakly onto Zhao Douan's strong arm.

Tears rolled down from the pure white pupils as she choked up, saying:

"A year has passed. We all thought you wouldn't return."

A year, has it been?

Zhao Douan's eyes revealed a hint of daze; in the "Ascension Scroll," isolated from the world, a year had unknowingly passed during cultivation.

"Tell me about your experiences this past year." Zhao Douan raised his hand, wiping away Ji Yue's tears.

Following this, two emotional subordinates began to recount the information they knew, back and forth.

Including how after Zhao Douan and others disappeared behind the golden gate, how Lang Shiba went to battle and withdrew, how Ji Yue kept watch outside the Heavenly Master Mansion time and again before resolutely heading north.

"How is the war situation? And the Empress... how is she?"

Zhao Douan asked the question closest to his heart.

Lang Shiba's excited expression gradually turned more desolate.

Ji Yue softly explained:

"Not optimistic. After you left, the entire Yu Country's forces have been gradually deployed to the Xiping battlefield, yet a large number of formidable figures have appeared from Western Regions Buddhism. Even though they are at a disadvantage in overall troop strength, their cultivation experts surpass the court's."

Lang Shiba also spoke bitterly:

"When the number of cultivation experts is adequate, ordinary soldiers lose their significance.

Even though the Empress and the many priests of the Heavenly Master Mansion are present, they can only barely hold the enemy at the Xiping battlefield, unable to drive them away.

The worse part is, as Buddhism occupies the Xiping Road longer, the forces from the Western Regions Ancestral Court seem to have invaded Xiping, making those monk soldiers even stronger."

He lowered his head in shame:

"I am useless; on the battlefield, my legs were broken by Da Jing Master, and now I can no longer serve you. As for the recent six months' news, we haven't heard much, only knowing things are getting worse, and the Xiping front line is precariously close to collapse."

Zhao Douan listened silently, not very surprised.

He gazed west, his eyesight seemingly piercing immense distances, softly murmuring:

"Ksitigarbha..."

Upon learning that Xuan Yin is the reincarnation of Ksitigarbha, he understood that the battle of Xiping is no longer something mortal armies can contend with.

And knowing the Empress is still present, the stone in his heart eased, showing a gentle smile:

"Rest assured, I'm back, everything is still in time."

"My lord..." Ji Yue looked at him confusedly and suddenly asked:

"Didn't Heavenly Master Zhang and the others return with you?"

Zhao Douan shook his head, not explaining, but his hand gently touched the weathered forehead of Lang Shiba.

A lotus flower, seeming as though formed by Qingyun, enveloped Lang Shiba; this former northern leader who had become disabled and fallen was astonished to feel a piercing sensation in his long unresponsive legs.

Beneath his trouser legs, withered calves rapidly filled with flesh and blood, his broken Qi Sea healed, and his severed internal meridians reconnected.

In just a few breaths, Lang Shiba discovered, to his shock, that he had returned to peak condition, reentering the realm of martial artists.

"My lord, you..." The two, beyond shocked, looked at Zhao Douan, minds blank.

This level of ability was beyond the reach of mere cultivators, akin to miracles.

"I'll leave first, and we can catch up another day."

Zhao Douan withdrew his hand, smiled faintly, and once more stepped forward, disappearing from the city walls.

Had their physical recovery not been undeniably real, the two might have doubted if what they saw was merely an illusion.

Lang Shiba stood up, attempting to move his body, while Ji Yue seemed to suddenly understand something, turning sharply to look at the snowy horizon of Mubei Forest, thinking excitedly:

My lord... did he succeed...?

In Jubei City, aging soldiers, injured and withdrawn, were astonished to hear the resounding drums of war from the city walls.

Former soldiers gathered within the city, looking up in surprise, one shouting:

"Commander Shiba! How did Commander Shiba stand up?!"

Amidst countless gazes, on the cold walls, beside the banner of red attire, Lang Shiba, tears streaming down his face, laughed joyfully, wildly waving the drumstick.

On this day, the exhilarating sound of war drums reverberated through the city, sweeping away half a year's depression, restoring them to their peak.

...

Above the Capital.

Zhao Douan's figure appeared out of thin air, overlooking the city he was most familiar with.

He chose not to rush immediately to Xiping, instead seeking to first understand the situation.

A year passed, and now the Capital should be in spring; yet abnormally, it appeared still dead as if lingering in winter.

The once bustling streets were eerily desolate due to the shadow of war.

Zhao Douan frowned slightly, taking another step, appearing deep within the Imperial Palace, outside the Yangxin Hall, at an Imperial Study Room.

The palace gardens were also a scene of stillness, with female officials seemingly deliberately dismissed, all guarding outside the hall, leaving the courtyard empty.

Zhao Douan paused silently for a moment, raising his hand to push open the carved doors of the study.

Inside, the furnishings remained unchanged.

Yet behind the desk draped in yellow silk was not the familiar White-clothed Empress, but Mo Zhaorong, wearing an official's robe of the first rank of Six Palaces' female officials, head adorned with a wingless black gauze cap.

In the past, after Prince Jing's death, Mo Chou and the Divine Mechanism Camp led troops to extinguish the remnants of Prince Jing Mansion, after which they never met again.

A year has passed, and Mo Chou has returned to the palace. Yet compared to the proud and indifferent woman he was familiar with, Mo Chou now seemed much thinner and more worn out.