Tang Dynasty: Inherit the Evil Sword Immortal and destroy gods and demons with one thought!
Chapter 8 - Li Qiye - “Uncle Yuanba, Long Time No See!”

Chapter 8: Li Qiye – “Uncle Yuanba, Long Time No See!”

In Hui Province, the battle between Shu Mountain and the Yellow-Browed Demon King reached its climax. Xu Changqing and the Demon King vanished into the black clouds, their clash obscured. Yet, the surging sword and demonic auras hinted at the ferocity above.

Below, Li Tai arrived with fifty thousand Earthly Fiend troops. “Friends of Shu Mountain, I, Li Tai, lend you my strength!” Drawing his Water Cloud Sword, he transformed into a dragon and dived into the fray. In mere breaths, he slew over a hundred demon soldiers.

The invigorated Shu Mountain disciples shouted, “The imperial court has come!”

“It’s the Star of Water Virtue!”

“Comrades, strike! Slay demons!”

Li Tai’s arrival signalled imperial support, a gesture of profound significance. This scene was witnessed not only by Shu Mountain but also by distant factions observing through their own means. In the Mysterious Mechanism Pavilion, Li Shimin, viewing the battle via a star chart, beamed with pride at his son’s valour. Fang Xuanling, the Star of Right Assistance, stroked his beard, chuckling. “Your Majesty, the Star of Water Virtue blends courage with wisdom—a pillar of our Great Tang!”

“Tai was born under a remarkable star, the Celestial Masters said…” Li Shimin began, smiling, but his words faltered. A frail figure flashed in his mind—the Star of Fire Virtue, born with a celestial force unmatched in history, likened to the Fire Virtue Star Lord. Even Li Tai’s brilliance paled in comparison. But alas… Li Shimin’s smile faded, and he refocused on the star chart.

The battle intensified. With Li Tai’s aid, Shu Mountain gained the upper hand, driving back the demon horde. But then, a dull boom echoed from the sky. A bloodied white figure plummeted from the clouds, trailing crimson. “Senior Brother!” Shu Mountain disciples cried, their eyes splitting with grief. It was Xu Changqing.

The onlookers’ hearts sank. Xu Changqing’s defeat meant the Yellow-Browed Demon King’s victory. The clouds parted, revealing the Demon King and four demon generals. He cackled, “One more incense stick, and the Demon Emperor will be reborn! Mortals, your struggles are futile!”

Despair gripped the crowd. If Shu Mountain’s strongest disciple had fallen, who could stop the Demon Emperor? Silence fell over Shu Mountain and the watching factions, the world seeming to freeze. Only the pulsations of the Tenfold Demonic Calamity Array reminded them time marched on, indifferent to their plight. “Falling Moon, Sinking Stars!”

A thunderous roar shattered the silence from the horizon. The Yellow-Browed Demon King froze, turning to look. Two golden hammers, wreathed in flame like meteors, hurtled through the gloom. The Demon King gritted his steel teeth, unleashing a drill-like gust from his maw. Boom! The collision of wind and hammers erupted in a deafening blast. The Demon King staggered back a thousand meters, steadying himself. Before him stood a lean man, his face like forged bronze, gripping the Thunder Drum Urn Hammers, radiant as twin suns.

Li Tai gasped, “Uncle?” Others recognised him—Li Yuanba, the Prince of Yidu! Shu Mountain disciples marvelled; his hammer strike was peerless. Though cultivators often disdained secular figures, decades ago, Shu Mountain’s leader, passing through Chang’an, had praised Li Yuanba’s immortal potential, offering to take him as a disciple—a rare honour shared only with Xu Changqing. Bound by his Dou Wood Xie Constellation to serve the imperial court, Li Yuanba declined. Factions watching remotely were awestruck. Li Yuanba, a prodigy rivalling the Sui’s Yuwen Chengdu, had bested him, securing the Tang’s rise. He was a divine general of unmatched might.

Within the Demon-Sealing Tower, Li Qiye sat upon an imperial throne, eyes closed in meditation. Suddenly, he sensed something and snapped his eyes open. His dark, fathomless gaze pierced the array, landing on the figure wielding the Thunder Drum Urn Hammers in Hui Province’s sky. “He is…” Li Qiye murmured, a ripple disturbing his usually impassive eyes. Memories long buried surfaced—events so distant he thought them forgotten.

Years ago, a frail boy, shackled in cold chains, was shoved into a prison cart in the depths of winter. They said he was bound for the Demon-Sealing Tower, where his “omen” would be sealed forever, ensuring the Great Tang’s eternal prosperity. Young Li Qiye knew nothing of the tower, only the malice in the eyes around him—cold, hateful, repulsed. He understood the tower was a place of darkness and despair.

He hadn’t understood why, innocent as he was, he faced such a fate. It was June when he left, yet snow fell. The Prince of Qin’s mansion turned out to “bid him farewell.” Amid the crowd, a gaunt man knelt, banging his head on the ground, begging for his stay. It was his uncle, Li Yuanba, also confined for his own transgressions.

The crowd sneered, “What’s this fool raving about now?” Ignoring his pleas, they chained Li Yuanba again. From that day, Li Qiye never saw him—or any living soul—after entering the Demon-Sealing Tower. Li Qiye exhaled, the melancholy in his eyes giving way to warmth. “Uncle, it’s been years. Are you well?”

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