Campione! - Volume 18 - Chapter 9.1

Chapter 9 - A Gathering of Godslayers in the Fog Capital 

Part 1 

A gust of wind was blowing across the vast wilderness.  

Totally dry. Whether the atmosphere or the land, there was no humidity at all.  

Blown by the dry and powerful wind, yellow sand and soil was swept continually into the sky. As far as the eye could see, it was a land of endless wilderness and rocky hills.  

Be that as it may, it was merely a sight afforded to mortal eyes.  

For Luo Cuilian, who was capable of using clairvoyance as naturally as breathing, even the impoverished villages a hundred miles away were within sight.  

It was currently near the end of winter. Although spring was arriving in the southern lands of the Qing Empire, the wind here was still cold and harsh.  

After all, her current location was higher than the many tall mountains in the Qing Empire—even higher than their peaks—the land of Tibet.  

"To think you would choose this wilderness for the unique moment of your passing..."  

Luo Cuilian spoke to her old friend.  

"King of the Iron Wheel, this is truly your style indeed."  

"Humans are ultimately born as solitary beings."  

The old man replied hoarsely.  

"As such, a time of passing in solitude is sufficient... One must ultimately return to the long journey of reincarnation cycle."  

The old man was sitting on a rock, wearing a yellow monk's habit.  

The habit, resembling tattered rags, was proof of a life as a virtuous priest.  

Emaciated to the extreme, his body was clad in nothing but this garment.  

He was not even wearing straw sandals. His skin was as yellow and dry as the desolate landscape while there was so little flesh remaining on his face that it resembled a skull.  

Practically skin and bones, the old man was reaching the end of his life, quietly waiting for death's arrival.  

A renowned monk born in this land of Tibet, he was also a martial arts master.  

There was almost no one in the mortal realm who could surpass his divine skills. Naturally, the Ruler of the Martial Realm, Luo Cuilian, was the lone exception.  

"Your Eminence. Looking back, fate directed our paths to cross in various ways both favorable and unfavorable."  

"Indeed you are correct. I am the leader of the orthodox faction in the Chinese martial realm while you ruled over the Western Region's martial artists—"  

Recalling various commotions in the past, Luo Cuilian murmured:  

"Our fists crossed on several occasions, while other times, we fought as comrades."  

"Hahahaha, this humble monk's martial arts could hardly compare to yours."  

Luo Cuilian was currently the leader of the Holy Cult of the Five Mountains in addition to standing at the pinnacle of the Chinese martial realm.  

However, she used to be just the leader of a single school of martial arts.  

Although the female-only Flying Phoenix School under her command was an orthodox and prestigious establishment, it was definitely not mainstream in the martial arts community.  

Nevertheless, Luo Cuilian wielded peerless martial prowess and influence.  

More importantly, she had usurped multiple "authorities" from gods—A trump card that no amount of training or miraculous skills could match. Before they knew it, the heroes and outlaws of the martial realm came to regard Luo Cuilian as the supreme master, pledging their undying loyalty to the one and only "king."  

That had taken place ten-odd years earlier.  

Recalling that was when she had last seen the King of the Iron Wheel, Luo Cuilian nodded.  

"Yes, I came precisely for the sake of this mysterious destiny. I left the convent at Brunei in response to the letter that expressed your wish for a final meeting before drawing your last breath."  

Luo Cuilian recounted indifferently but she was definitely not dressed for travel.  

Instead, she was wearing loose and comfortable Han clothing, no different from everyday attire. Given her mastery over Daoist arts, even a long-distance journey from a remote island in the Qing Empire's southern sea to Tibet would be no different from "a stroll to a neighboring village."  

"Then upon this mysterious destiny... May this humble monk voice request a wish?"  

"Of me?"  

"It is a task impossible to accomplish by anyone but Your Eminence."  

"Please state your request. It is known far and wide that the King of the Iron Wheel, hailing from the Western Region's martial realm, never speaks in vain. I know this all too well."  

After hearing what the old monk said, Luo Cuilian immediately agreed.  

Had these words come from a subordinate in the Holy Cult, she would surely have denounced him for being impudent and proceeded to conjure magical wind from a weak breath to blow him away to the far side of the sky.  

Hence, the King of the Iron Wheel pressed his palms together and spoke sincerely.  

"Much appreciated. Actually, it is a matter regarding westerners... The British."  

"So their reach has extended beyond China's territory, even to Tibet."  

Luo Cuilian frowned slightly.  

The Qing Dynasty had enjoyed prosperity during the rule of its sixth emperor, the enlightened monarch, Qianlong. Luo Cuilian's birth had taken place towards the end of his reign.  

Since then, sixty-odd years had elapsed.  

Luo Cuilian's appearance had not changed at all from her time as a maiden in the flower of youth. However, the Qing Empire had fallen into turmoil, going into steep decline as though rolling down a mountain.  

Westerners, the British Empire in particular, were precisely the culprits.  

To eliminate the opium smuggled in from that country, the Qing Empire had shut down trade.  

However, this led to a war against the British, ending in defeat. Trade was reopened. Consequently, opium addicts littered the streets of the Qing Empire.  

Ten-odd years passed after that, the Qing Empire declined more and more.  

It was no longer capable of ruling over its vast territories. Finally, the rebellion of the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom broke out in the south.  

Currently, the Qing Empire—rather, the land of China—was in a period of chaos.  

Still, nevertheless, Luo Cuilian would not entertain plebeian and short-sighted thoughts along the lines of "taking revenge against the British." She had not the slightest desire of that.  

"I am the one who stands at the pinnacle of the martial realm and the Holy Cult. I have no desire to intervene in worldly matters such as the state's downfall."  

Precisely because she wielded absolute authority, that was why she could speak so indifferently.  

"If that turns out to be the nature of your request, I am afraid your precious dying wish is in vain. You ought to understand that clearly, I suppose?"  

"Certainly. It would be unthinkable for this humble monk to act in such insolence towards the peerless Cult Master Luo."  

A wry smile surfaced on the emaciated face of the King of the Iron Wheel as he quietly continued:  

"What this humble monk requests of Your Eminence... is to recover a stolen divine treasure."  

"Divine treasure?"  

Rejecting the worldly and the mundane, Luo Cuilian had chosen to live in seclusion on a remote island in the South China Sea.  

At present, she had left that place to travel to a wilderness in the distant Tibetan plateau.  

Furthermore, her story was about to begin in a foreign land.