Chapter 11643 — Hard to Say

This also explained why even a quasi-god of Yi Liuchao's caliber would suddenly appear in the Inner Royal Court.

Wei Zhao looked Hou Chuang up and down. "You're still a long way from the divine realm, aren't you?"

An early-stage Heaven Rank Venerable was not merely a hundred thousand li removed from a divine-tier powerhouse—the gulf between them was far wider than the gulf between an ordinary Qi Refining expert and a Heaven Rank Venerable.

Hou Chuang said frankly, "Advancing to the divine realm is a prospect reserved for quasi-gods—at the very least, half-gods. A fellow of my level can at best scheme to borrow momentum and break through one or two minor realms. That would already content me."

Wei Zhao asked, "And you think you can borrow that momentum from the Son of Heaven of Zhou?"

"The hope isn't great, but there's still a sliver of a chance."

Hou Chuang smiled bitterly. "To be honest, I'd love to put my chips on one of the real favorites, but I don't have the ability. With the little I've got, I can at most warm up a cold bet like the Son of Heaven of Zhou."

Wei Zhao followed up, "Who are the real favorites?"

Hou Chuang shook his head. "I don't know."

Seeing everyone staring at him, Hou Chuang hurried to explain, "I truly don't know. I only know that in the great upheaval to come, some are the front wave, and some are the back wave."

"The likes of the Seven Great Princely Estates—those who already occupy the stage at this stage—are basically all front waves."

"By past experience, the front wave can almost never laugh last. The real favorites are bound to be among the back waves who haven't truly surfaced yet."

"And that's beyond what a man of my level can see."

"The only thing I can do is scavenge a leftover among the front waves. So long as the man I bet on can last to the midpoint, I've made my profit."

"As for the flood that follows—that's no concern of mine."

At this, everyone present understood.

They had heard the words "great upheaval" many times, but only today did they finally have a relatively clear notion of it.

Wei Zhao pointed at himself. "By your account, I'm a front wave too."

Hou Chuang nodded silently.

In his heart he thought: You're far more than a front wave. The way things stand, you've already replaced the Seven Great Princely Estates as the most conspicuous front-wave leader of them all.

Wei Zhao saw right through him and said with amusement, "The more frantically a front wave leaps, the faster it's bound to die. By normal logic, shouldn't you be avoiding me like the plague?"

At a time like this, rushing over to join hands—by any measure, it ran counter to common sense.

But Hou Chuang said, "To be honest, sir, you're the least likely of the front waves to laugh last. But barring accidents, you still stand a chance of living past the midpoint—and a very good one."

The implication was plain: his own game was already settled on cashing out at the midpoint; so long as Wei Zhao could live to the midpoint, then in his eyes Wei Zhao was a blue-chip stock.

Wei Zhao laughed. "Then I suppose I should thank you."

Hou Chuang said with a bitter look on his face, "Forgive me, sir. I was merely speaking the truth."

Wei Zhao nodded. "Don't be nervous. I like that you speak the truth. Only, since you were scheming to use me, it's hardly unreasonable for me to use you in turn, is it?"

Hou Chuang instinctively glanced at Li Qinghe behind him, then quickly nodded with the appropriate tact. "Not unreasonable at all, not at all."

Wei Zhao said, "Then it's hardly unreasonable for me to brand your primordial spirit, is it?"

"..."

Hou Chuang's face turned black.

He had come today precisely to join forces with Wei Zhao; the only question had been who would lead and who would follow. In the present circumstances, he had already resigned himself to playing second fiddle—at worst it was a bit of a blow to his pride.

But to be branded on the primordial spirit—that was an entirely different matter.

Wei Zhao, ever considerate, said, "If you're unwilling, I won't force you. Fatty, talk some sense into Grand Preceptor Hou for me."

Seeing Li Qinghe crack his knuckles and amble over, Hou Chuang panicked instantly and nodded in frantic agreement. "No need, no need—I'll agree."

"A straightforward man."

Wei Zhao promptly and without the slightest courtesy branded his primordial spirit.

Hou Chuang's face was fairly crumpled into a bitter gourd.

Without the primordial brand, they could still have called it mutual exploitation; even if he gained little advantage, he would at least have had a chance to withdraw unscathed.

But now that the brand was planted, even if he might later find a way to break it, for this stretch of time at least, he and Wei Zhao did not stand on equal footing.

Even so, deep in his heart, Hou Chuang still harbored a certain hope.

He was waiting.

Do not forget—the heavenly retribution drawn down by the Edict of Self-Condemnation had not vanished. He had originally intended to use it as a bargaining chip to coerce Wei Zhao, to force him into making concessions.

But now Wei Zhao had branded his primordial spirit and yet had not brought the matter up at all, so naturally he would not rush to solve it for him.

He would be only too glad to see Wei Zhao come to grief.

If a wave of heavenly retribution struck and Wei Zhao could not withstand it and simply dropped dead on the spot, the primordial brand would dissolve of itself—that would be even more welcome than he could wish.

Of course, if Wei Zhao were to speak up at this moment, there would be nothing he could do.

Circumstances were stronger than men; he had no foundation now to stand and face Wei Zhao head-on.

The good news was that Wei Zhao and the others seemed to have forgotten the matter entirely—not a single one of them brought it up.

Hou Chuang kept up a pretense of amiability with the group while secretly praying.

In the end, Wei Zhao let the matter drop altogether. After a few brief instructions, he simply sent the man back.

Back at the Son of Heaven's palace.

Hou Chuang sneered inwardly. "You want me to investigate those old monsters hiding in the Son of Heaven's palace? And hand you a list of possible rising talents? Heh. A fine idea on paper—but I'd worry more about whether you can survive this calamity yourself."

Yet the moment he set eyes on the Zhou Son of Heaven again, his expression changed abruptly.

Black qi shrouded his crown!

The Zhou Son of Heaven looked utterly spent. "Where has the Grand Preceptor gone? He set me searching high and low."

Then, all at once, he grew excited again. "Grand Preceptor, tell me—with this wave of heavenly retribution descending, what do you suppose will become of Wei Zhao?"

Hou Chuang studied the pitch-black seal between his brows and opened his mouth, then closed it again.

By now, the Son of Heaven's unique fortune—all of it—had turned black as one, verging on a Son of Heaven's ill fortune!

Upon whose head the next wave of heavenly retribution would fall was plain enough to guess.

But the question was, why?

The terror of heavenly retribution lay precisely in this: Heaven stands sovereign on high, and no so-called expert can bend it to his will. Not Wei Zhao, a mid-Earth-Rank Venerable—even a quasi-god or a god-level powerhouse would find it all but impossible.

The reason Hou Chuang was confident he could steer heavenly retribution was that this whole Edict of Self-Blame was his doing from the shadows. He had dug the pit for the Zhou Son of Heaven with his own hands, and so he was sure he could bury him in it.

Yet now he had plainly done nothing at all—so how had heavenly retribution come down upon the Zhou Son of Heaven's head?

This made no sense.

Hou Chuang looked at the Zhou Son of Heaven, opened his mouth, and said nothing.