Chapter 21: The Name of the Nation – Sui

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The interrogation room door slowly opened, and Qin Jiajia stepped out, letting out a deep sigh as if to expel the heavy and stifling air weighing on her chest.

Behind her, a large glass panel covered half the wall. Two officers equipped with real-time communicators sat behind it, tidying up the items on the table: a voice recorder, a camera, paperwork for records, and several yellow talismans.

Over the past hour, Qin Jiajia had undergone a routine soul inspection to confirm she was free from any manipulation by cultivators. Then, under the supervision of those two officers, she recounted the details of her negotiation with Zhou Qing. The entire process was recorded on video and audio, reviewed by specialists, and submitted up the chain of command.

Through the officers, she learned that all negotiations with ancient cultivators had to be archived and backed up. Should any issues arise, there would be thorough multi-level investigations, with consequences ranging from administrative detention to military tribunals. Given Zhou Qing’s rank and danger, the scope of scrutiny would include all related personnel, even the branch chief.

His concealed strength was terrifying—so formidable that no margin for error was allowed.

Although Zhou Qing didn’t mind his words being relayed, Qin Jiajia still felt a tremor of nervousness at the thought that what she said today might land some people in trouble.

The two officers maintained a strictly professional attitude throughout, neither making things difficult nor pressing too hard, yet when she stepped out of the interrogation room, her legs still felt weak.

The sound of polished shoes hitting the floor came from behind her. Turning, she saw Li Yulan approaching.

“Good work,” Li Yulan said, pointing to several stacked boxed meals beside them. “Want something to eat?”

Her words made Qin Jiajia realize just how hungry she was. After a whole afternoon of turmoil—from the highs and lows with Zhou Qing to the interrogation back at the bureau—her mind had been tightly wound, and now the wave of exhaustion and hunger hit her all at once.

She didn’t hesitate to grab a boxed meal and sat at a table in the corridor to eat. It was during this act that she noticed the trash bin nearby was already filled with many empty meal boxes, suggesting that more people had been working overtime on this mission than she had imagined.

Countless people worked through the night, all waiting for a casual word from him.

“You did well this time.”

As she ate, Li Yulan sat beside her. “We’ve reported Zhou Qing’s requests. If all goes well, approval should come tomorrow. Get ready—when the investigation into those rogue cultivators officially begins, you’ll be involved too.”

Noticing Qin Jiajia’s surprised expression, she explained, “Negotiations with cultivators are long-term tasks. This investigation falls under that category. As a newcomer, these investigations are easier to handle, and you’ll learn a lot along the way.”

Qin Jiajia nodded in agreement; it was indeed a plan that suited her.

It was because of the magic Zhou Qing left on her that the Sanitation Bureau had taken notice, allowing her to rise to an officer’s position. Now, sitting at this table, it was again thanks to one of his words.

She was not one to accept gifts without cause; this “great gift” did not bring her joy but rather a pressure of unworthiness.

Whether to repay him or simply for peace of mind, she wanted to do something in return.

“That’s enough for tonight. After you finish eating, go get some rest,” Li Yulan said before changing the subject. “Before you leave, remember to tidy up your workstation. A VIP might be visiting in a few days, so keep things clean.”

“A VIP?” Qin Jiajia blinked.

“People from the Jiuli Sect. It’s one of the largest and oldest sects in the northwest region and a key ally.”

Li Yulan reminded her, “There’s news they’ll send reinforcements to the bureau soon. Whenever you see cultivators wearing Taoist robes here, greet them. If you don’t know their names, just call them ‘senior’ to avoid trouble.”

The oldest sect? Could it be older than Zhou Qing’s?

Suppressing her wandering thoughts, Qin Jiajia committed the name “Jiuli Sect” to memory, tidied her workstation as instructed, gathered her things, and headed out.

Outside, it was late at night. A specially designated vehicle waited by the roadside, clearly having been there for some time.

“The team leader Li sent me to pick you up,” the officer in the driver’s seat rolled down the window. “You live in the dormitory, right? Get in; I’ll take you back.”

At her acknowledgment, the car door opened and then closed. Qin Jiajia leaned back in the rear seat, watching the fleeting lights outside the window, her thoughts drifting back to the conversation hours earlier.

Zhou Qing had witnessed the Wei and Jin dynasties. That meant his era was at least a thousand years before her own.

Mortal lives were fleeting. A mere few decades could transform a vibrant child into a weary adult. By comparison, cultivators who had lived through centuries or millennia must have endured hardships and refinements far beyond mortal comprehension.

Centuries ago...

Gazing at the night sky beyond the window, she pondered silently.

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In the year 579 AD, the first debate between the immortals and Buddhists since the Wei and Jin dynasties was held at the border of the Southern Chen Dynasty.

Apart from the various immortal sects, the Buddhist order was the other major power within the Peach Blossom Spring. Since Emperor Wu of Southern Liang renounced Daoism for Buddhism in 504 AD and became a temple servant, the south had become fertile ground for Buddhism. Offering oneself to the temples became a tradition among successive southern emperors.

With the Buddhists’ strong promotion, southern emperors lavishly funded vegetarian feasts and the construction of temples and pagodas, causing Buddhist incense to flourish extraordinarily. As poet Li Mu later wrote: “Four hundred and eighty temples in the south, countless pavilions veiled in mist and rain.” Even the immortal sects belonging to the Peach Blossom Spring were forced to migrate northward, illustrating the magnitude of this phenomenon.

Consequently, the Jinmen Temple, the venue for the debate, was particularly splendid—rivaling the imperial palace. The thirteen senior monks from Jinmen who came to the debate wore resplendent robes shimmering with divine radiance, while the representatives from the Jiuli Sect appeared humble and plain, like commoners.

After the formal greetings, the two factions took their seats on opposite sides of the temple hall. Everyone smiled, but beneath each smile lay a hidden blade.

“I have heard that the Jiuli Immortal Alliance recently conquered over a hundred Peach Blossom Spring sects, securing territories east of the Qinling Mountains. Such valor commands our admiration,” said the leader, Abbot Huihai, speaking with sincere respect but carefully omitting that the southern Buddhist order also belonged to the Peach Blossom Spring.

“However, have you considered that the world is as easily lost as it is gained? Without benevolence and righteousness, even momentary prosperity will invite karmic retribution.”

The Jiuli Sect chief’s brow twitched. “What do you mean by that, Abbot?”

“You have slaughtered many on your march east, creating countless karmic debts. You even instructed the Zhou emperor to execute anti-Buddhist acts within the borders—destroying our temples and exterminating our novices. With such brutal methods, even if you pacify the land, how long can you maintain it?”

Huihai recited a Buddhist chant: “Our Buddha is compassionate and guides the world with kindness. We come today to ask the Jiuli Immortal Alliance to lay down the sword and sever their hatred; only then can the world and hearts find peace.”

With a sharp slap on the table, a red-robed elder jumped to his feet.

“Nonsense!” he roared. “The Peach Blossom Spring has poisoned the world for a century, harming countless lives. Our sect alone has suffered thousands in its wake. And now you come here to twist the facts? Such hypocrisy from the Buddhist order...”

His words were abruptly cut off as a dazzling light flared before him, freezing his expression into stiffness.

Abbot Huihai stepped forward, golden light swirling around him until, within breaths, he transformed into a radiant golden figure. Under the halo, everyone’s vision blurred; it was as if the man had become a towering Buddha apparition, inspiring a sensation of being looked down upon.

“Faith Manifestation!” some higher-level Jiuli members recognized the phenomenon, their faces turning grim.

Although most Central Plains immortal sects relied on mortal offerings, they only practiced cultivation and had not formed unified faiths.

They had assumed the Buddhists were similar, teaching within small circles. But this abbot’s golden manifestation proved that, in the south and beyond the Central Plains, Buddhism had reached the realm of faith, rising from sect to religion!

Where faith exists, so does the Great Way; the supreme presence is the Heavenly Dao. In this regard, the Buddhist order had surpassed the Central Plains immortal sects, which explained their century-long dominance in the south.

Under the golden halo, the red-robed elder’s face went vacant; golden light flickered in his eyes as endless Buddhist chants flooded his soul, washing away all thoughts and desires. When the light receded, he awoke as if from a dream, slumping at the table gasping for breath.

Witnessing this, the Jiuli members’ faces turned ashen. The abbot spoke of compassion but openly displayed his faith manifestation—a clear show of force.

Some subtly laid hands on their weapons, but no one dared to act first.

Since the ancient gods’ era, no faith had emerged in the Central Plains for thousands of years. No one knew the extent of power granted by this Buddhist faith, so they remained on high alert.

Perhaps sensing the shift, Huihai smiled faintly and spoke again.

“Of course, I understand that most of the Jiuli understand righteousness deeply but have been forced by circumstances to adopt extreme methods and tolerate extremists. Yet the world will be set right today, and past sins can be severed...”

As he spoke, his gaze shifted toward a man sitting at the far corner in dark robes.

“Zhou Wuqing, what say you, benefactor?”

In an instant, the atmosphere plummeted.

Among the many key Jiuli figures present, the abbot ignored the sect chief and elders, instead singling out Zhou Wuqing, a guest disciple—clearly premeditated.

“I have heard that benefactor Zhou, as a Jiuli guest, has slain countless lives and committed grave offenses,” Huihai said, hands clasped and voice soft. “The sea of suffering is boundless, but repentance is the shore. Should benefactor Zhou wish to repent here, our Buddha can guide you, helping you break free from karmic bonds. Thus, the resentment between Jiuli and Buddhism can be resolved, with the immortals in the north and Buddhists in the south sharing the Central Plains harmoniously. Would that not be perfect?”

The words echoed across the hall. All present turned to Zhou Wuqing.

Since joining the sect over a decade ago, Zhou Wuqing’s reputation within Jiuli had been sharply divided. Supporters praised his bravery and achievements; detractors condemned him as arrogant and brutal, a future calamity.

For years, debates raged, sometimes even reaching the elders’ hall. Now, under this pressure, everyone silently held their breath.

This was a test—targeting the guest disciple to quell factional tensions and offer Jiuli a way out: concede, and they fall into Buddhism’s hands; resist, and bloodshed ensues.

“When will vendettas end? Holding onto past karma means being trapped in the mortal world, doomed to endless reincarnation. Why suffer so?”

Huihai continued persuasively, his words hauntingly powerful: “In my view, benefactor Zhou should cut off greed, anger, and ignorance; forgive all beings; and sever hatred. This benefits both others and oneself infinitely.”

Suddenly, the Jiuli sect chief, seated in the main seat, rose sharply, raising one hand with fingers curled—a command to attack.

Before the gesture was completed, Zhou Wuqing spoke first.

“So, you mean that no matter the past grievances, all hatred and karmic ties should be forgiven?”

“Exactly,” the abbot smiled enlightenedly. “Benefactor Zhou understands well. Then we shall henceforth—”

A powerful force struck the abbot’s chest, shaking his golden form violently. He was flung dozens of paces away, crashing into the temple with a thunderous roar that shook the earth.

“Impudent!!!”

The monks erupted in anger, slamming tables and shouting. Before them, Zhou Wuqing stood firm, his robe billowing in the fierce wind.

“According to your words,” he said, pointing to the dust-shrouded temple, “I now ask all Buddhists here to forgive me.”

Suddenly, a brilliant Buddha light blazed. The thirteen Buddha statues rose, their wrathful golden gazes like a storm. Behind them, the Jiuli sect members sprang to their feet, weapons materializing in flashes of spiritual light, forming a deadly formation.

“Zhou Wuqing, you shall pay with your life!”

A deadly Buddhist chant rang out, golden lotuses blossomed, blotting out the sky. In moments, a giant swastika emblem emerged from the ground, completing a killing formation infused with Buddha’s power.

The next instant, flames erupted, engulfing everything.

“It seems your skills are lacking; you cannot grasp the profundity of Buddha’s law...” Zhou Wuqing shook his head, raised his hand, and summoned a long sword etched with spiritual runes.

“In that case, I will sever this karmic bond for you!”

...

[Spring, 579 AD: The Buddhist-Daoist debate breaks down; guest disciple Zhou Wuqing kills thirteen on the debate platform, burns Jinmen Temple; Buddha statues intervene but are slain by Jiuli members.]

[In the following years, the Immortal Alliance takes control of the south, launching 267 battles over ten years, exterminating over 180 remnants of the Peach Blossom Spring; no Buddhist temples remain within a thousand miles.]

[In 581 AD, the sect receives a royal decree from the Zhou dynasty, reporting that the young emperor Yuwen Chan has ascended, causing turmoil at court. After elders’ consultation, they authorize Duke Yang Jian of Sui to act as mortal emperor.]

[In 588 AD, Emperor Yang Jian orders his son Yang Guang to lead troops south; by the next year, Jiankang falls and the Chen dynasty ends.]

[Since then, the Central Plains are reunified; all immortal sects fall under the Immortal Alliance, leaving only one mortal nation standing.]

[The nation is called—Sui.]

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