Chapter 11643 — Hard to Say
The Blossom Guardian · Page 2 of 2
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.