Quickly conquer the martial arts world, and let your fists dominate the heavens!

Chapter 320 If I say you have it, then you have it.

The night was as dark as ink, completely enveloping the imperial city.

The forbidden area of ​​the Ming Dynasty palace covered a vast area, with towering and majestic palace walls. The glazed tiles shimmered under the moonlight, and the palace lanterns on both sides of the palace road flickered on and off.

The Wanli Emperor rarely attended court, spending most of his time hidden deep within the inner palace, neglecting state affairs.

Now that he is old and frail, his health is even worse, and he has been obsessed with elixirs to prolong his life.

He's almost following in his grandfather's footsteps.

Chen Zhan held the Eastern Depot token but did not use it. He simply concealed his own blood and qi and the internal energy he had just cultivated. His figure was like a ghost blending into the night, quickly moving along the shadows of the palace wall.

Every few feet along the palace road, a squad of imperial guards patrolled, their footsteps in perfect unison. Their eyes swept warily over every corner, yet none of them noticed the dark shadows flitting across the rooftops above.

Occasionally, one might encounter a guard with a sword at the palace gate. The aura of the Innate Realm emanating from them is faint, but compared to the Innate Realm masters in the martial arts world, the inner strength of these palace masters is much purer, clearly indicating that the imperial court has invested resources to carefully cultivate them.

However, these newly-entered experts of the Imperial Palace could not detect him. Chen Zhan could walk by slightly turning his body and using the shadows of the pillars and palace lanterns.

Along the way, he sensed the auras of three people at the Innate Realm.

Not sensing any Transcendent Realm experts, Chen Zhan was unsure if the royal family had any more Transcendent Realm masters, given their centuries-old heritage.

But it's clear that there's no one whose martial arts skills are superior to Wang An's.

Chen Zhan moved with incredible speed and without making a sound, traversing layers of palaces and avoiding countless visible and hidden sentries.

In less than half an incense stick's time, he had already passed through the heavy guards of the front palace and sneaked into the inner palace.

The lights in the inner palace were dimmer than those in the other halls.

Once inside the palace, Chen Zhan would have to find someone himself. He could try to find a eunuch, using threats and bribes, but if he encountered a assassin, it would be troublesome.

He had not yet considered fighting a large-scale Imperial Guard.

Chen Zhan's figure was elusive; his toes barely touched the roof tiles of the palace eaves before he slid into the corridor like a formless ghost.

As Chen Zhan passed each palace, he would pause slightly, opening all five senses to perceive the sounds of breathing and heartbeats within.

Men's and women's breathing is vastly different; women's breath is delicate and soft, while men's breath is deep and resonant.

Not to mention the old emperor, who was terminally ill and whose breathing was even more pronounced.

He swept past nine palaces in succession, the only sounds inside being the delicate breathing of concubines and palace maids or the high-pitched breaths of eunuchs, but he still couldn't find his target.

It wasn't until he reached the tenth palace that the faint scents inside made his eyes flicker.

There were four male auras in the hall. Two of them were strong and powerful, and their breathing carried the steady rhythm of martial artists, clearly indicating that they were personal guards.

An aged yet even aura emanated from him, his breathing calm and even; it must have been the imperial physician standing guard by his side.

The last one was chaotic and disorderly, without rhythm or pattern, heavy yet urgent. Each inhalation seemed to exhaust all strength, while the exhalation was weak and feeble, just like the ailing old emperor.

Without further hesitation, Chen Zhan transformed into a faint shadow and slid in through the crack in the palace door.

The guards standing on either side of the bed in the hall felt a sudden, inexplicable chill. Just as they were about to raise their hands to draw their swords and raise their voices to warn the guards, Chen Zhan's hands had already pressed down on their necks with lightning speed.

The innate internal energy contained within his fingertips precisely invaded the acupoints on the necks of the two, instantly blocking their meridians and vital energy.

The two felt a numbness in their necks, and all their strength receded like a receding tide. They couldn't even utter a sound, and stood frozen in place, only their eyes able to move, staring in horror at the figure that had suddenly appeared before them.

The whole process took only a moment. The imperial physicians in the palace were still half asleep, half awake, by the dragon bed.

Chen Zhan used the same method to knock the old imperial physician unconscious.

Only the old emperor, breathing heavily, remained.

This Wanli Emperor was already in the twilight of his life, and his reputation has been subject to mixed reviews by later generations.

He was a wise ruler in the first half of his life, and with the assistance of Zhang Juzheng, he implemented reforms, including simplifying the tax system, rectifying officialdom, and developing water conservancy, which led to significant improvements in the economy and people's livelihood in the Ming Dynasty, a period known as the "Wanli Restoration".

Perhaps due to being suppressed by Zhang Juzheng for too long, his personality changed drastically in the latter half of his life. Although the "Three Great Campaigns" he led in the middle and later period cost a huge amount of money, he successfully repelled the Japanese invasion, quelled internal rebellions, and temporarily stabilized the territory of the Ming Dynasty.

His absence from government affairs for nearly 30 years afterwards led to a standstill in the appointment and removal of officials, a backlog of memorials, and internal strife within the bureaucracy.

The Ming Dynasty also began to decline in the late Wanli period. It forcibly held on for more than 20 years before the Manchus seized the opportunity to usurp the country.

Chen Zhan hesitated for a moment. He didn't care about changing history, nor did he have any objection to the old emperor in front of him. There were countless examples of emperors becoming incompetent in old age during feudal dynasties.

And most importantly, this history is no longer normal history; it has been completely distorted.

He shot out silver needles, piercing several acupoints on the old emperor.

Zhu Yijun, who was fast asleep on the bed, suddenly felt a slight, almost imperceptible tingling pain in several acupoints all over his body. The pain was not intense, but it carried a strange, stagnant force that drilled into his brain along his meridians. He tried to struggle to open his eyes, but his eyelids felt as heavy as a thousand pounds. Instead of waking up, he was pulled into an even deeper sleep.

Chen Zhan did not stop. With a flick of his fingertips, several more silver needles were precisely inserted into the acupoints on the top of the old emperor's head and chest. The needles were wrapped with innate internal energy, which quietly stimulated his disordered mind.

This Wanli Emperor spent half his life consumed by regret and guilt.

In his early years, he was suffocated by Zhang Juzheng. The figure of that iron-fisted chief minister was the deepest shadow of his youth. So much so that after Zhang Juzheng's death, he did not hesitate to order the coffin to be opened, the corpse to be whipped, and the tendons and skin to be peeled off, in order to release the pent-up emotions of many years.

Later, in order to consolidate imperial power, he personally established the ironclad case of the Qi Family Army's rebellion and slaughtered the iron army that had once protected the Ming Dynasty's coastal borders.

In the dead of night, he was also awakened by the wails of thousands of loyal souls, and his heart was filled with guilt.

However, they were able to suppress it forcibly under Wang An's protection before.

Now that Wang An is dead, the promises of extended life and medical treatment have vanished, and his attempt to regain his life and work hard to improve himself has also lost its chance.

He couldn't sleep at night. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the tragic scene of the Ming Dynasty's defeat on the border, the menacing fangs of the surrounding countries, and the endless infighting in the court. Whenever he thought of these things, he felt a chill run down his spine, as if he had fallen into an ice cave.

At this moment, under the dual stimulation of Chen Zhan's silver needles and internal energy, his mind completely fell into a deeper illusion.

First, cold sweat trickled down his forehead, soaking his pillowcase. His already disordered breathing became even more rapid, and soft murmurs escaped his throat.

In the hallucination, Zhang Juzheng, dressed in an official robe and with a stern face, walked slowly towards him.

Immediately afterwards, the soldiers of Qi Jiguang's army were covered in blood, their armor still damp with blood, and thousands of grief-stricken eyes stared intently at him.

And the generals who died on the battlefield in recent years, or who were unjustly killed because of his negligence in governance, emerged from the shadows with their faces ashen, shouting, "The Ming Dynasty has been destroyed by His Majesty's hands."

Zhu Yijun's body began to tremble uncontrollably, his hands and feet flailing wildly as if trying to push something away, and he hoarsely shouted:

"Don't come any closer! Don't come any closer!"

"I was wrong! I was wrong, isn't that enough?"

"Otomo, save me!"

But the figures in his hallucinations gathered more and more, trapping him in the center. The suffocating fear almost crushed his broken mind.

Chen Zhan stood before the bed, calmly watching everything unfold. The techniques of using silver needles to control acupoints and disrupting the mind with internal force were ones he had learned from the Eastern Depot's classic texts.

The Eastern Depot would use this tactic to interrogate those with weak wills.

The person who created this acupuncture technique would never have imagined that it would be used on the emperor.

Seeing the old emperor trembling like a leaf and his face as pale as paper, Chen Zhan knew that time was running out. If he delayed any longer, his broken mind would probably collapse completely, and he would not even have the chance to find out the whereabouts of the relic.

Chen Zhan stopped observing, reached out his hand, and precisely placed his fingertip on the Yintang acupoint between Zhu Yijun's eyebrows.

A wisp of clear, innate internal energy slowly flowed in, like a clear spring flowing through a murky swamp, instantly dispelling the nightmare fog that had been clinging to his mind.

The murderous figures receded like a tide, and the suffocating fear dissipated along with them.

Zhu Yijun's trembling gradually subsided, but his breathing remained heavy, and his consciousness was still caught between sleep and wakefulness.

Chen Zhan then circulated his inner energy, making his voice hollow and ethereal, as if it were falling from the heavens, carrying a touch of otherworldly charm, directly penetrating the old emperor's sea of ​​consciousness: "Zhu Yijun, your crimes are heinous, and the foundation of the Ming Dynasty for hundreds of years is likely to be destroyed in your hands."

In the hazy dream, the voice, like the celestial music of dawn, shattered the lingering nightmare.

Zhu Yijun's chaotic consciousness jolted violently, all the murderous figures froze, and the surrounding aura of fear instantly dissipated.

He was already obsessed with Taoist magic and immortals, and in his later years he sought out alchemists everywhere in search of longevity. When he heard this ethereal voice, he thought it was his ancestors manifesting and immortals descending to earth. He struggled to open his cloudy eyes a crack, trying to lift his head, and cried out urgently, "Please, Great Immortal, save me! Please, Great Immortal, save me!"

His voice was hoarse and cracked, completely devoid of the majesty of an emperor.

Chen Zhan stood before the bed, a faint smile playing on his lips. His voice, still ethereal and imbued with inner strength, said, "Saving you is not difficult. What is difficult is making amends for the mistakes you have made, and saving this crumbling Ming Dynasty."

Zhu Yijun, as if grasping at a straw, squeezed out a tearful reply: "Great Immortal! I am willing to repent! I am willing to make amends for all my mistakes! I only beg the Great Immortal to protect the Ming Dynasty and ensure that my Zhu family's foundation is not destroyed!"

Chen Zhan saw that Zhu Yijun was completely immersed in the obsession with "the descent of immortals," and no longer had any of the suspicion and vigilance of an emperor.

He then stopped beating around the bush and spoke in that ethereal, otherworldly voice: "If you want to preserve the Ming Dynasty, you must first make amends for all the mistakes you have made, then curb your negligence in governance, abandon your unrealistic fantasies of immortality, and resume your duties as regent and work diligently to govern. Only then will there be a glimmer of hope."

Zhu Yijun's eyes were tightly closed, cold sweat still clung to his cheeks, his brows were furrowed, and his breathing remained weak. He murmured to himself, his voice filled with despair and helplessness:
"But with my frail body, my life force waning, how can I possibly have the chance to strive for improvement and make amends for those mistakes..."

He had been bedridden for years, with no cure from medicine, and had long since given up hope for his health. If it weren't for Wang An's promise to extend his life with relics, he probably would have given up the will to live long ago.

Now that Wang An is dead, and his lifespan has been wasted, he feels that he is only a day away from returning to heaven. Even if he has the will to make amends, he has no strength left.

Upon hearing this, the "Great Immortal" that Chen Zhan had transformed into smiled faintly, and his ethereal voice gained a touch of certainty:
“If I say you have it, then you have it.”

(End of this chapter)