When the Ziwei Sacred Land shattered the void and reached for the imperial capital, the jade pendant at Qin Zheng’s waist suddenly revealed the phantom image of the 800 Trapped Camp soldiers. The fragment of the sacred artifact that Lü Bu had cleaved in two just the night before was now forming the patterns of the [Emperor-Slaying, God-Killing Formation] beneath the soldiers’ feet. Before the Northern Dipper Empress’s hand could blot out the sky and descend, Wang Shouren used a bamboo slip from Instructions for Practical Living to slice off three of her immortal fingers.
“Confucianism can’t kill people?”
Qin Zheng lightly tapped the dragon throne. Golden laws of Yangming philosophy suddenly appeared amid the stars. The phantoms of 3,000 Confucian scholars raised their brushes and rewrote the laws of Heaven, reducing the immortal mountain veins of the Ziwei Sacred Land to calculus equations. As Lü Bu swept his square-heaven halberd across the battlefield, the heads of saints from half a star domain became lanterns hanging from its tip, illuminating the plaque of the Great Qin Heavenly Court until it shone brighter than the sun.
