Chapter 122: Murderous Intent Rising!

While two billion viewers mourned the jade pipa spirit, the scene showed King Zhou’s face drained of color, his lips moving in frantic, incomprehensible speech. Then, a close-up of Daji appeared.

Though her thoughts remained a mystery, unspoken and unexplained by the film, all understood the truth: her third sister had perished in the flames set by Jiang Ziya, and now she thirsted for vengeance. Her gaze towards Jiang Ziya bore silent testament.

Sure enough, a few mouths moved silently, and Su Daji carried away the jade pipa spirit’s true form—the jade pipa itself. She then placed it atop the Star-Gazing Pavilion to absorb the essence of heaven and earth.

One day, Su Daji danced again, captivating the audience, while King Zhou sat dumbfounded, drinking joyfully. Yet among seventy palace maids, many wore furrowed brows and tear-streaked faces.

These were the maids who had served Lady Jiang, now mourning her death with sorrow too deep to bear.

Su Daji stirred discord; enraged, King Zhou nearly commanded their extermination, but Daji stepped forward with a plan.

Soon, the scene shifted to the bustling marketplace, where citizens and merchants alike frantically bought snakes.

These were the venomous serpents demanded by the venomous basin, four snakes to be delivered from every household.

At this sight, many viewers felt a chill run down their spines—snakes were a common dread.

Before the Star-Gazing Pavilion, a vast pit yawned open. Tens of thousands of venomous snakes were thrown into it. Nearby stood seventy-two palace maids, now stripped bare and trembling, their faces deathly pale.

The snakes writhed ferociously, tongues flickering, their sinister eyes gleaming, their scales vivid and poisonous in appearance.

Most viewers found themselves unable to focus on beauty, overwhelmed by a shudder of primal fear.

The snakes seemed unnervingly lifelike—this was no mere illusion but a pinnacle of holographic technology, nearly indistinguishable from reality, with a fidelity of 99.99 percent.

Fortunately, this epic holographic film did not dwell on sheer visual horror but sought to explore the inner worlds of immortals, demons, gods, and spirits. The scenes, though intense, avoided excessive gore.

Yet, without dialogue—relying solely on expressions, demeanor, and unfolding events—those who comprehended the narrative felt a profound chill emanate from Su Daji herself.

Soon after, the chief minister Jia Ge stepped forward to admonish King Zhou. His words were fierce, rapid, and grave as he pointed accusingly at the king.

His anger crescendoed, but his counsel fell on deaf ears. In despair, he leapt from the Star-Gazing Pavilion to his death.

King Zhou, defiant, ordered his body to be retrieved and, alongside the palace maids, thrown into the venomous basin. The maids’ terrified screams filled the air as snakes coiled around them, biting and piercing their skin, some burrowing into their bellies, writhing in agony.

In stark contrast, the camera focused on King Zhou embracing Su Daji, a smile playing on his lips.

On either side, the palace maids’ faces bore grim sorrow and terror.

The overwhelming visual impact left two billion viewers trembling; many were so shaken they showed signs of nausea.

Yet soon, attention shifted to the music.

A majestic brass ensemble blared, piercing the heavens with the shrill sound of suona horns; a deep, massive choir of thousands sang in unison; flutes and strings wove a soul-cleansing melody. In an instant, all were transported to a higher realm.

The imagery evoked the mythic moments of Pangu creating the world and Nuwa repairing the heavens. Under this musical backdrop, emotions flowed freely, and the immersive atmosphere deepened.

Violent drums and warlike strings stirred visions of blood staining the sky.

The audience imagined themselves as Pangu or Nuwa, wielding supreme power to slay King Zhou and Su Daji.

This collective fervor rivaled, even surpassed, the emotional climax of the Yellow Emperor’s celestial ascension.

Roaring hoarsely as if tearing their vocal cords, their bodies radiated murderous intent—this crescendo of passion was flawless.

Afterwards, over seven million viewers fainted.

More than an hour of overwhelming sensory and spiritual shock finally found release.

Outside, medical staff attended to the fallen, yet the film pressed on, the audience largely unaware of the fainted nearby.

In the scene, less than a day passed, and beside the venomous basin lay a newly formed pond and swamp. To the left, heaps of discarded carcasses piled like mountains, branches stabbed through them—this was the meat forest. To the right, a pool brimming with fine wine.

Contests were held where palace servants wrestled to the ground; losers were cast into the wine pool and meat forest, destined for Su Daji’s consumption.

The scene shifted again as Su Daji recalled the jade pipa spirit’s vengeance. She presented King Zhou with blueprints of the Lu Platform—towering five zhang nine chi tall, grand halls rising like jade palaces, railings of agate, beams adorned with pearls, glowing with auspicious brilliance.

King Zhou consented, entrusting Jiang Ziya to oversee the construction per Su Daji’s wishes.

Along the way, Big Minister Bi Gan appeared, seeking to aid Jiang Ziya but powerless to intervene.

At the Golden Throne Hall, Jiang Ziya made a solemn presentation; Su Daji interjected. Enraged, King Zhou ordered Jiang Ziya’s arrest.

Jiang Ziya fled in desperation, ultimately escaping by diving into water. Pursuers later reported his suicide.

In the court, Yang Ren appeared to remonstrate but was cruelly blinded and killed. The deity Moral Lord then ordered his loyal servant to summon a divine wind that swept away Yang Ren’s corpse.

In the Purple Sun Cave, the Moral Lord’s attendant Ba Yun Tong placed two immortal pills into Yang Ren’s eye sockets and breathed upon him.

Yang Ren revived, pledging discipleship; two additional hands emerged from his eye sockets, palms bearing eyes that gazed upon heaven, earth, and all human affairs.

Elsewhere, Jiang Ziya returned home, urging Lady Ma to accompany him to Chao Ge to pursue his mission. After a quarrel and intervention by a nearby couple, Jiang Ziya wrote a letter of separation, uttering the words: “The green bamboo snake’s mouth, the wasp’s sting tail—both poison, yet the most venomous is a woman’s heart.”

Leaving the city, he encountered villagers devastated by the Lu Platform’s ruin and reproached the city’s guards before departing in shame.

At night’s first watch, he employed earth escape magic to rescue hundreds, arriving at Golden Rooster Ridge.

The rescued villagers crossed mountains and entered Western Qi, where a stark contrast awaited: the city bustled with prosperity, citizens showed kindness and respect, markets thrived with harmony—a true utopia reminiscent of the eras of Yao and Shun.

Meanwhile, Bo Yikao entered Chao Ge to offer tribute: seven fragrant carriages, wine-soaking mats, white-faced monkeys, and ten beauties.

Su Daji appeared, casting a tender gaze at Bo Yikao, her face radiant with happiness.

The contrast was stark: King Zhou, gaunt and wasted by indulgence, versus the youthful, handsome Bo Yikao with his clear features and rosy lips.

Since ancient times, beauties have favored young men; this demoness Daji was no exception—in an instant, her eyes gleamed with lascivious intent.

Seated with a zither, Bo Yikao played “Wind Through Pines,” delighting King Zhou and Su Daji.

Soon the scene shifted as Bo Yikao began teaching Su Daji how to play the zither.

Su Daji seduced him left and right, her complexion blooming with peach blossoms, a bewitching beauty radiating charm and subtle allure, eyes flickering with secret affection, voice soft and tender.

Her ruby lips parted to whisper sweet words, yet Bo Yikao remained unmoved, leaving the audience anxious.

“Is something wrong with Bo Yikao? Such a seductive Daji, and he doesn’t even flinch—he might as well be dead!”

“He’s focused on saving his father, that’s why.”

“Besides, he’s a bit old-fashioned—the people of that era weren’t as bold as us.”

“Of course, if he gave in, how could his character develop?”

On screen, Su Daji declared she would play the zither in Bo Yikao’s arms, terrifying him into righteous protest.

Though unintelligible, his earnest words flushed Su Daji’s cheeks as she retreated.

Before leaving, a psychological narration appeared: “I entrusted my heart to the bright moon, never knowing the moon would shine upon the gutter.”

Failing to seduce Bo Yikao, Su Daji resigned herself to lie with King Zhou that night. The next morning, she tearfully lamented being slighted.

King Zhou summoned Bo Yikao for questioning. Bo Yikao responded through music; King Zhou understood and grasped the true situation.

Soon, they all proceeded to the Star-Gazing Pavilion, where the white-faced monkey appeared, lightly striking sandalwood clappers, his melodious voice like a reed pipe, resounding throughout the hall.

The background music ceased; the audience heard this song.

High notes soared like a phoenix’s cry, low notes sang with the beauty of a mythical bird’s lament; sorrowful listeners relaxed their brows, joyful ones clapped hands, mourners ceased tears, and the enlightened became enraptured.

King Zhou’s heart wavered; Su Daji’s was intoxicated with delight; the palace maids found the song unparalleled.

The monkey sang as if inspired by immortal muses; Chang’e pricked up her ears; Daji’s spirit danced, her feelings teased and carried away, intoxicated and enraptured, her true nature laid bare.

The monkey lunged at Su Daji, only to be struck dead by King Zhou’s fist. Daji wailed; King Zhou raged.

Bo Yikao played again to express his resolve. This time, King Zhou missed the sarcasm, but Daji understood and grew furious.

Bo Yikao then added a scathing song, cursing King Zhou, smashing his instrument in anger.

King Zhou exploded with rage, intent on throwing Bo Yikao into the venomous basin.

Daji intervened, taking Bo Yikao away.

But her intentions were far more sinister: she nailed his hands and feet to a board, then hacked him into minced meat.

The third great wave of spiritual fervor erupted anew. Among the eighteen billion viewers, outrage burned fiercely; hearts could not quell their fury.

Together they roared to the heavens, brimming with murderous intent—kill!