Chapter Fifty-Nine: Judgement

Astrology—the art of star-gazing!

A discipline with an ancient lineage, steeped in millennia of history. For countless generations, those confined to the continents would raise their eyes to the heavens, convinced that the stars above harbored the secrets of the universe, that the fate of the world itself was written in their patterns. By tracking the movement of the celestial spheres, they believed, one could foresee all that was yet to come.

Had this been Liu Tianlai’s previous world, such a belief would surely have been dismissed as mere pseudoscience. But here, upon this earth he now called home, the truth of astrology had been proven time and again, its accuracy undeniable.

For the Celestial Martial, a race born with powers of telekinesis that far surpassed any ordinary human, the study of astrology was paramount. Their numbers might be few, but over thousands of years, the treatises and texts on astrology amassed by the Celestial Martial could fill an entire square.

Among them, the Holy King of the Bright Moon stood supreme—the mightiest Celestial Martial of his age, and naturally, the greatest master of astrology.

Yet the Holy King was a humble man. In his journal he once wrote, “The world is vast, filled with wonders beyond counting. Perhaps there are others as skilled as I in reading the stars, but I am confident that my art ranks among the very greatest. Perhaps I should record my insights in a book, to be preserved for generations as part of humanity’s legacy...”

In recent years, as omens and portents grew ever more frequent, the Holy King’s understanding of astrology had leapt to new heights. He could even locate relics containing prismatic crystals through the stars alone.

This was one of the reasons that, even though he had only recently established himself on the New Continent, the Holy King could still wield so many prismatic crystals.

Now, it was time to turn his art to a greater purpose—to observe the very workings of this world.

As the full moon hung in the sky and the stars blazed in their multitudes, a revelation, an epiphany, thundered into the Holy King’s mind.

The heavens themselves seemed to split into three distinct sections, their mysteries laid bare.

In the east, the stars traced a faint yet unmistakable outline—the ghostly image of a great white shark. Though subdued, countless stars orbited and converged upon it, their movement awakening new energy where once all had been still. It was as if an old man, long past his prime, now surged with a second spring of youthful vigor.

A forceful, mighty aura grew and swelled, pressing outward.

In the west, the starlight gathered into a slowly turning ocean—a calm blue sea on the surface, but within its depths, torrents raged. Light clashed and shattered, thunder roared, tempests churned.

In this sea of light, one star burned above all others—its brilliance fierce, unyielding, sovereign. It shone with a radiance all its own, growing ever brighter.

It seemed as though this star, at last, could not bear to be held down by the sea of lesser lights—determined, insistent, desperate to break free, to swallow the world whole.

But the blue sea, formed by the convergence of so many stars, held it fast, even slowly consuming the star’s radiance. Tension brewed—a violent, impending conflict.

In a fleeting vision, there seemed to be a spreading wash of crimson—born, swelling, crawling outward, threatening to engulf the world.

Yet neither the east nor the west held the strongest presence.

There, ascending from the eastern region, a cluster of dazzling stars was rising. Led by the brightest—the Morning Star—the others stretched behind like outspread wings, mounting higher, higher, to the very zenith.

The Holy King of the Bright Moon closed his eyes. In all his years, he had never seen the stars so clearly point to a single force, even a single person.

Throughout history, the stars had reflected the fates of nations—their unions and their divisions. Rarely, a single star might flare to represent a great individual, but only for a fleeting moment.

The star formations born of the convergence of so many lights had always belonged to nations alone. Yet since the war erupted on the New Continent a decade ago, the stars had grown chaotic, their alignments shifting.

Now, even nations could not claim their own constellations; instead, individuals—specific people—were reflected, dividing the world into three.

Was this a sign? That after all these years, certain individuals had risen above nations themselves?

Or was it that, at this crucial moment, the choices of a few key people had come to outweigh the will of the many, poised to determine the fate of the world?

He recalled an ancient saying:

When the heavens move to kill, the stars shift in their courses. When the earth stirs to kill, dragons and serpents rise. When mankind moves to kill, the world is turned upside down.

Information, gathered through the Celestial Martial’s vast intelligence networks, coalesced in the Holy King’s mind. He analyzed, dissected what these three celestial omens foretold. Soon, inspiration struck him—

The eastern shark—surely it symbolized the one known as the Celestial Way, who had held the title of champion for nearly twenty years, unmatched and solitary. Having achieved new breakthroughs after a decade of silence, there remained only the legendary “King of the Century” as a possible rival.

According to the ancient records, such a mighty state—such terrifying power, impervious to numbers or terrain—could indeed impose its will upon the future, regardless of all others.

The western blue sea, then, must signify the Blue Dream Company, its influence spanning pharmaceuticals, labor, film—industries across the globe, its branches everywhere. The brightest star within must be Bai Cinan, the Celestial Way’s disciple, who had become famous after his epic battle and was now a household name.

Originally, Bai Cinan was thought to be fiercely loyal to Blue Dream. Yet the omens suggested otherwise—there was intrigue afoot.

Bai Cinan was already so powerful that, in certain terrains, he could ignore entire armies—his strength far beyond the limits of ordinary martial artists.

Perhaps Blue Dream’s recent worldwide campaign was intended to help him reach new heights. Such terrifying power could well inflate Bai Cinan’s ambition to match.

Blue Dream would never give up on a champion they had invested so much in. Inevitably, then, an earth-shattering confrontation must come between the two.

That crimson hue, that blood-red tide threatening to swallow the world, perhaps foretold that this coming battle would ignite a catastrophe, drawing all people, all things, into a war even greater than that of ten years past.

This war would devastate humanity—one in ten might survive, if that.

But what of the central region? What did those central stars represent?

The Holy King pondered, searching his intelligence for anyone who might be symbolized by such a star cluster.

The new emperor of the Scarlet Cloud Empire? No, the royal house had just been humiliated by Bai Cinan; their authority was in tatters, the empire riven by internal strife. Even if the new emperor were a genius, it would take time to restore the nation—not nearly soon enough for this crisis.

Perhaps the President of the Dawn Alliance? Hardly. The Alliance was a coalition of great corporations, and its president was little more than a figurehead—how could such a person stand alongside those two, or hope to halt the coming bloodbath?

Then who?

A flash of insight. Before the Holy King could piece it together, a figure soared up from below, shouting in joy, “Holy King! Holy King! Baichuan, one of our Celestial Martial, has been elected as the new Chairperson of the Morning Star Alliance!”

So it was!

At last, understanding dawned. The central Morning Star represented himself. Having only just separated from the east, this signified his own bloodline from the Scarlet Cloud Empire. And now, with his disciple Baichuan as Chairperson, he could draw fully upon the power of the Morning Star Alliance, supplementing his own formidable strength.

That’s right!

He, the Holy King of the Bright Moon, was the only one capable of averting this impending catastrophe!