"I don't know what others think, but in my eyes, the Lord is truly an unrivaled Sage Sovereign! Over a thousand times stronger than Yin Yu of Great Shang!" "A Sage Sovereign?" Ren Bo was slightly distracted, lost in thought.

Abolishing corporal punishment, cherishing the populace, even daring to strike at the powerful elite for their sake. The Lord truly was a sagacious ruler.

Then Ren Bo suddenly burst into a self-deprecating laugh: "The Emperor Yuanchen of Great Shang is universally recognized as a rare enlightened ruler, appearing perhaps once in a millennium. As a youth, he already rescued the dynasty from the brink of collapse.

He labored tirelessly day and night, constantly attending to affairs of state. Our Lord is also a rare and capable sovereign, but to say he is a thousand times better than Emperor Yuanchen is simply impossible.

Xu Shu, oh Xu Shu, you truly dare to speak such things." Xu Shu offered no argument, only giving a cold sneer, though internally he remained unconvinced. So what if Yin Yu worked tirelessly?

What good did his sleepless diligence achieve? Even now, Great Shang was suffering under the weight of its people's misery, beset by constant warfare.

It had long suffered under the governance of Great Shang! Diligent in statecraft does not necessarily equate to being a good emperor.

His own Lord, though naturally indolent and rarely interfering in the daily affairs of governance, was absolutely decisive when it came to the overarching policies of the nation. And Great Qian, at this very moment, was steadily entering its zenith.

Yin Yu ruled through the manipulation of power, wishing to attend to every minute detail himself. Zong Shou, however, worked through systemic reform, selecting talent and delegating immense authority without reservation.

Comparing the two sovereigns, the superiority was immediately evident. Those Confucian scholars were truly blind to recognize Yin Yu as the enlightened monarch of the age, while condemning their own lord as absurd and tyrannical.

He felt a surge of righteous indignation, wishing he could step forward and argue with the Confucians. But he knew it was futile.

Those sages were steeped in their doctrines and theoretical teachings; they would never listen to anything else. To argue with them would only bring self-humiliation.

The truth of right and wrong would be revealed by time, a thousand years hence. Passing over that topic, Xu Shu narrowed his eyes and changed the subject: "The Lord seems thoroughly confident this time!

Most likely certain of victory. I only wonder how many will suffer in the aftermath of this war?" Speaking of the impending conflict, Ren Bo stroked his long beard, a look of profound gravity on his face.

The policies of unified taxation, equal land distribution, and the establishment of a minimum wage—all were breathtakingly ambitious. These were not the designs of a monarch lacking confidence in the future.

"Not necessarily! The Lord intends to forge a world of fairness, to grant just laws to the people.

Even if a purge follows, it will likely be governed by law. In any case, you and I shall simply wait and see." Zong Shou, meanwhile, was entirely unaware of the private discussions among his chief ministers.

He was still enjoying his days with little Dan'er, along with Yiren and Chuxue. They spent their time admiring flowers, gazing at the moon, fishing, and teasing birds.

Only in between these diversions would he dedicate a sliver of time to the few major governmental policies. After successfully convincing his trusted veteran ministers like Ren Bo and Hu Qianqiu, he became completely relaxed and methodical.

His life was exceedingly pleasant, his mood buoyant. The only thing that caused him intense displeasure was the constant stream of dire reports arriving from all corners of the realm.

Even with the combined might of Great Qian and the Sword Sect and Cangsheng Dao, they could not possibly cover every area or fully suppress the two Cloud Continents and one Cloud Island. Memorials detailing the sudden deaths of local officials and the casualties among the populace flooded into Qiantian Mountain like scraps of paper.

This situation had occurred years ago. Back then, he had erupted in fury, single-handedly storming the Central Cloud Continent.

He destroyed thirty-seven Daoist sects, slaughtering over three hundred thousand Daoist disciples to vent the hatred in his breast. This ultimately forced the Dao Ling Realm to bow its head.

And he himself was compelled to leave the Cloud Realm. Yet, at this very moment, gazing at the grim numbers, he felt a numbness creeping in.

Zong Shou mocked himself internally, a faint, painful prick in his heart: "Has my Zong Shou now reached the stage where I view the masses as mere ants? Indeed, I am not cut out to be an enlightened ruler—" If he were an enlightened ruler, he would surely be worried sick, just as the Blood Saint Demon Lord described: unable to taste food or sleep soundly.

How could he sit here so serenely, living so leisurely? Zong Weiran had entirely relinquished matters of Great Qian.

Dan'er was still a child, her mind incomplete, and her bloodline carried hidden dangers; succession to the throne was out of the question. The throne of the sovereign was entrusted to no one.

That meant letting those more capable manage the hundreds of millions of subjects, allowing him to fully divorce himself from administrative duties. If one is numb to the life and death of the people under one's rule, how can one possibly be the lord of a nation?

How can one govern? However, despite this feeling, Zong Shou still felt a surge of anger tearing at his core.

His daily amusements were merely a façade of calm. "The Demonic Path—" With every passing day that he did not see a report on casualties, the killing intent within Zong Shou deepened, and his heart grew ever more gloomy.

Yet, he knew he could only endure for now, endure until the decisive battle with Great Shang was concluded! As if sensing Zong Shou's mood, the spirit of the Soul Refining Sword vibrated ceaselessly every day, yearning to break free from its sheath.

"Speaking of this sword, since that last battle, it has indeed been a long time since it quenched its thirst on human blood." The Soul Refining Sword was the Sword of the King, and also the Sword of Slaughter! It required endless vitality and blood essence to advance.

The blood of stronger individuals, the greater the number of beings slain, the more satisfied it became—it was almost wicked in its requirement. And though Zong Shou forcibly suppressed the violent spirit in his chest, he frequently teetered on the edge of losing control.

He longed to draw his sword immediately and slaughter the entire Demonic Path! Then, after exactly one month and seven days, Zong Shou’s Swordsmanship inexplicably advanced again.

That Sword Intent of Slaughter actually broke through the middle stage in one go, reaching the late stage of the Soul Realm. It was now merely a single step away from the level of 'Superb Mastery, Sword Art Transcendent,' or 'Out of the Body and Into the Spirit.' Although it was the most ordinary among all the Sword Intents Zong Shou commanded, it still brought immense surprise.

"So that's how it is. Cultivating the Sword Intent of Slaughter doesn't necessarily require constant killing.

Continuous endurance and suppression can also be a path—" His Sword Intent broke through precisely when he could no longer endure, when suppression reached its limit. That day, unable to hold back the pressure any longer, he sent a sword strike soaring out, slaying a dozen Demonic Path cultivators hiding near Qiantian Mountain with ill intent.

It was at that moment Zong Shou realized his Sword Intent of Slaughter had actually progressed. Following this breakthrough, Zong Shou's mood suddenly calmed.

He no longer needed to forcibly restrain his murderous urges! "Heaven bears witness, in this life, Zong Shou vows to annihilate all sects of the Demonic Path!" "Who is Zong Shou?

I am the Southern Tyrant, the Overlord of the Southeast of the Cloud Realm—" His current endurance was only preparation for utterly destroying the Demonic Path sects later. Years ago, when the Daoist Sect killed millions of his people, they paid the price of thirty-seven sects wiped out and the fall of the Dao Ling Palace Lord.

Now, the casualties suffered by Great Qian already exceeded millions! If he did not sacrifice the entire Demonic Path as retribution, how could the vengeful souls of his deceased subjects ever find peace?

The Demon Race and the Demonic Path already shared an indelible, deep-seated hatred. Two days later, the massive fleet commanded by Shi Ruolan finally arrived at the Cloud Realm.

Zong Shou finally laughed aloud, drawing his sword and stepping out of Hanyan Palace. He could endure no longer, and there was no need to restrain himself further.