The Records Of The Human Emperor Chapter 838

Chapter 838: Dusong Mangpoje And The Great Snow Mountain Holy Temple

Translated by: Hypersheep325

Edited by: Michyrr

Dalon Trinling raised his head and saw that one of the royal capital guards had extended an arm. Perched upon this arm was a gorgeous and muscular specimen, a golden-eyed bird of prey.

This bird of prey could not be found in -Tsang, the Great Tang, or even the Western and Eastern Turkic Khaganates. In all the continent, these birds called only one place their home.

This was an Arabian hunting falcon!

The gathered officials in the hall immediately paled.

"Great Minister! The Arabs of the west have sent a letter"

The tall guard strode in, but before he could say any more, Imperial Great Minister Dalon Trinling raised a wrist, sending out a bolt of Stellar Energy that blew the Arabian hunting falcon and the letter tied to its legs into pieces, feathers and chunks of gore flying everywhere.

The guard stood at the door, speechless and dazed.

"I know. You are dismissed," Dalon Trinling said in an indifferent voice, waving his hand while drawing his finger back into his sleeve.

Not a single one of the officials in the hall found Dalon Trinling's actions excessive. Long before the Great Tang began to delve deeply into the Western Regions, -Tsang and the Arabs had already fought over it many times.

Each side had suffered grievous casualties, each side with its own victories and defeats, a state that had persisted for more than a thousand years. Although they would occasionally cooperate, their relationship was more one of conflict. One could even say that in the Western Regions, they were mortal enemies. This was especially the case after the war of the southwest, when the Abbasid Caliphate used the chance presented by the complete destruction of the Ngari Royal Lineage's army to attack the Tibetan base in Sindhu and steal all the secrets and results that had come out of the research into the army of giants.

With that, their sole collaboration had come to a complete end.

In the -Tsang Empire, the mere mention of the Arabs was a taboo!

"Yes! Yes!"

When the royal capital guard saw that it was Dalon Trinling who had spoken, a fearful look appeared in his eyes, and he quickly bowed and left.

"Okay, let's not talk about these things. Zhenzhu, I asked you to find a solution to the sheep plague. How is that progressing?" Dalon Trinling said.

"Yes, Great Minister. According to your orders, we successfully tracked down a recipe to cure the sheep plague from a teacher in Longxi. Our scouts have already succeeded in bringing it back," one of the Tibetan officials below responded.

"Very good. This matter is far more urgent than any war in the north. Resolve this sheep plague as quickly as possible!" Dalon Trinling said.

"Yes! Great Minister!"


Frigid winds blew down from the skies, stirring up mists of snow.

More than two thousand li from the royal capital, in a sparsely inhabited land, a massive mountain range loomed into the heavens. This mountain range stretched on for one hundred li, its cliffs so sharp and steep that they seemed to have been cut out of the earth with knives and axes. They soared high into the air, with the highest peaks being several thousand zhang tall, their summits lost deep within the clouds. These high mountains were all capped with snow, and if one looked from a distance at this mountain range, they would see a grandiose and magnificent sight that inspired awe and respect.

This was the holy land of -Tsang, the location of the Great Snow Mountain Holy Temple, the source of all of -Tsang's myths and legends.

Although the -Tsang Empire was still far from the winter season, snow fell on the peak of the Great Snow Mountain throughout the year, with no break in any season, a phenomenon unique to the Great Snow Mountain. At this moment, a seven-foot-tall man was kneeling at the base of the mountain, his head pressed against the ground.

His armor was crumbling and stained with black blood in many places. These were dreadful and gruesome wounds, evidence of perilous combat.

This man had appeared here a month ago, and no matter the weather, he had remained kneeling here, like the most pious and humble of believers. One would find it very hard to believe that this filthy man in shabby armor was the illustrious and mighty Imperial Great General of -Tsang, Dusong Mangpoje.

After some time, a voice came from above. "Milord, you should leave. The Venerable Holiness will not agree to your request. For millennia, the Great Snow Mountain Holy Temple has not once involved itself in secular wars, and it will not do so now."

A bald monk, barefoot and wearing a simple robe, descended, his palms clasped and held up. Someone of Dusong Mangpoje's cultivation level had been incapable of hearing his footsteps. This monk's eyes were gentle and calm like the bottom of a deep lake. They could wash away all the distracting thoughts within one's mind.

"This time is different. This is not a secular war. The ones who defeated me were experts from the sects of the Central Plains. Only the people of the Holy Temple can deal with them. I hope that Venerable Sir can tell this to the Venerable Holiness so that he might lend me some assistance," Dusong Mangpoje said subserviently, pressing his hands against the ground.


The placid lakes within the monk's eyes rippled for a moment, but he quickly regained his calm.

"It is pointless. His Venerable Holiness will not recklessly make an exception. Milord, please return! No matter how long you kneel here, it will be useless."

The bald monk turned back around and began to slowly walk back to the summit. In a few moments, he had vanished.

The kneeling Dusong Mangpoje found it hard to conceal the disappointment in his eyes, but even so, he had no intention of leaving. He seemed intent on kneeling until his body turned to stone.

Time slowly passed, the sun rising and the moon sinking, a cycle that repeated itself for many days, until finally, he heard another set of footsteps.

"Venerable Sir, do not try and persuade me. I will not leave," Dusong Mangpoje said without even raising his head.

"I'm not any sort of monk, but I truly did come to persuade you to leave."

A vigorous and energetic voice rang out in Dusong Mangpoje's ears, causing him to raise his head in shock. He was greeted by the sight of an Imperial Great General wearing armor the color of fire, with a long saber sheathed on his waist, standing before him like a god.

Powerful ripples of energy rose from his body like a storm, exerting a stifling pressure.

"Huoshu Huicang?!"

Dusong Mangpoje was stunned. He had never imagined that the Great General of the Ngari Royal Lineage would appear here.

"It's useless. The Holy Temple will not do anything. If you plan to kneel until His Venerable Holiness shows himself, then I can be of no help to you. But if you want to deal with that Wang Chong of the Great Tang, I might know of a method that could be of assistance."

Huoshu Huicang looked at Dusong Mangpoje and added, "Oh, that's right, I forgot to tell you. That Young Marquis of Wushang has already been promoted to Qixi Protector-General, replacing Fumeng Lingcha."


Dusong Mangpoje shuddered, his face frozen in stupefaction.

"Do you understand now? With just five thousand people, he could already defeat you and Dayan Mangban. You can imagine what it means for our -Tsang Empire now that he's Qixi Protector-General. Based on what I've learned, he's still building forts around the triangular gap. In the future, we will not only lose any control over Qixi and the Western Regions and the ability to enter the Great Tang, we'll even have our own territory invaded," Huoshu Huicang lightly said.

Dusong Mangpoje had come here more than a month ago, so he had no idea what was happening in the outside world, but Huoshu Huicang had come amply prepared.

"You can continue to kneel here, or you can leave with me and go to meet someone, and then we can go together to deal with that Young Marquis of the Great Tang! Trust in me. At present, only that person can help us deal with Wang Chong," Huoshu Huicang said.


"You'll know when the time comes."

Dusong Mangpoje said nothing, only raised his eyes to that imposing mountain range. Following his gaze, one saw that halfway up this grandiose mountain of snow were the ancient yellow outer walls of many temples, loosely arranged, arrayed across the mountainside like a belt that slowly traveled up to the snowcapped summit.

And at the very top of the mountain range, above all the other temples, was a small red temple. Although it was as tiny as a sesame seed from this distance, it exuded a boundless and ancient aura. It seemed like the center of the universe, coldly looking down upon the world with a divine and transcendent gaze.

That was the oldest and holiest place of the entire plateau, the true Great Snow Mountain Holy Temple!


Dusong Mangpoje sighed and finally stood back up. Perhaps it was as that great monk had said. The holy land had always remained above the world and did not interfere in secular affairs. No matter how long he kneeled here, the holy land would never act. In comparison to that infinitesimal hope that the holy land would do anything, the prospects of Great General Huoshu Huicang were more realistic.

"Let's go!"

Dusong Mangpoje raised his head and turned to Huoshu Huicang. At that moment, a rare smile appeared on Huoshu Huicang's face.

"You will not regret this!"

Turning around, the two walked off, shoulder to shoulder. But just when they were about to leave, about to pass an ancient tree that had lived more than one thousand years, a cold and lofty voice rang out behind them.

"Great General!"

It rumbled like thunder.

"His Venerable Holiness asked me to give this to you."

Hwoom! The pair turned around, flabbergasted, and saw that a little black dot was rapidly expanding before their eyes as it was thrown down from the Great Snow Mountain Holy Temple on high. Thud! It landed nearby. Now that they could see it clearly, they recognized it as a wooden box, around one foot long, wrapped in a yellow-brown cloth that flapped in the wind.

"The holy land will not act, nor will it kill, and His Venerable Holiness will not leave the Holy Temple for your sake. But this does not mean the holy land cannot help you. This box contains a ritual tool of the Holy Temple. When you cast it out, it will imprison any opponent, no matter how strong, making them incapable of moving. Take it! It should be of help to you!"

The voice endlessly echoed through the mountains.

Even Huoshu Huicang was pleasantly surprised at this development, much less Dusong Mangpoje. They had only ever heard about the ritual tools of the Holy Temple, never seen any for themselves. Not even in Huoshu Huicang's many visits to the Holy Temple and his long periods of cultivation there had he ever set eyes on one. He hadn't expected that Dusong Mangpoje's more than one month of kneeling had moved the Holy Temple to grant this ritual tool.

"My deepest gratitude to His Venerable Holiness!"

Dusong Mangpoje was exuberant.

Taking the box, the two quickly left.