The underground conference chamber of Bureau 749 was dimly lit, the air thick with a tense, almost suffocating gravity.
Daoist Zhang stood at one end of the long table, surrounded by several elderly masters whose hair was as white as frost.
Spread before them was a massive formation chart—etched with intricate runes and constellations—the Star-Shifting Formation (Dǒuzhuǎn Xīngyí Dàzhèn) designed by Abe no Seimei himself.
"This array is no ordinary spell," Zhang said gravely.
"It's not only a sealing formation—it can also draw upon the power of the heavens to alter the flow of fate itself.
If Seimei succeeds, the consequences will be catastrophic."
An elderly Daoist, perhaps in his seventies, spoke slowly.
"You are right, Dao-brother. This Star-Shifting Array was derived from an ancient Chinese secret art that the Onmyoji later twisted into their own.
The last time it appeared… was in the year of Jiawu (1894)."
His tone darkened, as if dredging up a painful memory.
"That time, we failed to stop them."
The room fell silent again.
The weight of history pressed upon them all—the echoes of that distant humiliation still burned like a scar in the nation's soul.
The old Daoist continued,
"That year, the Qing Dynasty was crumbling—internal strife, foreign invasion. Japan seized the moment.
They secretly dispatched Onmyoji to our land, laying the Star-Shifting Array in hidden places to steal the fortune of China and channel it to their empire.
Soon after… the First Sino-Japanese War broke out.
The Beiyang Fleet was annihilated.
Our nation plunged into chaos."
Another elder spoke bitterly.
"Not only that—the array triggered waves of disaster.
The Yellow River flooded, droughts ravaged the plains, famine spread.
While China suffered, Japan rose like a phoenix from ash, becoming the new power of East Asia.
It all traces back to that cursed array."
Daoist Zhang's fists tightened, his eyes burning with anger.
"Then this time—we cannot fail again! If Seimei completes it, our nation will face calamity once more!"
"But breaking such a formation is easier said than done," the first elder sighed.
"The array draws power from eight specific stars. Each node is connected through spellwork that creates a self-sustaining loop.
Any interference will simply be reflected back."
"Moreover," another elder added, "Abe no Seimei is cunning. He won't expose the locations of all the nodes.
If we move rashly, we'll walk right into his trap."
Daoist Zhang fell silent, lost in thought.
"Do any of you remember how we tried to counter it back then?
There might be something to learn from the past."
One of the elders nodded slowly.
"Yes… back then, we found one weakness—the formation's heart.
Despite its complexity, every Star-Shifting Array has a single core: the caster's anchor point.
Destroy that, and the entire array collapses."
"But reaching the core is the problem," another warned.
"It's always hidden, heavily warded, and fiercely protected."
Zhang straightened, resolve hardening in his gaze.
"Then we find it. No matter the cost. We can't retreat this time."
He suddenly rose to his feet.
"There is one possible countermeasure—
the Heavenly Thunder Formation of the Big Dipper (Tiāngāng Běidǒu Shénléi Zhèn)!"
The room erupted in shock.
A Daoist exclaimed,
"Are you serious? That formation's power is immense—but the price is far too high!"
Zhang nodded gravely.
"I know.
The Heavenly Thunder Formation requires seven cultivators of great mastery to stand in the pattern of the Big Dipper, channeling divine lightning to tear open the opposing array.
But the backlash from heavenly thunder is deadly.
Even a moment's mistake could mean death—or total annihilation of body and soul."
He looked around the table.
"But tell me—do we have a better choice?"
No one answered.
Every man there understood the stakes.
Time was running out; hesitation could doom the entire nation's destiny.
"Very well," the oldest Daoist said at last, jaw clenched.
"If this is our only path, then so be it.
But we must choose the strongest seven among us—no weak links."
Zhang nodded.
"I already have candidates in mind.
Aside from us old bones, the Shenxiao Sect, Dragon-Tiger Mountain, Wudang, and Qingcheng have pledged support.
They're on their way as we speak."
Despite the decision being made, a heavy silence lingered.
They all knew what it meant—to protect this land, they might have to sacrifice their lives.
Yet not one of them hesitated.
"Remember this," Zhang said solemnly.
"The key to the Heavenly Thunder Formation lies in unity.
Only by perfect synchrony can the seven channels withstand divine lightning's fury.
And even if we fail—we must not let the Star-Shifting Array complete."
Outside, night deepened.
Starlight spilled through the narrow window, casting faint constellations upon the walls.
The discussion continued, their shadows flickering like wavering flames of determination.
History's wheel turned relentlessly forward, but some wounds never faded.
The defeat of that distant Jiawu year still haunted their blood.
And now, as a new storm gathered, these old warriors of the Dao prepared to stake their lives upon lightning itself—
They would not allow history to repeat.
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