Divine Forces Descend Upon Xiangzhou (Part III)

Under the gaze of Yue Fei—commander of the cavalry and known for his unwavering valor—whose eyes now shimmered with a mix of awe and dread, a colossal, airborne fortress loomed ever closer to the city of Xiangzhou.

It was a five-tiered Japanese-style castle of breathtaking splendor, resplendent in dazzling hues and intricate architecture. Even the floating island of clouds that served as its foundation had its edges gilded with radiant gold, glowing brilliantly beneath the waning sun, as though dipped in molten light.

From the ground, the soaring citadel appeared majestic and commanding, as though capable of plucking stars from the firmament. Its layered gabled eaves, arranged in harmonious asymmetry, conveyed a timeless elegance and an almost otherworldly beauty. At the apex of each roof ridge perched a golden carp, its form vivid and lifelike. Interwoven among the bracket sets and eaves were ornate brass filigrees, glimmering with masterful craftsmanship.

Though the walls of the castle gleamed pure white, each tiled layer was painted in vibrant tones—vermillion, sky blue, silver-grey, and deep jade—culminating in the topmost tower, the Tenshukaku, which gleamed in gold leaf and polished copper, its sweeping eaves and ornate beams echoing regal grandeur. Bathed in winter's mellow sunlight, the interplay of metallic gleam, colored tiles, and rosy walls created a vision both sumptuous and noble.

Yet, for all its magnificence, it paled before the singular, staggering truth: the fortress was suspended midair.

"What... what is this?" Yue Fei's mind reeled. "A celestial palace? A mirage? A divine abode of immortals?"

For a long moment, his thoughts scattered like leaves in a storm. To a man of humble origins and limited learning, this spectacle defied all comprehension. And in the face of the unknown, fear reigned supreme. Even this future national hero—reputedly the reincarnation of the Golden-Winged Roc—stood stupefied, mind utterly blank, all reason eclipsed by sheer astonishment.

Time slipped by before he finally regained his senses, and instinctively tried to raise an alarm—only to find his voice caught, trembling, barely audible.

"Uh... look... Look, everyone… up there…"

Naturally, no one heeded this faltering cry. The crowd remained engrossed in their drink and idle boasts.

Growing desperate, Yue Fei shoved those nearest him, drawing annoyed glances from a few grizzled veterans. "What is it now, Commander Yue?"

He swallowed hard, raised a trembling finger skyward. "Look to the heavens!"

"What for?" one grumbled—yet still turned to follow his gaze…

And then silence. Stunned silence.

Moments later, the ramparts erupted in shrieks of hysteria, cutting short all chatter. Every soldier on the wall, every villager near the gate looked skyward—and saw it. A golden citadel, floating ever closer, its size swelling in their view, its descent unmistakable.

Panic broke like a tidal wave.

Soldiers rang the alarm bells in frantic confusion. Civilians fled in all directions. Some collapsed to their knees, weeping or muttering prayers, their hands trembling as if before divine judgment.

"What is that thing in the sky? A deity descending?"

"It's the celestial palace of the immortals! Bow and burn incense, boy!"

"Merciful Buddha, protect us!"

"I heard the capital summoned a sage named Guo Jing… Is this a heavenly army sent by the court?"

"Run! Flee the city! If that palace falls, Xiangzhou will be reduced to dust!"

Chaos spread with frightening speed.

Those who hadn't yet seen the castle turned to look as panic echoed through the gates. Shouts triggered more shouts. In moments, fear consumed the entire city. Screams rose from every street. Some dashed home to seal themselves in cellars. Others ran for the gates—only to find them barred by guards acting on reflex. The rest wandered aimlessly or knelt in terrified supplication, foreheads bloodied from fervent kowtows.

Yet not all fled. The curious and the bold clambered onto rooftops and towers, pointing and shouting in astonishment at the floating colossus that hovered above.

From the viewing platform on the lowest tier of Third New Tokyo, Wang Qiu, Guo Jing, and others observed the pandemonium below through telescopes, thoroughly satisfied. Clearly, this fortress—so far beyond the realm of mortal understanding—had utterly subdued the city, casting tens of thousands into cognitive disarray.

And yet... it was not enough. Fear had to reach its peak.

"Begin the music," Wang Qiu gestured to Doraemon. "Let the spectacle truly begin."

And so, before the stunned eyes of the Xiangzhou masses, the floating castle's loudspeakers roared to life, unleashing a melody unlike anything they had ever heard.

Originally, Wang Qiu had intended to play the rousing Soviet March, or even The March of the Volunteers—but alas, Doraemon and all its gadgets hailed from Japan. After sifting through a few overly cheerful anime theme songs, Wang Qiu reluctantly settled on the WWII-era Japanese army's Battōtai March, stripped of lyrics. Surely no one in this world could recognize the tune's origin.

As the unfamiliar, martial music thundered from the skies, the people below lost all semblance of composure. They had never seen a loudspeaker, never imagined sound could pour from the clouds. To them, this could only be magic—divine, unfathomable.

In a single breath, their reality was shattered.

Some fainted. Others cowered in alleys or curled on the ground, quivering in terror.

Then, cutting through the music, came the solemn voice of "Protector of the Realm" Guo Jing, proclaiming to all of Xiangzhou:

"Hear me, soldiers and citizens of Xiangzhou. Since the Jin barbarians invaded two years ago, our northern lands have suffered untold torment. The innocent lie dead in heaps, the living torn from kin. Countless villages lie in ashes, their wails swallowed by desolation. This enmity is eternal and irreconcilable.

I, Guo Jing, have taken up Heaven's mandate to purge these invaders. At the Emperor's behest, I have summoned the Six Jia Divine Soldiers to scour the land of Hu tribes and avenge our fallen kin. In Bianjing, I have already annihilated 200,000 Jurchen fiends. Now I march north once more, to finish this cleansing.

Any brave soul among you may join our sacred crusade and share in its glory. To the rest—I say only this: remain loyal, remain wise. Do not be swayed by traitors, lest you bring grief to your kin and joy to your foes."

Penned hastily by Court Censor Qin Hui, this blunt yet thunderous declaration of holy war was broadcast thrice across the skies. Only when all were believed to have heard it did Guo Jing—clad in imperial purple and mounted upon Doraemon's rainbow-hued cloud—descend from Third New Tokyo, accompanied by Wang Qiu and Nobita Nobi, to receive Xiangzhou's surrender.

Alas, the city was not prepared to welcome such "heavenly visitors."

Atop the wall, several soldiers had fainted. The rest lay prostrate, too petrified to speak. Only one young officer—tall, broad-browed, and steeled with resolve—managed to stand.

He stepped forward, bowed deeply, and called out:

"I am Yue Fei, humble servant of the realm. I pledge my life to the Protector of the Nation. Let me follow in your footsteps, to purge the North and cleanse our land!"

…Well, thank goodness someone could speak. And a volunteer, no less.

Wait—did he just say... Yue Fei?!

Hearing the name, Guo Jing froze mid-step. Wang Qiu, still descending, nearly slipped off the cloud in shock.

And just then, a noisy procession of officials stumbled forth from the city streets. One man—shoeless, breathless—shouted as he ran:

"Your humble servant, Wang Boyan, Prefect of Xiangzhou, comes to pay homage to the Celestial Envoy…"

Thus, in a sequence as surreal as it was thunderous, the treacherous separatists of Xiangzhou had not even stirred before the might of Third New Tokyo swept them into silence.