The wind on the mountain was fierce at night. The weathered man rested with his back against a boulder, a straight saber cradled in his arms as he gazed at the resplendent glazed buildings on another mountain in the distance. It was the sight of every Defense Array being activated, a rare spectacle. The formations devoured resources like whales swallowing the sea every moment. This was a colossal sect, hegemon over hundreds of thousands of miles, a plunderer of resources, backed by the Imperial Dynasty and some enormous religious order from an immortal domain.
He had been entangled with this giant for centuries, stirring the sect and the Imperial Dynasty's local offices until chickens and dogs could find no peace.
Yet no matter how they made trouble for him, he simply would not die.
He took a swig of strong liquor.
He had just learned from the black market that the White Dragon Empire had declared war on the Imperial Dynasty. There were also rumors that the Human Emperor might already have fallen. It could not yet be confirmed, but he had made no statement since the war began. Perhaps he truly was dead.
Every Defense Array atop the hill had been fully activated. The sect hunkered down and defended without counterattacking, likely unwilling to abandon its foundations and hoping for a turn of fortune.
There were countless sects like this throughout the land, and they were mostly alike. Once they grew large and strong, they became sacred; if their enterprise failed to take off, they would be swallowed by their peers. They excelled at throwing ordinary lives into chaos—worse than sects that focused wholeheartedly on cultivation.
This sect had chosen its location well.
The hill it occupied was encircled by a towering horseshoe-shaped mountain range. The locals called it