The Army Attacks

When Li Jinshui returned to his spot, he still felt as if he were walking on clouds.

He tucked the Green Emperor Indestructible Scripture and the jade tablet close to his body, his hand pressed against his chest, feeling their presence.

It wasn't fear; it was excitement.

He had never imagined that he would encounter such an opportunity in this lifetime.

He pulled up his panel and took another look:

[Green Emperor Indestructible Scripture: Not yet initiated (Cultivation requirement: Evergreen Art at perfection)]

[Current Realm: Inner Strength Realm (Late Stage)]

Once his Evergreen Art reached perfection, he would be able to practice this technique.

Once he mastered it, he would be able to go to the Heavenly Cloud Sect.

And once he reached the Heavenly Cloud Sect—

The corners of his mouth curled upward, impossible to suppress.

Monkey was chattering away beside him, but he didn't take in a single word.

Just then, a rapid sound of hoofbeats came from the south.

The hoofbeats were too urgent, sounding like a war drum, striking against everyone's heart with every beat.

Everyone turned to look south—in the direction of the city gate, a horse was galloping wildly toward them.

The horse was pitch-black, tall and magnificent, its mane flying as it ran as fast as a bolt of black lightning.

A person was slumped over the horse, covered in blood, clutching the horse's neck for dear life.

"That is... the General of the North-Suppressing's Cloud-Treading Steed!" someone exclaimed.

The Cloud-Treading Steed was one of the finest horses in the Great Zhou, capable of traveling a thousand miles a day; only the General of the North-Suppressing was qualified to ride it.

Now, it had returned alone.

Where was the rider?

The horse charged into the drill ground and stopped abruptly in front of the crowd, its front hooves rearing high as it let out a neigh and collapsed—it had run too hard and was completely spent.

The person on its back was thrown off, rolling a few times on the ground before struggling to crawl up.

It was a personal guard covered in blood, his armor shattered and his body riddled with over a dozen wounds; the deepest one ran diagonally from his left shoulder to his right waist, exposing the bone beneath. He stumbled forward a few steps before dropping to his knees with a thud.

"Your... Your Highness..."

The Seventh Prince had already rushed down from the high platform and caught him: "Speak! What happened?"

The guard raised his head, his face a mask of blood, yet his eyes were wide open, his lips trembling as he spoke in a voice as hoarse as a broken gong:

"Yanmen Pass... has fallen..."

The entire field fell into a deathly silence.

The Seventh Prince's hand froze in mid-air.

The guard continued, his words fragmented, each one like a blade stabbing into the hearts of those listening:

"Today... the General opened the gates to engage the enemy... and was defeated again... retreated back into the pass... in the middle of the night... the deputy general... the deputy general betrayed us..."

His voice grew weaker, yet every word drilled clearly into everyone's ears:

"The deputy general opened the city gates... the Di People rushed in... the General fought to the death... casualties... casualties were countless... the General ordered this subordinate... to ride his horse... to bring word..."

He gripped the Seventh Prince's sleeve tightly, the light in his eyes beginning to dim:

"Yanmen Pass... is gone... the main army... is in rout... the Di People... the Di People have split their forces... they are coming toward North-Rejecting City... they... they knew all along... every step we took... every move was calculated to our doom..."

The Seventh Prince's face turned as white as paper.

He gripped the guard's hand, his knuckles turning white, his voice forced out from his throat, hoarse and unrecognizable:

"What did you say? The deputy general betrayed us? Who? Who was it?!"

The guard's mouth opened, wanting to say something, but only a mouthful of blood surged out.

His eyes slowly lost focus, and his hand slid from the Seventh Prince's sleeve.

He was dead.

The entire field was silent as the grave.

The Seventh Prince knelt there, holding the corpse, motionless.

Then, he suddenly stood up and roared toward the sky:

"Ah—!!!"

The roar was like that of a wounded beast, heart-wrenching and loud enough to make one's eardrums ache.

"Betrayal! Betrayal! It's always betrayal!" He slammed a fist into the ground, causing the earth to crack, "No wonder! No wonder we won at the start, only to be ambushed every time after! No wonder they knew my movements! No wonder they knew my guardian had been lured away!"

He turned around, his eyes bloodshot, staring at everyone present:

"The Di Kingdom's infiltration of the Great Zhou has reached such a depth! From the capital to the border, their people are everywhere! And we—we only find out now!"

No one dared to speak.

The Seventh Prince continued to roar: "Yanmen Pass is gone! Of the one hundred and fifty thousand troops, some are dead, some have fled! The Great General's fate is unknown! The main force of the Di Army could march south at any moment! And you lot—"

He pointed toward the north, his voice trembling:

"You think this is the end? What did that personal guard just say? The Di People split their forces! They split them long ago! Perhaps even now—"

Before his words could fade, a dull, rhythmic sound of war drums suddenly erupted from the northern horizon.

It was not just one or two drums, but dozens, perhaps hundreds, beating in unison, shaking the very earth beneath their feet.

Everyone whipped their heads around to look north.

On the horizon, a dark, oppressive sea of troops surged forward like a tidal wave.

Not thousands, not tens of thousands, but at least fifty thousand!

War banners blotted out the sky, iron armor gleamed with a chilling luster, and the thunder of hooves was deafening.

But what chilled the soul most were the dozen figures hovering in the air above the army.

Pulse-Opening Realm.

Over a dozen Pulse-Opening Realm experts.

And further ahead of them, five figures stood suspended in the void, their true qi circulating, their presence as heavy as mountains.

Origin-Opening Realm.

Five Origin-Opening Realm experts.

The two at the very front were familiar to everyone—Huyan Lie and Huyan Zhuo.

Huyan Lie's face remained pale, and his aura was still somewhat unstable, yet he was already capable of hovering in the air. He gritted his teeth, staring fixedly at North-Rejecting City, his eyes filled with hatred.

As for the other three, their auras were even deeper, even more terrifying.

One of them, draped in black robes with a gaunt face, had eyes that burned like ghost fire. He stood with his hands behind his back, looking down at North-Rejecting City with a cold sneer on his lips.

Another was a woman in red, bewitching and alluring, yet her eyes were filled with nothing but icy malice. She flicked a long whip, stained with blood of unknown origin.

The final one was a middle-aged scholar, dressed in white as pristine as snow, holding a folding fan and appearing refined and elegant. Yet, the moment he appeared, even Huyan Zhuo stepped aside to give him space.

Five Origin-Opening Realm experts.

Over a dozen Pulse-Opening Realm experts.

Fifty thousand troops.

A black, suffocating mass, covering the earth and sky.

On the city walls, everyone froze.

Some felt their legs give way and collapsed to the ground. Others dropped their blades with a metallic clatter. Some began to weep, some began to tremble, and some muttered, "It's over," "It's completely over."

Li Jinshui stood among the crowd, looking up at the five Origin-Opening Realm experts in the sky, at the dozen Pulse-Opening Realm experts, and at the vast, sprawling Di Army.

His hands slowly clenched into fists.

The ecstasy of having just obtained a cultivation technique, the excitement of receiving the jade tablet, the beautiful, dreamlike feeling from moments ago—all of it was washed away by this single sight.

In its place was an indescribable emotion.

It was not fear.

It was...

Calm.

Extreme, absolute calm.

He pulled up his panel and took a glance:

[Name: Li Jinshui]
[Realm: Inner Strength Realm (Late Stage)]
[Techniques: Evergreen Art (Great Success 0/800), Rock Body (Minor Success 60/200), White Tiger Blade Technique (Great Success 100/300), Iron Thread Fist (Minor Success 0/100), Inch Step (Great Success 0/200), Marching Step (Minor Success 0/80), Iron Shirt (Perfect), Wolf Killing Seven Forms (Perfect), Tiger Walk (Perfect)]

Not enough.

These points were nowhere near enough.

Yet, he did not despair.

Because he knew that as long as he survived, as long as he kept killing, he could grow stronger.

The question was, could he survive today?

He raised his head and looked at the solitary figure on the city wall.

The Seventh Prince stood there, trembling all over, though it was unclear if it was from rage or terror.

Elder Chen stepped out from the crowd and stood by his side. His back remained hunched, but his cloudy old eyes were filled with gravity.

"Your Highness," Elder Chen said in a low voice, "the enemy has five Origin-Opening Realm experts. This old servant can hold off two at most, perhaps three if I risk my life. The remaining two..."

He did not finish, but everyone understood the implication.

The remaining two Origin-Opening Realm experts were unstoppable.

Yun Ruoxi and the other four guest retainers turned deathly pale. They were only in the Pulse-Opening Realm; facing Origin-Opening Realm experts was nothing short of suicide.

Zhao Zheng stood upon the city wall, watching the Di Army that blanketed the mountains and plains. He remained silent for a long time before turning to look at the soldiers, who were equally silent.

He spoke, his voice not loud, yet it reached every person's ears with perfect clarity:

"Are you afraid?"

No one answered.

Zhao Zheng smiled, a smile that carried a hint of misery.

"I am afraid, too."

He paused, his voice suddenly rising:

"But I am a soldier. A soldier can be afraid, but a soldier cannot retreat."

He drew his blade and pointed it toward the outside of the city:

"North-Rejecting City is the northern gateway of the Great Zhou. This gate must not be lost on our watch."

"Today, either they step over our corpses, or we slaughter them back."

"There is no third path."

Silence reigned on the city wall for two heartbeats.

Then, someone raised their blade.

One, two, ten, a hundred, a thousand.

The glint of blades became a forest.

"KILL!!!"

A roar that shook the heavens erupted.

Li Jinshui stood among the crowd and raised his blade as well.

He recalled the words the Seventh Prince had spoken just moments ago:

"When you reach the Pulse-Opening Realm, come find me in the capital."

He took a deep breath and tightened his grip on the hilt.

Your Highness, I might not make it to the capital.

But today, I will show you what a man from the Death Squad Camp is made of.

Outside the city, the war drums of the Di Army beat even louder.

The figures of the five Origin-Opening Realm experts drifted slowly toward the city wall.