Feigning Strength

By the time he returned to camp from the void, night had begun to fall.

Taiyi's steps were a little unsteady when he landed. Fei Lian came forward to support him, but Taiyi waved him off. He walked back to his tent on his own, dropped the flap, and plopped down onto the rug, finally letting out a long breath.

Tired. So tired.

That fight with Di Jiang had looked evenly matched, but only Taiyi knew that he had been walking a tightrope from start to finish. He had needed to put on Eastern Emperor Taiyi's wild arrogance while making sure not to truly enrage Di Jiang—if that brute had really gone all out, Taiyi in his current state might not have been able to withstand it.

More importantly, he had to make it convincing.

He had to act like the old Eastern Emperor Taiyi.

Taiyi closed his eyes and replayed the battle in his mind. Di Jiang had said he had changed, that his fighting style had changed—and he was right. What had the old Eastern Emperor Taiyi fought like? There were images in his fragmented memories: swinging the Chaos Bell around and smashing everything in sight, throwing out True Sun Fire as though it cost nothing, charging ahead like a bull. Unlike now, when he knew to dodge, to scheme, and to leave himself a way out.

But Di Jiang had also said that he had not been replaced.

Taiyi opened his eyes and looked at the flickering shadows on the tent ceiling. Was Di Jiang simply too blind to see through him? Or had he... actually been acting rather well?

[Current Compatibility: 71%]

The system prompt flashed through his mind.

Seventy percent. That meant his current appearance was already seventy percent like the original owner. As for the remaining thirty percent, were they flaws he could not conceal, or... deliberate "differences"?

Just as he was pondering this, Fei Lian's voice came from outside the tent. "Your Majesty, something has happened."

"Come in."

The flap lifted, and Fei Lian entered with an unpleasant expression. "The scouts report that the Witch Race... is making rather large movements."

"Be specific."

"After Di Jiang returned, three Witch Race tribes at the foot of Buzhou Mountain began gathering their forces." Fei Lian handed over a jade slip. "The Houtu Tribe, Gonggong Tribe, and Gou Mang Tribe are all pulling out their elites and gathering at a place on the western foothills of Buzhou Mountain called Wind Burial Valley. From the looks of it, their numbers will be no fewer than fifty thousand."

Fifty thousand.

Taiyi took the jade slip and swept it with his divine sense. Inside was a simple map drawn by the scouts, marked with the routes of each tribe's deployment and their gathering points. He knew Wind Burial Valley. It was a gourd-shaped valley, narrow at the entrance and broad inside—easy to defend and hard to attack, but also easy to surround.

"They're planning something big," Taiyi murmured.

"Your Majesty, should we..." Fei Lian hesitated.

"Should we what?" Taiyi looked up at him. "Can you beat fifty thousand with three thousand?"

Fei Lian fell silent.

Taiyi tossed the jade slip aside and rubbed his brow. The Witch Race's gathering was certainly not for tea. But if they truly intended to tear things apart and launch a full-scale war... the timing was wrong. The calamity had not truly begun, and the Heavenly Dao was still watching. Whoever made the first move would suffer.

So these fifty thousand were most likely there to intimidate someone.

But who were they trying to intimidate?

Taiyi suddenly smiled.

"Fei Lian," he said, "who do you think the Witch Race is trying to scare with such a grand display?"

Fei Lian thought for a moment. "...Us?"

"We only have three thousand men." Taiyi shook his head. "Using a sledgehammer to kill a chicken isn't the Witch Race's style. If they really wanted to wipe us out, two Ancestral Witches and ten thousand elites would be enough. Why mobilize fifty thousand?"

"Then..."

"They're defending." Taiyi said, "They're guarding against reinforcements from the Heavenly Court, guarding against me bringing in an army."

Fei Lian froze. "But Your Majesty hasn't called for troops."

"They don't know that." Taiyi's smile widened. "In the Witch Race's eyes, Eastern Emperor Taiyi has suffered a loss—Kuafu was crippled by me, and Di Jiang only fought me to a draw. Given my former temperament, I would definitely summon an army to reclaim my dignity. So they gathered in advance and set up this formation to tell me: Come on, we're ready."

Fei Lian suddenly understood. "Then we..."

"Play along." Taiyi rose to his feet. "Don't they think I'm going to call in troops? Then I'll put on a show for them. Tomorrow, take three hundred men and scout toward Wind Burial Valley. Don't get close. Just circle the outskirts and make it look like you're surveying the terrain."

"Yes."

"And," Taiyi added, "send word back to the Heavenly Court and have Bai Ze mobilize ten thousand demon soldiers—just for show, they don't need to actually come. But make sure the Witch Race's scouts 'accidentally' discover traces of the mobilization."

Fei Lian's eyes lit up. "Your Majesty intends to... bluff?"

"Exactly." Taiyi nodded. "They defend, and we frighten them. Let's see who loses patience first."

Fei Lian accepted the order and left.

The tent fell quiet again. Taiyi sat back down, closed his eyes, and looked inward at his dantian.

The Chaos Bell hung silently there. The three rings of sun patterns on its surface were brighter than before, while the dark red along its edges had become more distinct. He could sense a faint craving within the bell, like a hungry beast catching the scent of blood.

Baleful aura.

Although he and Di Jiang had not fought to the death, the aftershocks of their clash had still produced some baleful aura. It was faint and thin, but the Chaos Bell seemed to have caught its scent and had been trembling ever so slightly.

Taiyi tried to guide a thread of baleful aura toward the Chaos Bell.

The moment it touched the bell, it was absorbed. Like a drop of water soaking into parched earth, it vanished in an instant. The Chaos Bell's trembling visibly settled.

"So it really has to eat this..." Taiyi murmured.

He remembered what the artifact spirit had said: nurture the bell and restore it with ten thousand kinds of baleful aura. Now it seemed that "nurture" was not quite right. The bell simply treated baleful aura as food. The more it consumed, the faster it grew.

But where was he supposed to find so much baleful aura?

Taiyi frowned. Was he really supposed to go around picking fights every day? Wouldn't that make him a public enemy of the Great Wilderness?

Just as he was thinking about it, footsteps sounded outside the tent again—this time light and cautious. Taiyi opened his eyes. "Who is it?"

The flap opened a crack, and a head poked in. It was a young demon soldier who looked familiar—right, the one whose shoulder Taiyi had patted on the drill field that day.

"Y-Your Majesty," the young demon soldier said with a trembling voice, "Lord Fei Lian asked me to bring your dinner..."

"Come in."

The young demon soldier carried in a tray and carefully placed it beside the rug. On it were simple rations, meat soup, and two fruits. After setting it down, he did not leave immediately. He stood there with his head lowered, fingers twisting the corner of his clothes.

"Is there something else?" Taiyi asked.

"Your Majesty..." The young demon soldier gathered his courage. "Tomorrow... are we really going to fight?"

Taiyi looked at him. The youth still had a childish look on his face, and fear was hidden in his eyes, but there was something else deeper within—like he wanted to prove himself, yet feared dying without understanding why.

"Are you afraid?" Taiyi asked.

"N-No, I'm not afraid!" The young demon soldier hurriedly straightened his back. "I just... I just want to know why we have to fight."

The question was simple, yet Taiyi found himself unable to answer for a moment.

Why did they have to fight? Because the Witch Race and demon race were mortal enemies? Because the calamity was coming and battle was inevitable? Or because... he needed baleful aura, needed to grow stronger, needed to survive?

"Some battles aren't fought because you want to fight them," Taiyi said vaguely. "They're fought because you have no choice."

The young demon soldier nodded as if he understood, then bowed and withdrew.

Taiyi was alone in the tent again. Looking at the bowl of meat soup still steaming, he suddenly had no appetite.

No choice.

Those words were easy enough to say, but how many lives lay behind them? Three thousand demon soldiers, fifty thousand members of the Witch Race—if they really fought, how many would make it back alive?

He shook his head and suppressed the thought. This was not the time to go soft. Beneath the calamity, softness meant death.

Early the next morning, Fei Lian set out with three hundred men.

Taiyi did not go with them. He remained in camp, sitting cross-legged in his tent and regulating his breath. Yet his divine sense spread out, extending with those three hundred men toward Wind Burial Valley.

The three hundred flew quickly and reached the outskirts of Wind Burial Valley in less than half an hour. They did not dare approach too closely, instead landing in a forest ten li away, scattering out and pretending to scout the area.

Sure enough, the Witch Race reacted before long.

A patrol of roughly one hundred emerged from the valley entrance and headed toward the forest. Their leader was not Kuafu, but an unfamiliar Great Witch, a huge figure carrying a stone axe.

Following the plan, Fei Lian led his men in retreat.

The patrol pursued for a while but did not chase deeply. It stopped at the edge of the forest and shouted something in their direction—the distance was too great to hear clearly, but their posture made it obvious that they were issuing a warning.

Fei Lian then led his men forward a little.

The patrol immediately formed a battle formation.

The two sides confronted each other across three li, neither willing to strike first, while the tension stretched taut like a fully drawn bowstring.

Watching from camp, Taiyi had his answer. The Witch Race really was on guard, and extremely so. The patrol's reaction speed and shifts in formation both showed rigorous training.

This was probably Xuan Ming's handiwork. That woman was surely far better at commanding troops than Di Jiang, that brute.

The standoff lasted for an hour.

In the end, the patrol withdrew first—perhaps they had received orders that there was no need to waste time on three hundred men. Fei Lian also pulled his people back, retreating all the way to twenty li away before stopping and hiding again.

The report soon reached camp.

"Your Majesty," Fei Lian reported upon returning, "the Witch Race's defenses are extremely tight. There are three layers of guards at the valley entrance and at least ten hidden sentries. Sneaking inside would be... difficult."

"I didn't tell you to sneak inside." Taiyi said, "Knowing they're on guard is enough."

After a pause, he asked, "Did you sense any baleful aura?"

Fei Lian froze. "Baleful aura?"

"The tense, oppressive feeling before a battle, during a standoff." Taiyi explained, "That is the precursor to baleful aura—fighting intent and killing intent mixed together, brewing into something else."

Fei Lian thought carefully, then nodded. "Yes. During that standoff, there really was a feeling that made one's chest tighten."

"That's it." Taiyi closed his eyes, and his divine sense spread out again toward Wind Burial Valley.

This time, he was no longer "watching." He was "feeling."

Sure enough, a faint, nearly imperceptible gray aura permeated the area around Wind Burial Valley. It was thin like morning mist, yet contained violent, chaotic, murderous intent.

That was battle fiend.

They had not even truly begun fighting; it was only a standoff, yet such dense battle fiend had already formed. If they really fought...

Taiyi opened his eyes, and a trace of complexity flashed through them.

The Chaos Bell trembled softly within his dantian, yearning for that battle fiend. He could feel that if he drew it over and fed it to the Chaos Bell, the bell would certainly change.

But he did not move.

It was not because he could not bear it—on a battlefield, it was life or death, and there was nothing to pity. The timing was simply wrong. Absorbing battle fiend now would be the same as telling the Witch Race: there's a monster here that can devour baleful aura. Wouldn't Xuan Ming carve him up and study him?

He had to wait.

Wait until they truly began fighting, until the battlefield was chaotic, until no one was paying attention. Then he could secretly absorb a little.

"Your Majesty," Fei Lian's voice pulled him back to reality, "what should we do next..."

"Continue." Taiyi said, "Go again tomorrow. Pick another direction and another approach. Remember—provoke them, but don't attack. Make them furious, but don't let a real battle start."

"This..." Fei Lian looked troubled. "That balance will be difficult to manage."

"That's why I'm sending you." Taiyi patted his shoulder. "You command the Wind Division. You're best at knowing when to advance and when to retreat. You're the most suitable for this."

Fei Lian gave a bitter smile, accepted the order, and left.

The tent fell quiet again. Taiyi sat down and looked inward at his dantian. The Chaos Bell was still trembling faintly, unable to forget the distant battle fiend.

"What are you in such a hurry for?" he said inwardly to the bell. "There'll be plenty for you to eat later."

The bell trembled lightly, as if in reply.

Taiyi smiled, though the smile was somewhat bitter. What sort of situation was this? He had raised a bell that fed exclusively on baleful aura, and now he had to think every day about where to find it food. It was like raising a gluttonous beast.

Outside, the sky gradually darkened.

In the distance, Buzhou Mountain's outline blurred in the twilight like a crouching giant beast. At its foot, in the direction of Wind Burial Valley, faint firelight glimmered—the Witch Race's campfires stretched together like a river of stars upon the earth.

It was beautiful.

Yet beneath that beauty were fifty thousand blades, fifty thousand bows, and fifty thousand pairs of eyes waiting to tear their enemies apart.

Taiyi watched those fires for a long time.

Then he closed his eyes and began regulating his breath.

Tomorrow, he still had to keep acting.