Bluffing

Chapter 18: Blustering

By the time Taiyi returned to the camp from the void, the sky had already darkened.

His steps were a bit unsteady as he landed. Fei Lian stepped forward, intending to help, but Taiyi waved him away. He walked back to his tent, pulled the curtain shut, and plopped down onto a rug, finally letting out a long breath.

Tired. So tired.

The fight with Di Jiang, while it looked like a back-and-forth exchange, only he knew he'd been walking a tightrope the entire time. He had to maintain the wild demeanor of the Eastern Emperor Taiyi, yet also control himself to avoid truly enraging Di Jiang—if that brute had gone all out, he might not have been able to handle it in his current state.

More importantly, he had to act the part.

Act like the former Eastern Emperor Taiyi.

Taiyi closed his eyes, replaying the fight in his mind. Di Jiang had said he'd changed, that his fighting style had changed—and he wasn't wrong. What was the former Eastern Emperor Taiyi's fighting style like? Memory fragments flashed: swinging the Chaos Bell to smash, spewing True Sun Fire without restraint, as reckless as a bull. Nothing like now, where he knew to dodge, to strategize, to leave himself an escape route.

But Di Jiang had also said he hadn't been replaced.

Taiyi opened his eyes, staring at the dancing shadows on the tent ceiling. Was Di Jiang blind and unable to see? Or perhaps... his act was actually quite convincing?

[Current Compatibility: 71%]

The System's prompt echoed in his mind.

Seventy percent. It meant his current appearance was already 70% like the original. What about the remaining 30%—was it a flaw he couldn't hide, or... a deliberate "difference" he left behind?

As he pondered, Fei Lian's voice came from outside the tent: "Your Majesty, there's a situation."

"Enter."

The curtain was lifted, and Fei Lian entered, his expression grim. "Scouts report that the Witch Race... there's been a significant movement."

"Be specific."

"After Di Jiang returned, three Witch Race tribes at the foot of Buzhou Mountain began gathering forces." Fei Lian handed over a jade slip. "The Houtu Tribe, Gonggong Tribe, and Gou Mang Tribe are all mobilizing elites, converging on a place called 'Wind Burial Valley' on the western foothills of Buzhou Mountain. Judging by their formation, the numbers won't be less than fifty thousand."

Fifty thousand.

Taiyi took the jade slip and scanned it with his divine sense. The slip contained a simple map drawn by the scouts, marking the mobilization routes and assembly points of each tribe. He knew Wind Burial Valley; it was a gourd-shaped valley, narrow at the entrance and wide inside, easy to defend but hard to attack—and also easy to surround.

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

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

"We what?" Taiyi looked up at him. "Three thousand against fifty thousand, can you win?"

Fei Lian fell silent.

Taiyi tossed the jade slip aside and rubbed his temples. The Witch Race gathering couldn't be for tea. But to truly break face and engage in all-out war... the timing was wrong. The tribulation hadn't truly begun, and Heavenly Dao was still watching. Whoever made the first move would be at a disadvantage.

Therefore, these fifty thousand people were most likely a show of force.

But who were they trying to scare?

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 people." Taiyi shook his head. "Using a butcher's knife to kill a chicken isn't the Witch Race's style. If they truly wanted to destroy us, sending two Ancestral Witches with ten thousand elites would be enough. Why mobilize fifty thousand?"

"Then..."

"They're defending," Taiyi said. "Defending against reinforcements from the Heavenly Court, defending against me bringing a large army."

Fei Lian blinked. "But Your Majesty, you haven't mobilized any troops."

"They don't know that." Taiyi's smile widened. "In the eyes of the Witch Race, I, the Eastern Emperor Taiyi, suffered a loss—Kuafu was crippled by me, and Di Jiang fought me to a draw. With my old temper, I would definitely mobilize a large army to get even. So they're gathering in advance, putting on a show, telling me: 'Come on, we're ready.'"

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

"We'll play along." Taiyi stood up. "Don't they think I'm going to mobilize troops? Then I'll pretend to do so. Tomorrow, you take three hundred men and scout in the direction of Wind Burial Valley. Don't get too close, just circle the perimeter, making it look like you're surveying the terrain."

"Yes."

"Also," Taiyi added, "send a message back to the Heavenly Court, have Bai Ze mobilize ten thousand demon soldiers—just for show, no need for them to actually come. But make sure the Witch Race's scouts 'accidentally' discover traces of troop mobilization."

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

"Exactly." Taiyi nodded. "They're defending, so we'll intimidate. Let's see who can't hold their nerve first."

Fei Lian took his orders and left.

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

The Chaos Bell floated quietly. The three sun patterns on its surface were brighter than before, and the dark red edges were more pronounced. He could feel a faint yearning within the bell—like a hungry beast catching the scent of blood.

Killing intent.

Although the fight with Di Jiang hadn't been to the death, the residual shockwaves from their clashes had generated some killing intent. It was faint, very thin, but the Chaos Bell seemed to have smelled it and was trembling slightly.

Taiyi tried to mobilize a wisp of killing intent and guide it towards the Chaos Bell.

As soon as the killing intent touched the bell, it was instantly absorbed. It vanished like a drop of water soaking into parched earth. The Chaos Bell's trembling visibly subsided.

"It really does eat this..." Taiyi murmured.

He recalled what the artifact spirit had said: "Ten thousand types of killing intent will nourish the bell to completion." Now it seemed, it wasn't just "nourishing"; the bell treated killing intent as food. The more it ate, the faster it grew.

Where did so much malevolent energy come from?

Taiyi frowned. Did he really have to find people to fight every day? That would make him an enemy of the entire Great Wilderness.

While he was thinking, footsteps sounded outside the tent again—lighter and more cautious this time. Taiyi opened his eyes. "Who's there?"

A gap was opened in the curtain, and a head peeked in. It was a young demon soldier, who looked familiar—right, it was the one whose shoulder he had patted at the training grounds that day.

"Y-Your Majesty," the young demon soldier's voice trembled, "Lord Fei Lian sent me to bring dinner..."

"Come in."

The young demon soldier entered carrying a tray, placing it carefully beside the blanket. On the tray were simple dry rations, meat soup, and two fruits. After placing it down, he didn't leave immediately, standing there with his head bowed, twisting the corners of his clothes.

"Is there something else?" Taiyi asked.

"Your Majesty..." the young demon soldier mustered his courage, "Tomorrow... are we really going to fight tomorrow?"

Taiyi looked at him. The young man's face still held a hint of childishness, his eyes hid fear, but deep down there was something else—a desire to prove himself, yet a fear of dying for no reason.

"Scared?" Taiyi asked.

"No, not scared!" the young demon soldier quickly straightened his back. "It's just... it's just that I want to know, why are we fighting?"

It was a simple question, but Taiyi couldn't answer it for a moment.

Why fight? Because the Witch Race and the Demon Race are sworn enemies? Because the tribulation is coming and they are destined to fight? Or because... he needed malevolent energy, needed to become stronger, needed to survive?

"Some fights aren't fought because you want to," Taiyi said vaguely. "They are fought because you have to."

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

Taiyi was alone in the tent again. He looked at the bowl of steaming meat soup and suddenly lost his appetite.

Had to fight.

Easy to say, but how many lives were behind those words? Three thousand demon soldiers, fifty thousand Witch Race members—if they really fought, how many would return alive?

He shook his head, pushing the thought away. This was not the time to be soft-hearted. Under the tribulation, softness was a path to death.

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

Taiyi did not go with them. He remained in the camp, sitting cross-legged in his tent, regulating his breathing. His spiritual sense, however, spread out, following the three hundred men towards Wind Burial Valley.

The three hundred men flew quickly, arriving at the outskirts of Wind Burial Valley in less than half an hour. They didn't dare to get too close, landing in a forest about ten miles away. They dispersed, making it look like they were scouting.

As expected, not long after, there was a reaction from the Witch Race.

A patrol team of about a hundred men emerged from the valley entrance and headed towards the forest. The leader was not Kuafu, but an unfamiliar Great Witch, tall and burly, carrying a stone axe in his hand.

Fei Lian, as planned, led his men to retreat.

The patrol team pursued for a short distance but did not chase too far. They stopped at the edge of the forest and shouted something towards them—the distance was too great to hear clearly, but judging by their stance, it was a warning.

Fei Lian led his men forward again.

The patrol team immediately formed a battle formation.

The two sides confronted each other like this, separated by three miles, neither making the first move, but the atmosphere was as taut as a drawn bowstring.

Taiyi "watched" from the camp, knowing the situation. The Witch Race was indeed on guard, and heavily so. The patrol team's reaction speed and formation changes showed their discipline.

It must be Xuan Ming's doing. That woman must be better at managing troops than that brute Di Jiang.

The standoff lasted for an hour.

Finally, the patrol team retreated first—likely receiving orders that there was no need to waste time here with three hundred men. Fei Lian also led his men back, retreating twenty miles before stopping and lying in wait again.

The news quickly reached the camp.

"Your Majesty," Fei Lian reported upon his return, "The Witch Race is heavily guarded. There are three layers of alert at the valley entrance, and at least ten hidden sentries. Trying to sneak in... is difficult."

"I didn't ask you to sneak in," Taiyi said. "Knowing they are on guard is enough."

He paused and asked, "Did you sense the malevolent energy?"

Fei Lian was startled. "Malevolent energy?"

"Before the battle, during the confrontation, that tense, oppressive aura," Taiyi explained. "That is the precursor to malevolent energy—battle intent, killing intent, mixed together, brewing."

Fei Lian carefully recalled and nodded. "Yes. During the confrontation just now, there was indeed a feeling that made my heart tighten."

"That's it," Taiyi closed his eyes, his spiritual sense spreading out again, extending towards Wind Burial Valley.

This time, he was not "watching," but "feeling."

Indeed, in the area around the outskirts of Wind Burial Valley, the air was filled with a faint, almost imperceptible gray aura. It was very thin, like morning mist, but it contained the intent of violence, chaos, and slaughter.

That was Battle Fiend.

They hadn't truly started fighting yet, it was just a confrontation, and such dense Battle Fiend had already been generated. If they really fought...

Taiyi opened his eyes, a flicker of complexity in them.

The Chaos Bell in his Dantian vibrated gently, showing a longing for that Battle Fiend. He could feel that if he absorbed this Battle Fiend and fed it to the Chaos Bell, the bell's body would surely change.

But he didn't move.

It wasn't out of pity—life and death on the battlefield, there was nothing to pity. It was the wrong timing. Absorbing Battle Fiend now would be like telling the Witch Race: there's a monster here that can devour malevolent energy. Wouldn't Xuan Ming dissect him then?

I have to wait.

Wait until the real fight starts, until the battlefield is chaotic, until no one is paying attention, then I can secretly absorb a little.

"Your Majesty," Fei Lian's voice pulled him back to reality, "Next..."

"Continue," Taiyi said, "We'll go tomorrow. Change direction, change tactics. Remember—only provoke, don't fight. Make them angry, but don't let them actually fight."

"This..." Fei Lian looked troubled, "It's hard to gauge the right balance."

"That's why I'm sending you," Taiyi patted his shoulder, "You're the commander of the Wind Division, your specialty is knowing when to advance and when to retreat. You're the most suitable for this task."

Fei Lian gave a wry smile and took his orders.

The tent fell silent again. Taiyi sat down, looking inward at his Dantian. The Chaos Bell was still trembling slightly, fixated on the Battle Fiend in the distance.

"What's the hurry," he said to the Bell in his mind, "You'll have plenty to eat later."

The Bell trembled gently, as if in response.

Taiyi smiled, a slightly bitter smile. What was this? Raising a bell that only ate malevolent energy, and having to figure out where to find food for it every day. It was like raising a Taotie.

Outside the window, the sky was gradually darkening.

The silhouette of Buzhou Mountain in the distance was indistinct in the twilight, like a crouching beast. At the foot of the mountain, in the direction of Wind Burial Valley, faint firelight could be seen—the campfires of the Witch Race, forming a continuous line, like a river of stars on the ground.

It was beautiful.

But beneath this beauty lay fifty thousand blades, fifty thousand bows, fifty thousand pairs of eyes waiting to tear their enemies to shreds.

Taiyi looked at the patch of firelight for a long time.

Then he closed his eyes and began to regulate his breathing.

Tomorrow, the act had to continue.