A Great Situation, Ruined...

He bit into the steamed bun with large, savage mouthfuls, as if he were gnawing on Western Xia itself.

Li Su's eyes bulged as he wolfed down the food set before him, devouring it with the speed of a wind sweeping away scattered clouds.

Once full, Li Su let out a long breath, turned to look at Xuanci, and pulled out a charcoal pencil to write: "The Song Dynasty lost?"

Xuanci nodded, his face etched with tension.

Clutching his head, Li Su looked up and sighed heavily.

What in the hell is this?

Monk Tianming had brought them to Weizhou five days ago, and Li Su had only regained consciousness after being comatose for four days and four nights.

Upon receiving intelligence, the Weizhou authorities had immediately mobilized troops to execute a plan to encircle and annihilate Western Xia.

They had expected to catch Western Xia off guard, hoping to render them incapable of invading the Song Dynasty for decades to come.

The idea was excellent.

As for the execution? It was, frankly, trash.

The man leading the troops was a fellow named Ge Huaimin—a man with insufficient skill but boundless ambition, and a desperate need to show off.

He had been explicitly told that upon reaching Liupan Mountain, he was to immediately organize the troops and establish defensive positions to cut off the enemy's path south.

The bastard had followed orders at first, and after winning two minor skirmishes, he immediately became insufferably arrogant. Seeing the Western Xia army retreating, he didn't even think twice; he waved his hand and led his troops in pursuit.

Good grief.

Under normal circumstances, the casualty ratio between Song and Western Xia forces was about one to three; a one-to-one ratio was only achievable after establishing sufficient defensive fortifications. Yet, in this situation, this guy had actually led a force of ten thousand to chase down over thirty thousand Western Xia soldiers for a full ten miles, charging headlong into a trap they had prepared for him.

A one-to-three casualty ratio, ten thousand against thirty thousand—who gave him the courage? How could he be arrogant enough to do such a thing?

An incompetent commander exhausts the entire army.

Listening to the news from Xuanci, Li Su felt the weight of that saying for the first time in a visceral way.

Ten thousand men. A full ten thousand.

Only a few hundred had run back; it was a near-total annihilation.

It was no wonder the combat effectiveness of the Song army declined as time went on; when the leaders were such massive disasters, only a lunatic would fight to the death for them.

To make matters worse, the man hadn't just doomed his troops; he'd doomed himself. Wang Yan, the great general of Weizhou, was so furious he was jumping out of his skin, smashing several tables and wishing he could slaughter the man himself.

Come to think of it, the last battle seemed to have gone the same way.

But that time, the commander had been a civil official. Since the Tang Dynasty, civil officials had generally been characterized by hearts higher than the heavens and tongues as flowery as orchids, yet the moment they reached the front lines, they were all just like Zhao Kuo.

This time, the guy wasn't just a military officer; his father had been a general, and his ancestors had produced famous commanders—he was supposed to be a legacy.

That was what made it so infuriating.

In an era surrounded by wolves, the Song Dynasty was clearly raising its generals like pigs.

Were they more afraid of internal rebellion than the destruction of their nation and the loss of their homes? What kind of mindset was that?

Li Su didn't know what the Song Dynasty was like in history, but the Song Dynasty in Demi-Gods and Semi-Devils was truly like a sparrow looking for a cow—it was bull-shit.

"What now?"

Xuanci said, "We can only defend and wait for reinforcements from all sides."

Li Su took a breath. He really wanted to go find his master and ask, Can we retreat? But he held back.

Even if martial artists weren't under the jurisdiction of the imperial court, in this period, the Weizhou officials clearly wouldn't let anyone leave the city. The crushing defeat had already left the populace in a state of panic; the city gates had been placed under martial law immediately, and no one was allowed to leave. If people started fleeing, it would undoubtedly trigger a chain reaction—not to mention, he suspected his master wouldn't leave anyway.

After all, those who walked the path of the jianghu cared about their reputation.

"Brother Tianxing, if Weizhou cannot be held, you should take Xuankong and leave."

Inside Monk Tianming's quarters, the monk spoke suddenly. A golden opportunity had been completely squandered by the government; if Monk Tianming said he felt no internal turmoil, even the Buddha wouldn't believe him. Consequently, faced with such a situation, he couldn't help but feel pessimistic.

Monk Tianxing had come with the group, but he hadn't made a move in the previous battle, mainly because Xuankong had handled the situation so beautifully. Every time Tianxing wanted to intervene, Xuankong had resolved the crisis perfectly, so after a few back-and-forths, Tianxing simply stopped trying.

After all, he was there to provide protection from the shadows; he should avoid exposure if at all possible.

"Sigh, I understand."

As the most hot-tempered among them, Monk Tianxing was unexpectedly calm at this moment.

Although he knew the Song military was a disaster, he hadn't expected it to be to this degree. That general had looked so heroic and spirited when they set out that he'd thought he was a famous commander, but he turned out to be a hollow shell.

Not only that, but what shattered Monk Tianxing's worldview the most was that everyone probably thought this failure was solely the fault of that fellow surnamed Ge.

But it wasn't!

Wang Yan, the great general of Weizhou, bore at least a small part of the responsibility.

After all, what kind of mindset would lead someone to put a man with no independent combat experience in charge of such an important military operation? And as the commander, no less? Did people think he was smashing tables because he was angry about the loss of the Song troops or the failure of the strategic plan? It wasn't that simple. He held joint responsibility for that appointment. And if Ge Huaimin was dead, the imperial court likely wouldn't punish him—so who would be the unlucky one to take the fall?

Ge Huaimin's defeat hadn't just wasted a great opportunity; it had caused these martial artists to lose all faith in the Song army.

Monk Tianming and the others were well aware of the commotion outside. It wasn't just tension; it was panic, and a profound sense of helplessness.

With a population and territory several times that of the enemy, yet you haven't won a single time? Is that not laughable?

Near Liupan Mountain, at Dingchuan Fortress, the Western Xia soldiers were resting.

A massive victory had cemented the momentum of the Western Xia forces.

The soldiers laughed, eating and drinking the supplies plundered from the lands of the Song Dynasty, while the sounds of miserable cries for help and low, mournful weeping drifted through the air from time to time.

At this moment, inside a secluded tent.

Three people sat within.

One of them was burly, his face ferocious and twisted, possessing a pair of hawk-like eyes filled with malevolence.

He was Tuoba Xiong, and he was currently consumed by rage over his failed attempt to ambush the monk Tianming. In his hand, he clutched a young girl whose chest was a bloody mess, with a significant portion clearly missing. The girl had already lost her breath, yet he chewed on her flesh, his own face smeared with blood.

Beside him sat a man difficult to describe; his hair was curled like wriggling worms, and his eyes were most peculiar—triangular, with pupils of an unnatural, green hue.

He was Poison Wolf, one of the three leaders of the Western Xia First Rank Hall.

He cast a look of disgust at the other man. "Tuoba Xiong, when will you ever break this rotten habit of yours? You've ruined the rug." He seemed more distressed about the carpet on the floor.

Tuoba Xiong rubbed his head, his gaze shifting for a moment.

He shook his head and beckoned, saying, "Someone, drag the corpse out and feed it to my little darlings."

Soon, a tall Western Xia soldier entered, hoisted the corpse from the ground, and dragged it out as if it were mere livestock.

At this moment, the only one of the three who had remained motionless—a figure of very short stature, gender indistinguishable, wearing a ghost mask and possessing an aura that was undeniably the strongest—finally stirred.

He tapped the table before him, revealing a hand hidden beneath his robes—a hand as tender and white as an infant's.

At his movement, even the man-eating Tuoba Xiong revealed a look of immense trepidation.

The Western Xia First Rank Hall had three experts at the First-Class level, and all of them were in this room.

Tuoba Xiong went without saying, and Poison Wolf was a ruthless man, yet neither dared to show the slightest bit of contempt for the person before them.

When this individual had first joined the First Rank Hall, he was immediately appointed as one of the three leaders. Among the three of them, he rarely spoke, but whenever he did, his word was law, which naturally sparked much dissatisfaction.

He had ripped the hearts out of three Second-Class and over twenty Third-Class members of the First Rank Hall.

Of course, that in itself was not shocking; as fellow leaders, the cruelty of the other two was even greater.

But the terrifying issue was that the two of them had never even seen the process. It had happened right before their eyes, and by the time they reacted, over twenty fresh hearts were already laid out before them.

Even though much time had passed since then, and they had only just stepped into the First-Class level at the time—and had since grown even more formidable—they remained deeply wary of him.

"To be able to block a blade strike from a Second-Class expert with bare hands—there are only a handful of martial arts in the Central Plains that can achieve such a feat. The Shangqing Mysterious Jade Hand and the Shaolin Indestructible Art both possess this capability. To master such top-tier martial arts at only a dozen years of age... I once thought the martial arts titan, Shaolin Temple, was merely living on its reputation, but it seems they are bottomless. And that girl who could force out the Muscle-Softening Powder with her internal energy—I never expected the Shangqing Sect to have cultivated such a genius after all these years."

The voice was peculiar; it did not come from the mouth behind the mask, but echoed directly in the surrounding space. It was hoarse, aged, sharp, and discordant, like a machine, devoid of any emotion.

"Tuoba Xiong, among the martial artists who have come to Weizhou this time, is there only that monk called Tianming?"

"Yes!"

"In other words, there are at most two First-Class experts in Weizhou City..."

"Tuoba Xiong, are you not filled with rage? I will have General Meizang lay siege to the city. How about you go and bring back the heads of these two?"

"Truly???"

A look of ecstatic joy appeared on Tuoba Xiong's face, and he couldn't help but laugh out loud. "Good, very good!"

As for the little monk and the girl who had caused his entire plan to collapse, a cruelly twisted smile appeared on his face. Especially that girl—the 'two-legged sheep' of the Song Dynasty were delicious enough, but with martial arts cultivation, she must be a supreme delicacy, right?