I Apply to Fight!

That gesture instantly tugged at everyone's heartstrings, and they all followed suit. As he watched Li Yuan, a glimmer of deeper meaning flashed through Mister Mo's eyes.

"Salute—!"

Captain Zhang suddenly bellowed from the side, his voice booming like a great bell.

The several soldiers behind him immediately straightened and performed the Great Tang army's most solemn chest-pounding salute. Their movements were perfectly synchronized, carrying an air of iron-blooded slaughter.

The students instinctively stood straighter as well. Looking at that wall, their hearts were filled with a jumble of emotions.

"Wooo—!"

"Wooo—wooo wooo—!"

A low, desolate horn blast suddenly soared from the watchtower atop the pass walls, instantly tearing apart the silence within the pass.

The horn calls came faster and faster, followed by the thunderous boom-boom-boom of war drums. On the city wall, which had been leisurely only moments ago, every soldier sprang into motion.

"Enemy attack!"

"A pack of wolf demons from the north, mixed with a small number of corpse ghouls—over a thousand in total!" A hoarse roar came from the watchtower. Amplified by some spell, it instantly spread throughout the entire pass.

Everyone's expressions changed slightly. They had not expected to encounter an enemy attack before even reaching the wall.

"First Battalion, to the wall! Prepare the bows and crossbows!"

"Second Battalion reserves, assemble! Third Battalion, inspect the equipment!"

"Formation masters, take your positions! Reinforce the northeastern section of the wall!"

"Medics! Logistics!"

"Move, move, move!"

Orders, running footsteps, the clash of metal, and the neighing of warhorses... all erupted at once.

When had these youths ever seen such a scene? The grief and solemn heroism from moments ago were instantly replaced by the real warning of war before their eyes.

The soldiers who had seemed so ordinary just moments earlier now operated like wound-up killing machines. Seeing the icy killing intent burst from their faces, every student felt their heart quake...

Captain Zhang hastily cupped his hands. "Excuse me. Please return." With that, he turned and left.

Yet the two instructors did not immediately lead them away, as though they deliberately wanted the students to witness the face of war.

The wind swept up grit and sand, making the banners atop the wall snap and flutter wildly.

Their view was blurred by the yellow sand and smoke filling the sky. Standing midway up the city wall, they could not see the scene beyond the pass at all. They could only hear endless cries of slaughter, the sharp clash of weapons, dull impacts, and howls and wails that made it impossible to tell whether they came from humans or demons.

They drifted clearly through the wind and sand, stabbing painfully into their eardrums.

"Quick, stop the bleeding!"

Before long, stretchers began coming back.

Teams of laborers ran wildly while carrying stretchers. Dark-red blood dripped through the gaps in the wooden boards, trailing long streaks of blood across the ground.

The soldiers who had been chatting and laughing earlier—some had lost arms, some had legs bent at grotesque angles, and some had half their bodies reduced to bloody pulp, with only faint groans remaining...

Some stretchers were silent altogether, the sheets covering them raised over stiff outlines.

The laborers carrying the stretchers panted heavily, their faces covered in dust and their eyes exhausted, as though they had long since gone numb.

The horns on the wall sounded again and again. Soldiers constantly passed by them, streaming toward the wall. Their expressions were silent; facing powerful demons, no one hesitated, and no one showed the slightest fear.

The wind grew colder. A thick stench of blood mixed with sand struck their faces, bitter and astringent. The entire Divine Martial Pass churned with an atmosphere so oppressive it was hard to breathe.

"Bleurgh—"

One student went pale, his legs turning weak as he bent over and began to retch.

Then two or three more students turned green-faced, covering their mouths as their bodies trembled faintly.

Even Wu Yu and Zhou Mo looked pale, their breathing hurried.

At last, they understood firsthand what war was. It was utterly different from the detached descriptions in books!

This was a cruel, real battlefield of Asura, where blood could spill and lives could be lost at any moment!

"Instructor Liu," Shen Lian said, gripping the hilt of his saber, "I apply to fight!"

Before Liu Hongyan could answer, an old soldier who had remained nearby urged them on.

"It's only a routine harassment attack, moderate in scale. Don't worry—the garrison within the pass is more than enough to handle it. Instructor Liu, please evacuate the students at once!"

"No!"

"We're cultivators too!"

Cheng Zhao suddenly stepped forward and shouted. Though shock lingered in his eyes, there was even more eagerness to fight.

Shen Lian directly drew his long saber, his bloodshot eyes fixed on the city wall as killing intent spilled from him.

"That's right! We can help!"

The other students also came to their senses and began shouting along with them.

Witnessing war with their own eyes made the hot blood of some young men surge.

"Nonsense!" The old soldier abruptly turned and roared at the group of eager youths.

"What do you think this is? Playing house? This is a battlefield! A killing ground!"

"You brats who have barely seen a drop of blood—what can you do besides get in the way and throw your lives away?"

His gaze was as sharp as a blade as it swept over every young, defiant face. His tone was icy, showing not the slightest mercy.

"Look at yourselves!"

"You can't even stand steady, scared enough to vomit! With this little courage, this little composure, do you think you're worthy of talking about helping?"

"The claws of demons and the teeth of corpse ghouls won't spare you just because you're geniuses!"

The students were lashed by his scolding until their faces reddened. Those few youths who had been vomiting just now were especially ashamed, wishing they could crawl into a hole in the ground.

Chu Yunhe gritted his teeth, wanting to say more, but Liu Hongyan stopped him with a stern look.

"We're not dead weight!"

Wu Yu retorted, his face flushed red. "We have cultivation, we have combat techniques. Even if we can't go to the front lines, we can at least help carry arrows or treat the wounded, can't we?"

"Treat the wounded?"

The old soldier laughed in fury and pointed toward the nearby ramp. Several laborers and low-ranking auxiliary soldiers were hurrying down it with a stretcher. On it lay a soldier whose chest and abdomen had been torn open, blood streaming everywhere. He was clearly beyond saving.

Farther away, laborers silently carried rolling logs, thunderstones, fire oil, and other supplies, their movements swift and practiced.

"Do you see that? That is a real battlefield, not some practice ground for you to play at! The blood of the wounded can really splash all over your faces!"

The old soldier's mockery was like a whip cracking across the youths' hearts.

Just then, Wu Yu's gaze passed over the bustling crowd and spotted an elderly figure directing others as they carried boxes of medicine for the wounded.

"Even that old gentleman can help. Why can't we...?"

Everyone followed his gaze and saw a white-haired old man. The wrinkles on his face were carved as deeply as knife marks. He looked utterly unremarkable, even frail. There was not the slightest fluctuation of a cultivator's aura around him; he was like any ordinary laborer found throughout the pass.

"Exactly. He's just an ordinary old gentleman without even a trace of cultivation, yet he can help here. So can we," another student muttered quietly.

"An ordinary old gentleman?"

A somewhat hoarse voice rang out. Mister Mo, who had remained silent as he drank, had somehow walked to the front of the group. Looking at the busy white-haired elder, respect showed in his eyes.

"Do you know who he is?"

"His surname is Yang, and his given name is Ji. Sixty years ago, he was the Northern Guard General stationed at this pass. A third-rank official commanding one hundred thousand border troops, he was also one of the rare Dao-Entry Realm experts of our human race. His Heaven-Splitting Halberd Art once slaughtered the demons of the Northern Desert until they fled at the mere whisper of his name."

Dao-Entry Realm?

Northern Guard General?

Those words exploded beside the students' ears like thunder.

Everyone's eyes widened as they stared in disbelief at that hunched, aged figure.

The Dao-Entry Realm—that was the legendary realm of earthly immortals, a pillar of the nation!

That old man, who looked as though a candle flame in the wind could snuff him out at any moment, had once been such a powerful existence?