They Themselves Were the Core Flame

Lin Fan had delivered that impassioned speech to deal with a "solo defense mission," but his words crossed the boundaries of time and space, resounding throughout the real Douluo Continent!

The images on the Firmament shifted.

Across the continent, the rebel armies were locked in bitter fighting.

Then Lin Fan's face, smeared with coal dust yet fiercely resolute, appeared once more above the heads of hundreds of millions.

Everyone fighting with their backs to the wall saw the same man when they looked up.

Outside Suotuo City in the Heaven Dou Empire.

A brutal battle of suppression was underway.

Several thousand civilian rebels armed with crude iron pipes and farming tools had been driven to the brink by the Royal Knight Corps.

They had come from seven or eight surrounding villages and mining districts, a force cobbled together from those lucky enough to survive the crackdowns.

Their weapons were a jumble. Fewer than three hundred had firearms that could actually shoot; most still gripped hoes, shovels, or sharpened wooden stakes.

Bodies lay everywhere. Blood had flowed into rivers.

Despair had crept into the rebels' eyes. Under the bombardment of high-ranking Soul Masters' Soul Skills, mortal flesh seemed hopelessly fragile.

Just as the rebels were about to break, Lin Fan's call to arms rang down from the sky—

["Chamber your rounds! We're taking the offensive! Show the Soul Masters what mortal fury truly looks like!"]

That decisive, battle-hungry voice struck the hearts of the rebelling mortals across the continent like the strongest shot of adrenaline!

"Did you hear that?! It's the Sage!"

"The Sage hasn't abandoned us! He's issued the order for a general offensive to the whole continent through the Firmament!"

"The Sage is watching us! Fall back, and we'll be slaves for generations! Charge forward, and we'll win a world of Equality!"

Outside Suotuo City, the rebels who had all but given up erupted with terrifying strength.

Mortals felled by gunfire tore open powder packets with their teeth, clutched their iron pipes tight against their chests, and hurled themselves madly at the Royal Knight Corps' horses!

"They're mad... Every last one of them!" The Royal Knight Corps commander stared at these peasants who cared nothing for their lives, at the conviction burning in their eyes, and felt fear for the first time.

Because of one sentence from Lin Fan, the entire Douluo Continent fought with bloodshot eyes, locked in a struggle to the death!

Back in the death prison beneath the Heaven Dou Empire's imperial capital.

Xue Ye stared at the images reflected on the wall by the golden light of the Firmament.

Lin Fan's words, "take the offensive," had smashed his last shred of hope.

He looked at Yu Xiaogang on the torture rack, so frightened that his eyes rolled back and he could not get a complete sentence out. It was laughable.

"Did you hear him...?"

Xue Ye pointed at the Firmament, his voice shrill. "He's issuing orders to the whole continent! He's declaring war on every throne, every noble, every Soul Master... on all of us!"

Then his voice sank, as though something had lodged in his throat:

"But we don't even know who he is! We don't even know why he's doing this! Who... who is he?"

At the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect.

Ning Fengzhi listened to the rough gunfire growing ever denser outside the sect and watched flames leap into the distant sky.

The face of the usually refined sect master darkened little by little.

"No need to defend. Take the offensive..." he repeated, so softly he could barely hear himself.

Then he slowly closed his eyes.

When he opened them again, all expression had left his face. Only the calm of a man driven into a dead end remained.

"Yu Xiaogang on the Firmament... With one sentence, you've done the work of a million soldiers! Is ten thousand years of Soul Master rule going to be smashed to pieces today?"

Deep within the Worship Hall in Spirit City.

Qian Daoliu sat at the foot of a hundred-meter-tall statue of the Six-Winged Angel, his eyes nearly closed, his face devoid of expression.

Before him, three Worship Hall elders in white robes embroidered with gold knelt on one knee.

All three were Titled Douluo above rank ninety-one. Any one of them could have founded a sect and made a name for himself on the continent.

"Great Enshrined, we've confirmed the situation in Tack Town! That mortal settlement has at least two hundred weapons capable of firing iron shot! One of our scouts was observing from three hundred meters away when a stray shot grazed his shoulder armor. His protective Soul Power... shattered outright."

"How has the empire responded?"

"Great Enshrined, Xue Ye threw the real Yu Xiaogang into the death prison and tortured him, but got nothing out of him! The empire's senior enshrined examined him personally too. He said Yu Xiaogang had none of the knowledge shown on the Firmament in his head. He probably... truly doesn't know."

"Probably," Qian Daoliu repeated evenly.

The three kneeling elders lowered their heads another inch.

"One 'probably' is enough for the Two Great Empires to put a blade to the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Sect's throat."

Qian Daoliu slowly opened his eyes. Faint light from the Firmament glimmered in his pale-gold irises. "However foolish Yu Yuanzhen may be, he won't stand by while his son is whipped to death in that prison. Within three days at most, the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Sect will rebel."

"Then... what about Spirit Hall...?"

"Wait."

Qian Daoliu closed his eyes again:

"Just wait. Wait for them to start fighting! Wait for the gunfire to grow louder, for more commoners' blood to spill! When everyone needs a faith they can lean on... only then can the angel's radiance shine into their despairing hearts."

The three elders exchanged glances, each seeing a deep chill in the others' eyes.

They had followed Qian Daoliu for decades.

When it came to scheming, patience, and reading the tide of events, this centuries-old monster was the closest thing to a god on the entire Douluo Continent.

Qian Daoliu remained motionless, like a true chess master waiting for the most crucial piece to move into its proper place on its own.

Three li outside Suotuo City, on a slope soaked through with blood.

A lean, dark-skinned middle-aged man knelt in the mud, using a charred stick to draw the Three-Volley Fire formation Lin Fan had shown on the Firmament.

His name was Zhao Tie. He had once been a tenant farmer on an estate outside Suotuo City. His Martial Soul was a rusty sickle, and his Innate Soul Power was only level two.

Half a month ago, he had still been harvesting wheat for the lord of the estate.

Now, among this band of more than three hundred survivors, he was the only one who could make sense of the formation shown on the Firmament.

"Watch closely! First rank kneels, second rank crouches, third rank stands! Once the first rank fires, move around the sides to the rear and reload! Second rank takes over, third rank fills the gap! Don't crowd together! Don't panic!"

Zhao Tie had shouted himself hoarse, and the corners of his mouth were split and bloody.

But with every word he spoke, the eyes of the wounded mortals gathered around him shone a little brighter.

"We don't have Soul Skills or Martial Soul Avatars. We can barely hold a sword steady."

"But we have the Sage! The Sage said battles aren't won through individual bravery. They're won through discipline! Through ranks! Through using our heads! As long as we hold the formation, even with only three hundred lousy guns, we can kill a hundred of their cavalry!"

"Kill them!" A boy whose face still held a trace of childishness raised his fist and gave a hoarse roar.

"Kill them!"

Three hundred voices joined together, shaking loose stones down the slope.

In the distance, the Royal Knight Corps was reforming, readying a second charge.

Zhao Tie rose and carefully took a roll of ragged cloth from inside his clothes. Wrapped within were gunpowder and lead shot stripped from the dead.

He carefully poured powder into the barrel and rammed it down tight, then loaded a lead ball. Raising the crude iron pipe, he aimed at the cavalry formation gathering in the distance.

"Sage, watch over us..."

He murmured the words, then straightened and shouted to everyone behind him:

"Brothers, the Sage on the Firmament was right! Defending means waiting to die. Attack, and we have a chance to live!"

"Now, follow me—charge!"

Three hundred throats roared at once. Three hundred mortals caked in blood and mud leveled three hundred firearms that could barely shoot and launched their first charge against imperial cavalry that outnumbered them several times over.

The wind blew at their backs, scattering the formation drawn on the ground. But no one looked at it anymore.

Because at that moment, they themselves were the formation!

They themselves were the Core Flame!