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The postbattle reckoning took barely half an hour, its figures stained with blood:
Elder Chen Hanxin was gravely wounded, her breath thin as a thread. Even beneath layers of cold jade marrow powder, the wound that had nearly torn open her waist and abdomen still seeped dark blood along the edges of its dressing.
Garrison Elder Mo Qiyuan dragged his moderately wounded body along. The dressing wrapped around half his arm pressed against the bruised flesh beneath, and his breathing was noticeably labored as he walked.
The remains of three Soul Saints lay silently in the square, alongside the bodies of nearly twenty Soul Emperors and Soul Kings and more than fifty guards. Even the sounds of those clearing the battlefield grew muted.
Holding this vital artery of the Ancestral Land had been little short of a miracle.
Fortunately, Chen Hanxin had not returned to Chang'an. Otherwise, no one could have halted this crisis.
Only her presence had allowed them to hold back the two mid-level Soul Douluos, Miao Chenfeng and Yan Banqing, ultimately fighting until one died and the other fled.
Otherwise, two Soul Douluos leading their forces straight into the heart of the Ancestral Land would have brought utter ruin that day.
Xia Ruxin's early return to stay at the mountain fortress had also been a case of mending the roof before the rain.
Over the past few years, she had remained at the Ice and Fire Yin Yang Well to cultivate, while Chen Hanxin guarded the fortress in her stead and had not returned to the village for a long time.
Even after Xia Ruxin returned this time, Chen Hanxin had not hurried back, likewise out of vigilance toward the Crimson Church.
That