Departure, slaughter

The order to march in three days came down. With the standard bronze token of the Zhou Household's Hundred Arts Battalion hanging at his waist, Lu Zhao joined a sea of black-clad figures.

The Hundred Arts Battalion he belonged to was a mix of formation masters, talisman masters, alchemists, artifact refiners, and even Puppet Masters like himself. Even those with the lowest cultivation were at the third layer of qi refining.

Lu Zhao swept his gaze over the vast procession, inwardly sobered. Counting the Zhou Household's own Cloud-Pattern Cavalry and Enforcement Team, along with cultivators from its various subordinate lineages, this force heading to the front likely numbered no fewer than two thousand!

As far as he could see, heads bobbed amid spiritual light of every color. Most conspicuous were the pack beasts on the edges of the procession, each as massive as a small hill.

They wore thick black iron armor and carried mountainous piles of supplies. These included the enormous Mountain-Splitting Ballistas, magical artifacts too numerous and ill-suited for Storage Bags, as well as crates of spirit herbs, spirit ores, materials, spirit rice, and other goods.

The sky was no quieter. Several grayish-brown Iron-Feather Vultures, their wings spanning several zhang, circled at low altitude on watch, their keen eyes scanning the winding procession below and the distant mountain forests.

What drew his attention even more, however, were the tiny gray shapes soaring high overhead-the very Flowing Cloud Sparrow Puppets Lu Zhao had crafted himself!

Small and nimble, they wove an invisible surveillance net, taking in every stir of wind and grass on the ground.

Seeing the puppets he had crafted serving their purpose, Lu Zhao felt a trace of complicated emotion well up within him: pride in himself as a Puppet Master, but also the weight of the uncertain road ahead.

Just then, a low hum drowned out the clamor on the ground, drawing everyone's gaze upward.

"The Flowing Cloud Ship! It's the lineage's Flowing Cloud Flying Boat!" A young cultivator from a collateral branch of the Zhou Household cried out softly in excitement, his face full of awe and pride.

"Good heavens, a second-tier large-scale flying magical artifact... I hear it can fly a thousand li a day at full power!" A middle-aged Guest Elder who had been a rogue cultivator clicked his tongue beside him. "They've even deployed that this time. Looks like they mean business..."

The presence of the Flowing Cloud Ship silently declared the level of force the Zhou Household had committed this time, while also giving him a more tangible understanding of the battlefield they were about to face.

After five days of trekking, the procession finally reached the designated area at the northern foot of the Heavencloud Mountain Range.

Before they even drew near, a foul stench mingling scorched matter, blood, and the faint decay of corpses rode the wind into their nostrils.

The sight before him made even Lu Zhao's pupils abruptly contract, despite having lived through his lineage's destruction and grown accustomed to bloodshed.

As far as he could see lay a horrifying expanse of ruins.

Though its name called it "small," Blue Stone Market had occupied no small area, with rows of buildings stretching along the mountainside. Now, nothing remained but shattered walls, charred and twisted beams and pillars, and rubble strewn everywhere.

Raging flames had clearly swept through every corner. In many places, lingering embers still sent up wisps of bluish smoke.

The streets, once paved with blue stone slabs, had been torn apart by tremendous force, exposing dark brown earth crusted with broad patches of dark red, nearly black blood.

The Market District's defensive formation had long since collapsed completely, its surviving foundations flickering with scattered, chaotic spiritual light.

More chilling still were the remains scattered throughout the ruins, with no time to gather them-a charred, severed half-arm, fragments of broken magical artifacts lodged in cracks in the walls, and even corpses pinned beneath collapsed roof beams with only half their bodies exposed.

Beside these ruins, figures prowled like scavenging hyenas.

Most were at the third or fourth layer of qi refining. Their eyes were murky and wary, tinged with greed, as they rummaged through the ruins for anything that might have value.

At the sight of the Zhou Household's enormous procession, they vanished swiftly into the shadows of the shattered walls like startled rabbits.

The once-bustling Market District held nothing now but deathly silence and desolation. Lu Zhao watched it all without a word, sensing the chaotic fluctuations of spiritual energy filling the air.

The Little Spirit Rain Art began circulating on its own. His protective spiritual light shut out most of the foul air, but it could not shut out the impact of the sight before him.

The Hundred Arts Battalion was not sent directly into battle. Instead, it received orders to make camp and establish a temporary base in a relatively intact mountain hollow several li from the burned-out Market District.

The formation masters set to work. Formation flags were driven into the earth one after another, and intricate spirit runes lit up across the ground, rapidly weaving together into a formation that covered the camp.

The artifact refiners prepared materials for crafting magical artifacts. Inside their tents, the talisman masters spread out talisman paper, their cinnabar brushes dancing like dragons and serpents as they drew batch after batch of consumable talismans. Medicinal fragrances filled the air around the alchemists, whose furnace fires burned without pause.

The entire Hundred Arts Battalion sprang into motion like a precise, efficient war machine.

Lu Zhao soon received his own assignment: maintain and service the Flowing Cloud Sparrow Puppets used to guard the camp, and provide replacements for the front when needed. The work was relatively simple, allowing him to observe things within the camp.

In the days after they established camp, he witnessed firsthand the terrifying concentration and cold-blooded release of the Zhou Household's strength.

The enormous Flowing Cloud Ship hovered above the center of the camp like a divine pillar anchoring the seas, and like a mobile command fortress.

Squad after squad of the Zhou Household's Enforcement Team cultivators, dressed in fitted black clothing and radiating a murderous air, along with the Cloud-Pattern Cavalry riding Cloud-Pattern Horses, streamed out of camp like a black torrent, pouring into the depths of the mountains and toward several other Market Districts marked as "lawless zones."

Outside the camp, the atmosphere grew more murderous by the day. At first, scattered rogue cultivators still tried to approach, but such probing soon ceased.

In its place came frequent warnings from the camp's defensive formation, along with brief, violent eruptions of spiritual power and the thunder of spells from the distant mountains and dense forests.

Occasionally, wounded Enforcement Team members or Cloud-Pattern Cavalry riders were brought back to camp. The news they carried quietly circulated among the silent crowd.

"That bunch of rogue cultivators in Northwind Valley banded together, hoping to use the terrain to hold out. There were even a few Bandit Cultivators among them, taking advantage of the fire to loot. They weren't weak."

"Hmph, however strong they were, could they stand against a charge by the Cloud-Pattern Cavalry? In one hour, the valley entrance was trampled flat. Anyone who stubbornly resisted was killed without exception!"

"I heard it was even worse at Blackstone Gathering. A few small lineages and rogue cultivator leaders had barely been summoned for negotiations before they were... executed on the spot. The rest were dragons left without a head..."

"Alas, why did it have to come to this..." An elderly alchemist shook his head and sighed, though his hands never stopped pounding the medicine.

"Why?" A young formation master beside him sneered. "The elder said the situation at the northern foothills is rotten, and we absolutely cannot leave any hidden threats in the rear! These rogue cultivators and small lineages are just grass swaying atop a wall. If we don't clear them out, hostile forces could use them at any time to stab us in the back! Extraordinary times call for extraordinary measures!"

"Exactly. Kill the chicken to warn the monkeys! Those left can either obediently go to the designated areas and toil to rebuild the defensive lines, or... keep their mouths shut forever." Another talisman master chimed in, his tone indifferent.

Lu Zhao listened silently to these hushed discussions, his gaze growing ever more unfathomable.

He recalled Zhou Qixing's warning at Green Vine Ravine. The Zhou Household's methods had always been like this-draw in the useful and destroy whatever stood in the way.

This so-called "bloody slaughter" was merely the Zhou Household's war machine clearing out unstable elements in its rear.