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墨書 Inktalez
The sky to the east was shrouded in dark clouds, with not a single ray of sunlight breaking through. The continuous drizzle relentlessly pelted everyone present. In the encampment, there were eight thousand soldiers and cultivators led by Ye Yi, yet none knew how many would ever see the sun again.
Everyone could clearly sense that the decisive battle they had long anticipated was drawing near.
Last night and this morning, the soldiers had been fortunate enough to have a hearty meal. They all understood what that meant: survival or death awaited them at dawn.
Tenglan, known as Zhongshang, stood atop a wooden tower, surveying the army that had united with him for over six months. Some of his words might sound cruel to Coco, yet it was inevitable that someone had to voice them, like pulling back the veil from a festering wound.
Tenglan cast an Echo Spell, allowing everyone to hear what Jie Donglai had to say, even if it felt uncomfortable for them.
Today, after being trapped in Half Moon, they would make their first counterattack.
No one responded; only the sound of raindrops falling from the eaves of the wooden tower reached Tenglan's ears. He was the strongest among them and the only one who could earn the respect of both soldiers and cultivators. Some words were meant for him to speak.
In the past decade, The Extreme North had rapidly fallen; Barbarians were forced southward, and two major feudal states quickly succumbed. Half a month ago, they had reached Northern Town Pass. Behind Northern Town Pass lay their families, relatives, friends, classmates, and retired comrades in the south—all waiting for them to return.
But they could not do so.
When did Tenglan realize how difficult it was for a person to want to shout out loud? When did he feel that what Jie Donglai wanted to say was so uncomfortable? Yet he still spoke; he had no choice but to speak.
But no—what about their families? What about those who hoped they could return? They prayed today to make their first counterattack. Even if they were destined to die in battle, they would ensure that their enemies knew they would never submit to barbarism. Those who instigated war were destined to face defeat.
They would fight to the bitter end.
Fight to the bitter end! Fight to the bitter end! Fight to the bitter end!
The spears struck against the ground incessantly, splattering muddy rainwater. From the mouths of desperate men came beastly howls, reminiscent of creatures erased by time itself.
War
Kill
Eight thousand against fifty thousand, everyone knew that it was destined to be a moth drawn to the flame, yet no one thought of retreating. This was not merely a war between nations; it was a struggle between life and death.
In that war, the defeated would have no reason to survive.
In that war, there was no room for misplaced compassion.
In that war, there was only one outcome: either you lived or you died.
Before personally arriving on the battlefield, Tenglan, known as Zhongshang, along with everyone else outside, believed that the Nine Nether Sect merely sought a piece of sunlit land.
However, every knowledgeable cultivator knew they were wrong.
What the Nine Nether Sect sought, or rather what the Oil Master Daoist and the Yellow Spring Path Sovereign desired, was the elusive Fortune. They lacked any inherent advantage but aimed to seize the initiative.
Thus, merely occupying Buqi, the Nine Nether Sect would implement large-scale transformations in every occupied area. What it originally was remained uncertain; ordinary people certainly could not survive there.
The disadvantage in troop strength was undeniable. The issues of individual combat power were also undeniable. The weaponry and equipment were lacking; this too was undeniable. Yet all they sought was a single life, a breath—no matter how fierce the fight became, no one would retreat.
In the face of survival and death, each person's choice was brutally honest.
The deafening cries of battle echoed from halfway up the mountain. One side advanced while the other retreated, like a massive meat grinder consuming lives on that once barren land.
Who knows if anyone would remember centuries later that such a battle had once taken place there?
Tenglan, known as Zhongshang, summoned his Spirit Pet, the Azure Wind Antelope. With its broad wings, he aimed to break through the encirclement. As for the soldiers from the East, Tenglan could only watch as they rushed toward the forces of the Ninth Underworld like moths drawn to a flame, entangled by the fifty thousand troops.
Yet, there was a plan—one that hinged on the lives of over seven thousand soldiers in the camp.
At that moment, Tenglan felt like a cold-blooded executioner. With just a few simple words, he had placed the lives of those seven thousand soldiers on the line. He couldn't even find a word to describe it.
Sacrificial pieces.
If Ye You were present, she would certainly affirm this and with a hint of amusement tell Tenglan those two words. As Ye Youluo, her most frequent remark would be about sacrificing pieces first.
The most profound insight was that when one hesitates to act, chaos ensues.
This was not Tenglan's first experience with such a choice, but it was certainly not his initial encounter with the ongoing war.
We will not falter.
Blocking Tenglan's path were the many Nine Nether Geniuses in Oil Lamp Palace at Zhu Xian Mountain. It was said that Zhu Xian Mountain had never been defeated. The two would clash again the next day, and previously, Tenglan had relied on his profound Spell to contend with Zhu Xian Mountain.
For them, it was something that was difficult to accept no matter what.
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