Chapter 58: Here Comes The Real War

The morning mist rolled over the limestone ridge in lazy, golden ribbons as the first rays of the dawn sun crested the eastern peaks.

On the high crags flanking the mouth of Wolf Fang Gorge, nearly a hundred figures were assembled in absolute, breathless silence. The veteran scouts who had slaughtered the eastern patrol had returned, patched and rested, joined by some able-bodied militia and some cavern refugees, elderly men with calloused woodcutter hands and women in rough hemp aprons.

They couldn’t wield heavy iron sabers or trade blows with armored cavalry, but they possessed plenty of strength to haul lever pins, cut tension ropes, and drop tons of jagged rock onto the invaders.

I stood upon the highest, most precarious limestone spire overlooking the entire canyon.

The morning breeze caught the hem of my spotless white scholar robes, making the loose sleeves billow gracefully against the golden horizon.

With my hands resting casually behind my back, my chin lifted, and a look of detached, otherworldly serenity settled across my features, I looked every bit the transcendent immortal grandmaster observing the mundane dust of the mortal realm.

Down in the valley below, however, the mortal dust was practically boiling over.

The main encampment of Governor Yan’s extermination army was in unhinged uproar.

When the dawn bugle sounded, the imperial officers had sent out runners to summon their eastern flanking detachment, only to discover a silent, blood-slicked ridge littered with two hundred stripped, naked corpses. The news had spread through the ranks like a celestial thunderbolt.

To an elite provincial army accustomed to trampling peasant villages without meeting a single drawn blade, having an entire two-hundred-man light infantry detachment wiped out to the last man in the dead of night, without a single warning horn sounding, and without a single runner escaping, was simply incomprehensible.

Furious shouts and harsh drumbeats echoed off the canyon walls as the imperial soldiers poured out of their canvas tents.

Armored sergeants kicked sleeping conscripts awake, blacksmiths frantically hammered bent lances, and ranks of heavy infantry formed up behind interlocking iron shields. Through the chaos, their commanding officers rode back and forth on armored warhorses, their faces dark with rage as they bellowed curses into the morning air.

Standing on the high rock, a slow, immensely pleased smile touched the corners of my lips.

Everything was happening exactly as I had calculated.

The imperial commanders knew the rebels were a starving, ragtag resistance holed up in a cave. In their arrogant minds, there was no chance this band of outlaws possessed the raw martial power to win an open fight. They immediately assumed their eastern wing had been slaughtered through vile deceit, night poisons, or cheap subterranean trickery.

And that assumption was lethal.

Instead of instilling caution, the midnight massacre had wounded their pride, blinded their judgment, and ignited a reckless, bloodthirsty fury. They weren’t going to send scouts to prod the terrain or test the gorge; they were going to charge in like enraged beasts to drown the canyon in blood to avenge their fallen comrades.

Throwing caution to the wind was the exact reason I had authorized the night raid in the first place.

I lowered my gaze toward the ledge below, catching Bai Ling’s eye.

I gave her a subtle, firm nod.

Bai Ling understood immediately. Her amber eyes narrowed with cold, military focus as she raised her right hand, signaling her squad leaders along the upper precipices. The scouts crouched lower behind their stone parapets, their fingers gripping the heavy wooden levers tied to the gravitational deadfalls.

I turned my head toward a smooth granite boulder nestled beneath an overhanging pine.

Sitting cross-legged in a meditative lotus posture was Shen Qingxue.

Even with the imperial army screaming for blood less than a mile away, she hadn’t moved an inch. She sat in absolute, eerie stillness, her breathing deep and rhythmic, greedily cycling ambient qi through her newly cleared meridians to stabilize and polish her spiritual channels.

Suddenly, a faint, crystalline ripple of spiritual pressure pulsed outward from her lower dantian.

The air around her warped with a soft hum, and the azure-white aura clinging to her porcelain skin deepened by another distinct shade, glowing with pure, refined elemental resonance.

Second Layer of the Qi Condensation Realm.

Sitting atop the limestone spire, my eyebrows twitched violently, and a faint, sour pang of jealousy momentarily seized my chest.

She broke through to Qi Condensation at midnight, and by sunrise, she’s already hopped into the Second Layer?!

When I was an outer disciple thirty years ago, grinding my way from the first layer of Qi Condensation to the second had taken me one full full year of bitter winter meditation, coughing up blood, and drinking foul-tasting weed broths! This girl had basically taken a brisk morning nap and bypassed twelve months of mortal agony!

Still, looking at her composed, breathtaking profile, I quickly shook my head and tossed the pettiness into the wind.

What was there for a master to be jealous of? She was my first disciple, my future wife, and the absolute core combat pillar of my mountain.

More importantly, the only reason I was currently standing here as a Late-Stage Golden Core monster with pristine Heaven-Grade Spiritual Roots was entirely because of her ridiculous protagonist template. Her talent was my talent, and her growth directly fueled my own strength.

As if sensing my gaze, Qingxue’s dark eyelashes fluttered open.

A breathtaking, razor-sharp light flashed within her obsidian pupils before dissolving into a soft, devoted warmth as she looked up toward my spire. She unfolded her long, slender legs, rose gracefully to her feet, and offered a crisp, respectful bow.

"Master," she murmured, her voice carrying a calm, lethal confidence. "Disciple is ready."

"Very good," I chuckled warmly, leaping down from the spire to land lightly beside her. "Your timing couldn’t be better, considering I prepared a grand gift for your morning warm-up."

I pointed my chin toward the valley floor, where three distinct columns of imperial troops were locking shields.

"Look closely," I said, leaning toward her ear. "Among those six hundred fifty men, there are three officers radiating spiritual pressure. One Early Qi Condensation in the rear guard, one Middle Qi Condensation leading the central shock troops, and their primary vanguard commander at the Late Qi Condensation stage. Those three belong entirely to you."

Qingxue looked down at the gleaming, iron-clad officers, then looked at the brand-new weapon resting in her hands.

Earlier this morning, while Bai Ling was organizing the refugees, I had retrieved a high-grade spirit blade from my storage ring and gifted it to Qingxue, the Autumn Water Frost Sword, forged from deep-sea cold iron that resonated perfectly with her water and metal affinities.

She gently traced the icy, translucent steel with her slender fingers, a dazzling, dangerous smile curving her lips.

"Three Qi Condensation commanders..." she whispered, her eyes burning with pure, unyielding Asura battle intent. "Rest assured, Husband. I will give them my absolute best."

Watching her stroke the blade, I smiled inwardly, recalling the system chimes that had rung out inside my sea of consciousness barely half an hour ago:

[Ding! Host has unconditionally gifted: Autumn Water Frost Sword (Profound Grade) to Target Shen Qingxue!]

[Target’s Affection remains high: 95/100 (Unwavering Devotion)!]

[10x Investment Multiplier successfully triggered!]

[Reward mutating... Critical Evolution Success!]

[You have acquired: Earth-Grade Spirit Weapon — Nine Abyss Calamity Sword!]

[Properties: Forged from ancient abyssal black iron, possessing absolute sharpness capable of cleaving high-tier defensive barriers, and inflicts corrosive soul-wounds that permanently suppress an enemy’s regenerative blood qi.]

An Earth-Grade spirit weapon.

While it wasn’t the absolute peak of ancient celestial armaments, it was leagues ahead of the common green flying sword I usually stood on.

I was itching to take it out and cleave a mountain in half just to see the sparks fly, but flaunting an Earth-Grade divine blade in front of mortal border troops was like using a dragon-slaying cannon to swat a mosquito. I’d save that toy for a rainy day.

Qingxue sheathed her sword with a soft, clean click, tilting her head as she looked at me with an inquisitive gleam.

"Husband... throughout this entire journey, from making us ride horses to letting us set ambushes in the dark, I have a persistent feeling that you are deliberately teaching me something far deeper than sword stances. Yet, my mind cannot entirely grasp the full picture."

I looked down at her, then cast an amused glance toward Bai Ling, who was standing nearby checking the leather straps on her twin blades.

"You have sharp instincts, Qingxue," I smiled, folding my arms into my sleeves. "I am indeed teaching you something vital. In fact, I am teaching both of you an invaluable lesson about the true nature of power, survival, and the weight of command. But the final answer will only reveal itself once we completely shatter Governor Yan’s extermination force."

Bai Ling paused, her twin blades half-sheathed, looking up at me with an expression of mild bewilderment and deep gratitude.

To an outlaw rebel who had spent years fighting in the mud, having an exalted immortal master actively impart wisdom to her was an unfathomable privilege.

She lowered her head respectfully. "This lowly one will keep Senior’s guidance etched into her heart. We will not fail."

"Save the bows for later," I smiled calmly, my gaze shifting toward the mouth of the canyon. "They’re here."

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

A thunderous, rhythmic drumbeat tore through the morning silence, echoing off the towering vertical cliffs of Wolf Fang Gorge.

From the dense pine forest, a massive, terrifying sea of iron poured into the canyon.

Six hundred and fifty imperial soldiers charged forward in an aggressive, tightly locked assault formation.

At the front rode forty mounted shock troops on armored steeds, brandishing heavy lances; behind them marched three hundred heavy infantry with five-foot iron tower shields, flanked by two hundred light archers and cross-spearmen.

The sheer momentum of six hundred armed men sprinting across the shale shook loose pebbles from the canyon walls, kicking up a colossal cloud of grey dust that choked the rising sun.

Leading the charge were the three commanders, their armor glistening with faint spiritual light, their drawn blades humming with the sharp, unmistakable whistle of genuine Qi Condensation energy.

"Rebel dogs of the mountain!" the lead vanguard commander roared, his voice magnified by spiritual qi as he pointed his glowing saber toward the gorge. "By order of Governor Yan, not a single breathing soul leaves this canyon alive! Slaughter them all!"

"Forward!" the six hundred soldiers bellowed in unison.

High atop the cliff ledge, Bai Ling’s amber eyes flared with terrifying brilliance. She stepped to the precipice, pulled the brass whistle to her lips, and blew a single, piercing, continuous note that screamed across the gorge.

"Trigger the traps! Fire!"

SNAP—THWACK!

Dozens of tension ropes were severed simultaneously along the upper ridge.

From the high vertical cliffs, hundreds of colossal limestone boulders and massive, spiked timber deadfalls were released into the void, plummeting thousands of feet straight toward the charging imperial vanguard like a roaring avalanche of stone.

At the exact same instant, the front line of imperial cavalry charged across the narrowest section of the canyon floor.

CRACK!

The thin woven reed mats snapped, and forty horses plunged headfirst into the five-foot venom trenches, their heavy iron hooves impaling straight into the poisoned spikes below.

Screams of dying steeds and the bone-shattering thunder of falling boulders tore the morning apart as the natural funnel turned into an absolute meat grinder.

In the midst of the apocalyptic chaos, a dark-green shadow detached from the upper ledge.

Shen Qingxue leaped into the air.

She didn’t look at the screaming foot soldiers, nor did she glance at the crushed vanguard.

Her cold obsidian eyes were locked entirely upon the three Qi Condensation commanders wading through the dust, and with the Autumn Water Frost Sword drawn like a streak of pure celestial ice, she plunged straight toward their heads.