The ground rumbled violently, and yellow sand churned like boiling water.
Pale white finger bones burst through the earth as countless skeletons tore free from the dirt, slowly rising to their feet.
They could no longer be called human.
Tattered military armor and scraps of cloth still hung from their broken bodies, the style of that armor faintly resembling the fallen soldiers who had perished on the battlefield years ago.
Tears welled in the eyes of the soldiers within the city.
Song Yueyao seized the battle flag bearing the character “Nie,” thrusting her arms wide as the crackling banner unfurled behind her with a roar.
She swept the flag downward.
The tip of the staff cut through the air, splitting it with a sharp, whistling sound.
“All soldiers, hear my command—”
“Follow me, your commander, into battle—kill the enemy!”
“Kill—!”
Shouts tore from their chests.
On the city walls, within the gates, in the shattered streets and alleys, countless throats joined in the roar, raising blades and spears as one as they marched out of the city gates.
The vast skeleton army led the charge, like a tide surging over sand dunes, and behind them came the last remnants of the Nie clan troops—a sea of heads and a dark mass of armor stretching endlessly out of sight.
This terrifying momentum not only turned the faces of the barbarian soldiers pale but also forced the bloodthirsty beasts to retreat several steps, low, restless growls rolling from their throats.
From within the twisted, hideous face shrouded in black robes came a strange, incredulous low laugh.
“Ah Ying…”
“Your child is truly as clever as you are,” the voice said, carrying an odd hint of gentleness. “If only… he were the child born of us two, how wonderful that would be.”
“But… but he is a bastard you bore for someone else! A mongrel!”
“Why should a filthy thing like that deserve love? Is he worthy? Let him and everyone who loves him die! Your revenge will never be avenged in this lifetime, and your hatred will linger in this world forever, hahahaha…”
His laughter began to tremble, hatred burned to its peak until his very bones shook.
The High Priest suddenly raised his hand, fingers curling into claws, and viciously drove them toward his own chest.
Using his heart meridian as a sacrifice, he forcibly drove the thousand beasts into a frenzy.
The beasts, which had been cowed back by the overwhelming momentum, now stiffened as if yanked by an invisible thread. A crazed red gleam replaced the depths of their pupils as they surged forward.
The two torrents collided with a thunderous crash.
The skeleton army and the beasts became entangled in slaughter, pale bone blades tearing through flesh, while the beasts’ claws shattered dry bones. The remnants of the Nie clan, following closely behind, plunged into a melee with the barbarian army—blades flashing, swords clashing, flesh and blood flying.
Above, in the sky, another battlefield unfolded.
A massive eagle-hawk carried the White Cat and Jiang Zhiyu, weaving among the circling beasts. The White Cat’s paws flipped talismans that transformed into streaks of light, while Jiang Zhiyu’s sword flashed fiercely, and beasts fell howling from time to time.
Yet, there were too many beasts in the sky.
The two could not be everywhere at once.
Worse still, the White Cat’s spiritual core had been damaged, leaving its strength far diminished. Ah Nan barely managed to dodge, but the claws and roars of the beasts grazed past their sides again and again. Only by the timely arrival of tomb bats that obscured the beasts’ vision did each narrow escape succeed.
Just then.
A massive Qiongqi beast charged straight at them with ferocious speed, as if avenging its kin.
The White Cat and Jiang Zhiyu were pinned by beasts on both sides, attacked from front and rear, with no time to turn.
“Master, be careful!”
“Don’t worry about me, keep your own head on straight!”
In a flash of lightning, a colossal crimson figure tore through the air!
It was several zhang long, its scarlet scales like burning clouds of sunset, shimmering brilliantly in the sunlight. From its head sprouted two horns, still young but unmistakably real, signaling that it had shed its snake form and transformed into a true dragon. It stood on four clawed feet, gripping the void with hooked talons, its mere presence radiating an invisible pressure that rippled outward.
The Qiongqi beast’s charge came to an abrupt halt.
Not only that, but the howling beasts around it also froze in place, their crazed pupils replaced by an even more primal fear.
It was as if submission were bred into their very blood.
“I-isn’t this Junior Brother’s snake?” Jiang Zhiyu’s pupils narrowed. “A red dragon? It’s actually a dragon?”
He had only seen illustrations in strange bestiaries, never the real thing.
“You brat, took you long enough to figure it out?” the White Cat huffed, curling its whiskers disdainfully, though a flicker of surprise crossed its eyes. The speed of this dragon’s transformation was astonishingly fast—apparently that little bunny had been raising it with great care.
“Don’t get distracted, quickly harvest these beasts’ demon cores!”
As the words fell, the red dragon had already slain three beasts.
The eagle-hawk flew unhurriedly closer, and the White Cat seemed to trail behind like someone collecting dropped loot, its paws glowing as it pulled in three demon cores.
On the battlefield below.
Swarms of insects and tomb bats wove through the crowd, blocking many hidden arrows aimed at the Nie clan soldiers.
Song Yueyao charged at the forefront. Her crescent blades flew from her hands, cutting cold arcs through the air, slicing through the throats of several barbarian soldiers in quick succession. As blood sprayed, the blades spun once and landed firmly back in her palms.
Clad in the commander’s battle robe, she was the most conspicuous target.
Almost all the enemy’s firepower converged on her. Warhorses charged at her in waves, blades falling from all directions. When the barbarian Khan charged with an iron ball, she was locked in battle with soldiers on both sides, left powerless to defend.
The iron ball whistled toward her.
She made a quick decision, rolling off her horse and tumbling several times.
As she hit the ground, she sent her crescent blades flying, taking down several enemy soldiers closing in. But a spear slashed a bloody gash across her thigh, and blood gushed forth.
Just as she tried to rise, the iron ball came straight for her face.
“Damn bitch,” the Khan’s face twisted with a self-satisfied smirk. “I was going to take you alive as a camp whore, but you’ve got some fight in you. Die!”
Kill the commander, and even the strongest Nie army would scatter like loose sand.
Song Yueyao clenched her teeth, struggling to stand, but the wound on her leg froze her for a moment.
There was no time to dodge.
All she could do was raise her crescent blades to block the iron ball that would surely crush her bones.
As her eyes narrowed, the world suddenly darkened before her.
A battered, bloodstained commander’s cloak brushed past her nose…
She froze.
That year, her Grandfather’s body was carried down from the battlefield, his hand still gripping the ancestral Nie clan spear. His corpse stood tall, refusing to fall for a long time.
Later, that spear was buried alongside him.
Her Grandfather had countless times tried to pass it into her hands, but she had found the spear too clunky, preferring only to wield her crescent blades.
And now.
A familiar spear was clutched tightly in the hand of a pale white skeleton.
That skeleton shielded her without hesitation, standing like an unshakable mountain.
It blocked two heavy blows from the barbarian Khan.
The first blow sent tremors through the spear’s shaft; the second shattered the skeleton’s bones.
In the instant the skeleton crumbled, the flame of fury burned through Song Yueyao’s tears.
“Ah—!”
Ignoring the searing pain in her leg, she used the skeleton’s shoulder bone as a springboard, launching herself into the air and flipping behind the barbarian Khan.
Her crescent blade flashed coldly, pressed tightly against his throat.
A torrent of rage condensed on the blade’s edge.
Hot blood splattered across Song Yueyao’s face.
She didn’t even blink.
The head rolled to the ground.
Those eyes were still wide open, never understanding how they had met their end even in death.
"We've won!"
"Victory!"
"......"
The deafening cheers poured into her ears. Song Yueyao looked up, dazed, and only then realized that the beasts around her were nearly gone.
She raised a hand and slowly wiped the blood from her face, the realization dawning belatedly.
Won...?
Waves of jubilation swept across the battlefield as the barbarian soldiers threw down their arms and surrendered.
Amid the chaos, a figure in a black robe collapsed into the dust, his strength spent.
His venomous energy had long been poured into every beast. As those creatures fell one by one, his life, too, was fading inch by inch.
The wind lifted his wide hood, revealing a face covered in grotesque, festering scars.
In a moment of daze, the jeers of children seemed to pierce through the years—
"Monster, face all scarred, thinks he can be the King of Gu, what a joke..."
He had been the least remarkable child in his household. His body was naturally incompatible with the poison arts, born unfit to practice them. Yet he was determined to become the greatest sorcerer of venom in the world.
For that, he did not hesitate to nourish himself with venomous insects. Even as his entire body rotted, his face disfigured beyond recognition, he paid no heed.
Mockery was his daily bread.
But then, one day, a little girl appeared.
She did not laugh at him. Instead, she drove away the children who had gathered to jeer at him.
"Hey, lift your head," she said.
Her voice was still childish, but cold as the water in a deep, dark pool.
"Remember this: if anyone dares to laugh at you again, tear out their tongue and stuff it down their own throat."
That girl was beautiful as the moon in the sky. He learned later that she was the daughter of the tribe’s Saintess.
He had never felt shame about his own appearance, but every time he saw her, he instinctively turned his face away and took a different path.
Finally, one day, she could no longer hold back and blocked his way: "Future Lord of the Gu, every time you see me, you twist your head so far back it’s practically behind you. Do you hate seeing me that much?"
He lowered his eyes. "I... my face... aren’t you afraid?"
She laughed lightly.
"You turned yourself into this just to become stronger, didn’t you? Me? I like making friends with madmen."
Later, his control over the venom arts surpassed that of all his kin, and he became the tribe’s High Priest.
He cared little for the title itself. The only thing that set his heart racing was the tribe’s ancient rule: the High Priest must wed the Saintess.
But she ran away.
She fled from what she called a cage, from the duties pressed upon her, and from him as well.
She found her true love—but that man did not love her.
When she was rescued by him, heavy with child, he once quietly offered her a chance: if she would give up the child and marry him instead, he would defy the entire tribe to protect her.
But she would rather die than marry him.
A flood of bitter grievance and rage made him unleash the divine fire. For a moment, he even wanted to see her burn until she was as hideous as he was.
Yet, even at the end, she did not beg for mercy or repent.
She left behind nothing but that cursed child and her own curse.
Nothing...
Not even a single word that belonged to him.
The yellow dust stretched far and wide.
He struggled to raise his eyes, wanting to see that face one last time—so similar to hers.
And then he saw it, in the open space before the city gate:
A youth knelt on the ground, face ashen, lips drained of all color.
His expression was exactly as hers had been when she died before the sacred tree.
"Ah Ying... Ah..."
He tried desperately to call out, but his throat could no longer form a single word.
His eyes slowly closed.
