“I confided that strategy to fewer than five souls—my most loyal subjects,” Wangya Ju murmured, her voice tight with the realization of treason. “To think a rat gnawed its way into even that sacred circle.”

“Is that so? Regardless, your strategist seems to have prepared for even that eventuality. The formation holds far better than I anticipated.”

By all rights, the Imperial formation should have shattered under that single, devastating strike; a dragon that fails to ascend plummets, scattering its blood across the earth in a catastrophic collapse. Yet Zhuge Rin was never a man to place blind faith in the fragility of human loyalty. He had left a margin for error, a cynical buffer against betrayal, and that slight allowance was the only reason the battlefront had not yet crumbled into dust.

“Hahaha, but what does it matter?” Khahurai Khan laughed, the sound booming over the din of battle. “Is there a single soul walking this earth who scorns the gift of eternity? Who despises life without end?”

“There is.”

“Truly? You might think yourself young now, Pung Ju-ha, but you too will wither and rot. Become my wife.”

“If eternal life requires a foundation of ten thousand corpses, there are plenty who would spit on the offer.”

“Hoh?”

“You lunatic. Why do you think humans feel guilt?”

She spun her Serpent Spear, the massive weapon slicing through the air with a heavy, menacing hum—Huuuung!—the sound distorted by the heavy Authority she wielded to manipulate its crushing weight.

“What relevance does guilt have, Pung Ju-ha? Surely you aren’t spouting such fragile nonsense like murdering ten thousand for eternal youth might disturb your sleep?”

“What do you think distinguishes a man from a beast?”

“Are you claiming guilt is the difference? Absurd!”

“Do you know another word for guilt?”

“What?”

“The soul.”

Rumble!

Extreme Yang energy detonated from the tip of her spear, blazing like a miniature sun brought down to earth. Khahurai Khan deflected her onslaught, sneering through the violent clash of steel.

“The soul? Are you implying I am a soulless beast, then?”

“I am telling you that a bastard without a conscience can never be a King,” she spat, driving him back. “Governance, reign, politics—these concepts only exist when the subject is human. I will slaughter you like the animal you are.”

Within a dizzying exchange of moves, the two superhumans unleashed a storm of violence upon one another, the air screaming around them.

“Kuhahaha! Then be ruled by a beast, Pung Ju-ha! Submit to the reign of the predator!”

“To you, your people are nothing more than cattle! Just like the oxen whose eardrums you burst!”

“Is that wrong? That is what governance is! You dare call yourself a ruler without understanding such a simple truth?”

With every titanic clash, Pung Ju-ha felt her body screaming in protest. Blood seeped from wounds that had not yet fully knitted together, staining her armor a deep, wet crimson, yet amidst the agony, she felt a grim sense of relief. Despite the betrayal, Zhuge Rin’s final countermeasure had inflicted catastrophic damage on the Suksin forces; even if the enemy claimed victory here, they would leave at least a hundred thousand corpses rotting in the mud.

However, I don’t have the energy to worry about what comes after.

Khahurai Khan was likely in the same precarious position. There were still many nomadic tribes that had not bowed to the Suksin, and Wangya Ju knew that the Khan needed a decisive victory here—a complete devastation of the Empire’s north—to absorb those holdouts and become the true Khan of the Steppes.

So, we fight.

Life is, at its core, a process of resistance. From the moment of birth, a human struggles to flip their body against gravity; they resist their parents with a flood of “no”s rather than “yes”s; they resist their studies by skipping class. To a ruler, such resistance might be an annoyance, but Pung Ju-ha knew the truth: that resistance was the power to look at something wrong and name it so. In a world where prisoners were used as target practice and thousands were slaughtered to purchase a ruler’s youth, what kind of life would that “resistance” forge?

“I have killed all my brothers who did not tolerate a life worthy of a human, King of the Suksin.”

Wangya Ju smiled. Her teeth were stained red with blood, a gruesome contrast to her calm demeanor, but she didn’t care.

“Compared to the path of blood I’ve walked, a bastard like you is nothing.”

Rumble—

The right side of Wangya Ju burned with scorching heat, while her left froze with bitter cold. But beyond her immediate circle of influence, the Imperial Army had already been reduced to cold corpses, and she stood isolated, surrounded by ten thousand elite Suksin cavalry—a siege on the brink of total annihilation.

Before her, Khahurai Khan looked down from atop a black horse as massive and imposing as himself.

“It is your defeat. I am mounted on a warhorse. Do you understand what that means?”

Clop.

An ordinary warhorse was treated as a semi-spiritual beast, but the creature Khan rode was undoubtedly a true Spiritual Beast. It had not been seen until this critical moment, suggesting it was a secret weapon gifted by the Blood Immortal Cult; moreover, having witnessed it chewing on human flesh in the chaos of battle, she knew this was no ordinary animal.

Horse Spiritual Art.

It was a martial art that grew exponentially stronger when paired with a mount. If combined with a Spiritual Beast-level Great Black Horse, Khan could trample a peak master to death with mere hooves. Mounted, Khahurai Khan was a far more terrifying opponent than the one she had fought on foot.

“Become my bride, Pung Ju-ha. This is my final offer. If you resist this time, I will kill you without hesitation.”

“…Kukuku.”

Bloody phlegm boiled in her throat. It was truly unfair. In the past, she had moved a mountain; people had pointed fingers, mocking her for attempting a Foolish Old Man’s task with nothing but a spear, but she had done it regardless. It wasn’t a question of whether the mountain could be moved, but a question of whether she would give up or endure while doing it. In the end, Pung Ju-ha had succeeded, and that memory had become the foundation of her life.

“Unfair, isn’t it? Talent and effort combined, yet killing a thousand people is more efficient.”

To a ruler, the Blood Immortal Cult was as sweet as poisoned honey, and there were likely traitors within the Empire who had already tasted it. But so what? What of it?

“Only a human should stand above humans. You mongrel.”

She let her hands hang loose, gathering every scrap of her internal energy.

“And didn’t I tell you? I reject ugly bastards!”

Extreme Yin and Extreme Yang energies converged above her head—Swoosh!

The Imperial Library was the source of the Imperial Family’s power, granting a ruling royal the privilege to learn the martial arts of nearly every sect in the Murim. The arts most suited to her talents were the Wudang Sect’s Taiji Divine Art and Dual Principles Cultivation Art, and alongside these two absolute arts, she had mastered the Solar Divine Art and the Ice Soul Divine Art as auxiliary supports. Was that all? No, she had devoured everything, including the ultimate techniques of the Hwangbo Clan.

The result was Authority combined with Martial Arts. Scorching Yang Aura and Extreme Cold Aura manifested in the empty air—Boooooom!—and she took it a step further. Martial arts began to merge with martial arts. Two mighty auras fused into one, transforming into an apotheosis of power that contained the weight of absolute annihilation.

Taiji Transcendental Divine Art: Convergence of Taiji!

However, as she unleashed it, blood flowed unceasingly from Wangya Ju’s lips and capillaries burst in her wide-open eyes. Everything has a quantity; nothing in this world is infinite, and even the Imperial Family’s Authority could not be used without limit. Eventually, something had to be burned to fuel the power, and her danjeon was scraping the bottom of its reserves. This technique was forged from the very last drops of her life force.

“Fuhahaha! A final act of defiance! Good! I, Khahurai Khan, will crush your power head-on! Let’s go!”

Zooom!

Khahurai Khan’s Great Black Horse screamed. It was not the neigh of a horse, but the mocking laughter of the dead. The beast kicked off the ground, launching its massive frame forward with the speed of an arrow. Charging like a living chariot toward the crystalized power of Yin and Yang, Khahurai Khan raised his massive Moon Blade and brought it down like a lightning bolt.

RUMBLE!

A colossal force detonated, sending shockwaves rippling outward. The power was world-shaking, crushing everything in the vicinity and threatening to burst the eardrums of ordinary men. Just as Jin Cheon-hee had described, it was as if a small hydrogen bomb had exploded; corpses were torn apart and scattered, while nearby soldiers were swept up in the blast and disintegrated instantly. Before one could even speak of cruelty, overwhelming violence swept through like a typhoon, birthing a massive mushroom cloud.

However—Swoosh.

Khahurai Khan did not die.

He was a gruesome sight, bleeding from his entire body, his skin flayed and battered, but he stood firm amidst the agony, as did his Great Black Horse. Though his appearance was horrific, his vitality had not waned.

The ritual of the Blood Immortal Cult is proving useful.

Pung Ju-ha’s strike had been powerful enough to kill him even in his prime, but as long as the Blood Immortal was with him—as long as he offered sacrifices—the protection would endure. He swept aside the smoke and walked out slowly with his steed. This was Khahurai Khan, the King who ruled the Great Steppe.

Thud.

Matching the horse’s steps, Khahurai Khan raised his Moon Blade once more.

“Now, it is time to end this. You, and your Empire. I have endured great losses for this moment. My brothers have bled with me. But such is the nature of the hunt; one must be prepared to bleed to catch the prey. So…”

A light resembling sword aura began to shimmer on his massive blade.

“Let us finish it.”

“You bastard…!”

Wangya Ju wiped the blood from her mouth and readjusted her grip on the Serpent Spear. She would never compromise with a beast; all that remained was to follow the last, primal instinct of humanity.

Resistance.

Preparing for the end, Wangya Ju steeled herself to inflict a fatal wound on him, even at the cost of her life. If she died on this battlefield, someone else would rise to fight him. Humanity had always been so. Even when it seemed there was no one, a replacement always appeared to fill the void. She didn’t know the limits of the Blood Immortal Cult’s sorcery, but if she thrust this spear deep enough along with her life, surely even they would struggle.

It was then. From a blind spot no one was paying attention to, a streak of lightning struck down.

Slash!

“Kuk?!”

It struck the Great Black Horse and Khahurai Khan with pinpoint accuracy. In that split second, arrows of undeniable power flew in like lightning bolts from all directions, raining down on a section of the Kheshig Guard. Then came the explosions.

Clang! Clang!

Black, acrid smoke billowed up, and those exposed to the dark cloud stiffened, their limbs locking up as they collapsed. Amidst the falling men and blades, a group of warriors stormed the breach.

“You Xiongnu bastards dare attack this place?!”

“Do you think you can withstand the martial arts of the Main House?!”

“Hahaha! The poison of the Main House is the best under the heavens! Collapse before the Dark Flame Poison!”

The Special Task Force had arrived. They tore through the breach and charged.