“Do not fall behind!”
The shout burst from the Sword Clan Armed General. His blade moved ceaselessly, thirsting for enemy flesh and blood.
Crunch!
As if in response to the carnage, a low vibration hummed through the air.
Woooooh!
It was the signature of the Luoyang Sword Clan: the Heart of the Resonating Sword. The keening of blades rang out from every corner of the battlefield.
Vroom!
The Sword Clan Armed General led the Vanguard fearlessly, moving with the terrifying grace of a master who had transcended the wall. Behind him, the warriors of the War Department rushed in like evil spirits, shattering the enemy formation.
“Argh!”
“Block them! I said block them!”
It was a massacre. The scene resembled a shoreline being swept away by a massive tsunami—vainly and easily.
“D-Deputy General, the third line is collapsing!”
The formation of the tribal warriors, usually braver than anyone, was crumbling.
“The fourth line is crumbling too!”
The Deputy General, commanding in place of the leader killed by the War Department Chief’s Thousand-Li Fog, went pale. He looked as if he had seen a ghost.
“S-Stop them somehow! We must halt their advance!”
At his frantic order, nets designed to snare warriors on horseback flew through the air from all directions.
“Sprint lower!”
However, the War Department Vanguard warriors dropped their stance, running so low their breastplates nearly scraped the ground. The nets sliced harmlessly through empty air.
“Hooks! Throw the hooks too!”
Before the Deputy General could even finish the order, the soldiers and tribal warriors were already drawing and throwing their grappling hooks.
“Shoot!”
The Northern tribe’s archer unit, having reorganized their lines, unleashed a volley of high-angle fire over their allies’ heads—a display close to an art form.
“Ha!”
The Sword Clan Armed General sneered. “Did you think you could stop our charge with such petty tricks?”
As the words left his mouth, his sword roared like a storm, tearing through everything in its path.
Sword Clan Swordsmanship, Heart of the Resonating Sword. Fast Sword Stance. Secret Technique, Cruel Slaughter Chaos.
Craaaack!
Nets tore, hooks shattered, and arrows splintered into pieces. Blood and flesh rained down from the air.
“D-Deputy General…!”
“Th-That is…”
Subordinates looked back at their commander in panic, but the Deputy General was frozen. Amidst the chaos, words of the Central Plains cut through the din.
“It is already too late!”
Pointing toward the War Department Vanguard, a first-generation disciple of Mount Hua screamed at the Deputy General.
“Did I not tell you to form an anti-collision defense formation from the start?!”
The arrogant Deputy General, drunk on youthful vigor and the luck of an unexpected promotion, had ignored him. Instead of solidifying their defense, he had chosen a scattered formation for a counter-charge.
“We will penetrate!”
And this was the result. The unstoppable charge of the enemy.
“I said it is already too late!” the disciple screamed, fighting to be heard over the roar of battle. “There is no way to stop the charge of elite warriors whose spirit has risen to the sky and who have gained such acceleration!”
He shouted the wisdom he had learned on Mount Hua and realized through countless battles.
“Request support immediately! Spread the wings to narrow the field, and retreat the center!”
“Support…!” The Deputy General, hearing the translation, finally snapped to his senses. “Request support from the nearby allies! Signal the other generals!”
It wasn’t just their tribe; others were camped along the long front line with the Northern Great General’s Department.
“Messengers have already departed!”
Although the messengers had left on their own accord before the order was given, the Deputy General felt a wave of relief.
“Hold on!” he shouted. “We have the advantage in numbers! Pour in the troops! Surround them with infantry wrapping around left and right, and retreat the center!”
His voice rose to a shriek. “Cavalry?! Where is our cavalry?!”
To counter the War Department Vanguard charging deep into their lines, they needed to strike the rear and block enemy support. Cavalry was key.
“Due to the confusion from the javelin attack, several stables caught fire or the horses fled!” the adjutant reported while signaling the retreat. “The available cavalry is less than half our full strength!”
“It doesn’t matter! Deploy them immediately!”
“But…!”
The Deputy General stepped backward with the retreating center, shouting at the top of his lungs. “But what! Until support arrives, we must hold on by any means! Only then can we live, and our tribe…”
As he shouted, veins bulging on his neck, his scalp suddenly tingled.
It was the strange, static sensation felt on the vast grasslands right before a lightning strike.
“Wh—?!”
The Deputy General, seized by the ominous feeling, tried to speak.
Silence.
In a fleeting moment where the world seemed to stop, the Mount Hua disciple reacted faster than anyone.
“Get down!”
His sword flashed outward.
Huashan Sect. Twenty-Four Hands Plum Blossom Sword. Plum Opening Guiding Path.
BOOOOM!
Sparks flew in all directions as dust was torn apart. It felt like striking a flying cannonball with a blade.
Ziiing.
The first-generation disciple’s sword bent miserably. A shockwave traveled from his wrist up his arm, rattling his entire body. His blood vessels surged madly; his heart and danjeon felt as if they would burst.
“Urgh!”
Vomiting a mouthful of dead black blood, the disciple checked on the Deputy General.
“H-Hiiik…!”
The Deputy General was rolling on the ground from the indirect shock, but he was alive. There was no need for yet another commander to take over.
“Cough!”
Coughing up blood once more, the disciple looked at the object that had flown from beyond his field of view. A curse burst from his lips.
“…Crazy bastard!”
Firmly embedded in the ground like a pillar was a steel javelin.
It was the War Department Chief’s sniping technique, the same one that had pierced the Northern tribe general in a single blow. He had just blocked the Thousand-Li Fog.
“Immediately…” The disciple staggered, taking a step. “Retreat the center significantly.”
He tried to support himself with his sword, but collapsed as the ruined blade shattered.
“Huashan Sect?!” The Deputy General, having been helped up, shouted at him. “Where are the other disciples of Mount Hua?! We need their help!”
Hearing the translated words, the disciple smiled bitterly amidst the pain of twisting internal organs and a spinning sky.
When did you ever treat us as anything other than defeated soldiers without honor?
“…With this.”
He shook off the soldiers trying to help him and stood up with his own strength.
“It seems Mount Hua has repaid all the grace of being provided a resting place.”
“These cowards of the Central Plains…!”
Whatever the Deputy General shouted behind him, the disciple ignored it. He began to run, squeezing every drop of power from his twisting qi and blood.
Keuk!
If not for the rare cultivation method called the Violet Mist Divine Art, walking would have been impossible, let alone running.
“Over there…!”
The campsite had descended into complete chaos. Relying purely on his senses, he moved toward his fellow disciples.
“Is anyone from Mount Hua there?!”
“Master?!”
Several disciples rushed over to support him.
“This injury—?!”
“I don’t matter! Is Eldest Senior Brother safe?!”
To him, the Eldest Senior Brother—the Sect Leader’s Disciple, Mount Hua Sword Dragon Gam Woo-hyeon—was more important than his own life.
“He is drifting in and out of consciousness, but his body seems to have no major abnormalities!”
“Then…” The first-generation disciple grabbed a second-generation disciple’s shoulder. “Immediately! We must escort Eldest Senior Brother and escape…!”
The disciples looked bewildered. “Escape?”
“The numbers are still overwhelmingly on the Dread King’s side. If we lend even a hand…”
“Master,” the second-generation disciple said with a hardened expression. “Shouldn’t we take revenge?”
“Bullshit!”
The first-generation disciple cut him off with a shout. “You are still young; you don’t know the danger of the Sword Clan’s War Department!”
“But—”
Thud-thud-thud-thud!
Rumble!
An unusual vibration cut through the air, followed by screams.
“Check it!”
At the master’s instruction, a disciple unfolded his footwork and leaped atop a tent.
“…!”
What entered his vision was the Northern tribe’s right unit—attempting to spread its wings for an encirclement—being trampled by hooves.
“H-Horseback warriors!” he shouted down. “The War Department’s Horseback Warrior Unit is attacking our right wing!”
“How many are there?!”
“Hundreds… it looks like over a hundred!”
As expected.
Amidst the murmuring of the disciples, the first-generation disciple squeezed his eyes shut.
The Sword Clan’s War Department Chief is here.
The worst-case scenario had become reality. The entire power of the Sword Clan’s War Department was concentrated on this single point.
“The battle line?!” the disciple atop the tent stammered. “The right wing is collapsing!”
There was nothing left to consider.
“Immediately, carry Eldest Senior Brother on your back!” the first-generation disciple ordered with a grim voice. “Soon, support from nearby Northern tribes will arrive. And the enemy will pour out their full power to meet them.”
“Th-That means—?!”
“From now on, this place is not a simple battle; it will become a true battlefield!”
The wind turned exceptionally rough, fanning the flames that had spread throughout the campsite.
“Our Vanguard is gone. There is nothing we can do here!”
He personally hoisted the unconscious Mount Hua Sword Dragon, Gam Woo-hyeon, onto his back.
“From now on, we must do everything just to survive!”