“You’re saying what’s happening here will put that much pressure on the Dread King and Sima?”

A look of profound doubt clouded the face of the Life-Stealing Ghost Sword. “Sure, Sima’s little scheme failed miserably, so he might be fuming enough to take to his bed with a fever of frustration… but beyond that?” He studied the Head Handmaiden with a skeptical eye. “How exactly does this qualify as ‘crushing’ pressure?”

“It’s quite simple,” Jeong-ah replied, her golden eyes serene. “The enemy is, at the end of the day, merely an ‘alliance’ of powerful factions.”

The word seemed to resonate with Life-Stealing Ghost Sword. He murmured it back to himself, a slow understanding dawning on his rough features. “An alliance… an alliance, huh?”

***

The Alliance Camp of Third Young Master Yeon Jeok-gwang.

“Still no word…”

“It certainly is taking a long time, isn’t it?”

The key figures of various factions were gathered in small clusters, their voices low but intentionally audible to those around them. They cast frequent, sidelong glances toward the armored carriages of Grand Strategist Sima and the Strategist’s Department. Sima had promised that once the rebellions in the rear were successful, immediate contact would be established.

The appointed time had long since passed, yet the silence from the rear was deafening.

“It seems more likely…” one murmured, testing the waters. “…that the plan has failed.”

What began as subtle posturing quickly transformed into blatant criticism as more voices joined the chorus. “This is absurd! It’s not as if a few cells failed while others succeeded; we haven’t received a single successful report from anywhere.”

“What is Sima even doing, holed up in there while the situation spiraled out of control?” another demanded. “What could he possibly be thinking?!”

Inside Sima’s armored carriage, the thick plating and sound-dampening devices couldn’t quite block out the poisonous dissatisfaction seeping in from the outside. The atmosphere within was suffocating.

[(This is bad,)] a senior strategist whispered via a close-range mental transmission to his colleague. [(If this ends in total failure, no faction within the alliance will ever take the Strategist’s Department seriously again.)]

[(A disaster… a complete disaster.)]

Despite their private anxiety, neither dared to address Sima directly. The Grand Strategist sat in a heavy silence, his eyes fixed on the battle between the Dread King and So-hyeon’s forces unfolding outside the window. His displeasure was so palpable it felt like a physical weight in the small space.

[(Go on, you start. I’ll back you up immediately—)]

[(Don’t talk rot!)] the other snapped back with a sharp glare. [(You say it. I’ll give you all the support you need!)]

It was only natural. The name “Grand Strategist Sima” was the weightiest among all strategists in the Central Plains. Whether measured by years of service, depth of experience, or countless achievements, few in his field could even dream of standing as his equal.

[(…Dammit.)] The senior strategists cast longing, regretful looks at the empty seat across from Sima. That was originally the place of Grand Strategist Zhuge. He was the only one with the sharp, youthful perspective and the audacity to offer provocative strategies—and more importantly, he was the only peer Sima truly listened to.

[(The void he left is starting to feel cavernous.)]

Initially, Sima was the only one who truly felt that absence. Now, as the crisis deepened, the entire department felt the loss of Zhuge’s stabilizing influence.

“Hmph! Is Sima nothing without Zhuge by his side?”

“Can we really leave the supreme command of our alliance’s strategy in his hands after this?”

The voices from outside were targeting Sima’s most sensitive wounds, clawing at his authority with every word. Finally, Sima’s lips moved.

“The status of the Dread King’s lines?”

“Well…” A strategist sorting through reports from the observation teams hesitated. “…It is not particularly good, sir.”

Sima’s long eyebrows twitched. “I have eyes; I can see that it’s ‘not good.’ Report something useful.”

His voice was low, yet it carried the weight of a thunderous rebuke. His aides stiffened, knowing Sima was at his most dangerous when his tone was this controlled.

“We are tracking the enemy’s individual warriors, but the losses are entirely lopsided. The Dread King’s numbers are hemorrhaging, while…” The strategist’s voice trembled slightly, sweat beading on his brow. “…the Grand Young Master’s losses are virtually non-existent.”

“Virtually non-existent?” Sima’s voice dropped even lower, becoming dangerously heavy.

“And their internal energy consumption?”

“Sir… based on our observations from the start of the engagement, the intensity of the enemy’s offensive has remained entirely constant. There has been no dip in performance.”

The report caused a stir even among the senior strategists. “No change in offensive intensity?”

“That means…”

“That level of assault isn’t even their maximum capacity?”

Whether it was a commoner sprinting or a martial artist utilizing high-level techniques, the period of peak performance for a human was always distinct and tragically short. If So-hyeon’s main host showed no signs of flagging, it meant they weren’t even pushing themselves yet.

“The composition of the Grand Young Master’s host is highly irregular, but still…”

“They are facing the Dread King’s personal legion, the strongest force in the North, aren’t they?”

“We need to revise our estimation of the enemy’s combat power immediately. It’s far higher than—”

“There is no need for panic,” Sima interrupted, his gaze never leaving the window. “The Dread King’s top-tier experts haven’t appeared on the field for some time now. If the King cannot deploy his true strength, it’s only natural for the enemy to run wild.”

“T-That is true, sir!” the head of the observation teams added quickly. “The Dread King’s formation has done nothing but tighten its defense. We haven’t seen a single high-level master being committed to the fray…!”

They had no way of knowing that this was because So-hyeon had personally staged a bloody demonstration right in front of Yelü Nuzhucha.

“Has no one come from the Dread King’s side yet?” Sima asked.

Surely the King had seen the alliance’s arrival.

“…Only the scouts are performing standard response maneuvers. We’ve had no word from their command center.”

Sima’s brow furrowed deeper. “And the messengers we sent? Still nothing?”

“My apologies, sir.”

The reason was obvious. With So-hyeon’s subordinates rampaging across the field like demons, reaching the Dread King’s command center was a suicide mission. The afternoon sun streaming through the window highlighted the deep lines on Sima’s face.

I promised the factions in the rear staggering sums of gold and rewards beyond imagination to turn against the Grand Young Master.

The cost of inciting that rebellion was so high it had caused friction even within the Strategist’s Department. If anyone other than Sima had proposed it, the idea would have been laughed out of the room.

And yet… they all failed? Simultaneously?

Sima appeared to be studying the battlefield, but his eyes were unfocused, wandering through a mental void. What in the name of the heavens is happening in the rear?

No matter how hard he stared, he could not manifest the “Thousand-Li Eyes” So-hyeon was rumored to possess. Sitting in this cramped carriage, trying to see through a fog that stretched for thousands of miles… it was a task beyond the limits of man.

I wasn’t the only one. The Head Eunuch of the Imperial Palace must have exerted considerable effort as well…

He had tried every standard tactic. He had created variables and played his best cards one after another. And yet…

The harder I struggle, the deeper I sink. It feels like a sandpit that swallows you whole the more you fight to escape.

From a distance, the peak that was the Grand Young Master had seemed only slightly higher than the others in the mountain range. But the closer Sima drew, the more that youth began to feel like the mythical Three God Mountains—ethereal, unapproachable, and divine. Sima’s wrinkled fist, hidden beneath the table, trembled.

What are you…?! Yeon So-hyeon…!

He tried to find the youth’s figure on the distant cliff, but his aging eyes and limited internal energy could not pierce the distance. Are you even human?!

But he couldn’t just sit in despair. “…The status of our troops?”

“Pardon?”

“I asked how prepared our forces are,” Sima repeated.

“Ah, yes!” the strategist in charge of logistics replied. “The warriors have completed their rotation of meditative recovery. Everyone is accounted for.”

Sima closed his eyes for a moment, then snapped them open. “Tell everyone to prepare for combat.”

“But, sir, we aren’t at—”

“That is an order.”

Their condition was far from perfect, but they could no longer afford to let the Dread King’s legion collapse. If the King’s personal force was annihilated, the alliance would lose its greatest tactical advantage in this war.

“First, inform the Sword Monarch. Have the Huashan Sect prepare for deployment—”

Sima was cut short as the carriage door swung open. Namgung Du poked his head inside.

“Grand Strategist Sima…”

“What is it?” Sima snapped.

Since his major blunder with the intelligence network, Namgung Du had become pathologically cautious, reporting even the slightest suspicion.

“I just received word from the Namgung main estate…”

“Speak.”

“Well…” Namgung Du hesitated, his voice laced with doubt. “There is a report that forces from Xi’an are marching north and attacking the Dread King’s home territories in the rear.”

“What?!”

“Troops from Xi’an?!”

Xi’an was the great city to the west of Luoyang, formerly known as Chang’an. The idea that they would suddenly mobilize and strike the North was preposterous.

“That information is impossible!” a senior strategist barked. “Xi’an isn’t a region with that kind of autonomy. They don’t have the authority to move an army!”

“If they had requested permission to march, the Imperial Capital would have blocked it instantly! If they moved without orders, it’s an act of treason!”

“It must be a baseless rumor!”

As the strategists shouted their denials, Namgung Du rubbed his aching temples. “…For some reason, the eyewitness accounts are vivid and consistent. They claim to have seen a massive force led by the Silk Road Rangers of Xi’an.”

“The Silk Road Rangers?!”

The name carried weight. They were the ones who had once demonstrated their prowess by obliterating a syndicate of assassins hired by the Emei Sect to ambush the Dasunrang.

“…It’s true that the tribes loyal to the Dread King have long profited by raiding Silk Road caravans, creating a deep well of resentment,” one strategist mused. “But even so, this makes no sense—”

“Enough!”

Sima bolted upright, his voice cutting through the noise. “Rumor or not, if this reaches the Dread King’s ears, the consequences will be catastrophic!”

Many of the Dread King’s soldiers were only holding the line out of tribal loyalty. If they heard their homelands were being burned, the entire front would disintegrate in an instant.

“Quickly! Fetch the Sword Monarch of Huashan! No!” Sima shoved past Namgung Du, stepping out of the carriage. “I will go speak with him myself!”

As he stepped onto the grass, his gaze instinctively flickered toward the cliff where the Grand Young Master had stood.

“Lead the way!” he barked at Namgung Du.

Still, to his eyes, everything remained a blur. He could see nothing clearly.