Today, there was nowhere in Xining where the word peace could be found.
Not to the east, west, south, or north. Not even in the sky.
Rain and blood drenched everything, while screams and crashes rang out without pause.
And yet there was one exception: a hill rising tall several hundred jang1 from the East Gate.
It’s really coming down out there.
Hardly the sort of thought someone in a life-or-death crisis could afford to have.
As he watched the sky pour down thick sheets of rain, as though a giant hole had opened overhead, the black-robed man suddenly turned east.
Whoooosh.
In the deep darkness, a fierce, stormlike wind whipped waves across the water.
After days of unprecedented rain without a moment’s pause, what had once been a fairly level stretch of ground had become something that could easily be called a river.
Of course, that wasn’t what the black-robed man was looking for.
“Have they arrived?”
His companion’s question came out of nowhere.
“Not yet.”
“They’re later than expected. They should’ve been here by now.”
“If they were diligent enough to keep to a schedule, why would they spend their lives robbing people?”
His companion gave a quiet laugh of agreement beneath his low-pulled black hood.
“But I didn’t think they’d be this stupid. They may be rootless bandits, but if they dare call themselves an Alliance, I thought they’d have at least a little skill or sense.”
“Maybe this is the result of them thinking things through, in their own way.”
“What do you mean?”
“Even fools can guess when they’re being used as cannon fodder. Most of them are petty bandits, but their leaders—the Seafaring King and the Green Forest Battle King—know how to use their heads.”
“So they’re deliberately dragging their feet to minimize their losses?”
“The weather’s gotten worse, too, but it’s certainly possible.”
“Even with nearly ten thousand of our people watching those bandits?”
“Who knows? Those water ghosts of the Yangtze River Channel League might pull something if they put their minds to it, no matter how closely we watch.”
“Ha. If that’s true, they’re not just stupid. They’re beyond saving.”
The black-robed man nodded as his companion clicked his tongue.
Neither had said it outright, but everyone in Dark Heaven knew how cruel the Blood Lord could be once he began rampaging with no thought for what came after.
If the combined forces of the Yangtze River Channel League and the Green Forest Alliance arrived only after the fighting was over…
After today, the Central Plains will be clean. You won’t find so much as a hair from one of those bandits.
But they still had a chance to survive.
If they arrived in time, before the East Gate opened as planned, and earned even a little credit to save face, they might extend their stubborn lives a while longer.
Of course, that depended on the Blood Lord’s mood.
If you want to live, row with every last bit of strength you’ve got. It’ll save us both a headache.
The black-robed man looked toward the East Gate, where the battle was raging.
What did he care whether a bunch of bandits lived or died? But for someone Dark Heaven classified as a corpse sorcerer, it mattered quite a lot.
His role was less that of a soldier fighting on the battlefield than a member of the crew hauling away the corpses scattered across it.
And while he worried about the extra work, the battle around the East Gate, which had been seesawing back and forth, suddenly took a sharp turn.
BOOOOM!
A deafening crash rang out.
It swallowed the sound of the rain and even the occasional thunder. The black-robed man and his companion stared wide-eyed.
The top of the fortress wall was collapsing amid a burst of light.
“What was that…?”
The black-robed man’s words came out as a groan.
The flash had lasted only an instant, but he was sure. The destructive energy still flaring across the wall was Force.
Why? We haven’t even pressed the attack. Why would Cheongheoja…?
The Kunlun Sect Leader came to mind, but the black-robed man shook his head.
POP! RUMMMBLE!
Another distant flash burst into view. Its pale, ominous light could hardly have come from Daoist martial arts.
“It’s not the Black Ghosts, either. They’re still holding their positions as ordered.”
His companion was right.
The two Black Ghosts were waiting on the battlefield in front of the wall, along with a considerable number of troops the Blood Lord had deliberately held back.
“Which means…”
The black-robed man stopped.
If that Force belonged to neither Cheongheoja nor a Black Ghost, there was only one possibility.
Spies.
The spies they had planted in the Kunlun Sect over many years had finally made their move—a step ahead of schedule.
“What do we do?”
The black-robed man bit his lip.
It was a real pain in the ass.
The combined forces of the Yangtze River Channel League and the Green Forest Alliance, who should have arrived at the battlefield by now, were still nowhere to be seen. Meanwhile, the spies who were supposed to open the East Gate were caught up in an unexpected fight.
To make matters worse, Ma Sanbao—effectively their direct superior—wasn’t there today. The black-robed man would have to make the call himself.
And fast.
He stared at the East Gate, torn between his options. The moment was brief, though it felt like an eternity. Then his eyes widened.
CLANK. GRRRRNNG!
The iron bridge began to move with a heavy grinding sound.
The massive bridge connected to the moat in front of the gate. It was coming down like a ray of light.
The bridge is connected to the gate. It can only be operated from inside.
It was clear proof that the spies planted in the Kunlun Sect were opening the gate—and the perfect opportunity.
There was no point hesitating any longer.
“I command you: answer the call!”
The black-robed man pulled the ritual bell from his belt and shook it hard.
Wooooong.
A sinister sound carried on the wind, its vibrations spreading outward.
The hill they had been standing on answered. Or rather, the enormous masses of flesh that the rain and chaos had made look like a hill did.
GRRRRKK!
The ground shook as if an earthquake had struck. A horrible corpse stench rose through the rain and mud.
BOOM. BOOOOM!
The monsters shook off the mud plastered over their bodies and stood on limbs as thick as great trees. There were a thousand in all.
Perched on one monster’s shoulder, the black-robed man shook his ritual bell again and whispered, “Wipe them all out.”
At that instant—
—KROOOAAAR!
With a roar as immense as their bodies, a thousand monsters surged toward the battlefield like a wave.
THUDDUDDUDDUD!
Was this what the Yellow River would look like in flood?
Screams rose belatedly from the wall as the defenders spotted the monsters bearing down on them with unstoppable momentum. But those weren’t the only enemies they had to face.
“All. Troops.”
“Charge.”
A low voice emerged from beneath black armor.
At the same time, the two Black Ghosts who had been waiting sprang forward.
SHWOOOSH!
A ghost horse, its white bones exposed, raced ahead like the wind. Several thousand fanatics charged behind it, their cries shaking the battlefield.
“Heaven above and earth below! Let ten thousand demons bow in homage!”
“The Lord of Heaven is with us!”
The immense shouts behind him sent a thrilling shiver up the black-robed man’s spine.
Things had strayed a little from the original plan, but those minor setbacks no longer mattered.
He had an army at his back. And beyond the iron bridge, which had descended nearly halfway…
I see it!
There was no doubt. He wasn’t seeing things.
As the iron bridge lowered on its chains, the enormous iron gate began to open. The sight was clear in the black-robed man’s eyes, brimming with delight.
Tss-tss-tss-tss!
The two corpse sorcerers shook their ritual bells with confident sweeps of their hands. The monsters pushed themselves to their limit and shot toward the East Gate.
We can do this.
Time seemed to slow. The black-robed man held his breath and watched the battlefield.
Flashes of light flickered without pause atop the wall, which was shrouded in crashes and dust. The bridge, more than halfway down, now covered the moat.
Only a little over a hundred jang1 remained.
Faster. Faster…!
The monsters leading the charge thundered forward, their footsteps like thunderclaps. Beside them, the ghost horse carrying the two Black Ghosts galloped as if it were a specter.
Whoooosh!
A fierce wind wrapped around the black-robed man. His heart pounded as the distance shrank.
A little over a hundred jang1 became half that.
Then half again.
And at last—
GRRRNNG. BOOM!
The long, sturdy iron bridge settled over the moat.
BOOOOM!
The two Black Ghosts crossed first. Behind them, a thousand monsters surged toward the wide-open gate like one enormous spear.
KRRRRRUNCH!
A terrifying crash sent dust billowing into the air. The black-robed man and his companion had finally broken through the barrier of the East Gate, and they let out the breaths they had been holding.
They had done it. By their own strength.
No one could dispute their success—or the magnitude of their feat.
Even the merciless Blood Lord would have to acknowledge it.
For that moment, at least, both men could rejoice.
SHWING—BOOM!
Then a dazzling flash of Force flew in from somewhere and shattered the thick chain connecting the gate and the iron bridge.
CLANK. RRRRRK!
It happened too quickly for anyone to react.
“……!”
“……!”
The two corpse sorcerers stared blankly as the heavy gate began to close. Beyond the settling dust, a hazy figure came into view.
SPLASH. SPLASH.
Staggering steps. A robe soaked in blood.
Then the middle-aged man’s face emerged, his eyes glowing red as if to prove he had committed a forbidden act.
“……You.”
The black-robed man slowly parted his lips.
At that moment—
Slice!
A streak of light cut through the dust and across the middle-aged man’s—no, Hak Su’s—neck.
A voice rang out, thick with sorrow and anger.
“By the solemn rules of the Great Kunlun Sect, I execute the criminals of our sect.”
THUD. FWOOSH.
The headless body collapsed, and the dust cloud parted.
Only then did the two corpse sorcerers see their surroundings clearly. Only then did they understand.
The spies hadn’t lowered the bridge and opened the gate. The defenders of the East Gate had.
A trap…!
The realization struck like lightning.
But the shock lasted only a moment. There were fewer than three thousand defenders, and Cheongheoja looked exhausted. The black-robed man’s lips twisted into a grin.
“You dare try such a shoddy trick?”
It was a trap—but at the same time, it wasn’t.
The gate had shut out the fanatics following them, but their strongest forces—the Black Ghosts and the monsters—were already inside.
“Did you think this would stop us?”
A young man standing beside Cheongheoja answered his scornful question.
“Why not? We’ve been through a whole lot worse. Right, everyone?”
The black-robed man frowned at him. There was something about the young man’s face that made him want to torment him.
Just then, a young beggar with grime streaming down his face spoke up.
“Quit calling me a beggar. It hurts the feelings of the beggar listening.”
“Who the hell are you…?”
“Honestly, we end up in situations like this every time. I can’t even figure out how much extra pay we’re owed anymore.”
A cold-faced young man cut him off. Then a clear voice, utterly at odds with the mood, rang out.
“But we always made it through. Together.”
“True, but this time is different. The most important person isn’t here.”
“Right. Taishan wants to eat Pavilion Master. Old Man Nam, too.”
“Taishan. You mean you miss them, not that you want to eat them.”
“Oh. Got mixed up. My lord is smart, as expected.”
“Not bad. Still, not as good as me.”
Young men and women the corpse sorcerers had never seen before. A hulking man who looked none too bright. A wild-haired eccentric.
Faced with the bizarre sight, the two sorcerers couldn’t think of anything to ask.
More precisely, they didn’t think it was worth asking.
“Wipe them all out.”
The ritual bell began to move with his quiet mutter.
Boooooo!
A horn sounded in the distance, and everyone at the East Gate stopped moving.
For some, that sound meant hope. For others, utter despair.
“The Yangtze River Channel League…”
Someone’s low groan hung heavily in the air.
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