The fairy, now consumed by rage, transformed into an endless sea of blood, slaughtering the covetous alchemists who had pursued her. The blood sea exuded a sweet fragrance yet possessed the power to dissolve everything—whether the earth's soil, sturdy trees, resilient rocks, or the frail limbs of humans. The slightest contact with the blood would melt them into pure nourishment.
Judging by this eerie and terrifying technique, she might more aptly be called a demoness or sorceress.
In mere moments, over half the alchemists who had come were dead. The survivors scattered in panic, wishing they had extra legs to escape the "demoness's" massacre. Cries and curses filled the air, echoing through the dark forest.
The fairy disliked killing and abhorred war. If possible, she would have preferred to live alone by a mountain spring, far from human society.
Yet she was also someone who adhered unflinchingly to the natural law of survival of the fittest, devoid of hypocrisy. Once she resolved to kill these alchemists, she would never go back on her word.
The fleeing alchemists wisely split up, and the blood waves couldn't engulf the entire forest. Left with no choice, the fairy hunted them down one by one. The slaughter lasted from midnight until noon the next day before she barely completed her task.
"To suppress the impulses, I can only use this much power now. Otherwise, I could have destroyed the forest from the start and wouldn't have needed to chase them near human settlements."
The fairy pondered wearily.
She was a celestial being, a true immortal, a spirit capable of harnessing the planet's vast magical energy—essentially wielding infinite power. Yet while her magic was boundless, her energy was not. Now, with most of her focus spent suppressing the flaws of this body, the remaining energy expended on the night-long pursuit left her mentally exhausted.
This was merely twenty to thirty percent of her strength, yet it was already enough to annihilate human civilization as it stood.
But it was nearly over. The alchemists before her were the last few. Though approaching human cities wasn't her intention, now that she was here, she wouldn't retreat.
When the boundless blood waves surged out of the forest and saw the wheat fields ahead, the fairy paused in surprise—before her stood a formation of human soldiers.
After just a brief moment of hesitation, the fury in her heart made her charge forward recklessly, continuing to drive the blood tide onward. As for whether this was some kind of trap—such a thought had never crossed her mind. After all, wasn't fighting just about rushing in? What else could possibly come of it?
...
"Everyone, hold your positions!"
Roy's thunderous command, empowered by the force of his words, quelled the mutiny among the troops.
Watching the endless blood tide surge toward them, anger rose in his heart. If that tide were to crash down, not a single one of his two thousand soldiers would survive.
If these men had died on the battlefield, so be it—that would have been a warrior's honorable end. But to perish under such mysterious forces—how much indignity would that bring?
These two thousand soldiers were the finest, strongest men Roy had painstakingly selected from Kuaiji Commandery, the foundation of his future conquests. If they were to die here, finding such elite troops again in Kuaiji would be nearly impossible. He absolutely could not allow the master of this blood tide to commit such an atrocity.
With a slap to his steed, the jet-black Wuzhui, its earth-shaking neigh echoed as the horse—its hooves like piercing arrows—charged toward the blood tide, utterly disregarding its terrifying might.
This steed, a creation of immortal craftsmanship, shared similarities with the body of the Third Lotus Prince, Nezha, the Great God of the Three Altars. Unfazed by the towering waves of blood, Roy gathered his magical power into the halberd in his right hand. Though the weapon was ordinary, under the immense infusion of his magic, it transformed into a divine artifact. Using the halberd like a fist, he unleashed a strike—Moses Parts the Sea!
A force mighty enough to cleave the ocean roared forth, crashing into the sea of blood and splitting it cleanly in half. The overwhelming tide, which had seemed capable of submerging the earth, was now divided into two.
"General, mighty and glorious!!"
Two thousand soldiers roared in unison, their voices filled with excitement and reverence. They slammed their weapons into the ground, creating a thunderous clamor. Moments ago, they had been terrified by the boundless horror of the blood sea, but now they were itching for battle, eager to follow Roy's lead and fight against it.
The fleeing alchemists who had taken refuge within the military formation were dumbstruck, their faces pale with shock. Unlike the ignorant soldiers, they knew exactly what the blood sea was—and the terrifying power it held. Yet this monstrous tide, capable of drowning and annihilating a city in an instant, had been severed by the general's single strike?
Is that man truly human? Or has the witch who pursued us for so long finally lost her strength?
The divided sea of blood merged once more, but this time, the waves did not reform. Instead, the thick, cloying blood condensed into a single point. From within the crimson river, like a scarlet carpet, an elegant and graceful figure slowly emerged. The blood sea itself transformed into silken garments, draping over her body.
At the sight of the woman formed from the blood sea, Roy's eyes flashed with admiration, and his heart inexplicably skipped a beat. A feeling he had never experienced before surged from the depths of his soul—like a fourteen- or fifteen-year-old boy in a morning classroom, catching sight of the girl he secretly adored, sitting bare-faced at her desk with a book in hand. In that instant, his pulse quickened, and an inexplicable shyness overtook him, making him almost afraid to meet her gaze.
The woman wore a revealing black robe, concealing nothing that should remain hidden while baring swathes of snow-white skin. Her hair was jet-black, cascading like a waterfall, and her delicate features carried an indescribable allure—both dignified and bewitching. Her phoenix-like eyes shimmered, capable of ensnaring souls and stirring hearts. With every glance, she swayed like a blossoming flower of beauty.
Her attire was mature and seductive, yet tinged with a maiden's innocence. Her slightly cold demeanor made others instinctively shrink back, feeling unworthy, as if she were something to be admired from afar but never touched.
Roy's gaze drifted downward, noticing that the woman wore no shoes or stockings. Her jade-like feet were slender and fair, her toes delicate as budding lotus shoots, tinged with a soft pink hue.
Now, the maiden slightly parted her cherry lips, her expression still shaken. A trace of blood at the corner of her mouth added a tragic yet enticing charm. Clearly, she had not expected Roy to possess such divine power—to shatter her blood tide in a single strike and even wound her.
Roy's mind wavered for a moment. He took a deep breath and, unable to help himself, murmured:
"...Like a maiden in the mountain's embrace,
Clad in vines, draped in ivy's grace.
With eyes that gleam and smiles so sweet,
You long for me—so fair, so fleet."
This is a piece from "The Nine Songs" in "The Songs of Chu," titled "The Mountain Spirit." Folklore says the mountain spirit is a goddess, a sprite, a deity of the mountains. Now, seeing the woman before him, Roy suddenly wondered if Qu Yuan, back in those deep mountains, had also encountered a woman like her—startled by her presence, captivated by her beauty—and thus penned such exquisite poetry.
At that moment, Roy felt that no matter how majestic the mountains and rivers, no matter how enchanting the land, none could compare to her every frown and smile, none could rival her graceful elegance.