"Elder Qi Mo!!"
Hua Piao and Huayen's voices echoed across the barren plain, their tones sharp with disbelief. The two sect masters stared at the bowing elder as if seeing a ghost.
The traitorous elder kept his head low, his voice dripping with false humility. "This lowly one greets the esteemed Sect Masters. How may I serve your magnificent selves?"
How did Fen Jeuchen pull this off? The same thought flashed through both leaders' minds as their eyes shifted to the Fen Patriarch. A silent understanding passed between them: This man is too dangerous to live.
"You brought what I requested?" Fen Jeuchen's voice cut through the tension like winter ice.
"Yes, Patriarch. Five hundred Qi Clan disciple robes, as you commanded."
Fen Jeuchen snatched the bag, his eyes briefly scanning the contents before hurling it toward Huayen. The Beast Flame Master caught it awkwardly, the flames around his body instantly extinguishing to prevent the garments from burning.
"Why give me these rags?" Huayen growled, confusion written across his fiery features. "I've no need of enemy uniforms!"
"Foolish," Fen Jeuchen muttered under his breath.
Hua Piao's voice remained measured, though his eyes narrowed. "Patriarch Fen, why do we need their garments? I suspect there's purpose behind this."
Fen Jeuchen took a measured breath. "When your Sword Spirit Sect attacks the Western Gate, Qi Lantian will send reinforcements from another gate. He won't leave any position completely undefended for long."
A sinister smile touched his lips. "But what he won't expect is that his most trusted elder has betrayed him. Hehe-he-he."
"Even with an insider," Hua Piao countered, "Qi Mo's strength barely reaches the first level of the Origin Realm. He can't single-handedly overthrow the Qi Clan's leadership." The Sword Spirit Master quickly outlined their enemy's power structure:
"Grand Elder Qi Gue, the patriarch's grandfather, has fallen from his peak to the sixth level of Origin Realm but remains formidable. Great Elder Qi Jue, Qi Lantian's father, regressed to the fifth level and is weak in both combat and potential. Elder Qi Po sits at the fifth level but lacks true battle prowess. Elder Qi Futian, the patriarch's brother, maintains the second level of Origin Realm. And then there's Qi Mo before us—barely first level, his foundation so weak that even a Spiritual Realm cultivator could challenge him."
Huayen grunted in agreement. "Yet despite his weakness, Qi Mo's loyalty earned him status nearly equal to the Great Elder. His influence shouldn't be underestimated."
"Enough history!" Huayen's patience snapped. "What's the plan for these robes and this worm? We're wasting time!"
"Very well," Fen Jeuchen said, his expression turning serious. "Qi Mo was the only one who could retrieve these garments without raising suspicion. His position allows him such privileges without question."
He unveiled his plan with cold precision: "Huayen, your five hundred best men will wear these robes. During the Sword Spirit Sect's assault, they'll infiltrate through the Western Gate, blending with the Qi Clan defenders. Once inside, Qi Mo will guide them to the weakened Northern Gate. He'll report to Qi Lantian that he's rallied five hundred disciples to secure the position. Trusting him, Qi Lantian won't question how this was accomplished. Your men, masking their beast-blood aura, will become the dagger in the Qi Clan's heart."
Hua Piao's face darkened. "So my sect bears the brunt of the casualties as bait, while his," he gestured toward Huayen, "gets the glory of the killing blow?"
"Sacrifices must be made for victory," Fen Jeuchen said, spreading his hands in a mock gesture of helplessness.
With the strategy set, the sect masters turned to their forces.
"MEN OF THE BEAST FLAME SECT!" Huayen's voice roared across the plain. "Five hundred of you will wear these robes and infiltrate the Qi Clan! You will follow Elder Qi Mo's commands and strike from within!"
"YES, SECT MASTER!" A wave of heat and fervent shouts answered him as five hundred warriors began changing into the enemy's colors.
"MEN OF THE SWORD SPIRIT SECT!" Hua Piao's voice cut sharp and clear. "You are the spearpoint that will break their defenses! Your names will be remembered for generations! Those who fall will have their families honored and provided for!"
"YES, SECT MASTER!" came the disciplined roar, the promise of security for loved ones steeling their resolve.
"MEN OF THE FEN CLAN!" Fen Jeuchen's voice carried like a winter gale, commanding immediate attention. "We are the storm that follows the lightning! We strike when our enemies are distracted and vulnerable! To the Northern Gate! Wait for the signal! Then show them why the wind fears no wall!"
"FOR THE FEN CLAN!" their response was a synchronized whisper that seemed to be carried by the wind itself—a sound of perfect, chilling loyalty.
That display of faith twisted like a knife in Fen Jeuchen's gut. These men believed they were fighting for clan glory, unaware they were merely pawns in his personal vendetta.
I am the worst Patriarch in our history, he thought bleakly. I will destroy everything our ancestors built.
He crushed the emotion, his face becoming a mask of cold determination. Turning from the hopeful armies, he barked a single command that echoed across the barren land.
"MARCH!"
---
"PATRIARCH! PATRIARCH!"
A guard clad in Qi Clan armor stumbled into the hall, his face pale with panic. "The Sword Spirit Sect marches on our Western Gate! Hua Piao leads them himself!"
Qi Lantian's expression remained still. "Only them?"
"Yes! Our scouts report no sign of the other sects!"
Strange, Qi Lantian thought. Why would they attack alone? He pushed the speculation aside—the threat was real and present.
"Reinforce the Western Gate with all available forces. And send scouts to watch the Fen and Beast Flame territories. I want reports on any movement immediately."
"UNDERSTOOD!" The guard shouted and fled to carry out his orders.
Alone in the suddenly silent hall, Qi Lantian looked toward the west, his eyes hardening. "Let the war begin."