---
Tap… Tap… Tap.
The sound of measured footsteps echoed outside the grand hall of the Qi clan.
Patriarch.
A guard clad in fiery armor, his body radiating a palpable aura of battle intent, knelt at the heavy doors. His voice was a low rumble of respect.
"Report on the western gate," Qi Lantian commanded. His voice was frigid, causing the very air in the hall to drop several degrees.
"The Sword Spirit Sect has breached our defenses. All our guards have been slain," the armored guard reported, his tone grim and solemn. "However, they did not have an easy victory. Instead of pressing their advantage, they have withdrawn to the periphery of the gate to rest and regroup."
"Hmph." A snort of dissatisfaction was Qi Lantian's only initial response. "You may go."
"Yes, Patriarch!" The guard rose to his feet, ready to depart.
"Wait!"
The command halted him mid-turn. "What further orders, Patriarch?"
"The western gate is now undefended. Mobilize the forces from the northern gate to reinforce it immediately. Then, rally our reserves to fill the gap at the northern entrance. Do not delay."
"As you wish, Patriarch! It will be done with all haste." The guard bowed deeply before rushing from the hall to execute his orders.
Alone again, Qi Lantian's brow furrowed in contemplation. "What is their game? That small Sword Spirit Sect army is no match for my clan's full might. And why did they not seize the gate? This is… strange." A calculating glint passed through his eyes as he muttered into the silent, tense air.
---
On the Western Battlefield
"Commander, all Qi clan soldiers at the gate have been eliminated. Should we press forward and infiltrate?" An elder in white robes asked, his voice thick with reverence and newfound respect for the man who had humiliated the mighty Qi Wei.
"No," Wi Gue replied, his tone dark and heavy. "We wait."
"But, Commander, there is no one to impede us! We could still—"
"Did you forget the orders from our Sect Masters?" Wi Gue cut him off sharply. "Our mission is to create chaos at the western gate—a diversion to allow the Beast Flame Sect to infiltrate undetected. It was never to charge blindly into the lion's den ourselves. If we enter now, exhausted and depleted, we would be surrounded and torn apart. We wait. We recover our strength to face the next wave. By then, the Beast Flame Sect, led by Elder Qi Mo, will be in position."
Understanding dawned on the elder's face. "This lowly one understands."
Wi Gue turned to address his weary troops. "Disciples! You have fought bravely and sacrificed for the rise of the Sword Spirit Sect! But know this—the battle is not over! We must be strong! We must fight to the end!"
A wave of energy surged through the ranks. "WE WILL FIGHT TO THE END! WE AWAIT YOUR COMMAND, COMMANDER!" Their unified roar shook the ground, stirring clouds of dust in the blood-soaked air.
"Then reform your ranks! Meditate and recover your strength! A second wave approaches, and we must not be defeated!"
"YES, COMMANDER!"
The disciples swiftly moved into formation, sitting in the lotus position to cultivate and tend to their wounds. For thirty minutes, a tense quiet fell over the field, broken only by the crackle of dying fires. The dusky moon hung high, casting a sickly silver light over the carnage. The land was painted red, and the air was thick with the coppery scent of blood and the nauseating smell of scorched meat and metal.
As the thirty minutes ended, those with minor injuries had healed, while the more gravely wounded had only managed partial recovery.
It was then that they saw them—a wave of crimson lights swelling on the horizon, accompanied by a distant, growing battle cry. The Qi clan reinforcements were coming.
As the horde drew closer, their shining armor dispersed the night's gloom, and their unified roar became deafening. The Sword Spirit Sect disciples rose as one, gritting their teeth and gripping their swords, a renewed yet desperate bloodlust settling over them.
"Men! Ready for battle!" Wi Gue shouted. But he did not move to the front. Two elders supported him as they moved him to the rear of the formation. The strain of using the Myriad Sword Light had caused severe internal injuries; any further exertion could be fatal. He scanned the approaching enemy vanguard and breathed a slight sigh of relief—he sensed no Spiritual Realm experts among them.
Haaaaah!!!
The Qi clan's battle cry slammed into them. The sea of fiery soldiers charged, a relentless wave of destruction.
Haaaaah!!!
The Sword Spirit Sect answered, their own cry defiant. A unified SHIIING echoed as swords were drawn. They broke into a run, the two forces closing the distance with terrifying speed.
BOOM!!!
The armies collided. The air was instantly filled with a rain of blood and a spray of crimson sand as violent energies clashed and dispersed.
SLASH! SCRUNCH!
A Qi disciple impaled a swordsman with a burning spear, only to be decapitated a moment later by another, his head tumbling underfoot.
The ground was churned into a bloody mire. Limbs flew. A Qi clansman was sliced cleanly at the waist, his upper half hitting the dirt with eyes wide in shock before being trampled into paste by his own comrades.
The scene repeated everywhere. The death toll mounted at a horrifying rate. The symphony of battle was a nauseating cacophony of tearing flesh, clashing metal, agonized screams, and roaring flames. The screams of Sword Spirit Sect disciples began to overpower those of the Qi clan—they were losing, being pushed back and ground down by the fresh, numerically superior force.
Yet, they were not pushovers. Their superior attack power made the Qi clan pay for every inch of ground. The dry earth was once again drowned in a fresh sea of blood.
Wi Gue turned his face away from the tragic slaughter, unable to watch his comrades fall, their bodies rendered incomplete. A heavy sigh escaped his lips.
Beast Flame Sect, where are you? he prayed silently into the chaos. Hurry. We cannot hold much longer.
---
Approaching the Ridge
Elder Qi Mo, leading the Beast Flame Sect contingent, saw dark smoke billowing from the direction of the western gate. The battle had clearly reached a fever pitch.
He turned to the five hundred Beast Flame disciples behind him, all now disguised in the uniforms of fallen Qi clan soldiers. "We must hurry! If we do not move faster, the battle will be over before we arrive!"
A unified, grunting acknowledgment was his answer. They offered no real respect to the traitor in their midst, only obedience to their sect master's orders.
As they hurried on, the smoke grew thicker, and a foul wind carried the stench of the battlefield to them—the metallic tang of blood mixed with the grotesque aroma of burning flesh.
The wave of putrid air hit them like a physical blow. Faces turned green; several disciples stumbled, fighting the urge to vomit. Even Qi Mo gagged, his stomach lurching. He saw the disciples' pace falter as they battled their nausea.
"Steel yourselves!" he barked sharply. "We are almost there! Suppress your beast blood auras completely! We cannot afford any suspicion!"
Shaken by his command, the disciples mastered their revolted senses, their speed returning as they forced themselves to acclimate to the horror ahead.
Qi Mo looked toward the raging battle, his expression grim. Sword Spirit Sect, he thought, hold on just a little longer. We are coming.