Chapter 61: The Last Stand
The outskirts of Ironfang's capital did not merely loom; they stood as a citadel of defiance, a vast, oppressive monument to the kingdom's savage martial pride. The very air was a caustic blend of sulfurous smoke and the sharp, coppery tang of fresh blood, thick enough to choke on. The late afternoon sun, fractured by the haze of war, cast a grim, burnt-orange light over the towering stone walls. Blood-red banners, emblazoned with the snarling wolf of Ironfang, snapped defiantly in the wind, a perverse form of morbid decoration.
The allied army, a vast, churning sea of steel from Dawnriver and the white and azure robes of the Veilmoon Sect, completed their relentless encirclement. Facing them, astride a massive, obsidian war-beast, was General Feng Wuji, his crimson armor—dented and scarred from previous encounters—still gleaming with an unholy light. His voice, amplified by his terrifying 4th Layer Profound Heavenly Realm cultivation, boomed across the plain like an avalanche. He was the anchor of their defense, a man who saw retreat as a fate worse than annihilation.
At the very tip of Dawnriver's spear stood Lin Xuan. The combined weight of his previous life's experience and the raw, untamed power of his 9th Layer Qi Transformation surged through his meridians like a raging river. His crimson eyes, usually cold and calculating, now burned with the singular, unyielding fire of purpose. The Celestial Unity Crest on his back pulsed with a steady, almost hypnotic rhythm, a silent promise of supremacy. He raised his voice, a sharp, commanding sound that somehow cut through the general's roar, echoing the king's final decree: "We take this city—now!"
He did not hesitate. Charging forward, Lin Xuan met the general in a collision of primal force. General Feng swung a massive, qi-infused spear, its tip glowing with destructive intent. Lin Xuan met the strike not with a physical block, but with a terrifying counter-force, unleashing the Internal Fracture Wave. The technique, drawn from the deepest refinement of his crystal veins, sent a bone-jarring, focused shockwave rippling outward from his hands. It collided with the general's weapon in a blinding, deafening explosion of sound and light.
The ground beneath them buckled and cracked. The general staggered, his armor denting inward at the chest as Lin Xuan's focused qi found its mark, drawing a trickle of crimson blood from the man's mouth. Feng Wuji roared a wounded challenge, his fury replacing any thought of pain, and retaliated with a sweeping, all-consuming qi arc that scythed through the air. Lin Xuan had to commit fully to an emergency roll, his robes momentarily catching fire as he evaded the brutal energy. He was up in an instant, countering with a precise, razor-thin qi burst that found a weak point in the general's arm, sending the towering figure staggering back again.
"You're weakening—yield!" Lin Xuan gritted out, the words laced with cold conviction, his breath heavy in the polluted air.
The rest of the battlefield raged around this epicenter. Liu Yue, her cultivation solidified at the 8th Layer Qi Transformation, moved like a dancer of death. Her Icy Skin mist flowed from her, painting the battlefield in transient frost, and her snowflake mark blazed brightly. She unleashed the Frost Phoenix Cry, not as a solitary blast, but in sweeping, controlled arcs, freezing dozens of advancing Ironfang troops and Hellbound Beasts in crystalline shrouds, turning them into glittering, useless statues that crumbled at the next impact. "Hold the line! Don't let them mass!" she yelled, her voice crisp and clear amidst the cacophony, her entire focus on protecting her Senior Brother's flank.
Supporting the primary assault, Liu Yang, his power now robust at the 6th Layer Qi Gathering, moved with a fierce, newfound purpose. His blood-forged glaive, a shimmering extension of his identity, became a crimson streak, slicing through Ironfang's heavy infantry. He was no longer the conflicted boy, but a disciplined warrior. He moved with a relentless rhythm, his face set with the grim determination of a man fighting for his soul.
"Reinforce the breach! Don't let the line bend!" he shouted, his glaive cleaving through a charging cavalryman's shield, his weight a grounding force against the chaos.
The battle, however, was about more than strength; it was about treachery. As the fighting reached its fever pitch, a desperate scramble occurred miles behind the main line. Zhao Heng, the fugitive Prime Minister and arch-traitor whose corruption had been the spark for this entire war, was making a desperate run for it. A small, coordinated force of veiled Wudu Clan assassins, using the confusion of the great battle as their cover, launched a targeted ambush on the allied rear flank.
The skirmish was brief but vicious. Though Lin Xuan's loyal forces managed to repel the ambush with swift, brutal efficiency, the distraction served its purpose. When the smoke cleared, the trail of the Prime Minister vanished into the twilight mists that crept across the eastern wilderness—Zhao Heng had escaped.
In the hastily constructed command post, surrounded by the strategic noise of the war machine, Ji Yunjing, now commanding with the supreme authority of the peak 4th Layer Profound Heavenly Realm, received the news. His silk robes, usually the symbol of his regal ease, were now a testament to his sleepless nights, stained with dust and the sweat of true leadership. He pounded his fist on the war map, his frustration raw.
"Push them back—secure our lines!" he ordered, his voice echoing with renewed resonance, even as his brow furrowed with the strain of leadership. He knew the battle for the capital was the priority, but the escaped traitor was a venomous snake loose in the fields.
Meanwhile, moving through the thickest part of the melee like a spirit weaving a complex tapestry, was Bai Ningxue. Her 9th Layer Qi Transformation aura enveloped her in a serene, yet intensely potent, field of power. The enemy had deployed foul, demonic curse arts—the remnants of the Bloodshade Abyss's influence—that were beginning to take root in the soldiers' qi cores. Bai Ningxue countered this spiritual poison with her expertise. She unleashed her Thousand Lotus Seal Art. Her seals, shimmering like petals of pure white light, wove a protective net that descended upon the troops, dispelling the vile curse in a silent, brilliant flash of energy.
"I'll clear the taint—keep fighting," she spoke, her tone calm and unshakable, her hands moving with the tireless, precise motion of a master clockmaker.
The ambush and Zhao's escape had been a bitter, frustrating setback. As the evening finally settled, casting long, menacing shadows across the ravaged landscape, the allied forces held their ground, having bought the city gates at a heavy cost. Lin Xuan regrouped with his core team, his breath ragged, his armor scorched, but his resolve harder than Black Jade.
"He's wounded—we'll track him again," he vowed, his voice low and thoughtful, the fatigue in his eyes momentarily masked by the strategic flame.
Liu Yue stepped beside him, her exhaustion evident in the faint lines around her moonlight eyes, but her spirit bright. She placed her hand on his shoulder, a familiar gesture that always seemed to ground the ancient demonic sovereign in the present.
"We held the line, Senior Brother. The war's end is tantalizingly close, and we'll be ready," she replied, her voice firm, "We'll finish this together."
The Ji Clan outpost buzzed with the relentless murmur of counter-strategy. The city still stood, the traitor was still free, but the unity of Dawnriver remained. The Final Stand was far from over.