The soldier that Wei Ji took the sword from tried to stop him right away.
"W–wait, young master!" he shouted, grabbing at Wei Ji's arm. His face went pale, his body trembling. "You can't just rush in! Those things—those monsters—they'll tear you apart!"
Wei Ji didn't even look at him. His eyes stayed on the battlefield ahead where dozens of those tall, twisted creatures moved like living shadows. The soldier pulled again, desperate. "Please! You don't understand! Those are not normal beasts—they—they killed half of our unit already!" His words came out broken, almost pleading.
But Wei Ji's calm face showed no fear. "Then you should've killed the other half too," he muttered coldly.
"What—?"
Before the man could react, Wei Ji turned slightly and struck him in the chest with a precise kick. Thud! The soldier's body hit the ground, his breath knocked out. His limbs trembled but couldn't move—Wei Ji had hit a point that temporarily shut down his nerves.
"Stay there," Wei Ji said flatly, brushing the dust off his sleeve. "You'll live."
He turned back to the chaos. The courtyard was a storm of screams, clashing metal, and the low, guttural growls of Demonkins. Mortals swung their spears wildly, some too slow to react before black claws ripped through their armor. The air smelled of blood and burning flesh.
Wei Ji took a deep breath, his gaze sharpening. "I must end this," he said to himself.
Then he moved.
With a smooth motion, he threw the sword in his hand. It sliced through the air like lightning—swoosh!—and before anyone could blink, the blade curved mid-flight, as if alive, cutting through one Demonkin's neck, spinning again to impale another through the heart. Splat! Swoosh! Crack! The weapon danced through seven enemies in a row, leaving behind a trail of dissolving black mist before returning to Wei Ji's hand.
Everyone froze. The men who had been fighting nearby stared wide-eyed, their mouths open.
"What… what was that…?" someone whispered.
But Wei Ji wasn't done. He crouched, snatched the fallen soldier's spear, and spun it once to test the weight. His eyes glowed faintly with green light—the sign of his newly awakened root. He raised the spear, aimed it toward the largest cluster of Demonkins, and then—whoosh!—threw it with incredible force.
The weapon broke the sound barrier. It ripped through ten Demonkins at once, impaling them like paper dolls before pinning the last one to the far wall. The entire courtyard shook from the impact.
For a heartbeat, there was silence again—just stunned breathing and disbelief.
Meanwhile, Han Cui, unaware of what had happened behind him, was still fighting near the front line. He swung his sword down and cleaved through a beast's arm, panting. "Damn it," he growled, blood dripping from his sleeve. "Why are there so many of these strange creatures? Where did they come from?"
He looked around and saw his soldiers struggling. "Retreat! Pull back!" he ordered, his voice booming. "Send word to the manor! Call for reinforcements now!"
But before his men could even move, a spear flashed past his right ear, so fast it almost sliced the tip of it. The weapon struck the creature behind him—thunk!—killing it instantly. Then, without slowing, it ricocheted off the ground and flew into another, and another, and another—seven of them fell in the blink of an eye.
Han Cui froze mid-step, eyes wide. "What in heavens—?"
Another spear whistled through the air. Swoosh! Thunk! Thunk! Another seven creatures fell. Then again—another, and another. Within seconds, every single one of the strange beasts had been slain. Their bodies dissolved into mist, vanishing like smoke.
The courtyard went dead quiet.
Han Cui stood there, his sword still raised but useless now. His breathing slowed, his eyes scanning the area. "Who… who did this?" he murmured.
He turned slowly. His gaze landed on his son—Han Ji—standing alone, calm as ever, his clothes slightly torn, his expression unreadable. Behind him, several soldiers stood frozen, still staring at him as though they had seen a ghost.
Han Cui blinked, then immediately dismissed the thought. "Impossible," he muttered. "Han Ji can't… He's never trained a day in his life."
He turned toward his soldiers and spoke loudly, his tone suddenly respectful, almost reverent. "Senior!" he called out. "Please come out! I, Han Cui of the Han Family, wish to thank you for saving our people tonight!"
He bowed deeply toward the empty space behind his son, certain that some hidden master must have acted from the shadows. His men followed his lead, bowing too.
"Senior," Han Cui continued, "although I do not know how these strange creatures appeared here, our Han Family owes you a great debt. Please, accept our gratitude."
Wei Ji stared at them, utterly silent. Then, with a faint, dismissive snort, he said, "Go and leave. Don't ruin my night."
Han Cui straightened slowly, confused by the cold voice. Before he could question it, Wei Ji turned his back and walked toward the chamber where his wife, Lu Shauhua, was resting.
The glow of green light around his hand faded as he walked. His face was calm, but his mind was racing. The Demonkins shouldn't be here, he thought. They appeared only during the war between realms in my time. So why now? Why here?
He glanced at the chamber door. Could it be her?
He didn't sense any demonic energy inside, but still, the timing was too strange. He pushed open the door quietly. The room was dim, the faint smell of incense lingering. His wife was still there, sitting by the bed, her head resting on her arms as she slept lightly. Her face looked peaceful—too peaceful for someone surrounded by death outside.
Wei Ji exhaled. "At least you're safe," he murmured. He sat down across from her, closing his eyes. His body ached slightly from channeling power too fast, but it was manageable. "This world really is different," he whispered. "Even the Demonkins die too easily here… What kind of realm is this?"
Outside, meanwhile, Han Cui was barking orders again. "Search the grounds! Find me the master who helped us!"
His subordinates looked at one another nervously, still pale from what they'd witnessed. None of them moved right away.
"Didn't you hear me!?" Han Cui shouted, his face red. "Go! Find him!"
They hesitated. One of them swallowed hard, then looked up. "M–Master," he stuttered.
Han Cui glared. "What is it? Speak!"
The soldier's voice shook. "The one who killed those… things…"
"Yes?" Han Cui leaned forward. "Who was it? Did you see?"
The soldier looked around at the others. They all looked just as scared to speak. Finally, they nodded at him, urging him silently to say it.
"It was… it was…" The soldier's voice cracked.
Han Cui slammed his hand on the table beside him. "Out with it!"
The soldier flinched. "It was Young Master Han Ji, sir!"
Silence.
Han Cui blinked once. "What?"
No one answered. The air felt heavy again, the soldiers frozen in place.
Han Cui's face darkened, his jaw tightening. Slowly, he turned his gaze toward the chamber where his son had gone. His eyes narrowed, all traces of confusion fading.
"What… did you just say?" he asked quietly.
The soldiers trembled. None dared repeat it.
Han Cui's expression turned cold, his tone sharp and deep. "Han Ji…?"