The northern barracks of Jing'an stirred with the first toll of the morning bell.The sky was still dim, shrouded in rolling clouds tinged faintly red as though stained with blood. With the resonant peal of the bronze bell, the entire camp of the Guardian Army awoke at once. War drums thundered, horns blared, and commands cracked like lightning through the mist. Rows of armored soldiers poured from their tents, assembling into neat formations. Banners snapped in the wind, spears and halberds gleamed like a forest of steel. The sheer pressure of their murderous aura seemed to weigh upon the very air.
Li Tianyuan followed Fu Yuan and the siblings Mu Changfeng and Mu Xueyin through the camp gates. It was the first time he had stepped into such a sea of discipline and killing intent, and he could not help but feel shaken. Not long ago, he had been nothing more than a poor scholar, bent over candlelight and inkstone, wrestling with words and examinations. To stand now amidst a tide of blades and armor felt almost absurd. Yet his steps did not falter. Though his heart was heavy, an indescribable sense of mission stiffened his spine.
So this is the Guardian Army…Even the lowest-ranked soldier radiated an edge sharper than any knife.
Fu Yuan walked at the front, calm and unreadable, eyes deep with a wisdom that seemed to pierce the heart. Mu Changfeng and Mu Xueyin followed beside Tianyuan, both solemn, their bearing unmistakably noble. As they entered the barracks, soldiers turned their heads to watch—some curious, some skeptical, and others with thinly veiled disdain.
At the command tent sat Qin Yue, the general of the northern army.
He was nearly forty, clad in iron armor that bore the scars of countless battles. His brows were sharp as carved steel, and his eyes cut like an eagle's talons. Every movement exuded the aura of a man tempered by fire and blood. Around him stood dozens of deputy generals, each radiating the pressure of battlefield veterans. The tent's air was thick, suffocating with killing intent.
"Li Tianyuan." Qin Yue's voice was cold, abrupt.
"Present!" Tianyuan stepped forward. His voice trembled slightly, yet it rang clear across the tent.
The general's gaze pinned him like a blade. "By imperial decree, you hold the title of 'Inspector of National Fate' and are permitted to accompany the army. But this army is built on blood and iron, not empty titles. To stand here, you must prove with steel and spirit that you are worthy. Can you kill a demon?"
At his signal, heavy chains clattered outside the tent. Several soldiers dragged in a massive iron cage, within which thrashed a captured demon wolf. Its body was black as ink, eyes glowing blood-red, fangs glinting cruelly as it snarled. Black miasma seeped from its body, grinding against the cage's bars with a shriek that set teeth on edge.
"Slay it," Qin Yue said coldly, "and you may enter the army."
The tent fell into utter silence. All eyes fixed on Li Tianyuan. Some shook their heads with faint sneers, already dismissing him as a scholar out of his depth. Others leaned forward with a spark of interest, wondering if he would surprise them.
Tianyuan inhaled deeply and drew his spear. Under the flicker of lantern light, the blade shimmered with cold brilliance. In his palm, faint golden lines began to glow—his dormant power stirring violently in response to the demon's presence. The wolf sensed it too; it roared furiously, smashing its fangs against the bars until sparks flew.
His heartbeat thundered. Sweat trickled down his brow. In his ears, Fu Yuan's voice echoed from memory:
To fight a demon, you must first fight yourself. If your will falters, even divine power will turn upon you.
Tianyuan lifted his head. His gaze hardened.
"With a roar!"The spear thrust forward, wrapped in golden light.
In a flash, the spearhead pierced through the bars and struck the demon wolf between the eyes. The beast gave one last roar that shook the tent, then its body twisted, dissolving into a storm of black mist before vanishing entirely.
For a long moment, silence reigned.
Then Qin Yue's eyes narrowed. For the first time, a glimmer of approval flickered across his face. With a resounding slap upon the command table, he barked, "Good! A spear fit to steady the ranks of an army! From this day, the army shall count you among its own!"
Outside, hundreds of armored soldiers raised their voices as one:"Glory to the General!"
The cry rolled like thunder through the camp.
Li Tianyuan stood in the center of the tent, his spear still trembling faintly in his grip. Blood seeped from his palm, but his back remained unbending, straight as the weapon he held.
That evening, urgent news arrived: the northern foothills were shrouded in a spreading black mist, and villagers had vanished without a trace. Scouts whispered of remnants of the Inverse Spirit Sect.
"At last!" Qin Yue's voice was sharp as a blade. "All troops prepare! Tonight, we march north!"
The camp erupted into organized chaos.
By nightfall, three thousand armored soldiers rode out beneath blazing torches that stretched like a river of fire across the long streets. War drums pounded like the heartbeat of the heavens. Qin Yue rode at the front, a cold statue of steel upon his warhorse. Behind him followed Fu Yuan, the Mu siblings, and Li Tianyuan.
The column surged northward, the thunder of hooves shaking the earth. To Tianyuan, it felt as though he was riding within a living wall of iron, an unstoppable tide that embodied the will to protect the nation.
Halfway through the march, an ear-splitting shriek pierced the night. From the darkened forests erupted a tide of demons—eyes burning crimson, jaws slavering, their forms driven by some unseen power.
"Form ranks!" Qin Yue roared.
In an instant, the three thousand soldiers contracted, shields locking, spears bristling, forming a wall of iron. The first wave of demons crashed against it, shattering themselves in sprays of black blood.
Tianyuan's pulse surged. Without hesitation, he spurred his horse forward, spear blazing. Each thrust tore through the demonic horde, golden light scattering the mist like dawn chasing night. The black miasma clawed at his weapon, but the power within him—no longer wild, but pulsing in rhythm with his breath and strikes—burned it away.
"So this… is how it flows," he whispered, realization dawning in his eyes.
Fu Yuan watched from the rear with a faint, knowing smile. Mu Xueyin murmured under her breath, "He is awakening."
The battle raged until the tide of demons was broken and scattered. The iron ranks held firm, not a step backward. When the last echoes faded, the silence was heavy, thick with smoke and the copper tang of blood.
The soldiers erupted in cheers, their voices shaking the mountains.
Li Tianyuan sat atop his steed at the vanguard, drenched in gore, eyes blazing like torches. He knew, with a certainty that filled his chest—he had crossed a threshold from which there was no return.
But in the shadows of the forest, Fu Yuan bent to lift a half-charred talisman, etched with blood-red runes that still pulsed with sinister energy. His brows furrowed.
"The Inverse Spirit Sect laid a ritual array here," he muttered grimly. "This demon tide was only a test."
Tianyuan's palm burned as the golden sigils within him stirred violently at the sight of the rune. A chill crept into his heart.
The storm was only beginning.