2024-08-23 15:07:01
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Chapter 652
The same day the capital of Yan Province fell, the Wudang machine kept moving.Inside Tianyuan City and across the eight smaller towns, ten thousand disciples and ten thousand drones went to work with clinical precision. Gaia’s silver bands—slim, almost weightless strips of nano-tech fused with ancient concealment arrays—were handed out one by one. Not to every civilian. The supply was still limited. But every headman, every village elder, every city official, every clerk in the tax offices and granaries received one. The moment the band touched skin it bonded, invisible to ordinary eyes, feeding live vision and sound straight back to Mother AI in Qingshui.Control without occupation.The handful of die-hard loyalists—minor officers, Liu Dai’s personal spies, and their immediate families—were rounded up quietly. Drones lifted them into the sky in neat harnesses and flew them south under heavy sedation. They would wake up in Qingshui as laborers.While the disciples handled the provinc
Chapter 651
In the ruined capital of Qingyang, Liu Dai paced the governor’s mansion like a caged tiger, fists clenched behind his back.Every passing hour felt like another knife pressed against his throat. He had already lost fifteen thousand men without a single proper battle. He would not lose the rest.Thirty-five thousand soldiers remained — hardened veterans, sect disciples, and clan warriors who had survived the mysterious losses of the last two weeks. Yet forging this force into a single, decisive hammer blow would take time.Wagons had to be loaded with grain, arrows, and spare armor. Horses needed fresh shoes. Supply lines to the newly captured cities had to be secured, or the army would starve on the march.They would need two full days to ready themselves. Two days filled with barked orders, the groan of straining axles, and the relentless ring of steel on whetstone. Only then would they march south and bring the matter to an end.In Qingshui City, two hundred miles away, Alex sat beh
Chapter 650
The ring of five thousand white-robed Wudang disciples tightened like a noose around the five hundred remaining Mount Tai warriors.General Han Feng sat tall in the saddle, sword drawn, his iron-gray hair matted with sweat. The last of his elite—Core Formation elders and hardened Foundation Establishment fighters—formed a tight knot around him, qi crackling like summer lightning. They were the best the Mount Tai sect had ever produced. But five thousand fresh Wudang disciples now surrounded them on every side. Han Feng’s face twisted with fury. He spurred his horse a single step forward and roared, voice carrying across the plain like rolling thunder. “How dare you gang up on us like common street thugs? Where is the chivalry of the warrior? Where is the honor of single combat you begged for?” Liu Piao walked forward alone from the Wudang lines, hands clasped behind his back, white robes untouched by the battle. A faint, almost regretful smile played on his lips. “General, we gav
Chapter 649
Ling Xue stood alone in the moonlit meadow, the White River whispering at her back like it was mocking her. A raw sound tore out of her throat—half scream, half sob. She spun once, blade raised, searching for an enemy that wasn’t there. Then the rage cracked open and something colder flooded in. Shame. Deep, bone-deep shame that tasted like iron and bile. She could ride south and die trying to take Qingshui by herself. Or she could walk north and face Liu Dai with the truth: her entire command had vanished like smoke. Ling Xue sheathed her sword with a sharp click. She chose north. She would tell Liu Dai exactly what had happened. And then she would beg him to let her lead the next army that burned that cursed city to the ground. Ten kilometers south, General Han Feng had already made his decision. No word had come from Ling Xue’s column. Not one scout, not one raven. The silence gnawed at him. He knew that woman—knew the hungry ambition in her eyes.If she reached Qingshui f
Chapter 648
Ling Xue spun in the white void, sword already drawn, the blade humming faintly in her grip.She had survived a dozen ambushes across the provinces: night raids, bandit poison attacks, and deadly traps in the mountain passes.She knew the scent of traps and ambushes the way other women knew silk. But this was different.This mist wasn’t natural. It pressed against her face like wet wool, thick enough to swallow the glow of the nearest lantern.She couldn’t see her own hand when she raised it. Couldn’t see the soldier whose shoulder brushed hers a heartbeat ago.Around her, the camp had become a slaughterhouse of sound. Steel clashed. Men screamed. Boots churned the damp grass. Every shout sounded two paces away, yet no one appeared.“Form on me!” she roared. Her voice died inside the fog, muffled and small. She lunged toward the nearest cry, blade slicing empty air. A body slammed into her from the side—armor against armor. She smelled sweat and fear and the sour tang of spilled wine.
Chapter 647
The imperial road south from Qingyang cut like a scar across the dry hills.Ten thousand soldiers marched in two tight columns, banners snapping in the wind, armor glinting under the hard morning sun. Dust rose in a long brown haze behind them.At the head of the left column rode General Han Feng, sixty years old and built like a fortress wall. Iron-gray hair, scarred jaw, eyes that had seen every kind of death.Behind him rode five thousand men—most of them Mount Tai sect disciples in plain black armor, their qi coiled tight and ready. They moved like one beast. Undefeated in living memory.Half a mile to the right, on the narrower ridge road, General Ling Xue led her own five thousand. She sat straight in the saddle, raven hair braided tight beneath her helmet, dark armor hugging a body that turned heads even in war.The Puyang Blade Clan crest gleamed on her shoulder. Her soldiers were sharper, richer, their blades oiled and deadly. They had grown up in the noble houses of the capi
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Reader Comments
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