Wearing shackles on his wrists and chains around his ankles, Jiang Kuatian slowly stepped out of the prison gate. His robe was torn to rags, his hair disheveled, and his entire body covered in wounds. Barefoot, he left a trail of bloody footprints on the cold stone road.
Behind and before him, many other prisoners trudged forward like walking corpses.
Though the sky was choked with dark clouds, Jiang Kuatian felt the faint light sting his eyes.
He could no longer remember how long he had been imprisoned. His cultivation was gone, his body broken, and even walking brought unbearable pain through every inch of him.
After a while, he finally raised his head. The once-bustling streets of the prefectural capital now lay in ruins. Shops on both sides were shut tight. Torn lanterns, scraps of cloth, and shattered wooden boards littered the ground.
Not far ahead, by the edge of a well, lay the corpse of a woman. Her clothes were in tatters, her forehead matted with dried blood. It looked like she had suffered a cruel fate before her death.
Jiang Kuatian gave her only a glance before turning his eyes away. His heart had long since gone numb. In that dungeon, he had already seen hell.
He didn't know where they were being taken—but if it was toward death, that would be a kind of release.
"Move faster!"
A Demonic Sect warrior on horseback cracked his whip and barked the order. The whip lashed down, striking a prisoner at the front of the line.
Jiang Kuatian recognized that man. He was once a Hall Master of the White Emperor Mansion—an awe-inspiring figure whom Jiang Kuatian had long admired. In the martial world, few top experts could match him.
But now, the same man shuffled forward, head lowered, body trembling, his frame shrunken and frail compared to the giant he once was.
The mighty White Emperor Mansion was gone, reduced to ashes. Jiang Kuatian's heart had long since drowned in despair—now all that remained was numbness.
He no longer hoped for rescue. All he wanted was to walk the rest of this path without more suffering.
"Demon Emperor! Come out and fight me to the death!"
A loud roar echoed from far away, carried by powerful internal energy.
Neither Jiang Kuatian nor the other prisoners reacted. Not even their eyes flickered. They had heard this before—many martial experts had come to challenge the Demonic Sect, all famous names from the jianghu. And every single one of them had vanished without a trace.
The surrounding Demonic Sect fighters didn't even look up. They treated the challenger like air.
But then—
A thunderous crash erupted ahead. The city gate, several hundred zhang away, collapsed in a cloud of dust. Figures poured through the breach like a river bursting its banks. The leading shadow vaulted high, landing on the rooftops on either side of the street, sprinting straight toward them.
Before Jiang Kuatian could process what was happening, Demonic Sect warriors on the nearby roofs leaped into action. They rushed past him, weapons drawn, charging toward the incoming martial army.
More and more of them surged by.
Jiang Kuatian felt his confusion deepen.
How could the Demonic Sect have so many people?
He had been locked in the dungeon for so long, and this was the first time he had seen such an overwhelming number of their members.
Hadn't the Demonic Sect been annihilated by the imperial court? How had they grown this large in the shadows?
He could tell at a glance—these were not ordinary cultivators. Every one of them moved with killing intent in their eyes. These were killers who had tasted blood, not reclusive practitioners.
As more martial artists stormed through the broken gate, the prisoners ahead and behind Jiang Kuatian began to lift their heads. Hope flickered again in their hollow eyes.
"It's people from Xuan Dang Sect…"
"Yes! The one in front is Daoist Changming—thirty years ago, he was Guzhou's number one martial master. I can't believe he's descended the mountain himself!"
"Even the Eighteen Dao Forms of Xuan Dang are here!"
"So many of them… Could it be that Xuan Dang sent their entire sect?"
The prisoners whispered excitedly. Most of them were former experts from the White Emperor Mansion. They had wide knowledge of the martial world and could recognize the Xuan Dang cultivators by sight.
Jiang Kuatian's heart began to pound.
Could it really be that they were about to be saved?
Leading the charge, Daoist Changming wore a deep-blue robe. His long white hair was tied up beneath a jade crown, his beard and brows as white as snow. In one hand, he gripped a long sword. His movements were swift and steady, his bearing like that of an immortal descended to earth.
More than ten Demonic Sect masters rushed at him, blades flashing.
Daoist Changming's steps shifted like wind and shadow. Within just two breaths, he cut through them all. Screams echoed as bodies rolled off the rooftops, their blood painting the air red.
His robe remained unstained. As he advanced, his sword flicked lightly, scattering the remaining drops of blood from its edge.
He was like a divine blade piercing into the Demonic army—unstoppable, unyielding, cutting straight through without hesitation. Behind him, the Xuan Dang disciples collided with the Demonic Sect warriors, and the great battle began in full.
Daoist Changming's figure flashed forward toward Jiang Kuatian and the other prisoners, clearly intent on rescuing them.
His presence filled the prisoners with hope once again. The Demonic Sect guards immediately drew their weapons and prepared for combat.
And just then—
A black shadow burst from the rooftop ahead.
A Demonic Sect expert, clad in black armor beneath his robe, long hair tied high, charged forward with a long spear in hand. His speed was terrifying, his body cutting through the air like a shooting arrow.
The spear thrust out—
Clang!
The tip met Daoist Changming's sword with a sound like thunder. The Daoist's face tightened. The enemy's speed was beyond his expectations, and the strike's weight was immense, forcing him to channel his inner energy just to block it.
The masked Demonic Sect warrior's eyes glinted coldly behind the ghost mask. Murderous intent rolled off him in waves so thick it seemed almost solid.
He suddenly drove his knee upward toward Daoist Changming's chin. The Daoist leapt back in time, landing lightly on the roof and sliding two zhang away, his footing steady once more.
Daoist Changming narrowed his eyes, sensing the surging energy around his opponent. His voice sank low as he asked, "True Origin Gang Qi—you're from Taiwu Sect? What's your connection to them?"
"The Demonic Sect, Wu Dingbei!"
The man with the spear gave his name and thrust forward. His spear moved like a dragon, and the violent energy swept across the rooftops, shattering tiles into fragments.
Daoist Changming raised his sword and slashed. The sword's qi collided with the spear's force, the impact so great that the entire building beneath them trembled.
Almost simultaneously, both men lunged again, clashing head-on.
Daoist Changming was caught in a fierce duel. Meanwhile, over a thousand experts of Xuan Dang were held back as well. Seeing that the Demonic Sect's numbers far exceeded their own, the faint hope that had risen in the prisoners' hearts began to fade away once more.
The Demonic Sect was simply too strong—so strong that victory seemed impossible.
Boom—
A deep, resonant bell toll suddenly rang through the air, startling Jiang Kuatian and the other captives. They turned to look and saw a monk wearing a kasaya robe charging from another direction, carrying a massive bronze bell on his back.
"It's the Divine Monk of the Chanding Temple, the Taixing Monk!"
A prisoner cried out hoarsely, his excitement trembling through his strained voice.
Chanding Temple had come too!
Now the prisoners truly believed that the martial world of Guzhou had united at last. This was far more powerful than when Heavenly Saber Sect had fought alone.
Demonic Sect fighters rushed from all directions toward the Divine Monk. When they were less than three zhang away, the monk raised a hand and struck the bell.
Boom!
The bell's roar exploded outward like a wave, a blast of sound rippling through the air. More than ten Demonic Sect warriors were blown back instantly, blood spurting from beneath their masks as they crashed to the ground, heavily wounded.
At the same time—
On the outskirts of the city, within the military camp—
The Demon Emperor stood upon a high platform, his hands clasped behind his back as he gazed quietly into the distance.
All around him, officers and soldiers stood at attention. Some stared at him with fear, others with anger or resentment—but none dared speak.
A Daoist in a green robe strolled leisurely up the steps. His hair was streaked with black and white, his face looked to be in his forties, and beneath his thin goatee were two large moles. Twirling his beard, he stopped beside the Demon Emperor.
"Xuan Dang and Chanding Temple have arrived," he said lazily. "Only Qingxiao Sect hasn't shown itself yet. Of all Guzhou's martial sects, only these three have true experts worth noting."
This Daoist was none other than Wei Daozhang—the so-called "demonic warlock" spoken of by the people.
The Demon Emperor kept his gaze forward. "How many more people do we need?"
"The elixir's completion isn't something a poor Daoist like me can decide," Wei Daozhang replied calmly. "We can only do our best and leave the rest to fate."
He spoke as if time and urgency meant nothing to him.
The Demon Emperor said nothing.
Wei Daozhang smirked. "Demon Emperor, would you like me to read your fate?"
"I don't believe in fate."
The Demon Emperor's tone was cold, sharp enough to cut through the air. Wei Daozhang only shook his head slowly, sighing.
At that moment, a Demonic Sect warrior galloped up on horseback, stopping before the platform and shouting loudly, "Reporting to the Sect Master! The prefectural army from Dongling Prefecture is approaching! Estimated 100,000 troops, with several thousand cavalry!"
The Demon Emperor ordered immediately, "Send General Bai. Have him lead the army to engage."
"Yes, my lord!"
The rider turned his horse and galloped toward one of the command tents.
Wei Daozhang frowned. "That Prefect of Dongling isn't very obedient. Once this is over, we'll have to refine him into elixir residue."
The Demon Emperor didn't answer. He only tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing as he looked toward the distance.
…
Crash—
A figure slammed through a building, sending dust and rubble flying. Dozens of Demonic Sect warriors landed on nearby walls and rooftops, surrounding the area.
Wu Dingbei held his spear in one hand, his voice cold and steady. "Daoist Changming, you're one of the few righteous men left in the martial world. Why wade into this muddy water? Can't you see this calamity is beyond what the martial world can change?"
As the dust settled, Daoist Changming staggered up from the ruins, pushing aside a fallen beam. His hair hung loose and wild, his face streaked with blood. His right arm hung limp, and his hand that still held the sword trembled violently.
He looked up at Wu Dingbei, who stood high above him, and asked weakly, "You're no common man. You're one of the elite soldiers of the Great Li army. You've even trained under the Three Sects of Zhongtian. Why do something so cruel and inhumane?"
Wu Dingbei looked down at him. "Since you already know who we are, why bother asking questions with no meaning?"
Daoist Changming said nothing.
Wu Dingbei didn't strike him immediately. Instead, he lifted his spear and pointed it toward the battlefield in the distance. "Your disciples are dying one after another. Xuan Dang and Chanding Temple are two of the five great sects of Guzhou—but the Great Li Dynasty spans nine provinces and fourteen regions. Guzhou might seem vast to you, but in the eyes of the empire, it's nothing."
"If you kneel and submit, perhaps I can spare some of your Xuan Dang disciples—to let your sect's flame continue."
Daoist Changming's jaw clenched. He stared up at Wu Dingbei, his voice hoarse. "Why would you help Xuan Dang?"
Wu Dingbei didn't look at him. His tone stayed calm. "Forty years ago, when you roamed the martial world, you saved me once. You probably don't remember. But that doesn't matter—I still remember, and I repay my debts."