Destiny

When Wei Yuan draped his robe over his shoulders and stepped out of his quarters, he still felt somewhat weak. With the Land of Rain now in full retreat, the Smoke and Fire of the Mortal World had already generated the corresponding battle report. The great war had raged for more than three months. The Land of Rain had mobilized in full force, suffering cumulative casualties of over three million. In particular, the loss of the entire Marsh Croc Legion along with one hundred and fifty thousand elite warriors in the final battle was tantamount to snapping the spine of the Land of Rain. Besides that, Wei Yuan's red lotus karmic fire had incinerated over a hundred thousand troops of the noble legion. These individuals were the Shaman equivalent of human aristocrats, nobility, and imperial kin. They had originally come to the front lines merely to pad their credentials, only for Hongye to force them into the assault as well—resulting in them all entering the bounds of the formation. The death of these nobles practically pitted Hongye against the entire aristocracy. Though Hongye personally had no fear of them, it sowed the seeds of endless future strife. On Qingming's side, one million had fallen in battle. Nearly seven hundred thousand among them were recruited vagrants, while Qingming's own commoners suffered two hundred and fifty thousand dead—of the eighty thousand who had volunteered to charge to their deaths at the forefront, a mere nine hundred survived. The first floor of the Hall of Heroic Spirits was densely packed with memorial tablets—an honor due to those who had knowingly marched to their deaths. Aside from them, only a select few who had achieved illustrious military merits and died in battle were qualified to be enshrined here. At this moment, karmic luck converged, causing a faint cyan glow to emanate from every single tablet. An entire peak on Heroic Spirits Mountain had already been cleared, but erecting a million tombstones still seemed like more than it could hold; consequently, clearing a second mountain had been placed on the agenda. These one million heroic spirits were the very first cornerstone of Qingming's growth. The casualties among Qingming's regular army remained within acceptable limits. Having replenished his ranks throughout the fighting, Wei Yuan still had one hundred thousand troops. Between the Longxiang and Dragon Wing armies, twenty thousand remained, while the newly formed Rampart of Longxiang had been reduced from eight hundred to five hundred in a single battle. The Longxiang Army had initially numbered over twenty thousand, but in the final battle they had clashed head-on with the Marsh Croc Legion, suffering over ten thousand casualties. Yet in the end, their battle line never collapsed, leading to the total annihilation of the Marsh Croc Legion. The Land of Rain's Marsh Croc Legion was renowned throughout the world, its combat prowess on par with Great Tang's Nine Legions. Wei Yuan had mobilized all of Qingming's elites, besieging thirty thousand foes with nearly a hundred thousand men, supported by ceaseless missile bombardments overhead. Even so, it took two full double-hours of slaughter to completely wipe out the unit, costing them over thirty thousand casualties of their own. The ferocity of the Marsh Croc Legion was readily apparent. Had it not been for the wild missile bombardment from above, paired with the blessings of All Living Beings in a Flash and the Peerless Dao Domain below, this Marsh Croc Legion would have long since carved its way through the encirclement and made off scot-free. This was precisely why the legion's commander-in-chief hadn't been worried in the slightest about being surrounded in the beginning; in his eyes, there was no army in the world capable of encircling his legion. This battle carried monumental significance: for the first time since Qingming possessed an army of its own, it had completely destroyed an enemy elite on the level of the Nine Legions through a frontal clash on the battlefield. From this day forth, the army of Qingming could rightfully call itself an elite force of the realm, and none could dispute it. At present, Qingming had only 1.3 million people remaining, and almost every household was draped in white mourning silks. Countless matters awaited rebuilding after the war, yet the external situation remained grim. The Xu family had stationed five hundred thousand troops at Hanyang Pass, while Zhao had deployed an army of three hundred thousand, eyeing them like hungry tigers. Yet Wei Yuan had no desire to pay them any mind. After Qingming had fought with everything against the Land of Rain, scarcely anyone would be willing to attack a Qingming whose core forces remained intact. One hundred thousand battle-hardened veterans and twenty thousand world-class elites were Wei Yuan's bedrock of confidence at this moment. Moreover, Qingming had just fought a bloody war against an alien race. Attacking Qingming now would surely be recorded in the annals of history in great, damning detail; doing something so thankless while courting infamy for millennia was a folly few would commit. The sensible approach would be to seize upon Qingming's vulnerability to station troops by force under the guise of assisting Qingming in resisting the alien race and delivering the common folk from misery—and then refuse to leave once inside. However, every citizen of Qingming was now a soldier, more than a hundred thousand regulars remained, and Wei Yuan still held the unused Yin-Yang dual missiles in his grasp. Without an army of a million and a willingness to sacrifice the lives of one or two Scenery Command cultivators, no one was qualified to come to Qingming to assist in defense. Having skimmed the battle report, Wei Yuan swallowed several qi-replenishing pills and headed toward the military camp. He intended to mobilize all his elites and, while the Shamans were freshly in retreat, thoroughly erase every trace they had left behind, seize any baggage they hadn't had time to carry off, and hopefully catch up with the Shamans to cut down another vicious swath of them. Wei Yuan did not blame the others for not pursuing. In truth, only with him, the Realm Lord, personally leading the army would their military qi be steady enough to press deep into the Wu domain in pursuit. Furthermore, with the Yin-Yang dual missiles in his hands, no Nether Shaman wanted to loiter in front of him. Those capable of cultivating to Scenery Command were one in ten thousand, every one a peerless prodigy in their own right. Many had been painstakingly nurtured since childhood and had long grown accustomed to regarding themselves above all else. No matter what kind of human prodigy Wei Yuan was, and no matter how great his future accomplishments might be, one's life was one's own; none among them was willing to sacrifice their life to strike down Wei Yuan. If they did, wouldn't they merely be doing Hongye a gratuitous favor? Upon arriving at the barracks, Wei Yuan mustered an army of one hundred thousand. Personally leading thirty thousand regulars, he marched north along the canal, his primary objective being to destroy the reservoir lake five hundred li away. The remaining troops were divided into several detachments to sweep away scattered Shamans around the perimeter of the domain. Wei Yuan's prestige was at its zenith. Seeing him return unharmed, the soldiers were thrilled beyond measure, and some even shouted, "May you live forever!" Wei Yuan naturally paid no heed to this minor slip of the tongue and simply acted as if he hadn't heard, leading the army onward. The army's military qi soared exceptionally high, piercing straight into the sky and forcing the natural forces of the Wu domain to retreat to both sides. While his troops were high-spirited and vigorous, Wei Yuan casually moved his left leg, faintly sensing a foreign object upon it. Observed through qi-viewing techniques, a shackle could be seen clamped around Wei Yuan's left ankle, its chain stretching deep into the void toward some unknown destination. This was the price Wei Yuan paid for refining eight hundred thousand Shamans with karmic fire: the karma had grown so heavy that it had taken physical form. In the future, once all four limbs were bound in shackles, it would be beyond remedy, and there was no telling what would happen. Wei Yuan looked down at the chain of karma on his foot, lost in thought. When that time truly came, he would probably have to take up that Buddhist name of Wuyuan, wouldn't he? Although inheriting the mantle of the Great Joy King Buddha ended rather wretchedly, didn't the Buddha say: "If I do not enter hell, who will?" By now, Wei Yuan was already resigned to it; he had even come up with his Buddhist name in his dream. Ridiculous as that pipe dream had been, and missing its first half though it was, by all rights the sheer misery of being hunted down in the latter half implied that his exploits in the first half must have been equally spectacular. Besides, that young abbess had been peerlessly beautiful... Wei Yuan promptly cut the thought short, concluding that he had fully deserved being hunted down. Yet right now, Wei Yuan still felt a strange, lingering soreness in his legs and lower back. Just a short while ago, in order to teach Master Wuyuan an unforgettable lesson, Zhang Sheng had resolutely sacrificed herself, repeatedly suppressing the licentious monk. Zhang Sheng's comprehension of the sword dao had reached perfection; sword qi could circulate anywhere throughout her body. Thus, she had channeled countless minute strands of sword qi, and a few gentle prods were enough to make the licentious monk surrender his essence once over. This thoroughly impressed upon Wei Yuan that no matter what kind of invulnerable Vajra physique one possessed, it was no match for a sword cultivator. In the blink of an eye, Wei Yuan had been drained dry and had no choice but to apologize profusely. Had his attitude not seemed fairly sincere and had he not sworn solemn oaths, Zhang Sheng would have insisted on completing the full sixty-four trigrams of the Primordial Heaven before letting him off. After that clash, Wei Yuan finally realized that this teacher of his was truly capable of anything—it all came down to whether she felt inclined. Relying merely on his clumsy tricks of knocking on the gate beneath the moonlight truly fell far short before her. What was more, once out of bed, Zhang Sheng turned right back into Zhang Sheng the man. Those wild, scandalous deeds had all been done by Zhang Sheng the woman, and had nothing to do with Zhang Sheng the man. Seeing her apply what she had learned on the spot taught Wei Yuan that any schemes or tricks he used against his teacher in the future might well boomerang back onto himself. The army marched north with grand momentum. Early on, they caught only small fry, stragglers, and wandering remnants. The Shamans had retreated in such haste that they left behind countless supplies and baggage, which ultimately fell into Wei Yuan's hands. In high spirits, his eyes dazzled by the sight, Wei Yuan found the Wu domain, strewn with what would otherwise be debris, quite lovely for the very first time. Furthermore, Shamans and humans prized different things, so many materials precious to humans lay scattered everywhere. Even Wei Yuan's eyes shone with greed, let alone the ordinary soldiers. Even so, Qingming's military discipline was exceedingly strict at this point. After one fierce battle after another, anyone daring to disobey orders had already been executed during the first three engagements. Even if immortal silver lay right beside their boots, no one dared to pick it up. Despite the ground being littered with resources, Wei Yuan touched virtually none of it. Instead, he simply drove his army forward, pushing five hundred li in one breath all the way to the reservoir lake. Many Shamans were still wandering about here. They were all commoners who had lingered behind out of foolish hope, hoping to scavenge valuables and even dreaming of making a fortune. Although the Shaman main force had withdrawn, they were gambling that the humans wouldn't arrive so soon. Unfortunately, they had lost their wager. After three months of beacon fires and over a million dead on both sides, the blood feud had long reached an irreconcilable point. Wei Yuan's stance toward the Land of Rain now was to leave none alive. With a wave of his hand, five thousand light cavalry immediately fanned out. The commander of the light cavalry was also one of the young masters and ladies from the original sixteen noble houses, now already at late Dao Foundation. At this moment, his face was weathered by wind and frost, covered in a full beard; without looking closely, no one would have guessed he was merely a young man in his early twenties. Having received Wei Yuan's order, he drew his saber toward the heavens and roared, "Kill them all! The only good Shaman is a dead Shaman!" A youthful-looking cavalryman pointed ahead and asked, "What about the children?" In the direction he pointed, a dozen or so Shamans were fleeing. A woman carrying two young children on her back was gradually falling behind the others. The commander brought down a Dao art thunder whip, lashing hard across the young rider, and barked, "There are only two kinds of Shamans in this world: the living and the dead! Regardless of gender or age! Do you understand?!" The young cavalryman was born of vagrants and had only joined the army a few days prior. Promoted to scout due to his talent, he had only experienced that final climactic battle. His face was somewhat pale, but he nodded vigorously. "Very good!" The commander pointed at the Shaman woman carrying the children. "Go kill them!" The young cavalryman closed his eyes, forcing himself to recall the faces of the veteran soldiers who had died beside him one after another. When he opened them again, his gaze was filled entirely with hatred and killing intent. He spurred his horse forward and slashed with his long saber. The blade drew a crescent spray of blood beads that scattered slowly in the air. Thereafter, the light cavalry swept out en masse in squads of a dozen riders, hunting down every Shaman still capable of moving. Sitting atop his horse in the center of the army, Wei Yuan watched it all in silence, his heart as calm as still water. This kind of racial blood feud was no longer something any individual could resolve; anyone seeking reconciliation at a time like this was either a fool or malicious. Wei Yuan narrowed his eyes slightly and took a deep breath, savoring the omnipresent scent of blood. This was the general trend of the realm, and also Wei Yuan's destiny. Only when the alien races of the realm were slaughtered until all they could do was sing and dance would Wei Yuan feel that he had fulfilled the mission of his birth into this world. Wei Yuan opened his eyes, drew his sword, pointed forward, and shouted, "The army advances! Another four hundred li forward—come with me to meet the Lord of the Land of Rain!" The soldiers' blood boiled with excitement, their military qi climbing steadily higher without end! At seven hundred li, Wei Yuan caught up with Hongye's rearguard and shattered it in a single strike. At eight hundred li, Wei Yuan caught up with Hongye's main force. Forced to leave behind his own personal guards to cover the retreat, Hongye fled. Wei Yuan engaged in fierce combat for three-quarters of an hour, utterly destroying this elite unit that rivaled the Marsh Croc cavalry. He personally slew all eight Great Shaman commanders, then resumed the pursuit. At nine hundred li, Wei Yuan fought his way into the great Shaman city. At least a million Shamans had not managed to evacuate in time, while Hongye and his last remaining retainers had vanished without a trace. Wailing shook the heavens from the Shamans within the city, yet not a single Nether Shaman could be seen in the sky. The great lake shimmered with ripples. At the lake's center, the altar remained as towering and majestic as before, yet not a single Shaman remained upon it.