Sacred City

"I hear there are rumors spreading in the tribes that Marquis Wucheng has gone to the Land of Utter Darkness?" A deep voice echoed within the cave, which served as the Barbarian Heterodox King's "temporary command tent." There was no campfire, no light, and several tall, standing silhouettes made the entire cavern feel cramped and claustrophobic. As the king of a million people, the Barbarian King's "council tent" was simple to the point of being shabby. After his words fell, silence lingered for a few breaths. One of the hulking dark shadows replied in a muffled rumble, "Yes, King." Seated cross-legged upon a cold boulder, the Barbarian Heterodox King slowly opened his deep blue eyes. "Zhaye, how did this news reach the tribal army?" A bleak, chilly wind blew, drifting snow swirling into the cave mouth to make everything seem gloomy, cold, and dark. Spreading rumors to disrupt enemy morale was an age-old tactic, but under the current circumstances, it was clearly unrealistic for Great Yan to drop leaflets from flying demonic beasts. After all, they could not even locate the Barbarian army. Zhaye said in a heavy voice, "King, this news was brought back to camp by the small squads of wolf riders we sent to harass the Yan army." "Brought back to camp?" Hearing this, the Barbarian Heterodox King frowned slightly. "Zhaye, I remember specifically ordering you all not to allow the wolf riders sent out to harass the Yan army to return to our main formation. If high-ranking cultivators secretly tail the returning riders and expose the main army's position, everything will be ruined!" An army of hundreds of thousands was a massive number, yet across the vast expanse of Tianshui Province, it remained a mere drop in the ocean. The Barbarian King was confident he could grind this Great Yan border army to death beneath this blizzard calamity. But if his subordinates were fools... Hearing this, Zhaye dropped straight to his knees and explained, "King, it wasn't brought directly into the main camp. It was leaked when clansmen chattered among themselves during the escort and handover of meat." Hearing this, a trace of fury entered the Barbarian Heterodox King's voice. "I cached meat at so many locations in advance—why would anyone from the main formation go out to deliver provisions?" Great Yan held a firm grasp on human harmony, so the Barbarians could only maximize their use of the heaven's timing. The Barbarian Heterodox King knew this well. And so, as early as when the imperial court's elite forces marched south, he had already made arrangements in advance: Avoid their sharp edge, harass without committing to a decisive battle. Zhaye instinctively glanced at the hulking barbarian beside him, but in the next moment, the Barbarian Heterodox King's voice rang out, cold and sharp: "I am quietly nursing my wounds here, and you treat my orders like the wind past your ears?" At the same time, the terrifying pressure emanating from the Barbarian Heterodox King washed outward. Weighed down by this aura, the hulking barbarians in the cave instantly dropped to their knees. Zhaye took a deep breath, performed a barbarian salute, and said with some difficulty, "King, someone among those wolf riders was injured, and members of the shamanic tribe were requested to treat them." Hearing this, the Barbarian Heterodox King fell silent. He raised his lone arm, rubbing his brow with the hardened cuticle on his fingertips, his voice frigid: "The child of a tribal noble?" "Yes." "..." The cave lapsed into utter silence. The Barbarians revered martial strength. For the sake of survival resources, they could cold-bloodedly abandon the elderly, the weak, the disabled, and any other burdens. But that did not mean they lacked the concept of bloodline. Ordinary clansmen who were injured and could not heal would be discarded outright to serve as military rations, but the children of noble elites would not. Zhaye knew this well, but he knew even better that this "King," with his iron-blooded nature, would never permit such an exception. After unifying the Sacred Race, the value of every clansman within the tribe was judged solely by their contribution. Back then, when the King's own child had returned from the battlefield grievously wounded, his noble status could have easily warranted vast amounts of precious resources for medical aid, but the King had directly ordered him abandoned. "His value does not warrant the Sacred Race paying such a price. Returning his soul to the Ancestral God is his best end." Those cold-blooded words from back then echoed in Zhaye's ears. He watched with a hint of worry as killing intent surfaced in the Barbarian King's eyes. Given the current situation, the Sacred Race could not endure another purge. In the end, the killing intent in the Barbarian Heterodox King's eyes dissolved into a long sigh, his voice carrying weariness: "They want their children tempered, yet fear their deaths... Enough. The pressing matter is not assigning blame. Issue an immediate order to suppress this news. It must not shake army morale." "Understood." Zhaye immediately acknowledged, casting a sideways glance at a hulking barbarian beside him. Meeting his gaze for a breath, the hulking barbarian saluted and hurried out of the cave. Silence returned to the cave. Looking at the Barbarian King whose expression flickered unpredictably before him, Zhaye saluted and asked, "King, this news has already spread through the Ku'e Tribe and the Royal Court. Is it true?" The Barbarian Heterodox King's heart weighed like iron, but on the surface he spoke impassively: "The Yan people want to throw our army into disarray and force us into a decisive battle. Naturally, we cannot fall into their trap." Hearing this, Zhaye—a brother who had grown up alongside the Barbarian King—seemed to understand something. After a brief silence, he suddenly spoke up: "Yiting, Gongxiong, you two step outside first." "..." After a moment of silence, the remaining two barbarians saluted and left one after another. For a time, only the Barbarian Heterodox King and Zhaye remained in the cave. Seeing this, the Barbarian Heterodox King's tone softened slightly, a hint of a smile touching his indifferent voice: "Zhaye, if you wish to reminisce, it wouldn't hurt to wait until my wounds have healed." Zhaye slowly rose and stared at the Barbarian Heterodox King. "King, you know I'm a blunt man, so I'll ask straight out." "..." The Barbarian Heterodox King's eyes narrowed, and then he sighed, uttering a single word: "Ask." Zhaye's voice carried repressed emotion: "Did Great Yan's Marquis Wucheng... truly go to the Land of Utter Darkness?" "Most likely," the Barbarian Heterodox King answered calmly. "Otherwise, the Great Yan army wouldn't have dispatched high-ranking experts at any cost to blockade the two mountain ranges and prevent us from fleeing north." Zhaye's heart trembled, and his characteristically deep barbarian voice wavered slightly: "King, the Land of Utter Darkness holds a million women and children of the Sacred Race..." "Zhaye, calm down." The Barbarian Heterodox King's deep blue eyes remained calm, his tone carrying a note of comfort. "The Land of Utter Darkness is boundless. Finding our Sacred Race's Sacred City is easier said than done. Furthermore, Marquis Wucheng cannot have brought much baggage and supplies with him—not enough for a prolonged stay in the Land of Utter Darkness." "But what if it falls?" Zhaye clenched his fists, the hardened cuticle creaking. "That is the Sacred City." The Sacred City. A city built over the years with looted supplies following the Barbarian Heterodox King's unification. It was not particularly large, not even matching a commandery seat in Great Yan. Yet it was the symbol of the Royal Court's founding, signifying that the Barbarians had transformed from a loose heap of sand fighting among themselves for survival into a united front against external foes. "Enough." Looking at this old friend who had walked the entire path alongside him, the Barbarian Heterodox King chuckled softly. "Zhaye, do you think we should fight a quick, decisive battle? Turn back to relieve the Sacred City?" Zhaye bowed his head in a salute: "Wuyuan has led a hundred thousand Great Yan elites pursuing us for over a month now. Their troops and mounts are exhausted, worn down to the limit. If we launch an assault, we can surely rout them in a single blow." "No." Without hesitation, the Barbarian Heterodox King rejected the proposal. He said in a low voice, "Though I do not know the reason, that Wuyuan seems in a hurry as well. Pursuing us so blatantly through the blizzard is practically writing 'come attack me' across her forehead." As he spoke, the Barbarian Heterodox King supported himself with his lone arm, rising from the boulder, and chuckled softly. "She wants to gamble with me—gamble on whether she can pin me down before Zong Qingsheng returns with reinforcements." Zhaye took a deep breath and asked, "King, why not take the gamble? We have won seven or eight out of ten battles driving south, but now we are trapped within Great Yan's borders, and army morale has begun to waver. If we continue avoiding battle like this, the clansmen's desire to abandon the campaign and return home will be hard to change." The Barbarian Heterodox King walked slowly to the cave entrance, his burly frame nearly filling the narrow opening. He lifted his eyes to look at the boundless expanse of white. "The Sacred Race has reached this point largely due to the internal strife within the Great Yan Dynasty, and every great gamble of mine has been built upon their infighting. Wuyuan's haste to fight a decisive battle with me is likely connected to Great Yan's internal conflicts. "Yet ever since we routed the three hundred thousand border army using intelligence from that senior official in the Prime Minister's residence, I sometimes wonder if our Sacred Race's march south was a bit too hasty." "Too hasty?" "Yes, too hasty," the Barbarian Heterodox King repeated softly. Zhaye hesitated. "King, did you not say before that if we did not seize this opportunity to push south, then a century or centuries from now, our Sacred Race would never again have the power to contend with Great Yan?" The Barbarian Heterodox King glanced down at his only remaining arm, looking at the mysterious patterns etched into the cuticle. "No, what I mean is that we misjudged the conflict between Great Yan's royal court and those so-called sects. Things between them were not as mild as they appeared on the surface. On the contrary, it seems they have reached a point where only death will suffice—giving away three hundred thousand elites as a gift without batting an eye." At this, the Barbarian Heterodox King standing at the cave entrance let out a sigh. "If only I had seen this sooner, perhaps the Sacred Race's march south could have come later. By then, the resistance we encountered might have been vastly diminished, and we wouldn't be facing such tremendous risk." The Barbarian Heterodox King slowly turned his eyes back toward Zhaye behind him and murmured, "Zhaye, your suggestion back then was right. When the Beifeng Army and Black Scale Army marched north, we should have made a clean retreat, returning to the Land of Utter Darkness to digest the spoils we gained over these past few years. "With Great Yan in chaos and our Sacred Race recuperating, once Great Yan was weakened by internal strife, pushing south again would likely have been much easier. "Easier even than relying on this blizzard calamity..." "..." Zhaye's gaze was conflicted. "King, had Great Yan not possessed that weather-altering military armament, your decision would never have led the Sacred Race to failure." Noticing his gaze, the Barbarian Heterodox King spoke with helpless resignation: "Such is fate and circumstance. It's too late to speak of this now. I overestimated myself, and placed too much faith in my judgment of the broader situation. Now, all avenues of retreat for our Sacred Race have been cut off. We can only wait—wait for whatever upheaval is making Wuyuan so anxious to occur, and then act as the opportunity arises." Looking at the familiar friend before him, Zhaye remained silent in the wind and snow for a long time before murmuring, "King, I understand." The Barbarian Heterodox King suddenly let out another low chuckle, his deep voice carrying a forced levity: "I can understand your worry. Great Yan's Marquis Wucheng is indeed quite a figure, but isn't Eji still in the Land of Utter Darkness? That fellow is the cleverest of the three of us. Even if Marquis Wucheng really found the Sacred City, he would find a way to evacuate the people within. "As long as our people are preserved, the Sacred City is merely a city. It can be rebuilt." *** In the Land of Utter Darkness, as far as the eye could see, lay boundless darkness. There was not the slightest glimmer of light; pitch black seemed eternal here. Yet at this moment, the divine radiance rising from the Great Yan military array illuminated nearly half the sky. A fairly imposing city stood nestled within a canyon, resembling a child stripped of clothing beneath the Great Yan military array. Shouts of slaughter and screams rose and fell in waves. The city was in utter chaos, with countless barbarian corpses piled high like mountains. Unlike those hulking barbarians, the corpses here appeared rather diminutive, most of them not having even grown the cuticles used to ward off the cold. The Barbarians revered martial valor, and adult barbarian females were also capable of fighting. As the city fell, organized by the remaining garrison commanders, a hastily assembled barbarian army retreated outside the city in an orderly manner. Yet the detonation of Cloud Qi Bombs had already dispersed the surrounding snowclouds. Stripped of the snow and fog for cover, the white-armored heavy cavalry belonging to the Beifeng Army were like the Grim Reaper's scythe, slicing relentlessly through the fleeing refugees, stroke after stroke. "..." Ever since breaching the city, Niu Yeqing had lost count of how many barbarians he had killed. Unlike the internal rebellions he had quelled in the past, after breaking into the city, he had no need whatsoever to distinguish between civilians and soldiers; whenever he saw anything that moved, he could simply swing his blade. This was an asymmetrical slaughter. Kill. Kill. Kill. The spirit blade in his hand was already notched and blunted, and the black blood staining his white armor was glaringly stark. By the time he came to his senses, as far as his eyes could see, the city was filled with corpses. Niu Yeqing wandered silently through the city streets. Aside from his comrades carrying out mop-up orders, there was virtually nothing left alive around the streets. Yet this was merely the beginning. The Marquis's order was to leave no one alive—to slaughter the city. *Bang!* Breaching the door of a uniquely styled barbarian snowhouse alongside the four comrades of his squad, Niu Yeqing's gaze immediately locked onto two barbarians inside. A barbarian woman and a barbarian child, huddled together and trembling violently. These two barbarians were likely mother and son. So Niu Yeqing thought, drawing his notched sidearm blade alongside his four comrades. Yet at that moment, the trembling barbarian woman suddenly grabbed the barbarian child and hurled him out the window, shouting several incomprehensible barbarian phrases before lunging straight at them. Barbarians were exceptionally tall, and their females were no exception, standing roughly twice as tall as these burly human men. Ordinary mortals would have been no match for these barbarians, but unfortunately, they were cultivators. *Slash!* Several gleams of blade light flashed in seamless coordination, and the woman's towering frame was already reduced to a corpse. Yet her eyes remained fixed in a deathly glare toward the direction where the child had gone... Looking at the barbarian woman's corpse, one of them asked with some hesitation, "Leader Li, that child shouldn't pose any danger. Should we pursue?" Leader Li glanced at the speaker, his voice cold: "Pursue. When that barbarian cub grows up, who knows how many of our Great Yan people he'll slaughter." "..." Hearing this, various expressions appeared on their faces—pity, sighs, helplessness, even excitement—yet not one spoke to dissuade him. After a brief silence, they all circulated their cultivation arts and gave chase outside. The moment they stepped out of the house— *Hum—* A flash of blade light, and the five saw that the barbarian child had already been sliced in two, his unclosed eyes filled with terror. The one who had swung the blade sheathed his weapon and respectfully saluted the elderly man beside him who wore commander's armor: "Marquis, the city has been slaughtered. Do we continue?" Watching the child die with an impassive expression, the old man closed his eyes for several breaths, seemingly sensing something. When he opened them again, he said indifferently: "There were only three hundred thousand in this city. The Barbarians certainly number far more than this. Gather the supplies, and continue north."