Following the soldier through rows of gray-brick, black-tiled barracks, the four soon arrived at the drill grounds. From a distance, they spotted a blood-drenched figure. He wore battered armor, his hair disheveled and wild. Heavy shackles bound his wrists and ankles, the chains driven deep into the packed-dirt ground. Wooden spikes were driven into his joints, and two jade hooks pierced through his collarbones.
An officer was lashing him with a whip, barking, "Quiet down! Dammit, howling day in and day out like a dying ghost—are you in that much of a hurry to reincarnate? Tomorrow, once the Demon-Cleaving Guillotine arrives, I'll chop off your head myself!"
The surrounding armored soldiers stood guard with weapons in hand, faces tense, like hunters encircling a fierce tiger—terrified, trembling, ready to turn and bolt at any second.
Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack!
The officer's arm swung in a blur, the whip whipping up plumes of dust with every strike, plain to see under the bright sunlight.
His hair tangled and his face smeared with grime, the captive struggled with all his might, throwing his head back and roaring at the heavens, entirely unbothered by the lashings raining down on him.
From so far away, beneath all that dirt and tangled hair, Fu Qingyang couldn't make out his facial features. But judging by the captive's body language, his earth-shattering howls carried an undercurrent of anxiety.
His roaring seemed like an outlet of rage on the surface, but in reality, he was calling out for something.
Calling for reinforcements from the enemy army outside the city? Fu Qingyang walked past the soldier leading them and approached with his three teammates.
Drawing closer, they finally caught a clear look at the prisoner's features.
"Holy crap!" Lingjun blurted out.
Zhao Chenghuang and World Returns to Fire were equally stunned. That captive... was Heavenly King Demonic Eye!
Fu Qingyang froze momentarily, then his surprise gave way to a look that said, *Just as I thought.*
At that moment, Heavenly King Demonic Eye spotted the four teammates as well. He stopped his howling at once and chuckled, "Heh."
"Still chuckling, are you?" The officer immediately cracked his whip across him, cursing, "Dog-born Northern barbarian! A good whipping isn't enough for you? I'll feed you shit in a minute!"
He assumed the captive was mocking the whip's lack of bite.
"Stop!" Fu Qingyang barked coldly.
As if only just noticing them, the officer curled his lip, coiled up his long whip, and hurried over to salute. "Grand Marshal!"
Fu Qingyang gave a slight nod and tested the waters: "Has the captive been behaving?"
"Same as always. He howls like a ghost morning, noon, and night. The Demon-Cleaving Guillotine arrives tomorrow, and when it does, this subordinate will personally take his head. Then the Grand Marshal won't be troubled by the noise anymore," the officer replied.
Fu Qingyang countered, "The Demon-Cleaving Guillotine?"
The moment the question left his mouth, he caught the disdain and contempt flitting through the officer's micro-expressions. Then he heard the officer reply:
"This scoundrel is invulnerable to blades and spears. Even with wooden spikes driven through his heart, he kicks and thrashes like nothing happened. We've tried countless methods and still couldn't execute him. The Military Strategist proposed bringing out the Demon-Cleaving Guillotine, a supreme treasure from the imperial treasury, to see if that could slay him.
"How could the Grand Marshal forget the Demon-Cleaving Guillotine? Ah, this subordinate understands. With a formidable enemy at our gates, the Grand Marshal is burdened by heavy concerns. It is only natural that your memory would slip."
Lingjun snorted. "Such sarcasm! Dare subtly mock the Grand Marshal again, and this general will execute you on the spot!"
The officer yielded in word though not in heart, bowing with clasped hands. "This subordinate would not dare!"
Fu Qingyang said blandly, "Step back thirty zhang."
The officer paused, then cautiously asked, "Grand Marshal, what do you intend to do? Though this scoundrel is exhausted and bound in chains, we must not let our guard down. You..."
Fu Qingyang said coldly, "Step back!"
A force demanding submission radiated naturally from him. The officer's heart leaped into his throat; gripped by primal terror, he hastily retreated with the dozen-odd armed soldiers.
"How's your condition?" Fu Qingyang walked up to Heavenly King Demonic Eye.
"Tired, hungry, sleepy, hurting..." Heavenly King Demonic Eye sat sprawled on the ground with his legs splayed, chuckling raspy laughter. "Why is it that you guys are all generals and marshals, while I'm a half-dead prisoner?"
When he entered the Spirit Realm and opened his eyes, he was greeted by a ringing slap across the face. A soldier delivering food had struck him, and Demonic Eye had sent the fellow straight into the cycle of reincarnation on the spot.
That led directly to the whipping just now.
His physical state was terrible. His inventory was sealed, wooden spikes were driven into every major joint, his collarbones were pierced, and less than a tenth of his cultivation remained. Fortunately, his foundational copper skin and iron bones couldn't be sealed away.
From the limited conversations—or rather, verbal abuse—he had pieced together his identity and predicament. Once the Demon-Cleaving Guillotine arrived tomorrow, it would be his execution day, so he had started roaring like a savage dragon, hoping to draw his teammates over.
Whether it was Fu Qingyang or Yuanshi Tianzun, Demonic Eye had full faith that their setup would be enough to save him.
And sure enough, here was Fu Qingyang.
Looking at Demonic Eye's ragged state, Fu Qingyang teased, "Because you're in an evil class."
"I'm a freelancer," Demonic Eye corrected. "Don't lump me in with those scumbags."
"What I mean is, as an evil class, your only route to rejoin the team was defecting to our side. That's why you ended up a prisoner," Fu Qingyang said. "Conveniently, my role's dilemma is a lack of prestige, which makes commanding the troops difficult. In a moment, I'll release your restraints. You will swear allegiance to me in front of these officers and soldiers."
The Money Prince's sharp wit had swiftly devised a way to break through his character's predicament.
However, Demonic Eye flatly refused: "My allegiance belongs to the Lord of the Sun."
"The Lord of the Sun probably isn't in the military camp," Fu Qingyang replied calmly. "What is your character's identity?"
"Wanyan Rentu, Left Commander of the Juque Army. Ten days ago during the siege, I was captured through a scheme by the Southern Dynasty's strategist."
"What does Wanyan Rentu swearing allegiance to me have to do with you, Heavenly King Demonic Eye?"
"...Fair point!"
Fu Qingyang drew the precious sword at his waist. With a flash of chilling sword light and a series of sharp clinks, the shackles on Demonic Eye's wrists and ankles shattered. Flipping his wrist, Fu Qingyang struck the pommel against the two jade hooks.
*Thwack! Thwack!*
The jade hooks shot out from Demonic Eye's back, bringing along clumps of necrotic flesh.
Heavenly King Demonic Eye grinned broadly. His muscles rolled and bulged across his body, squeezing out the wooden spikes pinned into his joints.
"Beat the drums! Sound the drums!" the distant officer cried out in horror. "The Grand Marshal has freed Wanyan Rentu! Sound the drums immediately, alert the whole army to prepare for battle, and go fetch the Strategist, quickly!"
A soldier rushed frantically toward the war drum, seized the drumsticks, and began pounding with all his strength.
*Boom! Boom! Boom!*
At the summons of the drums, soldiers poured out from the barracks in droves, packing the grounds within breaths. When they saw the situation on the drill field—seeing that Northern butcher who had nearly broken through their walls completely freed of his bindings—an uproar swept through the ranks.
"Form ranks! Form ranks!"
Two high-ranking generals who had just arrived roared at the top of their lungs.
Amidst the clinking of armor, the first few hundred soldiers to assemble quickly formed a battle square, leveling their spears at Wanyan Rentu in the distance, waiting only for an order from above to charge.
Fu Qingyang stood proudly unmoved. He gave Heavenly King Demonic Eye a slight nod, signaling: *Begin your performance.*
"Tch, how annoying," Demonic Eye scoffed softly. Then, dropping to one knee, he projected his voice: "I, Wanyan Rentu, am willing to submit to the Southern Dynasty and pledge my loyalty to Marshal Yang!"
The rolling sonic wave exploded like thunder in the ears of the soldiers, wiping away the stern resolve on their faces and replacing it with blank stupor. The fighting spirit in their eyes melted away like spring snow.
Neither surprised nor thrilled, Fu Qingyang remained entirely composed. "Granted!"
Instantly, the drill grounds fell deathly silent.
Inside the Grand Marshal's quarters, Heavenly King Demonic Eye sat before a square table, wolfing down bowls of white rice. The table was piled high with chicken, duck, fish, and mutton, reduced to nothing but bones and scraps.
Mess hall soldiers queued up to deliver dish after dish, stealing fearful glances at the vicious Wanyan Rentu before hurriedly putting down the food and scuttling away with bowed heads.
Outside the barracks, a massive crowd of soldiers and mid-ranking officers had gathered. Everyone was still in a daze, unable to fathom how the notoriously bloodthirsty Wanyan Rentu could possibly surrender and pledge fealty to Marshal Yang.
Everyone knew Marshal Yang had secured his position as General of Agile Cavalry purely through his family background, and had become Supreme Commander of the armed forces only thanks to his elder sister, the Mother of the Realm. In essence, he was barely any better than a useless noble scion.
How could such a man tame Wanyan Rentu?
Yet if Wanyan Rentu hadn't surrendered in earnest, he'd had plenty of time to escape just now. Before the troops had finished assembling, no one could have stopped him.
The fact that he stayed proved beyond doubt that his submission was genuine.
For the first time, the soldiers of the army looked upon their young Grand Marshal with curiosity and newfound admiration, lingering outside the barracks and reluctant to disperse.
Inside the quarters, Heavenly King Demonic Eye patted his belly and let out a contented breath. "Full at last... Haven't eaten food in years. Makes me feel almost human again."
His injuries were severe, and Lingjun's healing couldn't fully mend them. But since they weren't in immediate danger, injecting Life Source Fluid would have been a waste, so he chose to recover through eating.
"My main storyline quest has triggered: repel the Northern army or defend the capital," Heavenly King Demonic Eye said.
"Same for me," Fu Qingyang nodded.
"Where's Yuanshi Tianzun?" Heavenly King Demonic Eye looked around at his four teammates. "Why don't I see him?"
"Probably bedding an imperial concubine in the palace," Lingjun grumbled. "Damn it, how does that guy get to enter a dungeon and still sleep with women? Why him? Is he the illegitimate son of the Spirit Realm?"
Zhao Chenghuang explained, "We suspect he might be the ruler of a fallen nation."
Turning to Lingjun, he frowned. "The title of this dungeon is *Ruler of a Fallen Nation*. If Yuanshi really ended up as the Southern Dynasty's monarch, then he's the one in the greatest danger."
Heavenly King Demonic Eye hurriedly urged, "Fall back to defend the capital!"
Fu Qingyang shook his head slightly. "Falling back to defend the capital means giving up our strategic depth. Linxia is easy to defend and hard to attack, with ample grain reserves to hold off the enemy. Even if Linxia falls, we can still wear them down. Abandoning the city now would mean leaving behind most of our supplies and wealth, effectively aiding the enemy and worsening our odds."
Just then, a soldier hurried in to report: "Grand Marshal, the Military Strategist requests an audience."
The Military Strategist? The group exchanged glances. Heavenly King Demonic Eye mused:
"According to my character's background, your Southern Dynasty's strategist is formidable—he was the one who devised the trap to capture me. The strategist might very well be Yuanshi Tianzun."
Lingjun chimed in at once, "Quickly, invite the strategist in!"
The soldier turned and left. Moments later, a handsome man with a face fair as carved jade strode into the quarters. He held his head high, looking down his nose at everyone present, and said in astonishment, "Huh? Why is it just you guys?"
The newcomer was none other than the protagonist himself, Xiahou Aotian.
"I got captured by someone like this? Is the Spirit Realm insulting me?" Heavenly King Demonic Eye deadpanned, his eyes half-closed.
*Yuanshi really is the foolish monarch,* Fu Qingyang's heart sank.
Seeing that it was Xiahou Aotian and not Yuanshi Tianzun, World Returns to Fire and Zhao Chenghuang were visibly disappointed. A second later, both of their expressions changed drastically.
"Crap, all the brains are right here."
"We're screwed, all the brawn is right here."
As for the capital...
"Your Majesty! Your Majesty!"
Zhang Yuanqing was jolted awake by muffled shouting. Opening his eyes, he saw bright yellow bed curtains hanging low. He was lying on a bed that was exceptionally soft.
The young woman in his arms was softer still.
Curled against his chest was a fifteen- or sixteen-year-old girl, petite and delicate like a little lamb. Zhang Yuanqing could feel the warmth and silky smoothness of her body beneath the blankets, the fatigue of her first foray into passion lingering on her pretty little face.
"Your Majesty! Your Majesty!"
The shouts persisted. Zhang Yuanqing turned his head toward the entrance of the bedchamber, where a burly eunuch in purple robes stood outside the sheer curtains with hands on hips, hollering loudly.
*Shouting for your dead ancestors?* Drowsy with sleep, Zhang Yuanqing instinctively snapped, "Get out!"
The purple-robed eunuch wheeled around and left immediately.
Zhang Yuanqing let out a soft groan. His entire body ached with deep pain, his chest felt tight, his breath short, and his stomach racked with discomfort. This body felt ill.
Ill? He was instantly startled awake!
Could an exalted Day Wanderer actually fall sick?
Zhang Yuanqing sat up in an instant. Immediately, a scorching heat spread across his brow as the sun wheel sigil materialized on his forehead, transmitting a fragmented jumble of memories.
Chapter 839