Chapter 75 - The Central Wall
The southern border’s main pass was a massive gap split between basalt cliffs, spanned by a stone wall three miles long. Stone defense towers rose from the ramparts toward the grey, soot-covered sky beneath a runic dome that shimmered with yellow light, its surface vibrating from the turbulent flows of spiritual Qi. The wind carried no moisture, only the dry scent of dust and old iron.
At the center of the camp, on a raised pavilion overlooking the battlements, Mu Bairong stood with his hands tucked into his wide grey sleeves. As an Elder in the Nascent Soul realm, his presence was a quiet, heavy pressure that settled over the compound, keeping the nervous juniors steady. Around him, a massive sand table projected real-time fluctuations of the border, its runic symbols shifting with glowing red markers.
Six Golden Core elders stood in a semi-circle before the table, their faces grim. A short distance away, near the runic array core of the dome, three other Golden Core elders sat cross-legged, their hands joined by glowing bands of spiritual energy as they channeled their collective Qi into the stone pedestal that powered the barrier.
"The side branches have clashed," Mu Bairong said, his voice flat. "The eastern flank has stabilized under the elders, and the western flank is holding the valley gates. The beast tide’s main weight, however, is aimed straight at our gate."
He tapped a red rune hovering over the sand table.
"The vanguard contains thousands of beasts. Behind them, two Demon Lords are directing the pack, and the energy readings indicate the Armoured Hell Behemoth King is already moving in the deep pass."
One of the Golden Core combat elders from Golden Qilin Peak grunted. "Second Elder, if the Demon King collides with the wall, should we focus on slaying it immediately? A beast of that caliber will tear through our outer formations."
"Our instructions remain unchanged," Mu Bairong replied, his eyes cold. "The primary goal is containment. The secondary priority is capture. The Beast Taming Hall requires the Behemoth King intact. Slaying is only permitted if the defensive line is on the verge of complete collapse. I will handle the capture myself. Your task is to contain the horde and keep the gate secure."
"Understood," the elders saluted in unison.
"Go to your positions," Mu Bairong commanded. "The collision is imminent."
The combat elders bowed and dispersed, their spiritual auras flaring as they leaped toward their assigned defense towers.
On the eastern section of the basalt wall, the disciples of the Iron Sword Sect were already in position. Being a vassal sect under the Heavenly Cloud Sect’s jurisdiction, they had been assigned to reinforce the right flank. Their elder, Song Jin, stood at the barrier with his sword in hand. Beside him, Guan Feng stood with his arms crossed, the silver-embroidered robes of a Sword Peak inner disciple catching the faint light. His hand rested on his hilt, his breathing slow and measured as he adjusted his spiritual Qi.
A few paces behind them, Xiao Ran checked his boots, ensuring his footing was stable on the grit-covered stone. He was a young man of average height, wearing the dark grey robes of the Iron Sword Sect’s personal disciples. His hand hovered near the hilt of a plain, ordinary-looking steel blade tucked into a coarse leather scabbard—the Spirit Echo Sword.
Xiao Ran looked up at the massive runic dome, then toward the high command pavilion where Mu Bairong stood like a mountain. A cold shiver ran down his spine.
’This is the Heavenly Cloud Sect,’ Xiao Ran thought, taking in the gargantuan scale. Back home, his master was the strongest man in the region, yet he bowed respectfully to a mere elder. Here, they casually deployed nine Golden Cores and a Nascent Soul ancestor for a single mission.
A vassal sect in front of this power was nothing but grass. If he wanted to protect his sect’s standing, he had to stand out.
His fingers tightened on his hilt, remembering how he had found the sword a year ago. He had been an average village boy taking shelter in a ruined temple during a rainstorm. Stumbling upon the rusted, nameless sword beneath a cracked altar, his life changed. The slumbering spirit within had guided him, correcting his wrist angles and breathing in silence. In under a month, he had transformed from a novice into a sword genius, easily passing the Iron Sword Sect’s trials.
Now, he stood on the wall of the continent’s regional overlord, preparing to face a sea of monsters.
"They are here," Guan Feng said quietly.
A low, deep vibration shook the basalt blocks under their feet. The gravel on the surface began to bounce, and the yellow runic dome overhead hummed with a higher pitch. From the dark horizon of the southern valley, a tide of grey dust erupted, filling the pass.
Through the dust, thousands of beasts emerged—iron-clad wolves covered in thick metallic plates, and massive rock-beasts whose bodies looked like moving boulders. Unlike the chaotic stampedes of wild animals, these beasts moved with a terrifying, silent coordination, their eyes glowing with a dark, violet energy that pulsed in sync.
The vanguard did not halt, charging straight toward the wall, their claws tearing the dry earth into deep furrows.
"Activate the defensive arrays!" Elder Song Jin roared, his sword glowing with green light.
Along the battlements, hundreds of vassal disciples channeled their Qi into the defensive lines. But the speed of the stampede was too great. Within moments, the vanguard slammed directly into the outer runic dome.
*BOOM!*
A deafening crash echoed through the pass, followed by a high-pitched screech of grinding energy. The runic shield flared violently, its golden surface rippling with thousands of small, circular waves as the weight of the iron-clad wolves pressed against it. Down at the array core, the three formation elders gritted their teeth, their faces turning pale as the massive feedback of the collision traveled back through the formation lines. They poured more Qi into the nodes, their meridians straining under the pressure.
The basalt wall groaned under the force of the impact, but the yellow dome held, refusing to break. The first wave of wolves was crushed against the solid light, their bodies dissolving into dark mist, but more beasts leaped over the fallen, throwing themselves against the barrier in a relentless, desperate surge.
"They are hitting us relentlessly!" one elder screamed.
A pack of fifty iron-clad wolves, larger than the rest, had bypassed the central wall and were throwing themselves against the right flank where the Iron Sword Sect was stationed. The runic dome in this sector was thinner, and the friction of the wolves’ claws began to scorch the stone battlements.
"Hold the line!" Elder Song Jin shouted, thrusting his sword forward to release a blast of green Qi that blew three wolves off the wall. "Do not let them gather at the base!"
Xiao Ran stepped forward. The plain leather scabbard of the Spirit Echo Sword creaked as he drew the blade. It had no ornate runes or glowing gems, looking like a common soldier’s weapon, but as he held it, the sword hummed with a low, steady frequency that resonated with the Qi in his meridians.
’Keep your shoulder low,’ a faint, phantom nudge corrected his posture, his arm adjusting instantly to the perfect angle.
An iron-clad wolf, its jaws dripping with black saliva, leaped from the stone ledge directly at his throat. Xiao Ran did not retreat. He stepped into the beast’s path, his sword moving in a short, clean arc.
*Clang!*
The blade struck the wolf’s metallic collar. Instead of bouncing off, the sword hummed, releasing a high-frequency vibration that shattered the plate. The steel slipped through the gap, cutting the neck. The dead beast fell to the stone, splashing blood over Xiao Ran’s boots.
Two more wolves lunged. Xiao Ran’s hand moved automatically, guided by the phantom pressure on his wrist. Avoiding showy movements, he spun his blade, executing two quick thrusts that pierced their eyes, dropping them instantly.
A Golden Core elder from a nearby tower glanced toward the sector, his eyebrows rising in surprise as he watched the vassal disciple. "Such a clean sword path... His movements have no excess weight. The Iron Sword Sect has produced an interesting junior."
Xiao Ran did not hear him. He was completely focused on the rhythm of the battle, his blade flashing in a steady, lethal dance as he kept the flank clear.
By sunset, the initial vanguard was ground to dust against the wall. The slopes below were littered with cooling carcasses, the dark mist from the remains rising to blot out the stars.
Xiao Ran leaned against the barrier, his chest heaving as he wiped his blade. His muscles ached, and his hands were trembling slightly from the exertion.
"You fought well," Elder Song said, walking over. His dark robes were covered in blood, his own sword having kept his area clear. "But do not celebrate yet."
He pointed toward the southern hills.
Through the rising mist, the horizon turned deep, blood-red. The low rumble returned, louder and heavier, carrying a suffocating pressure that made the air feel like lead.
The true boss of the beast tide was coming.
Xiao Ran looked at the red sky, his knuckles turning white on his hilt.
’This is only the beginning,’ he thought, his heart pounding against his ribs. ’The real monster is still out there.’