Chapter 71 - Arrival & The Grand Strategy (Part 1)
The black ironwood carriage drifted downward, its flight path stabilizing as the three Tempest Rocs slowed their descent. Below them, the mist of the southern border gave way to a massive staging ground carved out of the forest.
Through the cabin window, Su Ming watched the landscape rise to meet them. The southern border was a desolate expanse of jagged, ash-stained canyons and dry, barren earth. A persistent wind blew from the wild mountains, carrying the dry smell of the earth. The rocks below resembled broken, blackened teeth, jutting out from the dry soil. It was a harsh, unforgiving territory, a stark contrast to the verdant, mist-shrouded peaks of the Heavenly Cloud Sect.
"We are here, Master," Lin Yao whispered, her fingers resting lightly on the frame of the window.
Su Ming leaned closer. Spreading across the wide plains below was the Southern Border Camp. It was a massive staging ground built not of simple wood, but of reinforced grey stone blocks and iron plates, extending for miles to contain the incoming forces.
Unlike the border fortresses further east and west, there were no mortal armies stationed here. The fields of tents and stone-walled yards belonged entirely to the cultivation sects. The banners of the Heavenly Cloud Sect fluttered from the highest watchtowers, surrounded by the smaller, distinct encampments of the vassal sects. The mortal soldiers of the Qi and Chu kingdoms remained in their respective border regions, maintaining their own defensive lines and fortresses.
As the carriage descended, Su Ming noticed the three primary vassal sects represented in the camp, and to the east sat the tents of the Iron Sword Sect, whose disciples practiced blunt, physical sword arts, their heavy blades clattering in the dry wind. In the center lay Flowing Cloud Valley, a sect specializing in water and mist-element techniques, their yards covered in a thin, artificial moisture to counter the dry heat. To the west lay the Frost River Sect, whose disciples practiced water and ice-related techniques.
Looking at the layout, Su Ming reflected on the administrative duties he had performed in the past. As the Peak Master of White Lotus Peak, he was occasionally required to conduct routine inspections of the sect’s outer territories.
He had traveled to the northern border, visiting Spirit Herb Valley and the White Dew Sect to audit their defensive formations, resource stockpiles, and contribution ledgers. But those northern sects were peaceful, well-ordered establishments. He had never traveled to this southern sector, where the air was thick with the iron scent of blood and the looming threat of the beast tide.
What caught his attention immediately was the massive dome of yellow light wrapping around the entire encampment. The barrier hummed with a heavy, grounding energy. At various nodes along the stone walls, several grey-robed elders stood on elevated wooden platforms, their hands tracing complex runic patterns in the air to channel earth-attributed Qi into the defensive arrays.
’Black Tortoise Peak,’ Su Ming noted, recognizing the heavy, rock-like patterns of their formations. ’The Defense Peak has sent a significant number of disciples and elders to build these barriers.’
The carriage touched down with a soft thud on the gravel runway, the defensive runes on its hull dimming as the roc mounts folded their storm-colored wings. The heavy wooden doors creaked open, and the cultivators began to file out.
As Su Ming stepped onto the gravel path, followed closely by Lin Yao and Wang Tian, he felt the heavy concentration of spiritual pressure in the air. Over a hundred cultivators were moving through the staging ground, their mixed auras creating a restless, humming energy.
Su Ming cast a brief, sweeping glance across the dirt paths and staging yards, using his sharp perception to scan the gathered disciples. He did not look for the most obvious, high-talent geniuses whose brilliant auras stood out to everyone. Instead, he looked for hidden potential—the subtle, obscured details that others might miss in the hope of taking in another hidden gem as his disciple.
His gaze briefly passed over a young disciple from the Iron Sword Sect who was unloading crates. The youth carried an ordinary-looking, nicked ancient sword at his waist. Yet, as the blade caught the southern sunlight, Su Ming’s perception registered a faint, strange resonance, a fleeting hum that suggested something unusual lay dormant within the sword.
Turning his eyes toward the Spirit Beast Peak staging area, he spotted a quiet, familiar figure. It was Bai Yu, the youngest core disciple of Spirit Beast Peak. She was standing beside her senior brother, her eyes alert. When Su Ming adjusted his gaze, his Essence Sight registered a peculiar, multi-layered spiritual pressure surrounding her soul. He could clearly perceive the outline of a fourth, deeply hidden spiritual beast slumbering within her.
’A fourth spiritual beast,’ Su Ming thought, a faint hum of amusement passing through his mind. ’It seems she has been quite busy since the tournament.’
Across the staging ground, a group of Vermilion Flame Peak disciples walked past in an orderly line, heading toward their assigned sector. Leading them was Zhao Kang, the senior disciple of Vermilion Flame Peak, his vibrant red robes embroidered with flame patterns, his posture relaxed and confident as he spoke with a nearby inner peak elder.
Walking slightly behind Zhao Kang was Zhang Yuexin. Her gaze scanned the incoming crowd of newly arrived cultivators, but the moment her eyes fell on the quiet youth standing behind Su Ming, her steps faltered.
She stared at Wang Tian, her breath hitching slightly. Wang Tian wore the formal disciple robes of White Lotus Peak, his posture straight, his hand resting calmly on the hilt of a dark-steel blade. The weak mortal youth from their previous encounter was gone. In his place stood a cultivator whose gaze was clear and undisturbed.
More than that, she felt the distinct, circulating resonance of his aura. It was not a faint energy of the Qi Condensation realm, but a stable, refined pressure of the Foundation Establishment realm.
’How is this possible?’ Zhang Yuexin thought, her chest tightening as a cold sweat broke out along her neck. ’His meridians were completely shattered. Even if he got his hands on a miraculous elixir, he should be a mortal. How could he have reached Foundation Establishment in such a short time?’
She felt a sudden, sinking weight in her stomach. In Greenwall City, her family had abandoned Lin Fan when he was crippled, aligning themselves with the Wang family, only to watch Lin Fan return and shatter Wang Tian’s foundation. She was recruited into Vermilion Flame Peak as an inner disciple, struggling every day as a disciple to maintain her standing under Senior Brother Zhao Kang’s demanding shadow. Yet here stood Wang Tian, his cultivation restored, standing as a disciple of an outer peak master. The gap between them had not closed; it had widened in a way she could not comprehend.
’Truly, the Heavens are not fair!’ She muttered, disappointed.
"Junior Sister Zhang?" Zhao Kang asked, noticing her sudden distraction without slowing his pace.
Zhang Yuexin quickly recovered her composure, lowering her head as she caught up to the group. "It is nothing, Senior Brother Zhao. I just... lost my thoughts for a moment."
Zhao Kang did not look back, completely indifferent to her distraction as the Vermilion Flame group continued on, bypassing the newly arrived carriage without offering a single glance to the rest.
Wang Tian kept his gaze forward, ignoring Zhang Yuexin completely. To him, the engagement and the past in Greenwall City were nothing more than dust on the road of cultivation. His only duty now was to stand behind his Master and protect the peak.
Before Su Ming could walk further, a deep, resonant chime echoed across the camp, originating from a sounding talisman suspended above the central command tent. The sound was followed by a voice amplified by spiritual energy, carrying to every corner of the staging ground.
"All Golden Core cultivators and the visiting generals, gather at the central command tent immediately. The war council is convening."
As Su Ming prepared to walk toward the central tent, a middle-aged man dressed in robust, deep brown robes approached from a side path. He had a broad build, and his face carried a warm, straightforward expression.
"Peak Master Su," the man called out, offering a polite nod.
Su Ming turned and returned a simple bow. "Elder...?"
"Han Chen," the man replied with an easy smile. "Peak Master of Green Pine Peak. We have not had the pleasure of meeting, but I have heard of White Lotus Peak’s recent recovery. It is good to have another outer peak leader with us."
"Peak Master Han," Su Ming acknowledged.
Elder Han fell into step beside him as they walked. "This campaign is larger than it appears. We have deployed ten Golden Core cultivators from different peaks to lead the attack. The vassal sects combined have brought each a Golden Core to represent their forces."
"Thirteen in total, then," Su Ming murmured.
"Excluding the two mortal generals who have traveled from the Qi and Chu borders to coordinate with us," Han added, his gaze shifting toward the massive grey tent ahead. "Only the peak leaders, the vassal representatives, and the generals are permitted inside. The disciples must remain in the camp."