Jiang Wuyu pushed through the battlefield, his clothes torn and smudged with ash and blood, his Qi flaring wildly. He was almost at the edge of the camp.
Several Empire soldiers stepped in front of him.
They were no match for his strength—any of them could be thrown aside with a wave of his hand—but they didn't move. Not one of them flinched. Perhaps it was fearlessness... or perhaps it was the oppressive aura behind them.
Because standing among them was none other than Lu Zhenhai, the Tempest Bow.
With a calm expression and a bow already half-drawn, Lu Zhenhai's arrows screamed through the air—arcs of silver lightning slicing toward Wuyu like divine judgment. Each one aimed not just to kill, but to cripple—striking at weak points in joints, tendons, and meridians.
Wuyu gritted his teeth, Qi pulsing from his core as he twisted between the bolts, raising a jade-colored shield of defensive energy. He deflected one, then another, his body jerking from the impact even when the blows didn't land. But he had no choice. He couldn't afford to fight Lu Zhenhai directly—not yet.
He had to find Xie Lang.
And so, he enacted his plan.
Suddenly, Jiang Wuyu raised his voice and shouted loud enough for the entire camp to hear:
"MY CLAN—HEAR ME! THE EMPIRE HAS BETRAYED US! THEY PLAN TO BRAND US ALL AS DEMONIC CULTIVATORS!"
His voice cracked like thunder across the field.
"THEY WANT TO KILL US AND THE STUDENTS OF THE INSTITUTE TO COVER THEIR TRACKS! VICE DEAN LU HENG IS FIGHTING THE EMPIRE'S PAST GENERAL TO BUY US TIME! FIGHT! FIGHT FOR YOUR LIVES—AND FOR THE TRUTH!"
The battlefield froze.
Even Lu Zhenhai blinked.
Silence. Then murmurs. Then fear.
Even the Empire's soldiers shifted slightly, doubt seeping into their stances.
Before Lu Zhenhai could respond—
"JIANG PENG! JIANG HI! STALL HIM—NOW!"
Two shadows burst from among the crowd of students—figures hidden all along, lying in wait as part of Wuyu's long-prepared strategy. These weren't ordinary Jiang clan members. They were the only two elders with Rank 2 cultivation: Jiang Hi and Jiang Peng.
Through voice transmission, Jiang Wuyu had ordered them never to interfere in his battle with Lu Heng. He kept them hidden—saving them for this exact moment.
Jiang Hi dashed forward, blade drawn, wind roaring in her wake. Her sword flashed like a silver ribbon aimed directly for Lu Zhenhai's neck.
But the Tempest Bow was ready.
He didn't dodge.
He twisted his bow horizontally—Qi blades surged to life along both ends—and with a metallic clash, he parried her strike head-on, sparks dancing across the clash of energies.
Jiang Peng moved immediately, placing himself in front of Wuyu. His sleeves flared, and defensive formations activated across his arms, shielding Wuyu from the incoming soldiers. The soldiers hesitated—confused, uncertain—but didn't break formation. Their orders were to obey Lu Zhenhai. No matter what Wuyu said, the Tempest Bow outranked any words.
Yet confusion had already begun to bloom.
Wuyu's voice still echoed in their minds. The betrayal. The image of Lu Heng buying time. The thought that the Institute students might be targets.
It was chaos.
And in that chaos... Jiang Wuyu advanced.
Still hunting for Xie Lang.
Lu Zhenhai, seeing the creeping doubt in his students' eyes, bellowed with fury:
"DO NOT BELIEVE HIM! HE IS LYING!"
His voice cracked like thunder through the battlefield.
"HE IS A DEMONIC CULTIVATOR! IN FACT, WE BELIEVE THIS IS THE VERY REASON HE ATTACKED OUR INSTITUTE—BECAUSE HE KNEW ABOUT THE DEMONIC BEAST AND WANTED IT! HE'S TRYING TO TAKE ONE OF YOU AS A HOSTAGE! RETREAT NOW!"
The students hesitated, torn between the desperate warning of their dean and the raging truth hurled at them by Jiang Wuyu. The Jiang clansmen were no better, their gazes flickering between loyalty to their patriarch and sheer disbelief. But Wuyu didn't wait for them to decide.
He moved.
Jiang Wuyu snatched a student by the neck—eyes wide, feet dangling—before snarling:
"Where is Xie Lang?"
The student couldn't answer. His mouth opened, but fear paralyzed his tongue.
A sickening crack echoed out. His body dropped like meat to the dirt.
Wuyu turned, grabbing another.
"Answer me or join him."
The student trembled, head jerking left and right in frantic panic, but Xie Lang was nowhere in sight.
Wuyu didn't hesitate—he ended him too. And then another. And another.
Steel flashed, flesh split, screams tore through the chaos. Wuyu was a whirlwind of violence, slaughtering students and imperial soldiers alike—anyone between him and his target.
Meanwhile, Lu Zhenhai surged forward—but Jiang Peng and Jiang Hi threw themselves in his path. While their blades and strikes couldn't truly harm him, they were relentless—two persistent thorns stabbing at his momentum. Forced to deal with them, Lu Zhenhai was delayed—exactly as Wuyu had planned.
Among the terrified masses, Xie Lang moved like a ghost. He knew he couldn't fight, so he aimed for the safest place in the entire battlefield: Lu Zhenhai's side.
Behind him, a large frame followed—Xu Jin.
"Xu Jin, get the hell away from me or you're gonna die!" Xie Lang hissed, not turning back.
But Xu Jin didn't stop.
"You think I'm stupid?" he shouted, dodging a crazed clansman.
"I'll die if I leave! The safest place here is with you—because Lu Zhenhai's protecting you, and if I stick to you, I'm protected too! I'm not going anywhere!"
All around them, the chaos only deepened. Jiang clansmen fled, torn between obedience and survival. Imperial soldiers were hesitating—divided between Lu Zhenhai's commands and the horrific sight of Wuyu's rampage.
One student, tripping in terror, collapsed to the ground. Tears welled in his eyes as he looked up—only to see his own reflection in the blade of Jiang Wuyu's massive sword hovering beside his face.
"Where's Xie Lang?"
The boy choked, shaking violently. Then—he saw salvation.
Across the fleeing crowd, he spotted Xu Jin's towering figure—and beside him, the unmistakable silhouette of Xie Lang.
"T-T-THAT'S H-H-HIS FRIEND! HE'LL KNOW, I SWEAR! THEY'RE ALWAYS TOGETHER!" he sobbed, pointing desperately.
"THERE HE IS! THERE WITH HIM! P-P-PLEASE LET ME LIVE! PLEASE!"
But Wuyu was already gone.
"Damn it!" Xie Lang cursed, frozen in place.
Jiang Wuyu was coming—blades drawn, eyes filled with wrath—as he cleaved through student and soldier alike, leaving a trail of bodies in his wake. Nothing would stop him now.
And Xie Lang could feel it:
He was next.
A deafening crack split the air as a Lightning Talon tore through the dust-clouded battlefield, arcing like a serpent of wrath. Jiang Wuyu didn't even look. His enormous sword rotated in his grip with uncanny control, deflecting the attack mid-stride. Sparks erupted as the blade clashed with Lu Zhenhai's Qi-forged lightning, but Wuyu's pace never slowed.
His eyes locked onto Xie Lang—who stood frozen amidst the chaos, Xu Jin at his side, both unable to flee fast enough.
Behind Wuyu, devastation followed like a tidal wave. Corpses of students, Jiang clansmen, and imperial soldiers lay broken and smoking in his wake. His movements were ruthless, deliberate. His sword cleaved through those who stood in his path without hesitation. Screams were swallowed by thunder.
And behind him, Lu Zhenhai descended.
He stood atop the mangled corpses of Jiang Peng and Jiang Hi, both torn apart by precision strikes. Not even their Rank 2 cultivation had helped. Their limbs were twisted, their armor in pieces, and their blood pooled at Lu Zhenhai's boots.
He gave them a single glance.
"Useless pawns," Wuyu growled under his breath.
A barrage of Stormpiercer Arrows screamed through the air. Lu Zhenhai's bow blurred as he loosed shot after shot, each one glowing with concentrated lightning, each one targeting Wuyu's tendons, his knees, his shoulders—any weak spot visible.
Wuyu swung his blade in great arcs, deflecting what he could, tanking others. Sparks and blood sprayed with every hit he took. One arrow lodged into his shoulder. Another tore through his thigh. But he didn't stop.
"LU ZHENHAI!" he howled, his voice booming across the field. " DON'T YOU DARE STAND IN MY WAY!"
Xie Lang's legs moved before his mind caught up. He tried to run—but Wuyu was faster.
Xu Jin followed, panting. "Left! Go left, damn it!"
But they couldn't shake him. Wuyu's speed was monstrous. Even with arrows raining down behind him, even bleeding, even slowed by injuries—he hunted with single-minded fury.
Suddenly, a bolt of lightning thicker than a tree trunk split the battlefield. Thunderbreak Shot. One of Lu Zhenhai's deadliest techniques.
It slammed into the ground behind Wuyu. The explosion sent rocks, metal, and bodies flying. Wuyu was hurled forward, skidding through broken weapons and torn tents. But he caught himself, bleeding from his mouth, smoke rising from his back.
And yet… he kept going.
CLANG!
A blade narrowly missed Xu Jin's head. Wuyu had caught up. His blade grazed Xie Lang's sleeve as he lunged.
But Lu Zhenhai appeared beside them in a blur of blue and white. He kicked Wuyu square in the ribs, the impact loud enough to break stone. Wuyu crashed into the side of a transport wagon, flattening it. The camp shuddered as tents collapsed from the force.
Lu Zhenhai stood in front of Xie Lang, his bow in one hand, the other gripping a crackling Qi arrow.
"Back away," he ordered, voice like thunder.
But Wuyu rose again.
His right eye was swollen shut. Blood poured down his face. One of his arms hung limply. Arrows still jutted from his body, and the lightning had cooked part of his back armor.
" Aren't … you always on time you're truly worth your titles," Wuyu whispered, grinning wide. His eye focused on Xie Lang, no longer masked with rage—but obsession. "I almost had him."
Lu Zhenhai raised his bow.
But Jiang Wuyu moved again.
A final surge, his body crackling, his muscles screaming. He brought his sword down with both hands at once—only for Lu Zhenhai to fire a point-blank arrow into his face.
BOOM.
The explosion knocked them all back. When the smoke cleared, Jiang Wuyu was kneeling.
His blade was broken.
One eye was gone, shattered from the blast. Blood ran freely down his face, his lips trembling. He looked up, unable to see clearly, breathing heavily.
Xie Lang had moved close—too close. The only reason Wuyu hadn't reached him was Lu Zhenhai's intervention.
Xie Lang stared at the kneeling man, disbelief in his eyes. "You lost."
Lu Zhenhai stepped forward to shield him, drawing another arrow.
But Wuyu, breathing harshly, slowly raised a hand.
His ring gleamed.
From it, he drew a small vial—filled with a dark, swirling fluid. Without a word, he popped the lid and downed it.
Lu Zhenhai's eyes narrowed.
"Get back," he ordered.
But it was too late.
The vial shattered in Wuyu's hand as he dropped it, the shards falling on the ground. His body convulsed, a low growl escaping his throat, and the air around him began to warp—
—something was wrong.