"Kill!"
Zhao Xunan darted through the sandstorm, his speed matching lightning.
The grassland Tartars with curved blades fought desperately, but their efforts were futile. Zhao's pitch-black blade swirled like a coiling serpent, slicing through impossible angles—corpses piled up with each swing.
"Flee, you wretches—this is a demon in human form!"
A Tartar, terrified by the eerie spectacle of death, turned to flee, only to be skewered through the heart by Zhao's blade from behind. With a gurgle, he collapsed into a dry husk.
"Did I tell you to leave?"
Zhao withdrew Tianji from a corpse, grinning. The remaining Tartars trembled, sweat pouring from their bodies.
Demons brazen enough to devour men in broad daylight—do they fear Heaven's retribution?
"Scatter—run if you can!"
A towering Tartar roared, urging the others to flee, but he himself charged forward, blade aimed at Zhao's throat.
Thud!
A brutal side kick intercepted the attack, sending the giant flying three zhang backward. He hit the ground hard, vomiting blood.
Zhao shook his head at the fleeing Tartars, then raised two fingers, tapping the air.
"Edict of the God of Blessings: No killing without cause!"
A white glow erupted from his fingertips, engulfing the fleeing Tartars. They froze mid-run, turning to stone before crashing to the earth.
Zhao nodded. Divine edicts—truly formidable. Against mortals, their power is beyond imagination.
No wonder the Human Emperor had risked everything to sever the celestial path. A mere Qi Refiner like him could annihilate half an army; a Nascent Soul cultivator from the mountain secret realms could flatten an entire city with a single palm.
Approaching one stone figure, Zhao plunged his blade into its chest. Blood gushed out, only to be sucked dry by Tianji. The stone crumbled to dust. The giant Tartar wailed, grief-stricken as his kin vanished without a trace.
Zhao stepped forward, stopping before the giant. "How does it feel to watch your kin die?"
"You monster—arrogant wretch!" the Tartar spat. "Your evil deeds will doom you to the Nine Netherworlds!"
"Killing is evil. But what of your people's casual slaughter of Great Qin's subjects? Is that not evil?"
Zhao crouched, locking eyes with the giant. "What do you truly think?"
The Tartar's gaze held no confusion—only fierce resolve. "The weak perish, the strong endure. This is Heaven's law. To punish the weak with strength is justice, no matter the cost."
"Ha… hahaha!" Zhao laughed, tears in his eyes. "By that logic, since I'm stronger than you, I'm the 'just' one, and you're the 'evil' one? The Great Qin's grandmasters are all 'just,' while you—a mere warrior—are 'evil'?"
The Tartar's eyes flickered with doubt but hardened again. "The Great Shaman said: Even the weakest among us are just. You Central Plains folk, no matter how strong, are evil."
Zhao sighed, placing a healing pill in the Tartar's mouth. "The grasslands have rotted. You're no longer heirs to an ancient civilization. I won't kill you. Go."
The giant scrambled to his feet, bewildered. "Why let me go?"
"Because you fought for your people."
Zhao smiled, but his tone turned cold. "Leave. Pray Heaven doesn't make us meet again. Luck doesn't favor the same man twice."
The Tartar gritted his teeth, snatched his blade, and fled.
"…Lord—are you human or a demon?" Ma Lan asked, stepping closer.
Zhao sheathed Tianji, grinning. "If you have a kind heart, a desire to protect the weak, and uphold Heaven's righteousness—does it matter if you're human or demon?"
Ma Lan thought, then nodded earnestly. "You're right. In this world, sometimes humans are more terrifying than demons."
Zhao chuckled. Ma Lan's worldview was narrow—she'd only heard tales of demons. If she'd met Xiao Nuo'er, she'd know the line between human and demon was laughable. After all, humanity's ancestors weren't even human.
He straightened, saying, "Ma Lan, you've seen my methods. Do you still refuse to join me?"
Three refusals would seal her fate. But Ma Lan looked at him, a sudden realization dawning: This man was her savior. To refuse again would invite endless calamity.
She adjusted her tattered dress, knelt, and kowtowed deeply. "Ma Lan swears to follow her master for life—until death!"
Zhao sighed, helping her up. He knew why she called herself a "slave." Like Zhao Ping'er, who bore official servitude papers, she could be freed with a single decree. But Ma Lan's neck bore a brand—enslaving her forever, per the laws of all Central Plains realms.
The laws traced back to the Imperial Ancestor, but their origin was lost. Only the living Tartars remained, fleeing on foot. Zhao left them, taking the uninjured horses.
"Animals aren't to blame," he said, feeding the horses medicinal herbs. "Take three uninjured ones as mounts—we'll reach Red Clay Ridge in one go."
Ma Lan wanted to strip the corpses for clothes, but Zhao stopped her. "Don't wear their stinking rags. Find a water source to wash the filth off. Wear my clothes—they're not perfect, but they're Great Qin's style."
Ma Lan nodded, mounting up.
Soon, they found a frozen river. Zhao built a fire, heated water, and handed Ma Lan a set of black robes. "Stay here. I'll return shortly."
An hour later, Ma Lan emerged, clean and dressed. Zhao shook his head—beauty had always been a curse. No wonder she'd been sent to entertain guests.
"Master—may I ask your name and origin? So others know who to address."
As they readied to leave, Zhao grinned. "Zhao Xunan, from Yujing. I'm the newly appointed Lieutenant General of the Northwest Frontier Army, under the Yin Mountains Garrison."
Ma Lan's eyes widened. A Lieutenant General—fourth-rank officer—traveling alone across the northwest without guards? Unthinkable… unless he was extraordinary. Given his earlier feats, she believed it. Such power—where in the world couldn't he go?
The frozen ground cracked under their horses' hooves as they galloped. Soon, they reached an ice-choked river. Zhao halted. "Rest—we'll lose them otherwise."
Ma Lan frowned, then spotted distant horsemen. Zhao had let the Tartar go to lure more pursuers.
"That him?" A red-and-green-robed Shaman pointed at Zhao, riding toward them. The giant Tartar nodded frantically. "That's him, Master—beware, he uses demonic arts!"
"Pah—Heaven sees all. Demonic arts can't defy divine law. Let me capture him!"
The Shaman raised a rune-covered spear, shouting, "Thunderbolt of Heaven!"
A golden beam shot from the spear, gathering dark clouds. Thunder rumbled, and a dragon of lightning crashed toward Zhao.
"Exorcist Heavenly Lord—great salvation!"
Zhao drew a talisman in the air, then stabbed Tianji downward. The lightning dragon exploded, dispersing into wind.
The ground cracked, and lush plants sprouted—only to wither in the cold wind.
"…He breaks even divine lightning. This demon is truly evil!"
The Shaman's face paled. He was just a mortal sorcerer, using the spear's full power. To be defeated so easily… panic set in.
Nearly a hundred Tartars charged, but the Shaman held back, falling to the rear. A single gesture dispels heavenly lightning—could this "demon" be a cultivator?
"Edict of the God of Blessings: No killing without cause!"
Ten feet away, Zhao tapped the air again. White light felled a dozen riders, their bodies turning to gray stone amid screams.
The remaining Tartars swarmed forward, but Zhao's blade danced. Ten strands of true qi surged into Tianji, transforming it into a yard-long glaive. He roared, slashing left and right.
Thud! Dozens of blood geysers erupted. Nearly thirty riders and horses shattered.
"Kill!"
Even as kin died, the Tartars fought on. We are Heaven's subjects—protected by the Shaman. Death brings us to paradise!
They didn't know their "holy" Shaman had turned tail, fleeing on horseback under the giant Tartar's stunned gaze.
"Fire Star Emperor Edict—hellfire consumes!"
Zhao severed a lance with his blade, stabbing Tianji downward. Flames erupted around ten riders.
Zhao leapt from horse to horse, slicing through the horde. So this is why Qi Refiners rarely fight in large battles…
Even with his fourth-realm cultivation, fighting so many cavalry was grueling. His armor protected him, but cuts still stung. If not for the frost iron pockmarked armor, I'd be gravely wounded.
He thought of the Human Emperor's laws. A thousand men can't match one Qi Refiner, but a hundred soldiers can slaughter a cultivator. Balance—thus, peace for millennia.
"How does it feel to watch your kin die?" Zhao asked, sheathing Tianji with a smile.
The giant Tartar, pale and trembling, whispered, "You… you lured them here on purpose?"
Zhao feigned surprise. "I thought you were simple, but you're clever. How does it feel to watch your trusted Shaman abandon you?"
The giant said nothing, his expression shifting. Zhao laughed, riding away.
"Let's cross the river."
At the riverbank, Ma Lan marveled. "Why is it so hot here? The desert has no water…"
Zhao grinned. "Red Clay Ridge is wrapped in thick fog—inside and out, two worlds."
An hour later, the fog thinned, revealing a serpentine red mountain range, stretching endlessly.
"Master—where are we? Why's it so warm?"
Ma Lan wiped sweat from her brow. Zhao pointed. "See the color? This is Red Clay Ridge."
"Legend says it's a shard of the Vast Heaven Ancestor's furnace, containing primordial fire. Hence the heat."
The horses, sensing fresh grass, galloped ahead. They reached a lush mountain base, where fruit trees tempted Ma Lan, who hadn't eaten fresh produce in years.
Zhao handed her the pack. "Stay here. I'll ascend alone. Treasure Seeker will guide me—even if I don't find Six Ding Divine Fire, there might be herbs."
Since the celestial realm's fall, maybe celestial herbs lingered here.
Climbing the ridge, Zhao felt the heat beneath his thick boots. Medicines that thrive in such heat… they won't be ordinary.