The chaos had finally subsided.
The soldiers who survived were now tending to the wounded and gathering the remains of their fallen comrades. Cries of pain and sorrow echoed through the muddy air, mixing with the faint hiss of the dying wind. The once-bustling entrance to the Starry Sky River Forest was now painted in red and silence.
Zixiao stood among it all, motionless. The sounds around him—people weeping, men shouting orders, the crackle of burning debris—blurred into a distant hum.
Then, from deep within, the memories began to surface.
The snow.
The blood.
His mother's desperate screams.
His father's lifeless body.
They flashed in his mind all at once, tearing through the fragile walls he had built around his heart. His vision blurred as tears fell down his cheeks, silently mixing with the rain and mud below.
Although Mu Feng noticed Zixiao's tears, he didn't say a word.
He only sighed softly, his eyes heavy with understanding. He knew that some pains could not be soothed with comfort — they had to be endured.
For Zixiao, this was only the beginning. His path would be paved with death, betrayal, and tragedy. All Mu Feng could do was watch… and quietly feel sorrow for the boy.
Just then, a distant rumble broke through the mourning silence.
Clop… clop… clop…
The sharp cracks of whips and the shouts of men grew louder with every second.
"Hiya! Move it! Move it!" someone yelled.
The sound of wagon wheels crushing through the muddy ground echoed across the mountain road. The villagers and soldiers turned their heads toward the noise — their faces tense, unsure if this new arrival meant salvation… or another disaster.
A storm of dust swept across the road, blotting out the view ahead.
Through the thick haze, the thunder of hooves echoed — boom, boom, boom! — shaking the muddy ground beneath everyone's feet.
Out from the horizon emerged a formation of soldiers clad in gleaming metal armor trimmed with dark red and golden lines. Each one rode a black stallion, their movements sharp and disciplined. At their center, a massive wagon rolled forward, painted in deep brown and wrapped in silken banners.
Atop the wagon fluttered a pure white flag — emblazoned with a crimson sun blazing at its heart.
The sight alone made the villagers and soldiers step back in fear and awe.
Within moments, the new arrivals had reached the devastated scene.
A whirlwind of dust burst around them as the horses halted in perfect formation.
Mu Feng instinctively stepped in front of Zixiao, shielding him like a solid wall. He lifted his arm, blocking the sting of dust and wind that lashed across his face, his robes fluttering in the storm.
It's… it's the Sunrise Empire—the Sunrise Empire!"
A wounded man in tattered gray clothes shouted from behind Mu Feng and Zixiao, his face lighting up with sudden relief despite the blood trickling down his arm.
Zixiao froze where he stood, his eyes wide. The scene unfolding before him felt unreal.
Two soldiers from the front ranks dismounted swiftly, their armor clanging as they landed.
"The Sunrise Empire's Fourth General, Qin Mu, has arrived!" they shouted in unison, their voices echoing through the smoky air.
Moments later, the wagon door creaked open.
A man stepped out — mid-height, broad-shouldered, with a square face and sharp eyes that glimmered like cold steel. He wore his long hair tied in a neat dumpling knot atop his head.
His armor was heavier than his men's — dark red plates lined with gold, polished to a cold gleam. A long crimson cloak fluttered behind him as he descended from the wagon. At his left waist hung a sword whose hilt shimmered faintly, as though thirsting for blood.
The air grew tense. Even the wounded stopped groaning.
Only the low rumble of the horses and the hiss of the wind could be heard.
As Qin Mu stepped forward, one of the Starry Sky River Forest's soldiers limped out from the crowd, desperation written all over his bloodied face.
Clutching his wounds, he approached the general and bowed deeply, almost collapsing under the effort.
"Elder Qin Mu… th-thank… thank you so much for coming to aid us," he stammered, his voice weak from pain and fear.
Qin Mu didn't respond immediately. His sharp eyes scanned the scene — the chaos, the scattered soldiers, the mud-streaked ground, and most striking of all, the lifeless body of the severed serpent.
Without a word, he understood.
The sheer scale of destruction, the fear etched on the soldiers' faces, the unnatural speed and violence… all of it told him exactly what had happened here.
"Where's your leader, Hang Chao?" Qin Mu's voice cut through the murmurs, deep and commanding, carrying the weight of authority.
"Our general went into the forest with half our soldiers… for a deep investigation," the wounded soldier replied, his voice strained. "There was a beast stampede last night."
Qin Mu's sharp eyes narrowed slightly, but he remained calm, almost amused. "Aii… I came to speak with him," he said, his tone carrying a hint of disappointment. "Ah… well, perhaps another time. I came for something else anyway."
He glanced around the ruined area, unbothered by the chaos, as if the carnage meant little to him.
"I want to enter the forest myself — to gather beasts, herbs, and supplies. You understand, right?" His words were casual, almost lighthearted, but the sheer force behind them brooked no argument.
"But… Elder Qin Mu, what about reinforcements?" the soldier stammered, clutching his bleeding side.
Qin Mu turned his gaze toward him, cold and unfeeling. "Reinforcements?" he interrupted, his voice laced with disdain. "I didn't come here to play savior. I came for supplies." His words were sharp, cutting through the man's last shred of hope. "You people know how dangerous the Starry Sky River Forest is. If you can't survive it, that's your own weakness."
The soldier's eyes widened, his voice trembling. "B—but there are commoners here too… we can't just let them die!"
Qin Mu's expression didn't change. "These people are not my concern," he said flatly. "They are your kingdom's subjects, not mine."
"But—" the soldier tried to protest, but before he could finish, an invisible force crashed down upon him. His knees buckled instantly, slamming into the muddy ground. The air around him thickened with suffocating pressure.
"Seems like you people don't understand," Qin Mu said darkly, his eyes glinting with killing intent.
Then—
"Ohh… little brother Qin Mu," a calm, amused voice echoed through the chaos. "If you don't wish to cooperate, that's fine. But bullying the weak—now that's not very noble, is it?"
It was Mu Feng.
The moment his words fell, the atmosphere shifted. A crushing spiritual force erupted from him—so dense it cracked the earth beneath his feet. Qin Mu's arrogant posture shattered instantly as he was pinned to the ground with a deafening bang, his armor groaning under the weight.
The soldier who had been suffocating under Qin Mu's pressure suddenly gasped for breath and stumbled back, crawling toward the gate in terror.
The world fell silent—only the sound of rain and wind whispering through the ruined gates remained.
Mu Feng slowly withdrew his pressure as the wounded soldier escaped to safety.
Qin Mu gasped, shoulders trembling, but before he could steady himself, his men came rushing forward—swords drawn, metal scraping violently from their sheaths.
"Stop!" Qin Mu barked, his voice cracking under strain. "Stop… it's— it's fine!"
His soldiers froze in confusion, blades halfway raised. Two of them hurried to his side, helping him to his feet. Mud clung to his armor, his once-proud robes now drenched and heavy.
Qin Mu forced a stiff smile, trying to hide the terror in his eyes. "Heh… Elder Mu Feng," he said, his tone trembling with forced politeness. "How could I have been so blind? I didn't realize it was you."
He took a few uneasy steps forward, wiping the mud from his face, pretending composure he didn't have. "My bad," he added weakly, bowing his head.
The soldiers around him exchanged wary glances. They could feel it too—Mu Feng's quiet aura was heavier than a mountain, and even though he wasn't releasing any pressure now, the air still trembled around him.
"Elder Mu Feng, I—" Qin Mu stammered, lowering his head.
"I don't care for your petty politeness," Mu Feng interrupted, his tone light but his words sharp enough to cut through steel. "Now, if you don't want me to squash you like an ant, take these pills and hand them to the wounded nearby."
He said it with a smile—an easy, almost cheerful smile—but the pressure behind his voice made Qin Mu's knees tremble. From his wide sleeves, Mu Feng pulled out several jade-white bottles, each gleaming faintly under the morning sun.
Qin Mu's soldiers froze in awe as Mu Feng tossed the bottles toward them one by one.
Even Zixiao, who was still standing behind Mu Feng, couldn't hide his amazement. How… how many things does he even have in those sleeves? he wondered, scratching his head. Does he keep a whole house in there or something?