The realization hit them like a physical blow.
When Ling Feng shouted, pointing toward the horizon, Xiao Ke and Ye Yun rushed forward, flanked by their lieutenants, Duan Canglong and Luo Hou. They expected trouble—this was the Lawless Lands, after all—but they didn't expect a nightmare.
Emerging from the jagged shadows of the Thousand Needle Stone Forest wasn't a mere raiding party. It was an army of the dead.
The sheer scale of the horde was enough to stop a heart. It wasn't just the mindless, shambling infantry of the infected; the ranks were bolstered by high-level monstrosities. There were numerous Level 6 and Level 7 zombies, their bodies twisted into organic weapons. Looming behind them were two Level 8 Demon Apostles, winged nightmares that blocked out the sun, and commanding the center was a Level 9 Blade Wolf Rider.
It was a kill squad designed to wipe out an army, not a trade caravan.
Fortunately, the two hundred soldiers at Xiao Ke's back were the elite of the Iron Wheel, hardened warriors loyal to the families of Ling Feng and Ye Yun. Had they been ordinary conscripts, the sight alone would have triggered a mass rout. Even so, the air grew heavy with the stench of fear.
Panic, in this terrain, was a death sentence. Humans, no matter how fit, could never outrun the dead. Zombies were biological perpetual motion machines; they felt no fatigue, no lactic acid burn, no despair. They would simply hunt until their prey collapsed from exhaustion.
Duan Canglong and Luo Hou, men who usually possessed nerves of steel, looked as if the blood had been drained from their bodies.
"Grand Commander," Duan stammered, his voice trembling, "what do we do?"
Xiao Ke's mind raced. He had suspected the Double Eagle Merchant Alliance was trafficking human cargo to trade with the zombies. He had anticipated a dirty deal in the occupied zones. But he never imagined the exchange point would be here, in the treacherous labyrinth of the Stone Forest.
Yet, Xiao Ke had danced with death enough times to know that hesitation was the real killer. In the face of impossible odds, his demeanor shifted from shock to a cold, razor-sharp resolve.
"Listen to me!" Xiao Ke's voice boomed, cutting through the rising murmur of panic. "All units, prepare for combat! Look at what's in front of us. Blade Wolf Riders. Demon Apostles. If you run, you die tired. They will hunt you down one by one, and you will die screaming with your backs turned."
He drew his weapon, the heavy warblade known as Fierce General, and swept his gaze across his men.
"We cannot rout. Our only path to survival is through them. We fight to the death, right here, right now! Anyone who attempts to flee will be executed for desertion. Stand your ground!"
The effect was immediate. These were elite soldiers; their initial fear was a biological reaction, but their training was ingrained in their bones. Xiao Ke's logic pierced the fog of terror. Outrun a winged Demon Apostle? Impossible. Outrun a Wolf Rider? Suicide.
If the commanders—Xiao Ke, Ling Feng, and Ye Yun—were standing fast, then there was hope.
The chaotic energy of the group crystallized into military discipline. Soldiers scrambled atop the armored off-road vehicles, racking the slides of heavy machine guns. Others took cover behind rock formations, leveling their assault rifles. The officers and high-ranking warriors drew their melee weapons, channeling their Origin Power until the blades hummed and glowed with lethal energy.
As the horde began its thunderous charge, Xiao Ke turned to his sworn brothers.
"This might be it," he said, his voice low but steady. "The hardest fight since we came to this godforsaken place. Let's give them hell. I want to see everyone standing when the smoke clears."
"Agreed," Ling Feng said, gripping his weapon.
Ye Yun didn't speak immediately. He pulled a compact flare gun from his belt, aimed it at the sliver of sky between the stone spires, and pulled the trigger.
Thump.
A streak of phosphorus tore through the gloom, exploding high above in a brilliant starburst that lingered, painting the grey sky with a desperate plea for help.
Ye Yun holstered the gun and drew his saber, stepping to Xiao Ke's left. "Signal is out. If my family is patrolling the sector, they'll see it. But let's not count on miracles. We survive on our own blood today."
The first wave hit.
While the lumbering Titan Zombies were still struggling to discard their heavy cargo in the rear, and the arrogant high-level commanders watched from a distance, the vanguard surged forward. It was led by several 'Frieza' zombies—fast, pale, mutated killers—followed by two hundred frenzied lower-level infected.
"Open fire!" Xiao Ke roared.
The canyon erupted. The heavy staccato of vehicle-mounted machine guns blended with the sharp cracks of assault rifles, creating a wall of lead. The front row of the zombie horde disintegrated. Limbs were severed, torsos exploded, and black blood misted the air.
But the dead do not fear pain. Unless a bullet found the brain stem, they kept coming. Crawling, dragging shattered bodies, snapping jaws—it was a carpet of horrors inching closer.
The wall of fire held the fodder back, but the Frieza zombies were a different breed. They moved with supernatural speed, weaving through the bullet rain, their dense muscle fibers absorbing impacts that would tear a normal human in half. They were the spear tip, intent on breaching the defensive line and turning the soldiers into meat.
They never made it to the line.
Xiao Ke, Ling Feng, and Ye Yun launched themselves forward to meet them.
Xiao Ke moved like a freight train. With Fierce General in hand, his explosive strength defied physics. He felt weightless, a vessel of pure violence. A Frieza zombie, seeing him approach, opened its arms and let out a guttural shriek, rushing to meet him head-on.
They collided like two meteors.
At the ten-meter mark, Xiao Ke slammed his left foot into the earth. The ground buckled, leaving a crater, as he vaulted into the air. He came down with the force of a guillotine, the heavy blade aimed squarely at the creature's skull.
The Frieza, realizing too late the power of its opponent, crossed its massive, armored arms to block the strike.
CRACK.
The sound was sickeningly loud. Fierce General struck through the right arm at the wrist and bit deep into the left forearm, locking into the bone.
The creature howled in shock and rage. It spun, whipping its massive tail—a biological bludgeon—toward Xiao Ke's ribs.
Xiao Ke didn't panic. He wrenched his blade downward, completing the amputation of the creature's left hand, and in the same fluid motion, slashed backward.
The tail fell to the ground, severed clean.
In seconds, the Frieza had been dismantled. Handless and tailless, it was no longer a threat. Xiao Ke finished it with a horizontal slash that took its head from its shoulders.
As the creature's body slumped, the logic of the battlefield seemed to glitch. Xiao Ke's Origin Power signature was only Level 6. By all rights, he should have struggled against Frieza. Instead, he had butchered it as easily as a chef chopping vegetables.
Ten miles away, the sky whispered of danger.
Ye Tianlong saw the flare immediately. The lingering chemical burn in the sky was a specific code—a cry for help from Ye Yun. Adrenaline flooded his system. He pivoted, ready to burn every ounce of his energy to reach the battlefield.
But the path was not clear.
A shadow detached itself from the surroundings, coalescing into a man blocking his way. It was the assassin known simply as Shadow.
"Going somewhere?" Shadow asked, a lazy smile playing on his lips.
Ye Tianlong didn't break stride. He drew his lightsaber, the hum of the energy blade slicing the silence. "Block me, and you die."
Shadow chuckled, a dry, rasping sound. "You've been chasing me for days, intercepting my missions. Now the tables turn. I think it's time we finally had that dance."
Shadow knew exactly what was happening over the horizon. The Blade Wolf Rider was there. If he could stall Ye Tianlong here, even for a few minutes, Xiao Ke and Ye Yun would be slaughtered. Mission accomplished.
Ye Tianlong's eyes were cold voids. "Don't force me to kill you."
"Force you?" Shadow laughed. "I'm inviting you."
Ye Tianlong didn't waste another breath. He roared, a low, primal sound, and vanished into a blur of motion.
He attacked with zero regard for his own safety. His lightsaber descended in a blinding arc aimed at Shadow's skull. It was a strike of pure desperation, channeling so much Origin Power that the air around the blade distorted. He had abandoned all defense. He was a berserker, willing to trade flesh for time.
Shadow was taken aback.
As an assassin, Shadow operated on precision and calculation. He saw the openings in Ye Tianlong's guard—a dozen ways to gut the man. But every scenario ended the same way: to land a killing blow now, Shadow would have to take a hit.
He didn't want to die. He just wanted to stall.
In that split second of hesitation, Shadow retreated. He danced backward, dodging the lethal edge of the lightsaber. But in a duel between masters, stepping back is a surrender of momentum.
Ye Tianlong seized the initiative. He became a storm. His blade was everywhere at once—a crashing wave, a nest of vipers, a wall of light. He pressed forward relentlessly, forcing Shadow onto his back foot, turning the assassin's caution into a trap.
Shadow hissed in frustration. A near-miss singed his chest, the plasma edge slicing through his armor and leaving a searing wound. He retaliated with a desperate backhand flick of his dagger, catching Ye Tianlong's left arm. Muscle parted, blood sprayed, and bone was nearly exposed.
Both men bled. Both men panted.
Shadow leaped back thirty meters, creating distance. He touched his chest, looking at the blood on his fingers, then up at the maniac facing him.
"You lunatic!" Shadow spat. "You want to die together? Is that it?"
Ye Tianlong didn't even look at his mangled arm. His eyes were fixed on the horizon where the flare had faded.
"I told you," Ye Tianlong said, his voice devoid of emotion. "Those who block me die. My survival is not part of the equation."
Shadow stared at him, truly seeing him for the first time. For days, Shadow had been spying on this man. He had watched Ye Tianlong whittle away at a piece of wood during his downtime. Shadow had caught glimpses of the carving—it was a woman.
Specifically, it was Ye Yun, the Young Miss of the Ye family.
"I get it now," Shadow said, his tone shifting from mockery to something darker, more contemplative. "That carving... It's her. You're in love with your charge."
Ye Tianlong tightened his grip on his saber but said nothing.
"Tragic," Shadow mused. "You and I... we are the same. Adopted. Trained. Broken down and rebuilt as tools for our masters. What right does a tool have to love? Especially her? Status, morality, duty—the world forbids it. Why throw your life away for a feeling you aren't allowed to have?"
It was a question Shadow had asked himself a thousand times in the dark.
Ye Tianlong raised his blade again. "We are not the same."
"No?"
"I am fighting for myself," Ye Tianlong said. "I am not just a weapon in someone else's hand. I have my own definitions. My own reasons. You are a tool because you believe your life has no meaning without a master. I am not."
Shadow froze. The words struck a chord deep within him, vibrating against the hollow emptiness of his own existence. A tool that lives for itself? It was a foreign concept, yet it resonated with a terrifying clarity.
Ye Tianlong stepped forward. "Move, or die."
Shadow looked at the man's bleeding arm, then at his unyielding eyes. He realized that Ye Tianlong would not stop. He would burn himself to ash to save her.
Suddenly, the fight drained out of Shadow.
He moved, but not to attack. He drifted backward like a leaf caught in a gale, retreating further and further until the distance was insurmountable.
Ye Tianlong paused, surprised. Shadow was letting him go.
He didn't waste time questioning it. Ignoring the agony in his left arm, Ye Tianlong accelerated, turning into a streak of light rushing toward the battlefield.
Shadow watched him go, slowly bandaging his chest wound. A complex expression crossed his face—envy, perhaps, or a strange, newfound respect.
"Go on then, Ye Tianlong," Shadow whispered to the wind. "We share a destiny, you and I. Don't die yet. It's rare to find someone who speaks the same language in this world. If you die... I'll just be bored and lonely again."
Ye Tianlong ran until his lungs burned.
Ten miles evaporated under his feet. As he crested the final ridge, the scene below stopped his breath.
The Thousand Needle Stone Forest had been turned into a slaughterhouse. Smoke billowed from burning vehicles; the ground was carpeted with casings and corpses. The air tasted of copper and cordite.
His hawk-like vision swept the chaos and locked onto his target.
It was bad.
Ye Yun, Ling Feng, and Xiao Ke were backed into a corner, their defensive circle shrinking. They were besieged by five Titan Zombies—massive, hulking brutes—and two Demon Apostles that dove and struck like hawks. They were barely holding the line, bleeding, exhausted, and moments away from being overrun.
And looming on the periphery, watching with predatory patience, was the Blade Wolf Rider atop its hellhound. The beast was pawing the ground, and the Rider was gripping its weapon. It was done playing. It was preparing to enter the fray and end them all.