The snow from the Zeus Array still blanketed the Imperial Capital, a white shroud over the golden roofs. But beneath the palace, in the sealed depths of the Ancestral Tomb, the air was hot, dry, and smelled of mercury.
Emperor Xia stood before a massive gate of bronze, sealed with talismans that had not been touched for two thousand years. He was alone. His face, usually impassive, was etched with a rare frustration.
"Your Majesty," a shadow whispered from the darkness—the Chief Eunuch, a peak Nascent Soul assassin. "Why do you hesitate? With your Spirit Severing power, you could fly to Beiluo in an hour. You could crush the Iron Prince's skull before he blinks."
"And then what?" Emperor Xia asked, tracing a rune on the gate. "Do you think the machine-boy is alone? He has weapons that burn like the sun. He has rods that fall from the stars. If I leave the Capital, he will turn this city into a crater."
The Emperor's eyes narrowed. This was the stalemate of the new era. He had the power to kill Jiang Chen, but Jiang Chen had the power to kill the Empire. It was Mutually Assured Destruction.
"I cannot strike him directly without risking my legacy," Emperor Xia said. "And I cannot win the hearts of the peasants with snow falling on my head. I need an army that does not fear his propaganda. I need soldiers who do not eat, do not sleep, and do not care about the price of rice."
He bit his finger. He pressed a drop of Imperial Blood onto the bronze seal.
"I need the Past to kill the Future."
RUMBLE.
The bronze gates groaned. The dust of millennia fell.
Inside the tomb, there were no jewels. There were rivers of liquid mercury flowing like silver snakes. And standing in formation, row upon row, were thousands of statues.
The Terracotta Warriors.
They were life-sized, molded from the cursed clay of the Yellow Springs. They held bronze crossbows and stone spears. They had no eyes, but they seemed to stare.
In the center of the mercury lake, a jade sarcophagus cracked open.
A hand withered and grey, broke through the lid.
The First Emperor.
He sat up. He was not alive. He was a Corpse Immortal—a being sustained not by Qi, but by the Dragon Vein of the earth itself.
"Who..." the First Emperor's voice sounded like grinding stones. "Who wakes the Dragon?"
"I am your descendant," Emperor Xia bowed—not out of weakness, but respect. "The Empire is threatened. Not by barbarians. But by a man who has forgotten the Dao."
The First Emperor climbed out. He was tall, his armor fused to his dried skin. He breathed in the scent of the mercury.
"Does he bleed?" the First Emperor asked.
"Yes."
"Then he will kneel."
The First Emperor raised a rusted sword.
Around him, ten thousand clay eyes opened, glowing with a dull, earthy red light. The Terracotta Warriors shifted. Clay joints cracked. They began to march.
Beiluo Command Center
The mood in the bunker was tense. The "Weather War" had been a tactical victory, but Jiang Chen knew it was a provocation.
Ye Bai sat polishing his vibro-blade. He looked at Jiang Chen, who was running diagnostics on his chest reactor.
"Administrator," Ye Bai asked suddenly. "Why does the Emperor not attack you himself? He is a Spirit Severing powerhouse. He could move a mountain onto this bunker."
"He's afraid of the math, Ye Bai," Jiang Chen said, not looking up. "He knows I have the Hammer of Dawn. He knows I have the Nukes. If he kills me, the Dead Man's Switch triggers. The satellites will fire everything. He would be the King of a graveyard."
"Fear keeps him in check," Ye Bai nodded. "But fear also makes men desperate."
"Sir!" Old Wu shouted from the sensor station. "Seismic anomaly! South of the Capital. Massive ground movement."
"Is he moving another mountain?"
"No... it's... footsteps."
On the main screen, the satellite feed showed a grey tide pouring out of the Imperial Valley. It didn't register on thermal cameras because it had no body heat. It didn't register on Qi sensors because the clay absorbed spiritual energy.
It was a blind spot.
"Magnify," Jiang Chen ordered.
The screen zoomed in. Thousands of clay soldiers marching in perfect lockstep. They didn't march on the road; they marched through obstacles. A forest stood in their way; they trampled it into mulch.
"Terracotta," Ye Bai stood up, his face losing color. "The First Emperor's Legion."
"Clay statues?" Jiang Chen frowned. "We have tanks. We have railguns. What can pottery do against tungsten?"
"That is not normal clay," Ye Bai warned, his voice urgent. "It is Yellow Spring Mud. It is spiritually inert. It grounds magic. It absorbs energy. And the First Emperor... he is a Corpse Immortal. He cannot be killed because he is already dead."
"Anti-magic clay," Jiang Chen mused. "But is it anti-kinetic?"
He tapped the comms.
"General Han. Deploy the First Armored Division. Intercept them at the Black River Bridge. Let's see if history can stop a 105mm shell."
The Black River Bridge
The Type-59 Tanks of the First Division lined the north bank of the river. Behind them, Katyusha Rocket Trucks angled their rails.
General Han watched the grey tide approach the southern bank. It was eerie. No war drums. No shouting. Just the thud-thud-thud of stone feet.
"Target the lead phalanx," Han ordered. "Fire!"
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
Fifty cannons fired at once. High-explosive shells screamed across the river.
They hit the front ranks of the Terracotta Army.
Explosions blossomed. Dirt and clay shards flew into the air.
"Direct hit," Han muttered. "They should be dust."
The smoke cleared.
The front rank was gone, shattered into piles of pottery. But as the soldiers behind them marched over the debris, the shards began to move. The broken arms and legs wriggled like worms, reattaching themselves to torsos. The dust swirled and reformed.
Within seconds, the shattered warriors stood up, whole again.
"They... they rebuild?" Han gasped.
"They are connected to the Earth Vein!" Ye Bai's voice came over the radio. "As long as they touch the ground, the planet heals them! You have to separate them from the earth!"
The Terracotta Army reached the river. They didn't stop. They didn't swim. They walked into the water.
Minutes later, they emerged on the north bank, dripping wet but unstoppable. They raised their bronze crossbows.
"Suppressing fire!" Han screamed.
The tank machine guns opened up. Heavy caliber bullets chipped away at the clay, but the warriors ignored the impacts. They fired back.
THWIP. THWIP.
Bronze bolts, glowing with a sickly yellow light, flew through the air.
One hit the lead tank. It didn't bounce off. It punched through the steel armor like it was paper.
"Armor breach!" the driver screamed. "The bolt... it's rusting the tank! It's rapid oxidation!"
The yellow light of the bolt was an Entropy Curse. It aged the metal instantly. The Type-59's turret rusted solid in seconds. The tracks seized up.
"Fall back!" Han ordered, panic rising. "They are eating the tanks! Fall back to Line Bravo!"
Beiluo Command Center
Jiang Chen watched the rout. His tanks—the kings of the battlefield—were turning into piles of rust against an army of pottery.
"The curse accelerates entropy," Jiang Chen analyzed. "It attacks the molecular bond of the metal. My armor is useless."
"I told you," Ye Bai said grimly. "The First Emperor conquered the world before steel. He conquered it with the inevitability of the grave."
Jiang Chen looked at the map. The Clay Legion was marching straight for Beiluo. They didn't need supply lines. They didn't tire. They were the ultimate attrition weapon.
"Physics still applies," Jiang Chen said, his mind racing. "Clay heals from the ground. Metal rusts. So we don't use metal."
He turned to the STC Database.
"And we don't let them touch the ground."
"Ye Bai," Jiang Chen said. "You said you surrendered to me because of 'Efficiency'. Are you ready to see what efficiency looks like against a curse?"
"What is the plan?"
"We glass them," Jiang Chen said. "But not with nukes. That would just bake the clay harder."
He pulled up a schematic for Project: Napalm-B (Modified).
"We need to turn the ground into lava. If the earth is liquid, they can't march. And if we heat them to 2,000 degrees... they won't rebuild. They'll fuse into statues permanently."
He looked at the orbital controls.
"And we need to decapitate the leader. The First Emperor. He's the anchor."
"I will face him," Ye Bai said, drawing his sword. "My blade is spirit-steel. It might resist the rust for a few minutes."
"Not alone," Jiang Chen stood up. The Ronin Suit engaged. "I'm coming with you. I have a new toy from the Moon Base I want to test."