Hei Yi glanced at the Third Prince, confusion clear in his eyes.
"Master...?" he asked cautiously.
The Third Prince stood still, his gaze sharp and intense. His eyes sparkled with an inexplicable light, as though he'd just uncovered something profound.
"These warriors," he said, voice laced with astonishment, "each carries a fragment of divine will left behind by a powerful Emperor."
Hei Yi blinked, struggling to comprehend. But the Third Prince knew what this meant.
The remnants of an Emperor's divine will were no mere warning signals—they were guardians. If any of these warriors fell, the Emperor who marked them would know instantly. Worse still, the Emperor would tear through space itself to confront whoever dared to kill his followers.
And it didn't end there.
The divine will was a protective shield as well. Should any fatal strike befall one of the warriors, that fragment of will would unleash an attack equal in force to a blow from the Emperor himself.
"Dammit," the Third Prince cursed under his breath. His fists clenched in frustration. "These half-saints are off-limits!"
Though the power to crush them lay within his grasp, the consequences were far too dire. He couldn't risk summoning an Emperor's wrath.
Gritting his teeth, the Third Prince called out, "Order the men in black to stop. We're pulling back."
It stung his pride to retreat like this. His fingers itched to destroy Orion's subordinates, but there were battles one could afford to lose and battles that had to be avoided. He wasn't ready to die just yet.
Hei Yi hesitated but nodded. The Third Prince's decision was final, and with it, a bitter taste of defeat settled in the air.
Just as they turned to retreat, the Third Prince's eyes flicked to the ground. There, strewn like discarded dolls, lay the bodies of eight Martial Saints, lifeless and bloodied. The sight rekindled something dark and twisted within him.
"Heh," he sneered. "These corpses... they're not going to waste."
With a casual flick of his hand, the Third Prince commanded his men to collect the remains. The idea of devouring their strength tugged at him like a hunger he could no longer ignore.
"If I can consume their power," he mused aloud, a wicked smile forming on his lips, "I might ascend to the rank of Great Emperor. And then..."
The thought lingered in the air.
He envisioned himself locked in a grand battle against the Great Emperor standing behind Orion. His ambition rekindled, the Third Prince's retreat no longer felt like a loss, but a mere pause before his next move.
The demons of his mind stirred. They never forgot a slight, and neither did he. Patience was a weapon, and revenge was a dish best served cold. He just needed time to consume these Martial Saints, to grow stronger.
For now, the Third Prince left the battlefield, his plans for vengeance growing darker with each step.
Meanwhile, the twenty half-saints under Orion's command watched as the black-clad figures withdrew into the shadows. Relief washed over them, but it didn't come without questions.
"Why did they retreat so suddenly?" one of them asked, his brow furrowed in confusion. "That was a half-emperor... they could've wiped us out easily."
The others exchanged uncertain glances. It didn't make sense. They had felt the overwhelming presence of the half-emperor the moment he arrived, and yet, they were still standing.
"Perhaps we're fortunate," one of them offered. "But we should inform the Lord. A half-emperor showing up out of nowhere is no small matter."
Heads nodded in agreement. Though they had survived this encounter, the half-emperor's intentions remained unclear. Was he friend or foe? Only time would tell.
Back in Chang'an City, chaos reigned. After a series of political upheavals, unrest gripped the city like a storm on the horizon. Zhou Linglong, the empress, knew that her hold on the capital was slipping.
Aristocratic families were stirring, emboldened by recent events. They demanded answers, pushing against her rule. And just when it seemed like everything was spiraling out of control, a glimmer of hope arrived.
News reached the empress's ears—reinforcements had arrived.
The King of Zhennan, Xiaoshan, had marched into the capital with his army of 500,000 Southern troops.
Summoning her court to a grand assembly, Zhou Linglong's heart lifted with cautious optimism.
In the grand hall, the air buzzed with whispers. The arrival of such a formidable force had temporarily cooled the ambitions of those who sought to challenge her.
The steady, rhythmic sound of footsteps silenced the room. All eyes turned toward the entrance as a towering figure strode into the hall.
"My lord, Xiao Shan, pays his respects to Your Majesty!" A booming voice filled the chamber.
The crowd stared. Xiaoshan was an imposing figure—nine feet tall, with thick, unshaven stubble. His muscles bulged beneath his shining armor, radiating strength and power. Though his face showed no emotion, his presence commanded respect.
"Prince Xiao," the empress greeted warmly, rushing from her throne to meet him. "At last, you are here!"
Her voice trembled with relief. This was the ally she had been waiting for.
"Your Majesty," Xiaoshan replied, his tone steady and calm. "I have brought my troops to support you. We will restore order in Yizhou and crush the rebellion."
His confidence was palpable, but as his words settled in the room, Zhou Linglong's eyes widened. She froze, struggling to contain her shock.
Did he... Did he really think he could just march into Yizhou and defeat Orion so easily? Had no one informed him of the true power behind the rebellion?
Around the room, the courtiers exchanged bewildered looks. Xiaoshan's words, so bold and assured, sounded almost foolish in light of the overwhelming force they were facing.
Orion had already destroyed armies, wiped out elite forces, and decimated Martial Saints. This wasn't a simple rebellion. It was an unstoppable force led by a man whose power rivaled the gods.
To challenge Orion with an army, no matter how large, seemed suicidal.
The empress and her court were left in stunned silence as they realized just how out of touch their would-be savior was.
Xiaoshan stood proudly, unaware of the doubt creeping through the room. He believed in his strength, in his soldiers. But to the others, it seemed more likely that he was marching his men to their doom.