"Alas... seems like I need to pay much closer attention," Zhou Linglong muttered, shrugging helplessly. The same words he had once used to convince Xiao Shan were slipping out again, though this time, the situation felt even more precarious.
If these two princes continue in their defeated mindset, they'll lose the war before it even begins!
Finally, after much effort, Zhou Linglong's words managed to reignite some flicker of determination in the princes. They straightened their backs, though uncertainty still clouded their eyes.
"Well... we can only take one step at a time now," muttered the princes of the East and West as they exchanged uneasy glances. Had they known the scale of the trouble they were facing, they never would have sent that imperial edict to the King of Qin in Beijing. It was too late now—the damage was done.
...
At that moment, Zhou Linglong reviewed the reports on the gathering forces around Chang'an City. His calculations shocked him.
Three million elite soldiers and cavalry were already stationed around the city, and reinforcements were continuously streaming in from every major state and county. These weren't mere foot soldiers—they were cultivators, each well-trained in the arts of combat and mysticism.
With such an army, numbering in the millions, they could crush Orion's forces through sheer numbers alone! Confidence swelled within Zhou Linglong. But one final issue remained: they lacked enough high-level masters to match the elite warriors in Orion's ranks.
Zhou Linglong turned his gaze towards the forbidden zone of Longting, his thoughts heavy.
"I hope everything goes smoothly with the Emperor," he whispered. If they couldn't secure the aid of the superior envoy from the Upper Realm... the battle would be lost before it truly began.
Without that aid, defeat was certain.
...
Meanwhile, Zhou Qianfu knelt, trembling and drenched in sweat. His forehead pressed to the floor, and in front of him sat a figure draped in pitch-black robes. The robed man's aura was so oppressive that it seemed to devour the light around him.
Even a cursory glance revealed his immense cultivation—this was no ordinary warrior, but a being at the very peak of Martial Emperor prowess. Yet, the aura he radiated surpassed even that of an ordinary Martial Emperor, steeped in a mysterious, ethereal energy. It felt as though the man was far beyond the reach of mortal comprehension.
"Your Majesty... the situation is dire," Zhou Qianfu stammered. "Orion's forces are overwhelming. We, the Great Zhou Dynasty, are powerless against them."
Fear gripped Zhou Qianfu's heart as he recounted the recent deaths of Dragon Court's masters, including Zhou Huangye. While he cursed their failure, terror gnawed at him. To make matters worse, he knew how those in power viewed failure: they never tolerate weakness.
If the man in black deemed them useless, their fate was sealed.
Zhou Qianfu's suspicions were correct—the black-robed man was not of this world. He was an envoy from the Upper Realm, and Zhou Qianfu's only hope of salvation rested in his hands.
A surge of power, cold and overwhelming, emanated from the envoy as two words dripped from his lips like venom:
"Worthless."
The pressure from those words alone made Zhou Qianfu feel as though he was suffocating. Even though it was just a fraction of the envoy's full strength, it was far beyond anything Zhou Qianfu could bear.
He pressed his forehead harder against the ground, sweat pouring from his face.
"Yes, yes, Your Majesty... they are all useless, completely worthless..." Zhou Qianfu whimpered, his previous pride shattered, reduced to groveling like a beaten dog. He had no other choice—the gap in power between them was too vast.
In this life, Zhou Qianfu had reached the Half-Emperor stage, but he knew it was his limit. Without divine intervention, advancing further would be impossible. His hopes now rested on the envoy's mercy.
To Zhou Qianfu, someone of the envoy's stature could elevate an "ant" like him with ease.
...
The black-robed man's cold eyes glanced over Zhou Qianfu. With a flick of his finger, he summoned a glowing pill that shimmered with divine energy.
"I see you're injured. Take this ninth-grade healing elixir," the envoy said, his tone flat, as though he were handing over a common trinket.
Zhou Qianfu's breath caught in his throat when he saw the pill. His hands shook as he reached out to accept it, his eyes wide with disbelief.
A ninth-grade elixir! The entire Jiuzhou Continent had only seen eighth-grade elixirs as the pinnacle of alchemy. No one could even attempt the refinement of a ninth-grade elixir, not even Yao Qianming, the legendary master of Medicine King Valley!
"Thank you, Your Majesty, for the gift!" Zhou Qianfu gasped, cradling the pill like it was his most prized possession.
Though reluctant to consume something so valuable for mere healing, Zhou Qianfu dared not disobey the envoy's command. Gritting his teeth, he swallowed the pill.
Underneath his black robe, the envoy sneered. These mortals—so easily enamored by mere scraps. In his world, such pills were discarded like pennies on the ground.
Moments later, Zhou Qianfu's body surged with vitality. His wounds began to heal at a speed far beyond the capabilities of an eighth-grade elixir. Within mere breaths, his injuries were fully repaired, and the residual energy from the pill made him feel rejuvenated, as though years had been lifted from his body.
"Thank you, Your Majesty," Zhou Qianfu repeated, now more subservient than ever.