A Taicang Silver Guard cleaved a resurrected corpse into two halves with a single strike. Astonishingly, the two halves instantly rejoined. Although fresh blood continued to flow, the corpse regained full mobility, as if undeterred by its injuries.
The reanimated beings emitted deep, guttural breaths. Their bones reassembled with unsettling creaks, producing a teeth-gritting "creak, creak" sound, as if their mismatched skeletons protested their unnatural reconstruction.
Despite these grotesque adjustments, the resurrected Jiuquan Army showed no signs of weakened combat strength. On the contrary, they appeared even more powerful.
As the Taicang Silver Guards engaged these lifeless shells, they quickly realized the difficulty of their task. These mindless bodies were unnaturally strong, brimming with a continuous flow of green energy, and utterly fearless. Even when shattered into pieces, they reassembled and returned to the fray.
Even the eight chieftains of the Jiuquan Tribe, who had been slain by Taicang's three mighty warriors, revived in a similarly eerie fashion. Severed limbs flew back to their torsos, flesh mended itself grotesquely, and their forms, though monstrous, resumed battle with relentless vigor.
Po Xian frowned deeply, sensing that these reanimated foes had grown stronger—stronger than they had been in life.
Ji Xia's brow furrowed with a hint of unease. If their enemies could not truly die, no matter how powerful the Silver Guards might be, exhaustion and inevitable defeat loomed large.
The bizarre sorcery piqued Ji Xia's curiosity.
Over 3,000 reanimated corpses repeatedly rose, fell, and surged forward against the Taicang Silver Guards. At first, the Silver Guards held their ground, but as time passed, fatigue set in, and casualties mounted.
Ji Xia, Po Xian, and Ji Qianqing relentlessly struck down the Jiuquan Tribe's strongest warriors. Yet, regardless of whether their bodies were ground into pulp or sliced into hundreds of pieces, the corpses reassembled. Though their shapes grew increasingly grotesque, they retained their capacity for battle.
Activating his Great Sun Spiritual Eye, Ji Xia surveyed the battlefield. He discerned a massive serpent's head, a phantom towering a hundred zhang tall, gazing at the scene with cold detachment. Its forked tongue flicked in and out, each motion sending green light flashing through the air, resurrecting the dead.
The spectacle was deeply unsettling.
"This seems to be a form of sacrificial sorcery," Ji Xia deduced. "The Jiuquan Nation has learned to perform rituals to connect with their totem—the evil god Modo!"
Ji Xia had always been intrigued by sacrificial arts. Yet, Taicang, still in its infancy, lacked the knowledge and resources to forge a connection with Dafeng, the ancestral wind deity. The royal archives provided only fragmented and cryptic descriptions of such practices.
Witnessing these rituals firsthand both pained Ji Xia—grieving the mounting losses of the Silver Guards—and ignited his burning curiosity.
Modo, an evil deity of boundless barbarism, had few worshippers in the Wilds. Representing cruelty and slaughter, its power came at a gruesome price.
Ji Xia glanced toward the Jiuquan capital, its streets painted with blood, and murmured, "This is the cost of communing with a god—a horrific sacrifice of countless lives."
The thought of employing such methods to strengthen Taicang crossed his mind, only to be immediately dismissed. The idea of sacrificing his people in live rituals repulsed him.
Even as Ji Xia gradually acclimated to the harsh and brutal realities of the boundless Wilds, some lines he refused to cross.
On the battlefield, chaos intensified. Despite the support of Taicang's three strongest warriors, the Silver Guards struggled against this army of the undead. Within mere moments, over 300 were lost, and the front-line Yin Army suffered devastating losses, reduced from 500 to just 200.
Even elite warriors like Yin Ding and Rong Lu had sustained severe injuries.
Ji Lun, observing the tide of battle, erupted into maniacal laughter that echoed across the battlefield and the city of the Jiuquan Tribe.
"As long as I live, the Jiuquan warriors will never die!"
"How could a weakling nation like Taicang possibly comprehend the might of a god?"
Ji Qianqing, her Qingjun Sword in hand, unleashed a powerful strike, carving a path of blood through the undead. She leapt into the air, soaring toward Ji Lun with unparalleled speed.
Her goal was clear: to slay Ji Lun.
Ji Lun, seeing her approach, remained composed. Raising his right index finger, he pointed at her.
"Infernal Tongue Hell!"
From thin air, a tongue bristling with flesh-spikes materialized, imbued with unimaginable power, and slashed across Ji Qianqing's path.
An oppressive darkness enveloped her. Suddenly, a colossal serpent head appeared within the shadows, its vertical pupils locking onto Ji Qianqing. Its gaze brimmed with disdain and scorn.
The contempt of a god for a mere mortal.
A surge of fury ignited within Ji Qianqing. As Taicang's pride, she had once been its brightest star, until Ji Xia's meteoric rise. Yet now, facing this godly apparition, she felt its mocking derision pierce her core.
She inhaled deeply, her Qingjun Sword lifting from her hands, pointing directly at the serpent's head.
The serpent hesitated briefly, as though surprised by this tiny human's audacity to strike at it. Its vertical pupils then flared with rage.
A mere ant dared to challenge a god?
Even as a shadow, weakened by insufficient sacrifices, the serpent was still a god!
How dare this insignificant creature confront him?
A tempest howled, and the serpent's forked tongue darted forth, radiating a suffocating aura of menace.
Yet Ji Qianqing remained fearless. Her spiritual wheel channeled its energy into the Qingjun Sword. The once crimson blade glowed brighter, resembling a freshly forged blade, still burning from the forge's heat.
Muttering an incantation, Ji Qianqing activated her ultimate technique: Qingjun Sword Art, Final Form—Subjugate Qingjun!
The sword shattered into 108 spectral blades, weaving a vast net of sword energy that descended upon the serpent.
The serpent's pupils dilated in surprise.
The net surged forward, unstoppable, and with a thunderous roar, shredded the serpent's shadow into countless fragments.
Ji Lun felt the rupture keenly, fear flashing in his once-mad eyes.
"This technique... it can destroy Modo's shadow?"
Desperation overtook him. Sacrificing the remaining Jiuquan, he forged their deaths into a single green pill, which he swallowed in haste.
Ji Qianqing collapsed, her spiritual energy entirely drained, as she watched the vanquished serpent shadow dissipate. Relief and exhaustion washed over her.
Yet, her relief was short-lived.
The shadow reappeared. Its sneering contempt grew sharper, as though mocking her futile effort.
"How can ants defeat a god?"
As the serpent lunged again, Ji Qianqing closed her eyes, resigned to her fate.
Until a sound jolted her.
Opening her eyes, she saw the serpent's gaze fixed behind her—fear flickering in its vertical pupils.
Turning, she beheld Ji Xia, standing tall in his silver robes, drawing a towering Tenfold Bow. Gold light radiated from his eyes as he nocked an arrow of pure spiritual energy.
"Too easy to kill," Ji Xia muttered, releasing the bowstring.
The arrow tore through the serpent's shadow, cleaving the battlefield, and obliterated Ji Lun in a single shot.
Ji Xia approached Ji Qianqing, the fading remnants of the Tenfold Bow in his hands.
"Next time, let me handle the idiots first," he said with a faint smile. "They're too easy to kill."