Golden Bell Temple.
In the meditation room behind the main hall, two barbarian men dressed as monks knelt quietly on their meditation cushions.
Outside the room, the clash of weapons and the cries of the dying echoed nonstop.
"Branch Master."
The sharp-faced monk spoke nervously, his voice trembling. "Xiang Tingchun's men have surrounded Golden Bell Temple. What should we do? If the jade key falls into their hands too, wouldn't that mean—"
The man called Branch Master remained calm.
He took a piece of jade from inside his robe and handed it to the sharp-faced monk.
"Branch Master?!"
The monk's expression turned panicked. "You mustn't! The immortal treasure is far too important. How can you entrust it to me?"
"Xiang Tingchun knows my face," the Branch Master said flatly. "He'll stay locked on me no matter what. It's less safe in my hands. I'll hold him off. You find a way to escape. If you can't, then hide the jade key somewhere safe."
The sharp-faced monk accepted it carefully, his hands shaking. "Are we truly to die here today? All because of that damned traitor—he actually handed the immortal treasure to outsiders! If not for that, the Tuoba and Yu Wen tribes would've already united the entire grassland, crushed the Great Sheng Dynasty, and taken the empire for ourselves!"
"Don't panic."
The middle-aged man truly looked like a serene monk, his tone calm and unhurried. "Even if we fail, the High Priest and the Great Khan still have other plans. At worst, they'll make a trade with the old emperor of Sheng for their own benefit."
"He's almost here. Go."
"Yes!"
The sharp-faced monk clutched the jade key tightly, leapt to the window, and vanished.
"Boom—"
A corpse crashed through the wooden door like a boulder, splinters flying everywhere.
Xiang Tingchun stepped over the body, entering the room with blood still dripping from his long blade. His voice was cold and measured. "Hand it over."
The Branch Master sighed softly and drew two copper cudgels from behind him. "Lord Thousand-Household, you don't even know what the immortal treasure is. Why go to such lengths?"
"When you're dead, I'll find out soon enough."
Inside the meditation room, blades and cudgels collided in a blur of light and sound.
…
Roughly twenty minutes after the signal arrow went off, figures began running down from the mountain toward the soldiers stationed along the small roads below.
"Prepare!"
Sub-Flag Officer Fang raised his hand, ready to give the order.
"Help!"
"The monks of Golden Bell Temple are killing people!"
"…"
As the crowd drew closer, the soldiers realized something was wrong.
The number of people fleeing downhill was nearly 100.
The Witch God Sect wasn't an army. For a small cult sneaking through the wilderness, it was possible for a few dozen to slip past borders unnoticed—but not this many.
It was clear at a glance—most of them were ordinary civilians.
"Wait!"
Sub-Flag Officer Fang quickly stopped the archers who were about to fire and shouted at the crowd, "Stop! No one is allowed down the mountain! Everyone, halt right there!"
"My lord! The monks are killing people up there!"
"Please, my lord, let us go! Let us through!"
"…"
Panic made the crowd deaf to orders.
"Shhk—"
Sub-Flag Officer Fang drew his goose-feather saber with a metallic hiss and roared, "I said stop! Didn't you hear me? Whoever takes another step will be treated as a Witch God Sect cultist—kill without mercy!"
The flash of silver steel finally froze the people in place.
Chen Sanshi looked at the chaotic scene before him and knew what would happen next—many innocent civilians would die today.
It seemed this Thousand-Household Officer was willing to sacrifice commoners rather than risk alerting the enemy.
"No one moves! Whoever moves, gets shot!"
Sub-Flag Officer Fang barked his next order. "Flag Officer Ma! The Witch God Sect members are mostly barbarians. Take a squad and check them one by one!"
Fortunately, it was easy to tell outsiders apart. Even disguised, their features and accents gave them away. By questioning each person's hometown and family background, they could eventually identify the impostors—though it would take time.
But within the crowd, some of the Witch God Sect members could tell they wouldn't stay hidden for long.
Their patience snapped.
A man disguised as a wealthy merchant suddenly struck out, his palm slamming into the back of an old man before him.
The old man spewed a mouthful of blood and dropped dead on the spot.
The crowd, which had only just been brought under control, erupted into chaos again. Everyone screamed and panicked, scattering in all directions.
"Brothers, kill! Cut a path through them!"
The Witch God Sect members no longer bothered to hide. Each drew their hidden weapon and rushed into the soldiers, slaughtering whoever stood in their way.
"Don't panic!"
Sub-Flag Officer Fang roared as he clashed with the so-called rich man, still shouting commands through the chaos. "Each squad forms a unit! Coordinate with the men next to you! Surround and kill them in formation!"
The Witch God Sect disciples clearly weren't organized.
They'd broken into scattered groups, so the soldiers here only encountered around seven or eight enemies—and none of them were at the tempering bone stage. The real experts must have tried escaping in other directions.
Chen Sanshi led his men and coordinated with another Flag Officer to trap a one-eyed man.
Zhu Tong, Wang Li, and the others thrust their spears from all sides, stabbing relentlessly.
The man had roughly reached Minor Achievement in tempering blood. Dual blades in hand, he hacked and slashed with brute strength, barely managing to force his way close before being pushed back by the shield-and-saber soldiers, falling back into a desperate struggle.
With the help of a Flag Officer on their side—also at Minor Achievement in tempering blood—the Witch God Sect fighter lasted fewer than ten exchanges before leaving countless openings. Spears pierced through him from every direction until his body became a bleeding sieve.
This was the power of the army.
No sect or martial hall could match this kind of battlefield coordination and killing efficiency.
Chen Sanshi didn't stay idle either. He drew his bow in a smooth, full motion—the bowstring curved like a crescent moon.
The Wolf Fang Arrow whistled through the chaos, threading through the gaps between soldiers and cultists alike, before driving straight into a Witch God Sect member's face more than a hundred paces away.
The man's head hit the tree trunk with a dull thunk, nailed there before he could even feel pain.
"Die!"
Another Witch God Sect member—also at Minor Achievement in tempering blood—crept up from behind, raising a curved scimitar to strike.
But how could Chen Sanshi's hearing miss that?
He had been waiting for it. The moment the attacker's blade lifted, Chen Sanshi spun around and released an arrow.
The distance between them was barely ten steps. The impact from his Two-Stone Bow sent the attacker flying backward, and before the body could even hit the ground, a spear from one of the soldiers lunged forward.
The spearhead sliced cleanly through the man's neck. His head rolled down the slope like a kicked ball, tumbling far away before coming to rest.
The skirmish didn't last long.
The soldiers had numbers on their side. The Witch God Sect members, no matter how vicious, were quickly surrounded and forced into a corner. Their resistance grew weaker by the minute—they wouldn't hold out for long.
'I wonder how the main battle is going,' Chen Sanshi thought, glancing toward Golden Bell Temple.
Had Xiang Tingchun already gotten what he came for?
He lifted his Willow-Leaf Spear, ready to finish the cleanup fast and head up to assist.
Rustle—
Dozens of zhang away, a branch cracked underfoot.
Someone who had been hiding for a long time was trying to use the chaos to escape.
A straggler!
Chen Sanshi immediately gave chase, following the sound.
Through the trees, he caught a glimpse of a brownish-yellow figure darting away.
The forest ahead was dense, and his view was mostly blocked.
Relying on his keen hearing and the faint footprints pressed into the earth, he followed cautiously. He didn't rush—no one knew what realm the enemy was at, and caution was the key to survival.
After pursuing for several li, the terrain opened up.
At last, he saw the fugitive clearly.
It was a sharp-faced, thin man dressed in monk robes. His bald head gleamed, but his ears had holes from past adornments—clearly not the style of a Great Sheng commoner.
Chen Sanshi drew his bow, ready to shoot, when suddenly another group rushed in from the side.
These newcomers carried ordinary long swords. All of them wore black clothes and black cloth masks over their faces. There were four of them in total, and they moved swiftly to block the fleeing monk's path.
A third faction?
Chen Sanshi squinted. One of the masked men looked familiar.
'Him?'
He held his breath, quietly lowering his presence, and watched from the shadows.