It was like a sudden clap of thunder, a great wave erupting from a placid lake.
The war in the Thunder Punishment Banner's sector erupted, just like that.
The sky grew dim, blotting out the sun and moon.
Mountains crumbled, countless riders charged, and beasts swarmed the land.
Every moment, scores of lives were effortlessly snuffed out.
The only voices that could be heard over the extreme chaos of the battlefield belonged almost exclusively to the Beastmaster Cultivators.
Countless beasts, endless birds, and inexhaustible swarms of insects...
Blood, blood, nothing but blood!
Throughout the day, Fang Yang stuck close to Uncle Qi, constantly moving to evade danger and provide support from the rear.
The Thunder Punishment Banner truly was an unparalleled legion, specially forged by the Sen clan to be passed down through generations.
It was mystifying. Though their position was static, the enemy simply couldn't break through.
However, in the eyes of most, the Thunder Punishment Banner was still in a precarious position, on the verge of being annihilated at any moment.
But to Fang Yang, who continued to endure his trial by this sea of blood, things were different. It might have looked like he was in grave danger, having passed up what seemed like a much better option. In truth, however, he knew full well that his position in the rear with the medical hall was, ironically, the safest place to be.
What seemed dangerous was actually safe.
Because back in the clan lands, the crises he would face would come in ever-larger waves. After all, Sen Hui's great-aunt, a Saint Venerable, had a problem with him.
Being targeted by a Saint Venerable—the very thought was enough to make one's blood run cold.
Weighing his options, he was better off staying in the bloody crucible of this war.
'Assumptions can be deadly.'
'Sen Hui probably has a thing for me. But if I actually tried to live off her—and be arrogant about it, no less—the consequences would be unthinkable.'
'Heh. It seems that no matter the world, the cruelty of war always far exceeds an ordinary person's imagination.'
When Fang Yang saw one small tribe after another being pushed forward to act as cannon fodder, he couldn't help but narrow his eyes.
If he weren't a member of the Changkong Clan, he'd probably be pushed out to block the barrages of light and thunder, too.
The War of Thunder Control was truly unforgiving to anyone not from a Golden Clan.
Conversely, for the Golden Clans, it was an excellent model for renewing their pool of talent.
This offered a glimpse into just how terrifying the Thunder Saint Venerable truly was.
...
"Bring him over. And keep him steady."
As the war dragged on, Fang Yang became a cold-blooded doctor in the rear medical hall.
Just a moment ago, a patient, delirious with pain, had been struggling so violently it interfered with Fang Yang's treatment. Fang Yang's solution was to slap him unconscious.
Fang Yang sneered at one of the young women. "You don't even know how to prepare Resting Spirit Powder? Do I have to do it myself?"
"I can't save you," Fang Yang calmly announced to another patient. "Go to a Grade A medical hall."
"He's in too much pain," Fang Yang told the patient's relatives. "You should give him a dignified end."
Case after case, patient after patient... Fang Yang handled them all with ruthless efficiency.
Those he could save, he would save.
Those he couldn't, he wouldn't even give a second glance.
And because of this, his rate of acquiring war merits soared, far surpassing Fang Xuan and the others.
At the same time, his reputation spread within a small circle. Everyone understood that his Alchemist Doctor skills were formidable; they both feared him and tried to curry his favor.
One day, Fang Yang was in the medical hall's plaza, starting a furnace fire to distribute meat broth and medicinal potions to everyone.
"Eat, Nannan. You'll get better."
An old man—his hair disheveled and white, his back bent nearly double—came before his granddaughter, his trembling hands holding a bowl with a few scraps of meat.
But the little girl who used to be so lively, who never seemed to get tired, was now lying motionless in the shade of a tree, her body growing cold.
"Nannan..." The old man sensed his granddaughter's condition. His hand trembled, the stone bowl slipped, and the broth spilled all over the ground.
The old man, frantic, picked up his little granddaughter, only to feel an icy coldness.
Before he could do anything, two orderlies from the medical hall came up to him, looking at him coldly.
These two were going to throw the little girl into the molten furnace to prevent a plague from breaking out.
In that instant, tears streamed down the old man's face as he sobbed uncontrollably.
Gone. Everything was gone.
His tribe was gone, his son and daughter-in-law were gone, and now even his granddaughter was gone.
At this moment, his hatred for the War of Thunder Control, his hatred for the Thunder Saint Venerable, his hatred for the Golden Clan—it all surged to a breaking point within his heart.
'What a cruel, cold world,' Fang Yang thought, watching the scene from a distance, deeply moved. 'Eight great domains, and nearly every one is ruled by the lineage of a Venerable.'
These weren't crocodile tears. In his past life, he had grown up in a world of red flags, and a sliver of conscience still remained deep in his heart.
But in an instant, Fang Yang's cold indifference returned.
'Things are different now. Everything is different.'
'This isn't the peaceful society of my past life, and I can never go back.'
...
The chaos of war seemed complex and indiscernible.
But in the end, it was still just this: saving people in the rear and killing people at the front.
While Fang Yang was accumulating war merits by saving lives in the rear, Chen Xing, Zhang Ye, and the others were on the front lines, beginning to make names for themselves.
"Let's stop here," Chen Xing said from atop a sand dune, deciding against advancing further. "We just need to keep a close watch on the enemy's signal tower."
Chen Xing slowly exhaled a heavy breath, a flicker of helplessness in his eyes.
He felt he'd been born at the wrong time.
If he had been born a few years earlier or a few years later, it would have been fine. He wouldn't have been rushed to the front lines right after achieving Enlightenment.
'What could a boy who had just achieved Enlightenment possibly do?'
'He could do nothing. It was no different from simply handing war merits over to the enemy.'
But such were the ancestral traditions of the Golden Clan. Even with his Snow Brilliance Spirit Body, he had no choice but to obey.
Of course, if he had a Saint Venerable for a father, he could have pulled some strings.
Rules exist to protect the weak and restrain the strong.
Conversely, breaking the rules means hunting the weak and unleashing... the strong!
「On the other side.」
Zhang Ye rode a Fire Wolf, following the Centurion.
A burly, middle-aged man rode beside him—the source of his confidence.
The reason Zhang Ye dared to fight on the fringes of the front line was not just to earn war merits, but more importantly, to temper his Spirit Body. He needed to raise his Cultivation Realm and secure a firm advantage over Fang Yang.
'Sigh. A Spirit Body that doesn't manifest at the moment of Enlightenment is such a pain. There are too many restrictions,' Zhang Ye sighed to himself.
'That guy, Fang Yang, can just stay safely in the rear and break through to the next realm. He doesn't have to take risks like I do.'
In truth, if Zhang Ye were willing to slow his cultivation and let Fang Yang surpass him, he too could break through to the next realm safely.
Unfortunately, he couldn't afford to. Within his own Zhang Clan, others were already eyeing his position.
After all, the Molten Crocodile Spirit Body was simply not as significant to the Zhang Clan as the Fire Eagle Spirit Body was to the Fang Clan.
Suddenly, Zhang Ye's eyes trembled with shock.
He had just realized that the situation ahead had changed drastically, altering the state of the charge.
A troop of Black Armored Iron Riders was charging toward them. Their killing intent was suffocating, and they tore through camps and formations alike, causing even Zhang Ye's middle-aged guardian to pale...