Within the Evernight Fortress, several large slender sh.i.p.s had just landed. They brought a new batch of soldiers for rotating duty and the necessary supplies.
Duke Dominica was there to inspect the resources. He nodded satisfactorily after seeing some specially-marked cold storage boxes. These boxes contained premium ingredients and wine for the nobles in the fortress.
Only good food and wine could bring joy to Dominica while in this fortress. He quietly counted the days to himself. “Seven days, just seven more days…”
He glanced at the time and felt better since it was only one hour until dinner time. What surprise would the chef bring him today?
He walked toward the main building in anticipation.
He was merely in charge of this fortress, but Nighteye held the highest authority in the new world. Following Duke Rodney’s reduction to a glorious marquis, not even dukes dared to challenge her authority again.
After all, the Eternal Flame didn’t react in the slightest while the Demon King only feigned ignorance about this matter. Perhaps the demonkin might find a way to get their revenge at a later date, but for now, they had no choice but to endure.
As Dominica saw it, Nighteye’s life was one of bitter cultivation. She only ate simple food every day and refused to touch wine, drinking only water.
The duke simply couldn’t understand what her great strength and authority were for. Life was long; shouldn’t one fill it up with good food, drinks, and enjoyment?
After a moment of distraction, Dominica decided to head to his personal dining hall. The table there was probably filled with meticulously prepared cuisine by now.
He had just left the landing pad when a viscount ran over hastily. “Sire, things aren’t looking good!”
Dominica’s expression darkened. “Why are you so fl.u.s.tered?”
The viscount said, “You’ll know when you see it.”
Dominica wasn’t happy about his ruined dinner plans. He followed the viscount with a gloomy expression, planning to punish the tactless bastard if there was no good reason.
After ascending the watchtower, the viscount passed him a pair of binoculars and pointed in a certain direction. Snorting heavily, Dominica slapped the binoculars away and focused his vision in the direction.
A lone peak appeared at the far end of his vision. It was just that something seemed to have appeared on the barren peak.
Dominica’s expression shifted drastically. He rose into the air and flew toward the mountain; he needed to confirm what he had seen just now.
He rushed back in the blink of an eye, crying hysterically before he had even landed. “Assemble the troops! Assemble the troops! Mobilize every available unit! Attack that mountain, we must take it down before midnight!”
Moments later, an ear-piercing whistle echoed through the base. Soldiers rushed out of their barracks, some still holding the armor as they didn’t have time to put it on. The marquises shuttled through the chaotic drill grounds, shouting at the top of their lungs in search of their own units.
The warehouse doors were opened, and piles of heavy shields and axes were distributed to the werewolves and demonkin.
The entire scene was a mess. The supply officers were busy noting down the withdrawals and roaring at the soldiers. Their shouts were in vain, however—the violent werewolves and arachne slammed the officers away and began picking up whatever they wanted before heading over to assemble.
A cloud of steam emerged from the fortress as the large, hundred-ton gates slid open under the combined effort of the machine and gears.
The squads preparing to assume duty drove out of the fortress, finally making space for more soldiers to assemble in the drill grounds. Just like that, one mobile squad after another equipped themselves and left the fortress.
Seeing the resting, heavy-armored units beginning to assemble, Domnica seemed to remember something all of a sudden. “Tell the remaining forces to remain on standby. Let’s send…. thirty thousand troops first. Contact Demonkin Duke Tanner and the Arachne Duke Ben, tell them that they must arrive before midnight.”
“Yes, Your Excellency,” the aide duly conveyed the orders. He was a bit curious, however, not understanding what the conflicting orders meant.
If he did think highly of the enemy forces, why would he only dispatch thirty thousand soldiers out of the two hundred thousand? If he didn’t think too highly of them, why did he summon the two dukes as though he were about to face a great enemy? And why did he not report such an important development to Nighteye?
The aide remained puzzled, but the frontline marquis had gotten their answer.
As they arrived at the mountain peak, they saw the flag fluttering in the wind. They also saw their enemy.
There was only one person.
The group of marquises was stunned as they gazed at the man under the fluttering flag. They knew he was Qianye and just how terrifying he was. Yet, what was this scene before them? Was this man going to challenge the entirety of Evernight by himself?
Had Qianye gone crazy? Or was this world crazy?
The marquises stood for a good while before confirming that they had not made a mistake. Their forces had long since spread out behind them and surrounded the lone peak, waiting for the next order. However, the order they were waiting for didn’t come even after a long while.
Everyone looked up at that flag on the summit. Every stroke of that “Ye” was akin to a peerless sword strike; simply watching it made one’s eyes ache.
Slowly, the forces began to grow restless and some impulsive soldiers felt humiliated by this development. They wanted to charge up in a frenzy and attack Qianye—and some of them did that.
An arachne viscount roared at the sky. Brandishing a heavy shield and axe, he turned into his spider form and shot toward the summit. Many other arachne warriors were agitated by his roar and followed suit.
The werewolf soldiers nearby also went berserk and started to break rank. Steep precipices and flat land made little difference to them.
The vampires didn’t move. The demonkin were smaller in number, to begin with, and most of them were long-range attackers positioned in the rear.
The arachne viscount raised his limbs and swung his axe at the target with thunderous momentum!
Qianye finally moved.
He stood up and drew East Peak, which he had planted in the ground beside him. He returned to his original spot after a single horizontal sweep, and East Peak was once again in the ground.
The arachne viscount’s upper body flew over Qianye. He was still holding tightly onto the axe, the momentum from which flung the bisected upper body to the other side of the mountain.
The lower half of the viscount’s body charged past Qianye and crashed into some stone pillars, its limbs still moving subconsciously. The sharp forelimb produced sparks as they scratched the ground but couldn’t leave any marks.
The arachne viscount’s death did nothing to intimidate the rest of the crazed dark race experts. As the horde arrived, Qianye finally picked up East Peak and shot into the enemy forces.
In the eyes of the distant marquises, Qianye’s every move was clear, rhythmic, and devoid of any excess. It was as though they had returned to their youths when their instructor was demonstrating a high-level sword art.
Just as the marquises were engrossed in the swordplay, they heard a sigh from above. “Such… concentration!”
The group looked up to find that Dominica had appeared at some point. He was standing in the air, distracted as he gazed at Qianye from above.
Dominica was in a completely different realm. His reminder allowed everyone to see what was different.
Qianye was quiet, concentrated, and each of his strikes was incomparably serious. He treated even the most ordinary of soldiers like a great enemy, avoiding the slightest of mistakes and leaving no opening at all. Just like that, he kept on killing with great focus—it felt as though he could slowly whittle away a million-strong army.
Qianye was like an intricate yet reliable machine made to take life from the moment he was born.
Slowly, a formless chill arose in the hearts of the marquises that sapped them of the will to fight. They had a feeling that Qianye would kill them with a single slash even if they did go up, no different from how he was killing those soldiers.
The calm Qianye was the most terrifying.
At this moment, this man was a god of war.
The marquises turned to Dominica without prior arrangement; only a duke might be able to take Qianye’s attacks at this point. Yet, they found that Dominica’s hands were shaking—unbeknownst to the duke himself.
Dominical screamed, “Attack! Everyone, attack! Whoever kills him, I will grant a drop of origin blood!”
The marquises were shocked, their minds filled with a sense of uneasiness. They exchanged glances in the face of the attack order, yet not one of them moved.
Ordinary dark race soldiers couldn’t see what was happening behind the scenes. All they could tell was that Qianye was being surrounded and fighting for his life. Encouraged by the promise of origin blood, they forgot about the terror of death and charged toward the mountain peak.
Dominica glared sharply at the group of marquises who had stayed behind, but the latter simply feigned ignorance. All of them remained nailed to the ground and didn’t move.
Snorting heavily, Dominica’s figure flickered out of existence. He had gone back to the fortress.
Once in the stronghold, he issued a loud order, “All troops assemble! Move out and attack according to your roster sequence, three divisions every hour. Also, send for the two dukes immediately. Tell them that they must arrive ahead of time! Tell them… tell them it’s her majesty’s orders!”
The aide was shocked out of his wits. “Erm… should we let Her Majesty now?”
Dominica glared at him. “I think we need to replace you.”
The aide replied hurriedly, “Sire, please forgive me. I’ll get it done immediately!”
Yet, everything was too late—Dominica had thrust his sword through the man’s blood core. The duke kicked the aide’s body away and grabbed a nearby viscount, “From now on, you’re my aide-de-camp, understand? Go and relay my orders.”
The new aide left swiftly.
He looked a bit better for a moment, but his countenance darkened when he glanced at the flag in the distance. He really wanted to know how many of their two hundred thousand soldiers that man could kill?
