A Farmer's Journey To Immortality

Chapter 623: Reymon’s Preparedness P1

Without another word, Reymon kicked his horse’s sides.

The powerful beast reared slightly, letting out a deep roar-like sound before dashing forward. Reymon raised his huge broadsword, the light around it flaring like golden lightning.

“Charge forward!” he commanded, his Qi-imbued voice booming across the plain.

The warriors responded instantly. Their collective battle cry shook the ground once again as the entire cavalry surged forward.

From the sky, it looked like golden rivers of Qi were pouring into the city from four directions at once. The gray and white fog that had blanketed Red Springs began to scatter, driven away by the sheer force of their combined aura.

But as soon as Reymon entered, he noticed something strange. The thick vines and roots that had covered the roads and buildings only moments ago suddenly began to move on their own. They slithered aside like obedient snakes, curling toward the walls and giving Reymon a wide, clear path.

Even the massive roots that had split open the streets bent away, clearing a smooth road straight toward the center of the city.

Reymon frowned but didn’t slow down. His instincts screamed that this was unusual, but he kept riding forward. The same thing was happening on the other sides of the city—the charging cavalry from the east, north, and south were also finding clear paths as the vines moved aside to let them pass.

He narrowed his eyes, his mind quickly running through possibilities.

’So, you’re letting me in this time, Aksai?’ he thought grimly. ’You must be preparing to trap me again inside your Devil’s Den.’

Reymon had already been expecting this. He knew how dangerous the Devil’s Den was—the living formation of corrupted roots and vines that could devour life and Qi alike. He wasn’t going to fall for the same trick twice.

Without wasting any time, he pulled out a small, glowing token from his armor. It pulsed with golden Qi as he poured his energy into it. The token instantly transmitted his message to several hidden groups scattered among the cavalry. These were the elite squads of the Grand Martial Hall—Reymon’s personal creation.

They were different from ordinary martial artists. Instead of cultivating Qi, they had learned to control Spirit Essence. They were basically the first generation of Spirit Cultivators in Sharang, trained in a new system Reymon had developed using knowledge he had gathered from corrupted druids.

Within moments of receiving his command, hundreds of these elite soldiers quietly broke away from the charging cavalry and retreated to strategic locations. They spread out around the city’s perimeter, climbing onto rooftops, towers, and high walls. Together, they began forming a protective barrier around the city.

Reymon glanced back and smirked as he saw them move into position. Each of these Spirit Cultivators was an early-stage Foundation Establishment Expert. Every one of them carried special fire-element Spirit Spells capable of burning through wood and plant life like dry leaves.

’Good,’ Reymon thought to himself. ’You can raise your Devil’s Den all you want, Aksai. But this time, I’ve come prepared.’

He remembered how the Devil’s Den worked. It was powerful, yes, but it had a major flaw—the one who controlled it suffered a heavy backlash if the formation was suddenly destroyed. And with his elite forces stationed around the city, he was ready to strike at its weakest point.

’You thought I’d be scared of your demonic tricks? No,’ he thought, his eyes gleaming with a cold light. ’This time, I want you to raise that Den so I can crush it and tear you apart faster.’

The vines kept shifting around him as if guiding his path toward the center of the city. The shadow of the enormous tree loomed in the distance—its dark trunk rising high like a mountain, its branches spreading far across the rooftops.

Reymon’s grip on his sword tightened. He knew that tree wasn’t just a tree—it was Aksai’s Demon Tree, the heart of the Devil’s Den.

He had made use of the Hall’s core strength this time. He had left behind all Bronze and Argent Artists because he knew they would be useless here. Worse, if Aksai activated the Den, those weaker cultivators would be instantly corrupted and turned into tree devils. Reymon wasn’t going to give him that advantage again.

Instead, every single warrior he brought was an Aurous Artist—perfected or imperfect, all of them powerful enough to resist the corruption for a short time. And just in case, Reymon had prepared something special for them too.

Every Aurous Artist carried a vial of fiery red liquid—a potion infused with Spirit Essence and the fire element. If a warrior found themselves trapped or controlled by the Demon Tree, they could drink it to resist the corruption. And if they died, the potion would ignite their bodies instantly, leaving nothing for Aksai to use.

It was brutal but necessary. Reymon would not allow his fallen soldiers to become his enemy’s weapons.

Reymon had also equipped each of his warriors with protective gear. He used resources stored in the Hall’s vault for years to bolster their offensive and defensive power.

The warriors were to move in squads of five or more. This ensured no single fighter would be targeted and taken down quickly. A prolonged battle would give survivors more chances. Plus, all the squads needed to act as each other’s backups in case of sudden emergencies.

With all these preparations in place, Reymon was confident. He had anticipated every move Aksai might make. Even if the enemy proved stronger than expected, sheer numbers and planning would ensure victory.

One had to say that the grand master of the Grand Martial Hall had not taken Aksai lightly.

He urged his horse forward, golden Qi bursting outward in waves. Behind him, three thousand Aurous Artists followed, their auras lighting the fog-filled city like flickering suns.

“Forward!” Reymon shouted, his voice echoing across the empty streets.

“This heretic tree devil will witness the might of Sharang’s warriors with his own eyes. Let’s not make him wait — send him straight to hell.”

The cavalry roared in unison, their battle cries rolling through the air like thunder.

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