Chapter 427 : Old Souls Never Die (2)

Dementia.

A ‍​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​​‌​​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​​​‌​‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​​​​‌​​‌​​​​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌​​​​‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​​​​‌​​‌​‌​​​​​‌​‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​​​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌‌‌​‌‍horrifying disease that slowly bleeds away the knowledge and memories a person has spent a lifetime gathering.

It ‍​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‍is a disease that makes you forget even who you are before eventually stripping away your dignity as a human being.

The ‍​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‍old people of Peach Blossom Ridge had been suffering from both old age and the side effects of Demonic Arts, causing their memories to tangle and their mind regressing into their childhoods.

But ‍​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‍at this very moment, those very same old people were staring at the Embroidered Uniform Guards like they had never been afflicted by the disease from the start.

The ‍​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‍way a person remembers people and things changes depending on the era of their life.

You might stumble across something entirely new, or remember a friend differently depending on the decade.

But the devotion and fanaticism that they’ve been cultivating in their entire life would never change no matter how much of their self has lost to the obvlivion.

"Kill them!!"

Here before them stood their mortal enemy, the ones who had dared drive their great Heavenly Demon Divine Cult into the desolate wastes of Xinjiang.

Faced with the imperial mutts, the withered souls had turned into fearless warriors before anyone knew it and lunged at the Embroidered Uniform Guards in unison.

Swoosh!

One elder swept his sword in a wide arc, and a massive crescent of Sword Qi tore through the air.

"HAAH!"

Another drove straight into the heart of the enemy formation along with his saber humming in dense Saber Qi.

But for all the ferocity of the elders' assault, for all the terrifying weight of their Demonic Arts, the Embroidered Uniform Guard didn't display any signs of fear.

"What the hell is wrong with you lot?! Are you seriously going to let a bunch of senile old traitors put you down?!"

The roar came from Mo Gyu-pil.

On his signal, Embroidered Uniform Guards all around drew their weapons and fought back.

The Embroidered Uniform Guard had been built on the finest martial texts in the Imperial Archives, and sharpened further with rare elixirs sourced from every corner of the Central Plains through the full weight of imperial power.

Every single one of the hundred soldiers present had reached at least the Peak Realm, and a handful had pushed into the Supreme Peak Realm.

The battle between the elders of Peach Blosom Ridge and the Embroidered Uniform Guard erupted into a full-scale melee. And in the center of that, one old man slipped quietly through the chaos until he was standing directly in front of Mo Gyu-pil.

"Seems like you're mine to deal with."

The old man's presence was nothing short of Mo Gyu-pil's own, and that had Mo Gyu-pil frowning as he looked him over.

"The names of traitors are destined to be forgotten by history, but I'll do you the courtesy of hearing yours before I kill you."

Internally, Mo Gyu-pil was harboring deep suspicions regarding the fact that there was a hidden master the Eastern Depot had entirely failed to identify.

The old man let out a dry laugh at his words.

"Hehehe. Asking for a name from an old fool who can't even remember it himself... What a stupid question. When you're standing before the King of Hell, tell him the Lord of the Peach Blosom Ridge sent you."

He finished the sentence and attacked without a breath of warning and aimed at Mo Gyu-pil’s vital point with a sudden lunge. His sword was fast and sharp.

CLANG!

With a quick flick of his wrist, Mo Gyu-pil easily parried the ambush. But the elder didn't even blink at his failure. The old man transitioned into a follow-up combination as if he had fully expected that Mo Gyu-pil could block that strike.

Mo Gyu-pil felt a prickle of genuine unease.

‘What kind of sword style is this? How does a sword art this sharp have no defining style to it?'

The old man's swordsmanship was bizarre.

One moment it was heavy and crushing, the next it was soft and flowing like the Wudang Sect’s martial arts. But without any warning, he then would shift into a complex illusory style, leaving phantom afterimages hanging in the air to steal his opponent's focus.

Swoosh!

The instant Mo Gyu-pil’s eyes were tricked by an illusion, a fast thrust would shoot out of the afterimages and aimed right for his vitals.

"Tch."

Deciding he wasn't going to let an old man dictate the pace of the fight, Mo Gyu-pil clicked his tongue and threw himself a step backward to lash his sword through the empty space between them.

Slash!

The Force Qi gathered along his sword stretched out like molten glass and swept through a broad swath of space in front of him. The Lord of Peach Blosom Ridge used lightness skill to take to the air and clear the strike without much difficulty, but the moment his feet touched the ground again—

"Got you!"

Mo Gyu-pil was already coming at him and began his offensive in earnest.

A devout believer who had spent his whole life revering the Heavenly Demon as a living god, and a military officer who had given his loyalty to the Supreme Eunuch.

They exchanged blow after blow, and neither of them was willing to give an inch.

"HAAH!"

Mo Gyu-pil drove his sword toward the old man's throat.

Truthfully, he had no intention of actually decapitating the man with this strike. The old man's sword style was so bizarre that he could launch an attack from literally any angle or posture.

This swing was nothing more than a high-pressure feint meant to force the elder into breaking his stance.

But the old man’s reaction to that strike completely shattered Mo Gyu-pil’s expectations.

The old man didn't even bother trying to dodge or block the feint. Instead, he just drove his own sword straight for Mo Gyu-pil's heart without any care for the blade incoming to his neck.

He pushed his Fast Sword to the extreme like a man completely desperate to die as quickly as possible.

Mo Gyu-pil's eyes went wide and he twisted his torso out of the way. 

The old man's blade skimmed his chest and left a shallow gash while Mo Gyu-pil’s sword grazed the old man's throat in turn.

But even with blood running freely down his neck—

"Hahaha. I see."

The old man laughed.

"So you do fear death."

He said it the way someone might comment on the weather.

From the reaction, the old man had just confirmed something he already suspected.

He pressed the attack again, turning the exchange back in his favor, and now there was something on his face that hadn't been there before.

A smile.

It was unbecoming of his age. A mischievous smile you'd expect from a bratty child playing a prank.

"Oh, my. What to do?"

CLANG!

"It would just be unfair for a young man with his whole life ahead of him to die out here with an old fool who's already got one foot in the grave."

Alongside the mocking words he spat out, the elder's swordsmanship became entirely suicidal.

He disregarded any notion of defense and committed to strikes aimed at mutual destruction.

Mo Gyu-pil's face slowly began to flush red.

It’s not just because blood had rushed to his head while he was being pushed back.

It was because the old man’s mockery had hit the mark.

Mo Gyu-pil caught himself repeatedly pulling his strikes just to defend his own life instead of capitalizing on the old man’s wide-open and ending the fight here and there.

Maybe it was the old man's mocking laughter ringing in his ears, but realizing he was subconsciously choosing to cower filled Mo Gyu-pil with a burning shame.

And while Mo Gyu-pil’s face burned red, the old man kept provoking him.

“How come a dog of the Imperial Family cares so much about his own life?”

“The standard of a good boy was that one should throw away his life gladly for his master, correct?"

"Ah, now I get it. You aren't a dog at all, you're just a treacherous little fox! A wretched little fox just waiting for the chance to bite the hand that feeds it! Hahahahaha!"

When the Lord of Peach Blosom Ridge started grinding even Mo Gyu-pil's loyalty into the dirt with his words, fire leapt into Mo Gyu-pil's eyes.

"Shut your mouth!!"

As the old man's sword slashed toward his neck, Mo Gyu-pil roared and swung his own sword directly at the old man’s throat as if choosing mutual annihilation with full intention.

In Mo Gyu-pil's wide eyes, he watched the old man’s sword inching closer and closer to his own flesh.

As certain death approached, the flow of the world around him seemed to crawl.

‘Is this really how it ends?’

Trapped in that slowed world, the thought suddenly flashed across his mind.

He recalled all the hardships he had endured in life.

All the evil things he had done.

And all the schemes he had carried out in the shadows.

‘Did I do all of that... just to die like this?’

The future he had wanted, rising to the very top with the backing of the Supreme Eunuch and drowning himself in luxury, started fading away into white fog.

‘No. I can live! I can kill the old man and survive!’

Within that frozen world, his mind screamed as he desperately tried to contort his body and redirect his sword to parry the old man’s strike and take the old man's head for free.

But no matter how desperate and sharp his mind might be at this moment, his body was still trapped in the jaw of that frozen world.

As his mind was busy screaming toward his body to move, the Lord of Peach Blosom Ridge's eyes came into his sight.

There was no doubt in those eyes.

The old man really intended to die together with him.

His sword was still thrusting forward along the perfect path to Mo Gyu-pil's throat.

It was completely different from Mo Gyu-pil’s own sword that had been thrown off by his sudden change in direction.

And in those fearless eyes, Mo Gyu-pil saw himself reflected back.

He saw his own face pale with terror.

‘That can't be...’

As his mind struggled to comprehend his own fear-stricken expression—

‘Since when...?’

The old man's sword touched his throat.

Slick.

Along with the crisp sound of the sword separating flesh and bones, a tidal wave of unbearable pain crashed through his skull before everything went black for Mo Gyu-pil.

***

Thud.

The Lord of Peach Blosom Ridge looked down at where the man's head had fallen to the ground and murmured, "What a fool."

After that brief comment, the old man used his left hand to press his acupoints and stop the bleeding from his neck.

In truth, Mo Gyu-pil's sword had also reached the old man’s neck.

The only problem was that by trying to dodge and twist his sword mid-swing, his attack landed a split-second slower.

If Mo Gyu-pil had kept driving his sword forward without hesitation, the two of them would definitely have died together instead of only one dying.

The sword of a man who had been loyal for wealth and glory had become undone by his own greed for life.

Meanwhile, the sword of the old man who had given his all on his faith remained steady.

With his enemy's head taken, the Lord of Peach Blosom Ridge turned back to the battlefield.

The battle was still raging.

His comrades were still fighting out there.

He launched himself forward without a second thought.

Slash!

"Ugh..."

The sudden intrusion of a master who had reached the Realm of Truth shifted the tides of battle.

"Th-the Vice Commander is dead!"

That, combined with the news that their commander had fallen, sent the morale of the Embroidered Uniform Guard into freefall.

Coupled with the news that their leader had been defeated, the morale of the Embroidered Uniform Guards began to plummet drastically. 

In truth, the Vice Commander's death was merely the spark that ignited the terror that had been steadily building up within them. 

Much like the Lord of the Peach Blossom Ridge, the old folks they had been fighting had fought with zero regard for their own lives.

Completely overwhelmed by the madness, several of the Embroidered Uniform Guards finally snapped and abandoned their comrades to flee.

"Hah... hah..."

‘I have to get back to Beijing and warn the Supreme Eunuch about this! I have to tell them these ancient monsters hiding in Xinjiang!’

He lied to himself in a desperate attempt to soothe his conscience as he ran.

But even as he ran for long—

"!?"

—The battlefield seems never to get away from him.

The fleeing Embroidered Uniform Guard stared at the bizarre scene in front of him with dread.

It was the same field he had turned his back on and fled.

He spun around and bolted in the opposite direction, pouring everything into his lightness skill.

"..."

Yet once again, that battlefield came to his view.

The only difference this time was that the pile of allied corpses amassed there had doubled, and there was not a single allied soldier left standing to offer any resistance.

Maybe because silence had fallen over the battlefield—

Jingle.

The faint sound of small bells reached his ears.

"...Ah?"

The man turned his head with a blank expression.

There stood an old man shaking a staff covered in dangling spirit-bells.

He was one of the old men who had come with the Lord of Peach Blossom Ridge to stop the Embroidered Uniform Guards and was none other than the Head of the An Family.

From the very start of the battle, he had been working quietly in the shadows, locking down the entire perimeter with a massive Formation.

It was a Formation designed to force anyone who fled the battlefield to endlessly loop back to it.

The reason he prepared this kind of hidden formation instead of one that directly attacked the enemy was simple.

As the saying goes, “Even a cornered rat will bite the cat”

If you wanted to weaken the enemy’s resistance, you had to leave them with the hope that they could run away.

"Looks like you're the last one left."

The Lord of Peach Blosom Ridge walked toward the last remaining rat with a cold face.

"S-son of a..."

Finally realizing he had been played from the very start, the cornered rat swung his saber in a desperate last stand.

Slash!

Unfortunately for the rat, the monster standing in front of him was simply too much to handle alone.