Nangong Zhen let out a laugh, a cynical smirk on his face, as he said, “Although he’s valuable, he’s not irreplaceable. To put it bluntly, considering Song Clan’s reputation these days, as long as I offer a satisfactory sum, finding someone like him would hardly be a problem. Why shouldn’t I sell him to Young Master Qi and make a fortune instead?”
Upon hearing that, Duan Hao grew furious. Had it not been for Song Zining’s restraining hand, he surely would’ve charged into a fatal confrontation. Duan Hao originated from House Song—how could he possibly tolerate Nangong Zhen’s open mockery? After all, compared with House Song, the Yishui Nangong was merely an upper-tier family line and, technically, one rank beneath the Song.
Song Zining exhaled slowly, muttering, “You’ve managed to make even me unable to muster a laugh, Grand Councilor Nangong—you truly are remarkable in your craft.”
Nonetheless, Nangong Zhen replied with a smirk, “In comparison to life and profit, what is ‘face’ worth, really?” In truth, even he himself hadn’t believed the Song Clan could go as far as tossing away their dignity for the Nangongs to stomp on.
“Now seeing as Grand Councilor Nangong has such sincere ‘intentions,’ what exactly would you desire in return?”
Nangong Zhen answered gravely, “It’s very simple: my House has dispatched a legion of well-maintained personal troops, sealing off the rear defense line behind the warzone. We made our contributions to the Blackflow Campaign battle. Hence, we shall take our portion, eight-tenths of the military merit.”
“Eight-tenths? That’s horse crap!” roared Duan Hao, finally bursting out in outrage. With numerous injuries earned all across frontlines and many fallen comrades—his battle achievements bore blood-heavy weight. As the hot-headed commander was about to erupt beyond self-restraint upon Nangong’s blunt demand for eight parts, even Song Zining’s presence didn’t halt the impulse.
This time, Nangong ignored Duan altogether, his focus firmly placed on Song as he persisted, “Eight-tenths—we won’t budge a jot.”
Only then did Song Zining’s face darken. The Nangong House must have long anticipated Song’s concessions in their losses—this was their underlying scheme after all. Once this trade happened, the act of preventing any reinforcements to Blackflow from arriving by House Nangong would transmute magically into assistance during the conflict. The Nangongs would gain massive military glory, jumping immediately on the top of the military honor lists. With such glory, the dark truth hidden behind those maneuvers would be effortlessly obscured. Even forces like the Red Scorpios or Master Zhao’s household could hardly raise issues later on.
Smiling quietly, Song Zining remarked, “With eight parts of those meritorious deeds—the rewards themselves could raise four major combat divisions of soldiers. Won’t the Nangongs be wary of biting off more than you could chew?”
“There’s no reason for you to worry for us,” countered Nangong, with deceptive serenity in his tone.
“I suppose if I refused?”
“Then we’d consider marching a contingent of soldiers to briefly relieve defenses here in Blackflow,” hinted Nangong coldly.
It was outright coercion. The “Darkfire Brigade”, already exhausted and battered from the clash with Ludd’s forces, couldn’t withstand the might of even one well-resourced legion—let alone Nangong’s elite division, supported by multiple masters waiting patiently for war. Even skilled in maneuver, Song Zining alone would find victory impossible without solid support.
Song Zining smirked. “Master Nangong, are you prepared to antagonize the entirety of the Expeditionary Force?”
Nangong responded, unfazed, “I’ve merely annoyed one officer—General Xao. After all, the command of the Expeditionary Force involves more than just a single deputy leader.”
He cast a knowing gaze and subtly hinted, “Besides… even ‘Iron Curtain’ may not prevail indefinitely.”
All traces of emotion left Song Zining’s eyes as if tranquil waters, untouched. That look signalled that this was not a guess; rather, an indication of well-informed insight. Fixing a long, cold, narrow-sighted look at Nangong Zhen’s face: “Therefore, I shall warmly await your glorious troops and the opportunity to marvel upon Grand Councilor’s martial mastery in Blackflow…”
This took Nangong slightly aback. Unexpectedly dismissed outright, his face dark clouded. He retorted harshly, “Indeed—it isn’t an opportunity for show. You weren’t even a glimmer of thought back before I’ve marshaled soldiers!”
But Song Zining offered no attention now. He called loud and resound:
“Bring our special guest forth and escort him away!”
With a savage chuckle, eager Duan Hao advanced forward with gritted menace: “Grand Councilor Zhen, allow me this honor!”
Glancing sideways disdainfully, Nangong hissed back, “Fine, let’s see how long you two manage to resist such force.”
Just before exiting those doors, Song dropped a new statement, calm yet laden:
“Sir Chancellor, should you happen to ‘greet’ the territory on your way out, precisely like you did upon arriving—I do wonder whether certain seaports’ defense guns would experience unfortunate discharges.”
Infuriated by both audacity and the veiled warning, red-faced and livid, Nangong left, no longer lingering even the courtesy of a fare-thee-well farewell. The city’s colossal coastal guns, having delivered a shocking performance against Ludd forces and caused heavy casualties, reminded him the impossible odds against a simultaneous cannon barrage, something his armored division wouldn’t survive untouched.
Not long after Nangong’s shadow passed beneath the Blackstone fortress gate, Song’s commander, Duan, inquired: “My lord, orders for a round of those big guns perhaps to settle debts on vengeance?”
Shaking his head, Song Zining answered, “Be patient. There may come a time where they’ll repay far more than what is due—just hold that vengeance until Qian Ye walks once again out of retreat.”
Giving additional instructions fleetingly, he then rushed hastily toward Qian Ye, who remained locked within solitude. Previously, two instances of ‘Heavenly Demon’ energy drifted ominously above Blackwater, and still Song had remained uncertain of what impact this had brought over Qian Ye’s current retreat trials.
On his own way home in no mood to linger, Nangong soon found his command vehicle exiting Blackflow’s gates while muttering curses under his breath with disdain.
A silent junior advisor finally ventured asking: “Grand Minister, previously you received advice from Eldest Elder Longlook—was your request for four parts of military glory sufficient?”
With disdain, Nangong humphed low as he explained authoritatively, “Surely four is never enough, as I still must share this with all my sub-clansmen? A fair division must come first!”
“B-but…” he stammered.
“Leave concerns to me,” Nangong interjected, calm yet calculating. “Isolating Blackflow’s access routes would eventually force Song Zinning to bow. If Song House refused even to respond during their blockading era—certainly now too, they’d remain quiet. As long as the blood-scarlet scorpions remain unconcerned around that deadly woman’s presence—no problems either shall emerge regarding Master Zhao Yuying, because she, in no capacity, embodies the entire Zhao.”
Even before concluding his speech to his assistant, Nangong abruptly stiffened in alarm—catching something through perception: A powerful pulse from someone erupted from underneath the ground where Qian Ye sealed himself away. Then in a second—the column of energy broke through to pierce right through an iron vaulted dome covering distant skies with unimaginable potency.
In an instant, the column connected heavens unto world as violent blood-stirring aura spread to all four quadrants!
“This?!… what… what is that!?” shock seized Nangong at what he could only assume, from his knowledge of power evolutions, might indicate a celestial sign caused from a breakthrough!
What sort might trigger that scope though? He stood pale.
His face blackened beyond description; a while after realizing his own fleeting thought of firing salvos on parting—he gave up altogether the idea.
This spectacle of might reached all major presences still remaining in full strength within Blackflow’s encampment: all stirred and shaken with suspicion. However, Song Zining’s response contrasted with gaiety—recognizing the direction Qiaoni’s pillar ascended to: Qian Ye’s reclusive location.
Yet immediately Song’s joy turned to dread. Above in celestial heights, their shielding Iron Curtain spun wildly again as the Heavenly Demon energy made an aggressive return.
Song Zining rocketed into open terrain, breaking at full force towards the site where Qian Ya meditated, while surrounding him formed the hazy, glass sheen-like barrier. Through it—flying leaves—three thousand leaves in total technique, each bearing secrets, each concealing reality: hoping to arrive at the most needed moment before devastation arrived.
Meanwhile, Qian Ye had already surpassed earlier astonishments at sky shattering visions breaking upon his awareness. Seeded in quiet cross-sectional stillness, intensifying the art.
Within that space, a torrential rush poured unceasing torrents of Origin Force—entering a vast ocean-like expanse known as his original energy reservoir. At that moment, every passing second granted achievements rivaling days spent training.
The sea no longer erupted in massive waves across his perception; it turned slowly—swirling gradually, drawing into a titanic, calm vortex. Although appearing peaceful from the farthest perspective, it was capable of swallowing everything in an instant through its concealed might. Surpassing even tidal surges from the Forty-Ninth Circulation.
The overwhelming deluge poured forth ceaselessly, cascading into the energy pool of his being—devoured instantly and assimilated within his swirl.
And just after breaking the Celestial barrier using tidal strength of Circulation surpassing the Fourth-Nineteenth Round—a spontaneous shift occurred from those titanic ocean tides into absorbing sea vortex. It mirrored the law of ‘the extremes of the Tao’ manifesting naturally. Thus—without effort—the new method came alive in Qian’s psyche:
“Ultimate War-Slaughtering Method”.
This, was a new phase beyond Circulation FIFTY and hence the natural transition—the manual itself consisted of scarcely 300 characters, appearing surprisingly simple. Yet for a manual of martial cultivation at this level, simplicity was expected at pinnacle heights—techniques weren’t needed if it naturally resonated—only need adhere, harmonize, and channel accordingly into transcendental artistry.
But despite its brevity, reading once over its essence—Qian’s lips moved gently whispering, awe in his tone as he acknowledged: “Thus was it all.”
Originating from Emperor Qin of Great Qin—wielding blood-soaked battle experience from apocalyptic battles echoing through time—its movement patterns reflected universal principles in warfare. Thus, when placed beside entire archives of the empire itself—none other could surpass it entirely through concept.
Even for the genius like Ancestor Qin, there existed none other equal to him—so successive students grasping technique yet lacking spiritual depth failed ever again to reproduce its might.
Only in the great expansion during Martial Ancestor’s age, in pursuit of awakening the true potential residing with more human kin joining in their struggle against dark beasts for lands and livelihood, did Emperor Martial Ancestor augment and spread the War Slaughtering technique. The first half became a known fundamental martial method in the modern military forces. Yet the path forward—beyond Round Fifty’s boundary itself—was hidden by the Emperor’s unparalleled mastery into the cosmic sea’s boundless nature.
Only those surpassing 50 Rounds would undergo transformation—from mighty tide into an all-consuming spiral—where a beam of Origin energy, rising from body piercing through the iron-vault sky into boundless cosmos, triggered evolution—awakened to the ultimate inheritance.
So it transpired—originally the martial method “Wu Slaughter Decree” wasn’t restricted to Warriors of lower tiers—the ocean-sucked pressure from fifty-circle cultivation was too much for anyone unprepared. Only Qian—refining into that burning crimson core—survived that crushing gravity without fatal injury. For any ordinary cultivators to cross even at thirty-cycles into War Champion stages had proven impossible—hence Round Fifty eclipsed in difficulty remained far from reach by others to contemplate—controlling a colossal whirlpool of such might to break through to becoming a War Marshal? That had long surpassed human boundaries.
Nonetheless Qian discerned something as he went about practicing the “Tieh-Min (Celestial General method)—the script’s structure remained fragmentary as the overwhelming gravitational pull from the sea-vortex presented body conditioning at a threshold too immense.
Perhaps even historical super-geniuses like General Zhang Bolqian and the King Martial Duke ceased at exactly such an impassable barrier. Who can dare to rival the wrath, the will of Nature itself?
Suddenly—a disturbance surged again overhead—the Heavenly Devouring entity’s presence in the other realm sensed again. A sense of alert awakened.
Qian halted. Ceasing cultivation.
The energy column subsided quietly; the space rift above mended.
The Heaven’s Phantom presence lingered briefly above “Iron Curtain”, then faded away in fruitless pursuit.
At the very same time—Qian detected within his chamber space a familiar energy aura—this subtle pressing weight akin to an opened domain from an approaching soul.
A leaf floated gently into his sight.
Though still entranced somewhat by that ocean’s transmutative surge in his previous moment—Qian found a mysterious, deep enjoyment still in the air. Observing Song Zilling’s famed token—this singular petal—only stirred a faint amused grin from him. With little delay, fingers flicked it teasingly backward. Then, he dispelled the last tendrils binding from meditation. He opened his door quietly.
Unexpectedly—a faint muffled groan. Stepping outdoors Qian found his associate’s expression rapidly fading into an icy pallor, his stance slightly swayed.
“Brother—you alright?”
Just that instant, Song’s sensation perceived—like endless oceans crashing inwards—overwhelming weight that seemed to drop straight upon his head! His “Three thousand drifting leaf barriers” cracked alarmingly under the invisible pressure threatening their stability before recovering with gritted effort. This subtle energy imprint of flick sent waves of bewilderment across his nerves, as though illusionary hallucinations took root.
His expression shifting through complex emotions—yet determination took over eventually. He abruptly grabbed hold of Ye’s tunic roughly and demanded fiercely: “What was that just now? This skill you showed!?”
“The Art of Slaughter.”
Song Zining scoffed with doubt. “Now who could find such nonsense believable!”
“The War Annihilation manual—Round FIFTY,” reiterated Qian quietly with solemnity.
“That’s a convenient excuse…” Song started furiously—but something dawned abruptly. “Wait, you’re serious? You actually said… FIFTY? That round?”
Qian nodded gently. Confirming with calm: “Just now—I breached. And reached there.”
Shock coursed Song’s expression. He muttered stunned, awe laced through the words: “You passed ROUND-FIFTY! Could it be—you are on the same battlefield with the legendary General Zhang from bygone era?”
At this, quiet reflection filled Qian Ye as he exhaled slightly melancholic words. “And yet even now—I fail to decipher the method the general achieved to pierce past the 50th threshold. The War Slaughtering only begins reaching true expression—beyond FIFTY Rounds.”
Snapping anger laced into a frown, he shot back sharply, “I still can’t comprehend even How you did it! But no dramatic soliloquies today… quickly tell—must you solidify that mastery longer?!”
“No need.”
Song Zining’s eyes gleamed with anticipation. “Then we move immediately—get your fists ready, and let’s grab some combat honor! I’ll personally throw you against my enemies. If I don’t take advantage of this newly risen juggernaut at my doorstep—it’d be too generous, wouldn’t you believe?”
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