Lord Minghai, Lord Wenyuan, and a host of generals gathered around Qian Ye, awaiting further orders. Qian Ye’s gaze swept over them one by one.
No matter who they were or what their origins, each had transformed, much like the demonic army that Zhao Jundu had once led—fearless, constantly breaking their own limits, and with unlimited potential for growth.
They were all somewhat puzzled. They were so close to their final destination, with the last battle looming. Why had they suddenly stopped?
Qian Ye waved his hand casually, and dark golden blood energy coalesced into a map of the central region in the air, highlighting a towering solitary peak near the entrance.
“The final battlefield is here,” he declared.
“A strategic position, easy to defend, hard to attack,” commented Lord Wenyuan.
“Near the sinkhole, the mountains are tempered by black flames, making them as durable as top-tier alloys. Only a Marquis could hope to damage it. This is indeed a natural battlefield, with an unchanging geographical advantage,” added Lord Minghai.
Lord Wenyuan supplemented, “But there’s no supply here. If the dark races lay siege, we might not last long. We need another battle first to secure supplies.”
“True, the Empire’s supply ships can’t reach this far.”
Once the generals finished their discussion, Qian Ye said, “Let’s go. We’ll decide the next steps when we get there.”
On the large map in the air, a route appeared, almost a straight line leading directly to Qian Ye’s designated final battlefield. This path would pass through the front gate of the dark race’s central fortress, which, judging by its size, must house at least 100,000 defenders.
Yet, no one objected to the route.
The troops set off again, and soon, the silhouette of the Eternight Fortress appeared on the horizon. In the dim light of the Black Sun Valley, the fortress loomed like a massive, sleeping void beast.
If the Imperial soldiers could see the fortress, then the garrison certainly saw them too. The lookout immediately reported this, and the report was escalated until it reached Duke Dominik, the bloodline noble in charge of the fortress.
When the report arrived, Dominik was enjoying his lunch. His long table was laden with exquisite dishes, eleven courses in total, a clear testament to his status and rank. No matter where or under what circumstances, bloodline nobles always paid attention to every detail of their lives.
Seeing the report brought by his aide, Dominik frowned, coldly saying, “Have you brought this to the wrong place? Is this urgent enough to interrupt my meal?”
The aide, flustered, replied, “My lord, I apologize for disturbing you during your meal. But this is the highest level of emergency. Your decision is needed.”
“Is it something that requires my immediate attention? Are the enemies at our doorstep?”
“In fact, they are passing right through the main gate.”
“What?” Dominik was shocked, nearly spilling his wine. A sense of unease gnawed at him. “Bring me the report.”
Before the aide could act, Dominik snatched the report and stormed out of the dining room, reading it as he went. “Move faster!”
The aide chased after him, but Dominik was already gone. Knowing his habits well, the aide headed straight for the fortress gate, where Dominik stood, looking out with a grave expression.
The aide squinted, barely making out a small force heading towards the sinkhole. It was not a large army, perhaps only two to three thousand. The fortress could easily send out a Marquis with a force twice their size.
To the aide, this was a blatant slap in the face of all the bloodline races in the fortress, and it demanded a strong response.
Yet, Dominik seemed lost in thought, his anger and impulsiveness gradually fading, replaced by a chill.
He dismissed the aide, “This is a matter of great importance. Write a report and send it to Her Majesty. The sooner, the better!”
The aide hesitated, “By the time the report is written, they will have passed.”
Dominik glowered, “Write it, or I’ll throw you into the blood pool as fertilizer!”
The aide, silenced, was pulled aside by a colleague. Once the duke left, the man whispered, “You fool, think about why such a small human force could reach here!”
The aide realized, “Could it be… him?”
“Who else? He has the Storm.”
Realizing, the aide still protested, “But the duke might not lose to him!”
“What if he does? Write the report. You might lose your position anyway.”
The aide rushed to comply.
Outside the fortress, in the Imperial forces, Lord Wenyuan’s eyes flashed, “These black-blooded scum, too afraid to fight! What cowards!”
“They’re scared after facing the lord before. Now he wields the Storm. Who among ordinary dukes would dare to challenge him?” agreed Lord Minghai.
Lord Wenyuan stroked his beard, “I wonder how spectacular our final battle will be!”
Lord Minghai laughed, “No matter how spectacular, won’t we just be supporting actors for the lord?”
“True.”
They laughed heartily, filled with camaraderie.
Qian Ye took a deep look at the fortress, seeing no movement, and continued forward. Unbeknownst to him, the fortress was in a frenzy, not to prepare for battle, but to draft a report to Yenotu.
Writing the report was a delicate task. Even if Yenotu did not read it now, she might later, and other officials would review it. They couldn’t admit to being cowed by Qian Ye and the Storm.
Thus, deferring to a higher authority was a familiar tactic, used both by the Empire and the Eternight nobles.
The small force left the vast fortress behind, and the solitary peak and the towering black flame pillars became clearer, even to the common soldiers.
By midday, they reached the foot of the peak.
The mountain, though not particularly high, was the only high ground in the flat area. Its terrain was rugged, with smooth rocks on the side closer to the sinkhole, evidence of long exposure to black flames.
The peak’s location was even more advantageous than Qian Ye had anticipated, controlling the wide path to the sinkhole. Occupying it would sever the connection between the fortress and the sinkhole, making any force heading there vulnerable to fire from above.
The heat was intense, even the warlords sweated, and common soldiers struggled. The harsh environment likely kept the dark races from seizing the peak.
But the black flame pillar showed signs of weakening. Perhaps soon, common soldiers could station there.
Seeing the surroundings, Lord Minghai and Lord Wenyuan looked grim. The resources needed for a prolonged battle here were considerable, and water alone wouldn’t last long.
Qian Ye looked up and spotted a dot in the sky. As it drew nearer, they recognized it as a void beast, with human propulsion technology—a bizarre combination.
“The Valhalla!” Lord Minghai exclaimed.
Qian Ye’s possession of the Valhalla was no secret. It had been crucial in destroying two Dukes’ ships during the Floating Land campaign. Few had seen it, and the lords took a moment to realize.
The Valhalla flew leisurely, causing a commotion in the Eternight Fortress.
It flew too high for the fortress’s anti-air guns, and the dark races’ airships were too expensive to keep in the New World. No dark lord dared to challenge the Valhalla.
In the harsh Black Sun Valley, the more complex a ship, the quicker it deteriorated. Without specific requirements, the fortress did not need such advanced vessels.
The Valhalla landed smoothly beside the peak, and Carol emerged, dragging large boxes.
“These are the items you requested.”
Qian Ye glanced at the boxes, “Good.”
“And this. I spent a fortune to get it,” Carol handed Qian Ye a sealed box.
“Whose?”
“Probably the Longevity King.”
Lord Minghai and Lord Wenyuan exchanged looks, understanding the box contained a force bullet infused with the Longevity King’s power. Such a treasure’s existence was shocking.
Qian Ye weighed the box, sighing, “Even after a millennium, some corruption remains in the Empire.”
“An unavoidable evil. As long as the core is sound, all is not lost,” Lord Wenyuan philosophized.
Qian Ye stowed the box, addressing the lords, “Your journey ends here. The Valhalla will take you back. Return in seven days, when the black fire subsides.”
“What?!” the lords cried in unison.
“From now on, this is my war. Take the troops back. Those who made it this far are commendable. Don’t let them die needlessly. Board the ship!”
With his authority, none could defy him, despite their reluctance. Carol, impatient, urged them on. The Black Sun’s harshness made every moment risky, even for the Valhalla.
The lords and soldiers boarded, and as the ship rose, they crowded the windows, watching.
Qian Ye climbed to the peak, unfurling a large banner with a bold, aggressive “Night” written on it—his personal flag.
As the Valhalla vanished into the clouds, the banner rose, fluttering in the wind. Qian Ye sat beneath it, waiting for the dark horde.
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