The four thousand Xuan Beasts did not surge forward as a single tidal wave. Instead, they split with startling precision into four distinct currents, each flowing toward a different segment of the battlefield under the silent direction of the three Beast Kings.
From above, it resembled a living formation.
Only a small cluster remained before Jun Wu Yi and his three hundred men.
However, those left behind were not the weak or the expendable. They were Level Nine Xuan Beasts, massive creatures whose mere breath seemed capable of toppling men where they stood. Their muscles rippled beneath thick hides; their claws gouged trenches into the earth with casual movements.
One could imagine them devouring several human experts with a single snap of their jaws.
Yet strangely, they did not attack.
Sikong An Ye found himself facing a single Golden Tiger. The beast's fur shimmered like molten metal beneath the sun, each stripe etched sharply against its broad, muscular frame. Its eyes were bright and disturbingly expressive.
The tiger looked at him, and then it winked.
Sikong An Ye froze mid-breath.
The Golden Tiger even went so far as to pull a face, its whiskers twitching as though suppressing laughter.
'Winking? What are you up to? I'm here to fight a battle. So, why do you have such an expression on your face?'
Sikong An Ye's eyes widened until they nearly bulged from their sockets. He tightened his grip on his sword, unsure whether he was hallucinating.
The Golden Tiger anxiously lifted a claw and pointed sideways, as if trying to signal something. Then, without warning, it threw its head back and roared, a sound so thunderous that the air quivered violently.
Boom!
It lunged forward with overwhelming prestige, golden fur blazing like fire.
Sikong An Ye felt a chill run through his spine. The aura alone was enough to suffocate a Spirit Xuan expert. He gathered every ounce of Xuan Qi within him and braced himself, blade raised, ready to stake his life on this single clash.
Their forces met, and nothing happened.
The impact was hollow, theatrical.
The tiger's claws carried no true killing intent; its power dispersed like smoke upon contact. The beast twisted lightly aside, wagged its tail with almost cheerful enthusiasm, and winked at him again.
Sikong An Ye stood stunned, sword still trembling in his hand.
'Crap! It was intended as a fake attack on me!'
He jerked his head around, scanning the battlefield in disbelief.
Everywhere he looked, the same absurd scene unfolded. His comrades shouted fiercely, veins bulging, faces flushed with battle-fury.
The Xuan Beasts roared back with equal ferocity.
The swords flashed like lightning bolts streaking across the sky, yet they consistently sliced through empty air. The claws swept down like collapsing mountains, yet they struck the ground inches away from their supposed targets.
It was a grand and magnificent farce.
The dust flew, shockwaves rippled, trees splintered, and the battlefield thundered with terrifying momentum, but no one was dying, except, perhaps, from confusion.
However, the most outrageous spectacle unfolded at the very center.
Jun Wu Yi sat calmly upon his wheelchair, robes fluttering in the violent wind. Before him, two colossal Earth-Cracking Xuan Bears, each weighing well over a ton, leapt simultaneously from either side.
Their paws struck the ground.
Boom! Boom!
The earth trembled, fissures spiderwebbing outward as dust erupted skyward in choking clouds. Even an intermediate Great Master would have struggled to evade such a pincer assault, let alone a commander bound to a wheelchair.
Yet Jun Wu Yi merely raised his sword as the blade gleamed faintly.
The bears halted mid-charge, veering aside as though the sword's edge carried invisible authority. They circled back, roared ferociously, and pounced again with exaggerated savagery.
Jun Wu Yi responded with another measured sweep.
Again, they retreated.
Back and forth they went as it resembled a meticulously rehearsed demonstration rather than a life-and-death struggle.
Sikong An Ye's jaw slowly descended further and further, until a sharp, humiliating sound escaped him.
Crack!
Agony shot through his face as his jaw dislocated entirely.
He released a blood-curdling scream that startled even the Golden Tiger before him.
The tiger froze mid-leap and tilted its head suspiciously.
'I didn't touch him,' The expression in its eyes seemed to say. 'This one is so frail. He injures himself just by opening his mouth too wide. Perhaps I have mastered the legendary Qi technique!'
Nearby, Duanmu Chao Fan had been similarly 'rescued' from certain doom. He was in the process of hurriedly peeling outer garments from a fallen soldier and fashioning them into a makeshift apron. Unfortunately, the apron covered only his backside, leaving the front to the mercy of wind and dust.
He discarded his sword momentarily and clutched the apron with both hands, grim determination etched across his face.
A Level Nine Golden Tiger roared before him and sprang high, soaring over his head in a magnificent arc. It landed behind him, kicked up dust, roared again, and leapt back over him in the opposite direction.
It attacked the air and the ground.
It clawed at nothing in particular with furious dedication.
Yet it never once touched Duanmu Chao Fan.
It was as though an invisible boundary separated them.
"My word…" Sikong An Ye attempted to mutter through his misaligned jaw, only producing a strangled sound.
"What are you doing, Chao Fan? We're in the middle of a battle! Yet, you're more interested in wearing an apron! Do you wish to turn into fried rice or something?" He forced out at last, pushing his chin upward with his palm.
Duanmu Chao Fan carefully retrieved his sword and replied in a cheerfully stammering tone, "Little, little… little Sikong… my… my… name… is… Duanmu… Chao… Chao… Chao… Chao…"
"Oh God, Brother! You've got to speak faster… listening to your words becomes very hard for me if you speak like that…" Sikong groaned, clutching his aching face.
Amid the absurdity, Jun Wu Yi's eyes narrowed slightly. He had seen enough battlefields to recognize the truth that this was no coincidence.
Someone was orchestrating this spectacle with absolute control, directing life and death like a puppeteer manipulating marionettes.
A very able person is helping us out by orchestrating this whole drama. But where's the director of this show?
The question lingered as Duanmu Chao Fan finally adopted a refined stance, silver light glimmering along his blade. He lunged forward with newfound confidence, attempting to seize the Golden Tiger's tail. The tiger twisted elegantly away, roaring with theatrical outrage.
Thus, the grand war between Man and Xuan Beast continued.
It looked magnificent and thunderous, but was utterly ridiculous beneath its surface.
On the other side, blood-curdling screams tore through the battlefield like jagged blades.
What had begun as bold defiance had devolved into unrestrained slaughter.
Those who had broken formation in arrogance, the warriors of Xue Hun Manor, the elites of Silver Blizzard City, and the experts from the great families, found themselves swallowed by a living storm.
The encirclement came swiftly.
And it was ruthless.
The blood sprayed in violent arcs, staining the air crimson as severed limbs spun upward before crashing into the dirt. Every heartbeat marked another life extinguished.
The ground that was once firm and golden beneath the sun had turned into a slick mire of red.
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