The sun had barely risen above the eastern ridges of Shenzhou Province when the call to arms rang out across the fortified camps of the Heavenly Spear Alliance. The light mist over the crimson peaks swirled like breath escaping the mouth of a sleeping dragon, and within its embrace, soldiers, tacticians, beastmasters, and spies stirred to life. Today marked the beginning of their first coordinated expedition—an operation that would test the mettle of Su Mengtian's freshly forged alliance and stake their claim in the wild, ungoverned lands flanking the edge of Eastern Polaris.
Within the high command chamber of the provisional fortress, located on the western cliffs above the Ridge of Dying Winds, Su Mengtian stood before a massive table embedded with live-mapped projections. Surrounding him were the nine acting advisors, each representing their respective Halls. At his left stood Ji Yeyan of the Hall of Shadows, clad in ash-black robes. Beside her, General Rou Lin of the Hall of Valor radiated a warlike aura, his greatblade strapped to his back like a slab of iron thunder.
Further down stood Inara of the Hall of Ironblood, crackling softly with embedded aether-conductive tattoos, and Master Baojin of the Hall of Aegis, whose enormous shield leaned against the wall like a slab of mountain rock. Venerable Chan of the Hall of Echoes manipulated ether channels midair, while Xiaoyun, the sharp-eyed elder of the Wyrmcallers, whispered commands to a spectral falcon perched on her shoulder.
The trio at the far side included the tempestuous Lan Qiu of the Hall of Tempests, robed in stormweave silk and incense smoke; gentle-faced Yue Mei of the Luminous Veil, her hands glowing faintly with healing light; and finally, Xuan Le, head of Astral Command, a stoic tactician whose eyes missed nothing.
Su Mengtian turned to face them, his presence both grounded and ascending. "Today, we claim Sector Delta-7. It borders the Spiral Rift Border to the north and the corrupted ruins of Anhe to the east. We cannot allow hostile factions or rogue dimensional beasts to take root there."
Xuan Le nodded, tapping the projection. "The terrain offers a natural crescent defense if we fortify from the south ridge first. Aether storms are less frequent this time of the cycle, which gives Ironblood and Aegis an advantage."
Inara flicked her wrist, unfolding a miniature stormfront above her palm. "I can manipulate the wind currents to funnel mana streams through the canyon's gap. It'll power our forward artillery units."
"I will shield their advance," Baojin grunted. "Assign me four squads of mixed infantry."
Su Mengtian listened without interrupting, taking in every word, every breath. This was not a debate. It was the sharpening of a blade before war.
"Hall of Shadows," he finally said. "I want full terrain mapping, silent scouting routes, and sabotage of any enemy encampments. If ghost clans are operating nearby, I want their ears cut off before they whisper."
Ji Yeyan bowed slightly, her cloak rippling like a shadow fleeing the light. "Already deployed, Commander. The night veil has marked nine nests. We'll eliminate them silently."
"Wyrmcallers will launch the aerial sweep," Xiaoyun said with calm confidence. "My wind serpents will carry communication relays. Echoes, be ready to receive."
Venerable Chan raised two fingers, activating a grid of mental connections between scouting teams. "We will hear their footsteps before they move."
Su Mengtian's gaze turned harder. "No hesitation. This is not just a test of our halls, but of our unity. Every squad, every scout, every beast—we move as one. Astral Command will issue orders through the shared command net. Any hall operating independently without relay confirmation will be pulled from field operations."
"Understood," Xuan Le said with a nod. His tone was crisp, absolute.
A solemn silence followed.
Then Rou Lin cracked his knuckles. "When do we crush skulls, Commander?"
Su Mengtian allowed a smirk to slip. "Now."
The expedition began within the hour.
From the fortified southern base, lines of soldiers advanced under a dome of projected camouflage woven by the Luminous Veil. The heavy striders of Ironblood trampled forward with metallic grace, while luminous tether-beasts of the Wyrmcallers darted overhead, piercing the skies like war-born comets. From the rear, the chant of Echoes resounded in whispers only those bonded to ether-hearing could decipher.
Lan Qiu, leading a detachment of the Hall of Tempests, scattered spectral sigils into the winds. Each symbol activated spiritual interference patterns that disrupted enemy detection wards for miles around. By the time the front lines breached the first canyon edge, the enemy had not even stirred.
But the silence did not last long.
The ruined outskirts of Anhe stirred with unnatural movement. Cracked stone temples and shattered statues of ancient guardians now served as hatching grounds for dimension-tainted spawn—half-organic, half-phantasmal creatures known as Riftwalkers.
"Contact," came the first pulse from an Echoes operative.
In the command center, Su Mengtian read the signal instantly. "Shadows and Tempests, cleanse. Valor, hold line. Aegis, reinforce rear flank. Wyrmcallers—flank from above."
The response was immediate. Ji Yeyan emerged from nothingness like a whisper of death, leading her squad through corridors of lightless ruins. With a flick of her fingers, silence spells bloomed, muffling the very heartbeats of her operatives. The Riftwalkers died without sound, vanishing into ash.
Elsewhere, Lan Qiu cast storm sigils that fragmented the cursed mana flowing through the enemy. Tempests danced among horrors, turning dread into vapor. Below them, Rou Lin and his Hall of Valor clashed with a fresh wave of dimensional beasts, their coordinated hammer strikes reverberating through the valley.
Su Mengtian arrived at the front himself. Riding a reinforced wyrm-mount forged from bone and crystal, he carried no visible weapon—only the pressure of command and the aura of a storm bound in human form.
And as the thunder cracked above, a faint echo pulsed through his chest.
That same deep rhythm again.
The one he'd felt at the Council of the Nine Spears.
His hidden bloodline stirred.
The Thunder Guardian Dragon, long dormant, coiled in the depths of his spirit core. Its power tested the edge of its prison, stretching its claws as if sensing the chaos around them.
But Su Mengtian gritted his teeth. Not yet. The world wasn't ready. His halls weren't ready. He wasn't ready.
"Hold," he whispered to the creature within. "Wait for the right battlefield."
He descended from the mount and moved into the thick of battle. His hand flicked, releasing aether shackles that imprisoned enemy spawn. With a gesture, he redirected Echoes to isolate mana nodes, cutting the enemy's reinforcement channels.
Then he raised his voice.
"Form convergence spiral. Execute Astral formation nine."
The halls moved like a storm-breathing machine.
Support units flanked wounded fighters within seconds. Aegis shields converged around weak points, while Tempests launched coordinated soulshocks. Ironblood launched elemental anchors that froze space between cliff passes.
It was beautiful.
It was war.
It was the future he had dreamed of in his past life.
And by the time the sun dipped below the mountains, Sector Delta-7 belonged to the Heavenly Spear Alliance.
That night, the warcamp glowed with victory. Fires burned in calculated rows. Soldiers sang in ten languages. Beast companions danced. And above them, the banners of the Nine Halls fluttered against the violet dusk.
Su Mengtian stood quietly on a cliff, his eyes scanning the stars. Behind him, Yue Mei approached.
"You pushed yourself too hard again."
"They need to see me bleed with them."
She placed a gentle hand on his back. "You bleed enough for all of us. But something's shifting in you. I can feel it."
He said nothing.
The dragon within him stirred again.
And this time, it didn't retreat.