Elder Wu stood in the command tent, a temporary island of order amidst the organized chaos of the main contingent's camp. Before him, a massive topographical map was spread across a wooden table, dotted with markers indicating beast nests and difficult terrain. He was the field commander, a man of cold logic and meticulous planning.
A gentle hum emanated from the jade communication talisman on the table, its surface glowing with a soft light. Kira's voice, stripped of its usual silken purr and rendered flat by the talisman's magic, echoed in the quiet tent.
"Disciple Kira reporting, there are no birds, no insects, and the air feels dead. The alchemist reports a stagnant, corrupt spiritual signature. The entire village feels like a tomb."
A profound stillness fell over Wu. The usual stern set of his jaw tightened, and his usual stone expression turned colder, more dangerous. A man like him did not feel fear, but he recognized the cold, sharp scent of a perfectly laid trap.
He pressed a finger to the talisman, his own voice a low, hard command. "Kira. Your report has been acknowledged."
"Thank you, Elder."
"Your unit is to fall back immediately. I repeat, immediately. An unknown spiritual blight of this nature is not a threat for a single team to investigate alone. Rendezvous with the Silver-Winged Vanguard at these coordinates." He tapped a location on the map, sending a pulse of Qi through the talisman. "Consolidate your forces and await my further instruction."
There was a brief pause, then Kai Jin's rumbling voice came through, laced with protest. "We can handle it, Elder. We are already here."
"That is an order, Kai Jin, not a suggestion," Wu snapped, his patience gone. "Confirm."
A heavy sigh echoed from the talisman. "...Understood, Elder. Our team is pulling back."
Wu severed the connection, his mind already two steps ahead. He activated the second talisman, this one linked to Feng's unit. After a moment, a voice answered, smooth and tinged with arrogance. It was Jin Wei.
"Elder Wu. We are making excellent time. We are approximately halfway to the Sunken Mire, as expected."
"Turn back," Wu said, his voice leaving no room for argument. "The village your scout reported as 'distressed'… your assessment was critically flawed."
A beat of confused silence hung in the air. "...Elder? It was a simple mortal settlement facing a drought. It posed no threat."
"It is not just a drought," Wu's voice was as cold as a grave. "I suspect it is something far worse. Kai Jin's unit is en route to this location." Wu sent the location to Feng's team. "Consolidate your forces and make your way there. Do not engage any target until both unit commanders have visual confirmation. That is all."
He cut the transmission before Jin Wei could form a protest, leaving the arrogant youth to stew in his own "critically flawed" assessment. Wu then turned, his face a mask of grim purpose, and strode towards the master communication array located in a tent at the center of the camp. This was no longer a matter for a field commander to handle alone. This was a matter that needed the attention of all the elders of the sect.
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In the quiet, incense-filled Elder's Council Chamber, the pillars of the Azure Plum Blossom Sect were gathered, waiting for an update from Wu. A large, circular jade array in the center of their table pulsed with light, and the face of Elder Wu shimmered into existence above it, his features etched with a gravity that silenced the room.
His voice, transmitted from the forward command tent leagues to the south, was as cold and hard as stone. "The vanguard has been ordered to fall back and consolidate. I assess that one or more of the villages is not a site of drought, but of a spiritual blight of unknown origin. Disciple Kira's reconnaissance confirms an absence of all life signs. She likened it to that of a tomb.'"
When he finished, the chamber was silent for a long and tense moment.
It was Zheng who spoke first, his fingers steepled, his expression analytical. "A spiritual plague? A heretical ritual to harvest mortal souls, maybe. The methods are crude, but to render an entire village lifeless…"
"The mortals…" Elder Lian's voice was a pained whisper, her compassionate nature a stark contrast to Zheng's cold logic. "Are they all…?"
"The rot must have been there for at least a week, Sister Lian," Ming said gently, though his own eyes were grim. "To corrupt the Qi of the land itself, to poison the very air… this confirms our fears. This is not the work of a simple beast of corruption. There is an intelligent evil will behind this. Did the Azure Shadows find anything?"
As the question hung in the air, a shadow in the far corner of the chamber, where the light from the glowing array did not reach, seemed to deepen. It detached itself from the wall, flowing like spilled ink across the polished floor before coalescing into the form of a kneeling figure, cloaked and masked in illusory mist. None of the elders, not even Lin, had sensed their presence until they chose to be seen.
"Elder Lin," the figure's voice was a genderless, emotionless whisper, the sound of wind through a cracked tomb. "Shadow-One reports."
The five elders' eyes locked in, their full attention now fixed on the individual.
"The source of the corruption originates from a desolate chasm deep in the southern badlands," the whisper continued, each word delivered with the cold precision void of emotion. "We could not approach the epicenter. A spiritual pressure emanates from it, a will so powerful it suffocates the soul. But we observed what came out of it."
The figure paused for a single, chilling beat.
"It is an army. A marching horde of the undead. Their numbers are… difficult to comprehend. Tens of thousands. Perhaps hundreds of thousands. A silent river of reanimated corpses, their eyes burning with a sickly green light. They are moving north, led by a small contingent of living cultivators whose identities have not been discerned. They do not tire. They do not rest. They only march."
The calm, collected atmosphere of the council chamber was shattered.
"An army… of the dead?" Zheng breathed, his pragmatic mind struggling to grasp the sheer scale of the report. "Are you certain of the numbers?"
"Our estimate is conservative, Elder," the whisper replied, without a hint of doubt.
Elder Lian's hand flew to her mouth, her face pale with horror. "Their graves… desecrated. Their souls given no peace."
"Necromancy on this scale…" Ming murmured, his face ashen. "It is not just a forbidden art; it is a blasphemy against nature itself. Such a thing has not been seen since the Age of Demons."
"An army that feels no pain, no fear…" Wu grunted, his tactical mind racing and finding only horrifying conclusions. "Our sect's formations are designed to hold enemies out and inflict debilitating wounds. Against such a foe…" He trailed off, the implications too grim to voice.
Elder Lin had remained silent through it all. He stood slowly, his hands gripping the edge of the heavy table. The serene, unshakable calm that had defined him for a century was gone. In its place was a look of raw, profound horror, a deep-seated fear that came not from surprise, but from a terrible, ancient recognition.
"The Valley of Unrest…" he whispered, the names like curses from a forgotten history. His eyes, wide and filled with a terror that chilled the other elders to the bone, looked past them, as if seeing a ghost from a bygone era.
"The demons of the past," he said, his voice a ragged, broken whisper. "They have come back to haunt us."
Elder Lin spoke up again. His eyes were calm, but held a depth that seemed to see beyond the immediate crisis. "Brother Wu's order to consolidate the vanguard was correct," he stated, his voice quiet but absolute. "An unknown enemy requires a united front. But this changes the nature of the expedition. This is no longer a relief mission with a security detail. It is the precursor of war."
Ming stroked his beard, a troubled look on his face. "If this is a declaration, Lin, then we cannot answer it alone. We must send word."
A heavy silence fell, broken only by the crackle of the jade array. It was Elder Zheng who finally spoke, his voice laced with a bitter, pragmatic weariness. "It seems the demons of the present are just as troublesome. Brother Lin, have the first of the Flame-Winged Messengers you dispatched returned with replies?"
He slid three thin, unrolled scrolls across the polished table. "The Thousand Rivers Pavilion and the Ironclad Bastion both offer their... condolences," he said, his tone dripping with cynicism. "They will send 'observers' to assess the threat. They promise to act if, and only if, they deem it a direct threat to their own territories."
"Observers?" Ming murmured, his expression disappointed. "They would watch a brother's house burn to see how high the flames reach?"
"And the Golden Summit Sect?" Elder Lian asked, a fragile hope in her voice.
Zheng let out a short, humorless laugh as he read their reply. "Their response is... predictable. They state this is an 'internal matter' for the Azure Plum Blossom Sect and refuse to commit a single disciple. They wish us well in 'managing our southern pests.'"
The insult hung in the air, a testament to the deep rift between the two great sects.
"Fools," Elder Wu grunted over the communication array. "They are all fools."
Elder Ming, who had been quietly absorbing the political cowardice, straightened his back. A cold, unyielding fire replaced the haunted look in his eyes.
"Observe? Assess? While a tide of death marches on our borders?" His voice was no longer a whisper, but the low, resonant boom of a storm gathering. "They are blinded by a century of peace. This is not a territorial dispute. It is a plague of death that will not stop at our borders. It will consume them all in time."
Lin nodded in agreement and stood, his presence filling the chamber with an absolute authority that dwarfed even their combined might. He raised his hand, and once more, four motes of brilliant crimson flame danced above his palm, burning with a new, desperate intensity.
They shot through the open window with the speed of a comet.
"Send a second notice," he commanded, his voice echoing in the stunned silence. "To all four sects. No longer a request for aid, but a formal invocation of the Ancient Alliance Pact. Title it: The Harvest of Souls has Begun. Inform them that the time to observe is over. The time for mobilization has come."
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Kai Jin's unit waited in a tense, silent clearing ten kilometers from the dead village. The rendezvous point was a pocket of unsettling quiet, the air still carrying the faint, foul taint of rot on the wind. They had been holding their position for over an hour.
"Anything?" Kai Jin asked, his voice a low whisper.
Kira, perched silently on a high branch, shook her head. Ren, a blur of motion at the clearing's edge, gave a negative signal.
"Hold steady," Kai Jin ordered. "Feng's unit should be here any–"
"Senior Brother," Alex's voice was a sharp, urgent hiss.
Every head snapped towards him. He was staring intently into the dense woods, back in the direction of the village they had just left. His face was pale.
"The Qi," he whispered, his Immortal Eyes seeing what no one else could. "That sickening aura. Something is coming."
Every member of the unit went on high alert, weapons readied in their hands. They stared into the shadows, but saw nothing. Heard nothing.
Then, a rustle of dry leaves.
A small figure emerged from the treeline. It was a child, a little boy no older than six, his simple clothes caked with dust and grime. He walked with a slow, shambling gait, his head hanging to one side.
Elara's breath stammered. A survivor. Her hand flew to her mouth, and her first instinct, born of a lifetime of grief and a fierce protective nature, took over. She took a step forward and called out. "Are you okay?"
"Elara, wait!" Alex grabbed her arm, his grip like steel.
She struggled against him, her eyes wide with frantic compassion. "Alex, what are you doing?! He's hurt! We have to help him!"
"Look closer, Elara," Ren's voice was as cold and sharp from her perch in the tree. "Look at its eyes. There's nothing in them. That is not a child. It is a shell."
Elara froze, her gaze locking onto the boy's face. Ren was right. His eyes were wide, but they were milky and vacant, glassy orbs that saw nothing. A thin trail of black drool trickled from the corner of his slack mouth.
That's when Kai Jin stepped forward, planting himself between his unit and the approaching figure. He stood with the focused readiness of a warrior.
As if sensing his intent, the small boy's head snapped up, its neck cracking at an unnatural angle. Its shambling walk exploded into an unholy skitter, its limbs contorting and jerking as it rushed forward with a speed that made the Golden Core disciples gasp.
Kai Jin threw two lightning-fast punches, each one a blur of motion that should have pulped the small form. But the undead child moved with a horrifying, twitching foresight, its body bending and twisting at impossible angles to avoid the blows.
How could it dodge a Nascent Soul's strike? The thought flashed through Alex's mind, cold and sharp.
Kai Jin's expression hardened. His third punch was different. It carried not just force, but a crushing, absolute finality. It connected.
There was no sound of impact. The child's head didn't just detach; it disintegrated into a cloud of black dust and foul, green-black vapor, which hissed and dissipated in the clean air. The small, headless body stumbled for two more steps before collapsing into a heap on the forest floor.
Silence. The unit stared at the still form, the true, horrifying nature of their enemy finally sinking in.
It was in that moment of stunned silence that the Silver-Winged team arrived. Five streaks of silver light descended from the sky, their occupants hovering disdainfully on their flying swords, looking down on the scene.
"Having some trouble, Kai Jin?" Jin Wei called out, his voice dripping with condescending amusement. "Making such a commotion over a single lost peasant. Are you disrupting the mission to play in the mud?"
Lily's control finally snapped. She had seen enough of the arrogance, the dismissal, and the sheer, willful ignorance.
"You incompetent fool!" she shrieked, her voice raw with fury as she pointed back towards the direction of the village. "You flew right over a tomb full of dead mortals and didn't see a thing! We're down here dealing with the consequences of your pathetic scouting, and you have the nerve to lecture us?"
Jin Wei's handsome face twisted into a mask of pure, venomous rage. To be insulted by a Foundation Establishment disciple, a piece of trash, was an unforgivable stain on his honor. "Know your place, you little shrew," he snarled, a sharp, piercing Qi flaring around his sword. "Another word from you, and I will cull you where you stand for your disrespect."
"ENOUGH!"
Kai Jin's voice boomed with the cold, heavy weight of absolute authority. The very air seemed to tremble. He looked up, his gaze piercing through Jin Wei's arrogant facade, nailing him to the sky.
"This is not a mortal issue," Kai Jin stated, his voice a low, grim pronouncement that carried the weight of the Elder Council's worst fears. "What is happening here could very well be a threat to every cultivator, every clan, and every sect in these lands. The time for pride is over."