The suns blazed high when dust clouds rose at the valley's entrance. A squad of cultivators marched in, their robes marked with the sigil of Iron Fist Sect.
Their leader, a tall brute with arms like tree trunks, sneered. "So this is the joke of the continent? A madman shouting at stones?"
The disciples behind him laughed. "Hah! Maybe he'll order us to sit straight too."
"Or make us do push-ups!"
Their laughter echoed across Faguniya.
Shakal's Arrival
A whistle split the air. Pheeew!
"Line up, you useless rookies!"
The battered disciples of Faguniya scrambled into formation, panting but determined. Behind them marched Shakal, hands clasped behind his back, his glare sharp as bayonets.
"Who dares disturb my barracks?"
The Iron Fist leader barked a laugh. "Your… barracks? This is land you squatted on. Do you even know cultivation law? You have no clan, no sect, no heritage. This land belongs to us now."
Shakal's lip curled. "Belongs to you? Rookie, this land belongs to me. And let me teach you the first rule of Faguniya—"
He stomped the ground. The rocks trembled. The river surged. Trees swayed like soldiers in parade.
"—Everything here follows my command."
The Iron Fist disciples froze, staring.
"Did… did those rocks just move?"
"No way…"
Mocking the Enemy
Shakal folded his arms. "You fools. Are you doing a picnic here? Stretch your body, harden it, so it doesn't break even under gods. Look at you, holding swords like they're fishing poles. Pathetic!"
The Iron Fist leader's veins bulged. "You dare mock us?"
Shakal barked a laugh. "Dare? Rookie, if you can't handle words, how will you handle war?"
Battle Begins
"Kill him!" the leader roared, charging forward with qi blazing. His fist crashed like a meteor toward Shakal.
But before the blow landed—
CRACK!
A boulder shifted, slamming itself between Shakal and the fist. The punch struck stone instead, splintering it into dust—but the force was absorbed, redirected by the land's qi.
"What—?!" the leader gasped.
Shakal smirked. "Lesson one: rocks are your comrades if you train them."
The ground rumbled. More boulders rolled into position, forming a line like a shield wall. The disciples of Faguniya gasped.
"They're… marching!"
The Iron Fist cultivators faltered. "This is insane!"
"Advance!" Shakal roared. The rocks surged forward, slamming into the enemy like a phalanx.
Discipline vs Chaos
The Iron Fist disciples fought back, hurling qi techniques—flames, spears of wind, blasts of energy. But the flowing river bent, redirecting attacks. The trees leaned, branches sweeping like spears. The very land fought in formation.
Shakal's voice thundered over the chaos. "Breathe in with the strike, breathe out with the guard! Don't panic, rookies—panic is for corpses!"
His own disciples, still weak, but fired up, followed orders. Their movements synchronized, qi flowing smoother than ever.
The Iron Fist leader's face twisted. "This is madness! How can a wasteland fight like an army?!"
Shakal pointed straight at him. "Because unlike you clowns, I know how to command soldiers—even if they're rocks and rivers!"
Turning Point
The leader gathered all his strength, qi blazing like wildfire. "Enough! I'll crush this farce with one strike!"
He leapt high, fist blazing with power, descending like a hammer.
Shakal smirked, calm as a veteran under artillery fire.
"Rookies," he barked, "formation delta. Bait and smash."
His disciples moved instantly. Rocks shifted into a V-shape, guiding the leader's descent. The river surged upward like a whip, twisting his landing.
And just as he hit the ground—
BOOM!
The boulders slammed shut like a trap, crushing him in a stone embrace. Dust exploded.
When it cleared, the Iron Fist leader lay broken, his qi scattered, blood leaking from his lips.
The Soldier God's Lesson
Shakal marched forward, standing over the fallen brute. He crouched, eyes like steel.
"You thought power alone wins wars. Wrong. Discipline wins. Formation wins. Unity wins."
He stood tall, voice booming like thunder.
"This is Faguniya. Here, even rocks stand at attention. Even rivers march. And you—" He jabbed his finger into the man's chest. "—are nothing but another rookie who failed the test."
The Iron Fist disciples trembled, their arrogance shattered. Some dropped their weapons.
"W-we surrender…"
Shakal grinned savagely. "Good. Welcome to Faguniya. From today, you're not enemies—you're recruits."
Divine Spectators Stir Again
Far above, unseen eyes widened.
"This mortal… he bends land and men alike into formation."
"A lunatic… no, a genius."
"He is building not just a land, but an army that could one day rival gods."
Shakal stood in the valley's heart, arms crossed, as the suns set behind him. His disciples—old and new—knelt, fists pounding the ground.
"Faguniya! Faguniya!"
The land itself pulsed, echoing the chant.
And Shakal, smirking like a commander who'd just won his first battle, whispered to himself:
"One step closer. From soldier to general. From general to King. From King… to Soldier God."