Chapter 371
Testimonies of the Survivors
The survivors' stories did not align.
One man fell from his horse while fleeing through the forest.
Another abandoned a single shoe by the riverbank and ran until his legs failed.
A third lost all sense of direction and circled back into his own camp.
Only one thing was the same.
They had survived.
When asked what they had seen, none could give the same answer.
The first survivor spoke with trembling hands.
"He was… a man.
No—he was human, but…"
The sentence broke apart.
He shook his head after catching his breath.
There was no language for what he had witnessed—no way to explain a form of action that felt unreal.
"Before I even saw the blade… it was already over."
The second survivor gulped down water before speaking.
"It wasn't a fight."
He glanced around, then lowered his voice.
"The battlefield itself… pushed us out.
No—whatever we tried, it didn't work.
No, that's not it either…"
His words barely formed sentences.
Still, he repeated the same phrase again and again.
"There was nowhere to place our feet.
The moment we stepped forward, our lives were taken."
The third survivor arrived last.
There was a gash across his back,
yet he could not remember when it had been cut.
"I raised my sword," he said clearly.
"I raised it… but I couldn't use it."
"Why?"
He fell silent for a moment, then lowered his head.
"My breath was taken first."
He pressed a hand to his chest.
"I was alive. I was breathing.
But the breath… it wasn't mine."
The area fell quiet.
Another survivor spoke up.
"He wasn't alone."
"He was clearly just one man."
"No."
The words clashed.
Yet there were things they all shared.
No one could recall his face.
No one could describe the path of his blade.
No one could say when the battlefield collapsed.
Only one memory remained.
"If you step into that place—"
When one man failed to finish the sentence, another completed it.
"…it isn't people who fight."
"Then what was fighting?"
Silence followed.
Within that silence, fear hardened.
At last, someone spoke in a low voice.
"It was pressure.
An overwhelming presence—there's no other way to explain it."
No one argued.
From that day on, those who crossed the line and returned said only this:
"Do not go there."
And that warning spread faster than any order.
Zhu Yuanzhang did not let the report finish.
"Enough."
Before the word settled, his fist struck the table.
Bang—
The lanterns inside the tent shook at once.
"Are you mocking me?"
The officer reporting bowed even lower.
Sweat soaked his back.
"A man didn't fight?"
"Pressure forced you back?"
"Breath was cut off?"
"Do you think that makes sense?!"
Zhu Yuanzhang's voice dropped.
That made it more dangerous.
"Did I keep you alive so you could spout ghost stories on a battlefield?"
He rose from his seat.
His tall frame dominated the center of the tent.
"Seventy-three soldiers are gone."
"Half of them beheaded."
"And you come to me with tales of specters."
His gaze locked onto the survivors.
Sharp as a blade.
"Listen carefully.
War moves on blood.
Men kill, and numbers decide victory."
He pointed at one man.
A deserter.
"Whatever you saw, it was human.
If it isn't human, it can't be killed.
And if it can't be killed, then it isn't war."
The deserter could not open his mouth.
That silence scraped at Zhu Yuanzhang's nerves.
"Speak."
"…General."
The voice cracked.
"He… wasn't looking at us."
The air inside the tent froze.
"What did you say?"
"It didn't feel like we were his opponents."
"Like…"
He inhaled sharply.
"…like an absolute presence ruling over the field."
"…It felt as though the battlefield itself rejected us."
Zhu Yuanzhang's face twisted.
"Enough."
He closed the distance in a step
and seized the officer by the collar.
"You were afraid.
Fear turns the world into monsters."
He flung the man aside.
The body rolled across the floor.
"One expert changes a war?"
"One presence makes an army retreat?"
Zhu Yuanzhang laughed.
There was no joy in it.
"Do you know how many 'experts' I crushed on my way here?"
He swept his gaze across the tent.
"Men good with blades.
Men skilled at hiding.
Men said to appear and vanish like ghosts."
"All of them died."
Silence.
Then he added quietly,
"…This time will be no different."
But when the words fell,
Liu Bowen understood.
Zhu Yuanzhang's rage did not come from certainty.
It came from something he could not understand.
That night,
Zhu Yuanzhang did not leave his tent.
He did not drink.
He did not sleep.
His finger traced the boundary lines on the map again and again.
Erasing them.
Redrawing them.
Erasing them once more.
"Pressure…"
He murmured to himself.
"Then…"
His hand stopped.
"I'll summon someone who can tear it apart."