When the Space Piercing Shuttle carrying the core members of the infiltration team, escorted by several main battleships, slowly sailed into the giant orbital port of the "Watcher's Barrier" that the alliance had established on the void frontier, the welcome that awaited them was far more than mere deafening cheers.
Inside and outside the port, countless cultivators, demon tribe warriors, sea tribe warriors, and observers from the silicon-based civilization had gathered. They watched with anticipation, their gazes a mixture of excitement and an inescapable trace of tension and sorrow.
The first thing that met their eyes was that nearly destroyed Space Piercing Shuttle. Its streamlined hull was covered with shocking dents, tears, and scorched burn marks. The originally flickering runes were dim and lifeless. The spirit-magic engine emitted a dying low hum, as if it might sputter out at any moment. This creation representing one of the alliance's highest technological achievements now appeared as a survivor crawling out of the depths of hell, silently testifying to the ferocity of the battle fought in the void's depths.
The cabin door opened with difficulty.
First to emerge was Mu Xue, her moon-white robe now stained with dirt and dark red bloodstains. Her features remained cold and ethereal, but her brow carried unavoidable exhaustion, and in those ice-blue eyes' depths lurked unending worry. She carefully guarded beside the stretcher, her gaze never leaving the person lying upon it.
Next came Third Senior Sister Liu Yun, supported by two body cultivation disciples. Her face was pale, her aura unsteady. Her originally sharp, sword-like momentum was now greatly subdued, clearly indicating serious internal injuries that made even walking difficult. Yet she still straightened her spine, her gaze sweeping across the welcoming crowd, carrying a victor's stubborn pride as well as an indescribable heaviness.
Zhao Tiezhu followed behind. His physique was the strongest and his recovery ability the most remarkable, so among the group he appeared to be in the best condition. But his exposed arms and chest were covered with wounds not yet fully healed, some places faintly showing the black-purple of demonic energy erosion. He was silent; those usually honest eyes now brimmed with grief and anger, especially when his gaze swept across the stretcher.
Last was the special container carrying Second Brother Luo Feng's soul core, respectfully held by a technical cultivator. The glow on the container's surface also appeared dim, clearly indicating that Second Brother's soul had suffered tremendous depletion in the previous battle.
And the focal point of everyone's attention ultimately gathered on that stretcher made of ten-thousand-year warm jade and countless rare spirit materials, inscribed with complex life-sustaining formations.
Tang Xiaoqi lay there quietly, eyes tightly closed, his face pale as translucent crystal, as if a light touch would shatter him. His surrounding aura was weak to the extreme, like a flickering candle in the wind, now steady, now dying. Even through the layers of formation light halos, some high-level cultivators with keen perception could vaguely sense that within him was raging a perilous internal battle—the remnant Green Lotus power and that bone-chilling demonic intent were fiercely colliding within his shattered meridians and sea of consciousness. Every tiny fluctuation tugged at his heart pulse and primordial spirit, keeping him teetering on the edge of complete annihilation.
The alliance leader, Qingxu Temple's current Temple Master Mu Qingfeng, personally stepped forward. Looking at his junior brother lying on the stretcher, fighting for his life, this usually steady-as-mountain Senior Brother's eyes instantly reddened, his lips trembling slightly. In the end, he could only heavily, silently pat Mu Xue's shoulder—everything unsaid between them. He personally guided the stretcher, surrounded by the alliance's top medical cultivators and elders, rushing at maximum speed toward the most heavily guarded, spirit-energy-rich healing secret realm inside the barrier.
From the welcoming crowd burst forth a complex, subdued roar. There were cheers for the heroes' return, celebrations for the Demon Nest's destruction, but more was a solemnity and grief witnessed after immense sacrifice.
"World Purification True Lord..."
"Tang Alliance Leader..."
Countless people whispered, their gazes following the departing stretcher, filled with respect and concern.
And this was merely part of the triumph ceremony, or rather, the cold and cruel epitome of the price beneath that glorious victory.
Soon, more detailed battle reports were compiled and published.
Infiltration squad: Alliance Leader Tang Xiaoqi—suffered fatal injuries, origin damaged, primordial spirit scattered, demonic intent infiltrated, life and death uncertain. Mu Xue True Lord—spiritual power overdrawn, soul damaged, internal organs wounded. Liu Yun True Lord—sword essence damaged, multiple meridians severed, requires long-term closed cultivation. Zhao Tiezhu—body severely wounded, qi and blood depleted, demonic energy residue requires purification. Technical Director Luo Feng (soul state)—soul power excessive depletion, requires extended nurturing.
This was the heavy price of nearly the entire squad losing combat capability.
And this was not everything.
For the Heavenly Stems Star Formation responsible for the external main assault, the three hundred and sixty-five Nascent Soul cultivators serving as the formation's core points bore tremendous pressure. Post-battle statistics showed over fifty Nascent Soul cultivators had permanently regressed in cultivation level due to complete spiritual power exhaustion and severe soul depletion, falling from Nascent Soul mid-stage to early stage, even some from Nascent Soul late-stage, their Dao foundation damaged, future path bleak. Another nearly hundred had suffered severe damage to their fundamental energy, requiring decades of arduous cultivation to recover. There were also over a dozen elderly or already injured Nascent Soul cultivators who directly achieved peaceful death upon the formation's release, their souls returning to heaven and earth.
Alliance fleet: lost over a hundred vessels of various sizes, including many of the newest Space Piercing Shuttles and their improved variants. Initial tallies of dead and missing cultivators, soldiers, and warriors of all races exceeded ten thousand, not including those seriously wounded by demonic energy erosion requiring long-term treatment or possibly permanent aftereffects.
The Demon Nest was destroyed, the Demonic Entity severely wounded and in hiding, the main demonic army annihilated. This was undoubtedly a glorious victory worthy of being recorded in the annals of the Three Realms, crushing the Demonic Entity's ambition to devour their world and winning all beings space for survival and development.
The triumphant news would spread through the Three Realms, and everywhere would celebrate, drums and gongs resound, ten thousand cultivators paying homage.
But at the "Watcher's Barrier," at this frontline closest to the battlefield, the atmosphere of triumph was especially somber. On every surviving face could be seen little pure joy. They silently licked their wounds, tidied fallen comrades' belongings, gazing at the deep void that seemed to hide more unknown dangers, and at that closed door separating life and death to the healing secret realm.
The price of victory was so immense.
They had won the war, but might have lost the lighthouse guiding their direction.
Where should the path ahead lead? How long can this peace bought with blood and lives last? The shadow of the hidden Demonic Entity pressed like an invisible boulder on every insider's heart.
Triumph and casualties, victory and cost, at this moment formed an extremely stark yet heartbreaking juxtaposition.