Chapter Sixty-Nine: The Barracks

Outside Luoyue County.

The location of the army encampment.

Within, every soldier wore a helmet and armor, wielding spears and blades, exuding a chilling aura.

In this place, ordinary folk who entered would inevitably feel their hearts race with fear; for cultivators approaching, the sensation was even more unsettling.

If a cultivator of profound skill employed advanced techniques to observe the flow of energy, they would see tens of thousands of breaths fused together through the military’s fortune, forged into one, murderous intent and bloodlust coalescing as if an adept of the third heaven had condensed their killing will; bolstered further by the favor of heaven and earth, this murderous intent radiated with the might of heaven, nearly manifesting as destiny itself.

Such martial intent within the army could almost be called the killing will of heaven and earth, capable of shattering the power of any third heaven cultivator, and even those beyond would be compelled to retreat.

And this was merely an encampment of ten thousand soldiers, not an army of hundreds of thousands.

“How formidable…” Qingyuan muttered in the shadows, awed.

“A single soldier is like dust on the ground; I could sweep them away with a flick of my hand.”

“But ten thousand soldiers are like a mound of sand, enough to bury a man alive.”

“Yet, under the forging of the military and the blessing of heaven’s fortune, these ten thousand are no longer mere sand, but fused into a single mass, akin to stone, capable of breaking a cultivator’s power and smashing many to ruin.”

“Even if one’s skill is great enough to shatter the stone with a punch, the fist would not escape injury.”

“But, rather than stone, it’s more like a gem; even if I broke the gem with my punch, relying on deep cultivation to remain unharmed, the powerful figures who control these gems—perhaps even immortals—would not let matters rest.”

Qingyuan exhaled deeply.

For cultivators dependent on the kingdoms, armies were always difficult to contend with.

Those who could not prevail would have their elemental powers shattered by these ant-like soldiers, then be devoured until not even bones remained.

Those who could win dared not strike, nor could they afford to.

The battlefields of the mundane world ultimately remain the province of mortals.

Cultivators merely attach themselves to the order, fighting among themselves, perfecting the divine mandate of heaven and earth.

“Let’s go.”

Seeing several patrolling soldiers pass by, Qingyuan signaled to Gu Cang.

Gu Cang replied softly.

Both rose to their feet, now clad in armor and helmets, their disguises changed.

Gu Cang, in particular, had affixed a mask, the features painted vividly, though lacking color and appearing stiff, expressionless. Such tricks could only deceive in the night, but any careful scrutiny would expose the deception.

As soon as they stepped within the bounds of the encampment, an oppressive sensation gripped them, a feeling of dread.

“The army camp can startle even gods and ghosts; it’s no exaggeration,” Qingyuan sighed inwardly.

---

The killing intent fused within the camp was imperceptible to most, but those of timid disposition would nonetheless feel anxious upon entering.

Cultivators, with their heightened senses, felt the pressure keenly—not even facing the charge of an army, merely stepping into the camp was enough to sense its oppressive force.

Qingyuan and Gu Cang, both practitioners, felt the martial intent pressing upon them, and since their skill was not high, found it difficult to endure.

In the days before the fall of Great Tang, it was said, “Where the army camps, gods and ghosts withdraw.”

In these times, as the order of heaven and earth resets, such matters of fortune are even more pronounced.

---

Luoyue County, though bearing the name of a county, was in truth a small place. Yet, with Mount Fuzhong at its back, it was not insignificant. Walls stretched endlessly around, guards every few steps, watching over each other, and camps below, visible from afar, impossible to bypass.

To truly enter Luoyue County, aside from flying upon clouds, one could only use the various gates.

Deng Yin’s army was stationed around, guarding every approach, not gathered all together.

Qingyuan knew he could not scale the walls, so he had to risk passing through the camp.

He had chosen the weakest entrance.

He and Gu Cang, under the moonlight, disguised as soldiers, skirted the patrols, gradually crossing the encampment toward the other side.

The other side of the camp led directly to Luoyue County.

“My cultivation can’t contend with an army, but I didn’t expect that even sneaking in would be so difficult,” Qingyuan frowned, glancing at Gu Cang.

Gu Cang fared even worse; as a spirit creature, though versed in the Dao, it was not highly skilled, and the pressure weighed heavier upon it.

Qingyuan exhaled lightly, ready to encourage it to endure.

At that moment, a voice called out from above, “Stop! What are you two doing?”

Gu Cang stiffened, about to look up.

Knowing Gu Cang’s mask was unsuitable for scrutiny, Qingyuan whispered, “Keep your head down. Don’t speak.”

Gu Cang murmured assent, maintaining a bowed posture.

Qingyuan drew a deep breath, ready to reply.

Suddenly, the man above demanded, “Password!”

Qingyuan’s gaze sharpened.

How was he to know the password?

He had thought this sector would be unguarded—was there a change?

He stopped thinking, relaxed his hand, letting an iron rod slip from his sleeve, and with his other hand, prepared to pick up a stone to strike the man above.

Deng Yin’s army was well-trained; any disturbance would soon be discovered, even if not immediately.

---

Even if he struck down the soldier before him, the road ahead was long, and passing unnoticed would not be easy; he could only retreat.

If luck favored them, the fallen soldier would be found late, and they might escape. If not, they might not get away unharmed.

The killing intent in the camp was tightly bound—a single thread could unravel the whole.

“So be it…”

In that instant, Qingyuan’s thoughts raced; his right hand gripped the iron rod, his foot nudged a stone, left hand loosened and tightened, stone slipping quietly into his palm.

He was about to act, when suddenly a voice rang out behind him.

“What are you doing?”

The voice was deep and weighty. “These are men under my command.”

The newcomer was tall, burly, bearded, armored like a tower of iron.

His face was calm; his eyes shone.

It was the same man Qingyuan had met by chance on the road, surnamed Yue, a cultivator of the third heaven.

The soldier above paused, then laughed, “So they’re Commander Yue’s men. What brings them here?”

“Mmm.” Commander Yue nodded. “These two are new, unfamiliar with the rules. I’ll take them back.”

The soldier assented.

Commander Yue came before Qingyuan, laughed quietly. “See, you were tempted by my words after all, entering the army…”

Qingyuan remained expressionless. “I need to get into Luoyue County.”

Commander Yue nodded. “I’ll find a way. Follow me.”

Surprise flickered in Qingyuan’s eyes.

They had met only once before, and their previous conversation had not been pleasant—there was no friendship.

He had not expected this man, likely of the Bai clan, to help him so readily.

Could it be a trap?

But if ill intentions were present, Commander Yue would not have intervened just now.

“Very well.”