Chapter 56: Have You Come Running to Me Again?

At this critical moment, this small, bitterly cold northern nation did not retreat. With faces unflinching, they forged iron fists with flesh and blood, built walls of steel with unwavering faith, and from king to soldier, all fought with the resolve to resist to the death, seeking a sliver of hope for their ordinary people.

Kill! Kill! Kill!

The cries of slaughter echoed ceaselessly across the vast battlefield.

The warriors of Ning State, faces flushed and veins bulging, swung their iron fists with frenzied abandon, attacking the grotesque monsters before them with every tool and method they could muster.

Their faces were etched with despair.

Their actions carried the weight of finality.

No matter if it was in vain, they were willing to try.

As the Great Sage once said: "A soldier must protect his home and country, and die on the battlefield if need be."

So long as they could hold the line a little longer, their families behind them could flee a little further, and their chances of survival would be that much greater.

With nothing left to fear, the warriors of Ning State, at the cost of nearly a hundred lives, managed to hold the first wave of assault.

Yet not one of them shouted in triumph.

They all knew—the true terror lay in the monstrous army looming ever larger before their eyes.

The sixty-eighth year since Ning State was founded, on the Day of Eternal Night.

At five past the hour of the Boar.

When the army fused with unknown spores arrived, the defenses of Ning State collapsed in an instant.

The gap between the two sides was simply too vast.

Without cultivators, to hope for victory against monsters born for slaughter and blood was nothing short of a fool’s dream.

Courage might give the people of Ning State a measure of fearlessness, but it could never bridge the chasm between them, nor bring about a miracle.

On the battlefield, a one-sided massacre began.

As the monsters counterattacked, their true horror was revealed.

Their bellies split open to reveal blood-red maws lined with fangs, devouring the charging warriors in a single gulp, swallowing them alive and tearing them apart on the spot.

Blood blossomed across the land, pooling into rivulets, as if the most vivid flowers on earth had bloomed...

The stench of blood hung thickly over the ruins, silent one moment and clamorous the next. The wails and flashes of blades that had just faded now blossomed again in the wind, the piled remains grotesque and horrifying, the heavy air nearly suffocating.

In mere moments, before the once-great city gates, only one figure remained: Ning Zhan, king of a generation.

But at this moment,

This sovereign, who had aspired to unite the eight northern kingdoms, was spent and exhausted, like an arrow at the end of its flight.

His body was covered in wounds, flesh peeled back in many places, some so deep that gaping holes were visible. Only sheer willpower kept him standing.

"Hold on a little longer, just a little longer!"

Ning Zhan's eyes were bloodshot as he channeled his entire life's hardening techniques to the limit, his fists flying in all directions.

His vision grew blurry.

Ning Zhan knew well that faced with this monstrous horde, he was powerless to turn the tide.

"You beasts, death is too kind for you."

From his waist, the ruler of Ning drew a palm-sized bamboo flask, shoved it into his mouth, and drank down the clear, strong liquor.

This was a specialty of the bitter, cold north—a miraculous spirit brewed from a rare plant, known locally as Arctic Fire. Exceedingly precious, it could temporarily dull pain and boost one’s strength.

"I have ruled for nearly ten years. How could I allow you foul monsters to endanger my people!"

Ning Zhan threw back his head in wild laughter, his words slightly slurred, phantoms of countless soldiers dancing before his eyes.

"Kill! Kill! Kill!"

With a cold snort, he tossed the bamboo flask aside, wiped the liquor from his mouth, unruly and unrestrained.

On this day.

He soared into the sky, crimson blood scattering across the earth...

The three hundred sixty-eighth year of the Li Dynasty.

Ning State, once hailed as a great northern power, was annihilated in a single night.

All 3,182 soldiers and the king perished on the battlefield.

As for the fleeing people, they too were overtaken and devoured by the pursuing monsters. Except for the crown prince, Ning Xia, and a handful of survivors, Ning State was nearly erased from the Black Earth Continent.

With Ning State no longer a natural barrier, the monstrous spore creatures advanced unhindered.

In the distant Central Lands, they sensed a far greater abundance of blood and flesh—an inexhaustible feast!

...

...

Dawn broke, and the warm sun rose in the east.

In the distance, the first sliver of sunlight gilded the clouds with a radiance like molten steel poured from a furnace, dazzling and bright.

As the growing chorus of birdsong became impossible to ignore, Fang Zhuowei rubbed his eyes and reluctantly climbed out of bed.

He’d stayed up late the night before, intending to sleep in, but the racket outside had driven away all hope of rest.

After a simple wash, he made himself some millet porridge.

Once fed and watered, Fang Zhuowei did not immediately check on the miniature world in his fish tank.

Instead, he decided to visit the back hill first to see how the Spotted Mouse civilization and the Dragon Creation Project were progressing—after all, he had high hopes for both.

In addition,

He planned to till a few more fields to plant some staple crops.

But before he could set out, he was intercepted by several hurried figures.

Recognizing them at a glance, Fang Zhuowei saw that it was the group of men in casual wear who had come to investigate two days prior.

Unlike last time, however, all of them looked weary, especially the leader, whose dark circles were pronounced, making him appear utterly haggard.

"Mr. Fang, you remember us, I presume."

Without preamble, the leader addressed him as soon as they met.

"Of course. Aren’t you the experts sent from the city?" Fang Zhuowei nodded, not bothering to deny it.

"Heh..."

At the mention of the word 'experts,' the man paused almost imperceptibly, a flicker of awkwardness crossing his face.

"We’re here today mainly to ask if you’ve seen any unusual figures or heard any strange noises around here these past few nights?"

Clearing his throat, the man spoke.

"No, not at all. I’ve been sleeping soundly and haven’t seen or heard a thing."

Fang Zhuowei pursed his lips, the image of the unknown creature from last night flickering through his mind, but he quickly shook his head.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to admit it—he simply couldn’t.

After all,

He had already chopped that thing into pieces, leaving nothing but mangled flesh and flayed skin; even if he confessed, who would believe him?

Besides,

He preferred to keep a low profile. The last thing he wanted was for his life to be disrupted by others.

"So, experts, are you saying that wild beast from the other night has shown up here again?"

And that wasn’t all.

With a frown, Fang Zhuowei pressed on.

His face paled slightly, his brow furrowed into a deep crease, and his voice was tense and hesitant, perfectly depicting the image of a timid, ordinary townsman.