Chapter 436: Lu Hongtu Designs According to the Prophecy
From within the mist, the sound of horns faintly echoed.
The heavy clatter of hooves gradually approached, seeping through the thick fog and reaching into the mountains and forests.
The army advanced slowly through the dense fog. Their iron armor gleamed with a cold light, though it too was obscured by the mist.
The cultivators’ steps were steady and orderly. The grinding sound of iron and soil reverberated through the mist. Warhorses walked with lowered heads, their breath spraying white vapor—across the fog, they resembled phantoms.
Five armies advanced in coordination, moving through towering mountains like a slow, heavy serpent, slithering through the mist.
Not until the afternoon did the dense fog begin to clear.
The pace of the entire army thus quickened.
By the time the sun tilted westward, under a command from Sun Qian, the army gradually came to a halt, each division securing its own territory and beginning to set up camp.
At dawn the next day, the army would set out again.
Thus they traveled for two days, and the gaps between the armies gradually widened.
In the main command tent, Sun Qian stared at the map, a cold gleam flashing in his eyes.
He pointed to the marker labeled "Three Generals Camp" and questioned those in the tent: “What’s going on with the Three Generals Camp? Why is their marching speed so slow? They’re trailing Red Flower Camp by a full ten li!”
A vice general replied, “Reporting to the lord, the Three Generals Camp is strictly executing a linear snake formation, which makes it difficult to accelerate. The cultivators often have to stop every half an hour to rest and replenish their spiritual power and physical strength.”
Sun Qian’s eyes bulged: “What trick is Liu Er and his lot playing? We haven’t even reached the frontlines and they’re already like this? Are they afraid to face the battlefield and deliberately dragging the march?”
Another vice general sneered: “They claim they’re using the march as a substitute for training.”
“The issue is, this style of marching is still within military regulations. It’s hard to catch them on this alone.”
“If you ask me, that bunch is timid as mice. From the start, they dodged any vanguard responsibilities—that says it all.”
“Those so-called Three Generals: Liu Er, Guan Hong, and Zhang Hei, they’re nothing more than third-rate Golden Core cultivators, completely obscure.”
“They came to war probably just to scavenge some benefits, not for the sake of the country or the people like us!”
Sun Qian turned to the vice general, clearly displeased: “I put you in charge of this march. Did you never issue a mid-route order to the Three Generals Camp to speed up?”
The vice general smiled bitterly: “My lord, I’ve sent messengers urging them multiple times, but the Three Generals Camp continues doing things their way.”
“When I pushed harder, they even handed me a prophetic poem, claiming their Military Advisor and Sacrificial Wine divined it, warning us to proceed cautiously!”
“Oh? A prophetic poem?” Sun Qian’s expression stiffened briefly, before his brow arched and he asked in detail, “How did the poem go?”
The vice general recited:
“Horse hooves tread on fallen blossoms,
Wind rises, shadows sink into sand.
Who can keep the moonlight bright,
And who shall bury the rosy clouds?”
Sun Qian frowned slightly, pondering: “An ominous verse. Who wrote it?”
The vice general answered, “A young Foundation Establishment cultivator named Ning Zhuo, a native of Southern Dou Country.”
Sun Qian immediately relaxed his brow: “Just a Foundation Establishment kid, a mere youth from another country—ha! The Three Generals put their faith in the divinations of such a person? Utterly laughable!”
“Pass my military order!”
“Liu Er of the Three Generals Camp, for foolishly trusting in prophecy and delaying military operations, is to be punished with sixty floggings, to be carried out once the army reaches Woodwheel Town.”
The messenger immediately received the order and ran off with the verbal decree.
Sun Qian lowered his head again, continuing to study the military map.
He frowned once more: “The position of Red Flower Camp also seems odd. What’s going on?”
The vice general replied, “My lord, it’s said that General Mu Lan also believed in that prophetic poem, and thus has been marching in a Flowing Water Formation to guard against unexpected threats.”
“Is that so...” Sun Qian muttered to himself, secretly startled.
The Flowing Water Formation did aid in marching, but maintaining it over a long distance was extremely difficult.
One only needed to compare it with the Three Generals Camp to see the difference.
Yet Red Flower Camp had managed to maintain it for so long and even kept pace with the main army while using a combat formation to travel.
“Red Flower Camp is well-trained—nearly comparable to my Golden Halberd Army!”
“That Grand General’s Mansion may have declined, but its military foundation remains. The veteran soldiers and core forces left behind are no ordinary lot.”
As a seasoned general, Sun Qian immediately recognized this. Yet outwardly, he scoffed: “And Mu Lan believed in a poem written by a child?”
“Heh, women—long hair, short insight! The Grand General’s Mansion really has no successors.”
The vice general quickly laughed along in agreement.
Sun Qian suddenly had a thought: “Mu Lan is shielded by the prestige of the Grand General—this might be a great opportunity to cause her public embarrassment.”
“Old General Mu commands immense respect in the military. Only by gradually undermining that respect step by step can we bring it down to nothing.”
“Only then will we have a proper justification and natural path to seize the position of Grand General.”
Indeed, while Sun Qian was the commander of the Imperial Guards, a position of significant power, it still did not compare to the prestige of the Grand General title!
Across the entire Liangzhu Kingdom, there were only three Grand Generals.
With Old General Mu bedridden for years, his Grand General’s Mansion had become a juicy prize that others coveted.
This time, by all reason, the Mu Family shouldn’t have sent troops. But due to many unspoken agreements, they were forcibly pushed forward for the campaign.
Mu Lan took to the battlefield in her father’s place, facing not only enemy forces—but also the ambitions of her own allies!
Thinking this, Sun Qian immediately issued an order: “At this rate of stopping and starting, when will we ever reach Woodwheel Town and rendezvous with the Marshal?”
“Too slow!”
“Send word—starting tomorrow, forced march!”
Thousand Peaks Forest.
Arbor Peak.
This Sky-Pillar Giant Tree mountain was steep and desolate. The entire mountain was covered in dead trees, their twisted branches like strange skeletal frames, densely interwoven and stretching in all directions.
The deadwood forest stood unyielding, its roots deep, its leaves withered—almost as if cursed. Walking within it gave rise to an oppressive feeling.
Aside from the withered trees, only dry grass and Night Vines remained. They tightly coiled around rocks and trunks, swaying with the wind.
In the daytime, the sun here was often harsh and scorching, while nights were bitterly cold.
Other than the withered vegetation, there was no sign of life.
Ink Abyss Cave Lord arrived at the summit of Arbor Peak, hidden from view, accompanied by three Nascent Soul–level Cave Lords.
Someone was already waiting there.
There were quite a few of them.
These cultivators were generally tall, wearing revealing and tight clothing, exuding a primal beauty.
At a glance, it was clear—they were barbarian cultivators.
“Humans have arrived.” The first to sense Ink Abyss Cave Lord and the others approaching was a blind barbarian.
This barbarian had a black cloth covering his eyes, a rugged face with chiseled features, and a bare upper body covered in fresh blood totems. He wore beast-hide trousers tied at the ankles with leather belts for ease of movement.
Strapped to his back were two massive curved blades—so exaggeratedly bent they resembled crescent moons. Even sheathed, they leaked a cold, silvery moonlight.
Cangyue Tribe, Di Lu!
Standing beside Di Lu was another of his tribe—a Nascent Soul–level cultivator.
He had long blue hair, a tall, lean build, and well-defined muscles. His skin was as pale as death ice, and his forehead and cheeks bore tribal wolf claw markings.
On his back was an enormous wolf-fang club, and blood veins circled the edges of his eyes.
Cangyue Tribe, Gu Ya!
Gu Ya flared his nostrils and sniffed the air, then grinned, baring his jagged, pale teeth: “Hmm, I smell blood. Stale and foul. Must be that brat from Six Caves Sect, Blood Shadow.”
Gu Ya also possessed Nascent Soul cultivation.
Blood Shadow let out a cold snort immediately. He had fought Gu Ya before—more than once.
He revealed himself without hesitation, his murderous intent thick: “Old wolf, if you don’t break through to Soul Formation soon, your time’s almost up. Aren’t you afraid that after your death, I’ll pay your tribe a little visit?”
“The grudge from when you hunted me—I’ll definitely repay it.”
In response, Gu Ya said indifferently, “Go ahead and kill them. If they die by your hand, then it was simply their fate.”
Blood Shadow's face twisted with venom: “I forgot to mention—I won’t just kill them. I’ll extract their souls and burn them in the sunlight until they vanish completely.”
Gu Ya instantly showed fury: “You dare! Blood Shadow brat, before I die, I’ll be sure to visit your cave and drag you down with me!”
The Cangyue Tribe worshipped the Ancient Moon God, and to die under sunlight was a blasphemy. A soul that perished thus would never ascend to the Cangyue, nor be received by the Moon God.
Blood Shadow's threat touched Gu Ya’s reverse scale, triggering his rage.
“Hehehe, fight already! What kind of man only argues? Fight! Fight now!” A barbarian crone egged them on gleefully, fearing the world might stay in peace. Her voice was shrill as a crow’s.
She wore a cloak woven from verdant vines, adorned with dense layers of beast bones and bird feathers. From time to time, ancient talismans flickered on the bones and feathers.
Her skin resembled tree bark, with deep wrinkles and a timeworn visage.
A flicker of green light passed through her eyes, giving off a chilling aura.
Her hands were withered like deadwood, and her fingertips extended like curling vines.
Ancient Vine Tribe, Nascent Soul cultivator, Bi Tengyi!
Standing beside her was her husband, the Golden Core–level Cang Teng King.
Cang Teng King wore ancient vine battle armor. His face was rugged, middle-aged in appearance, with disheveled white beard and long hair, a wildness between his brows.
He carried a massive black bow on his back. The bow curved naturally, with no string attached.
Cang Teng King stood silently behind Bi Tengyi, without saying a word.
Ink Abyss Cave Lord and the others revealed themselves, exchanged a glance, and gave a slight nod.
In response came three cultivators from the Hundred Venoms Tribe.
Leading them was the Nascent Soul–level Grand Venom Priest Tu Ming.
Flanking him were two Golden Core cultivators: Rotvenom General Diao Ye and Deadly Venom Barbarian Wu Lan.
Gu Ya and Blood Shadow remained at odds, continuing to argue, their voices and tempers rising.
As the two sides were about to come to blows, neither Di Lu of the Cangyue Tribe nor Ink Abyss Cave Lord Lu Hongtu made any move to intervene.
Not at all.
In the Thousand Peaks Forest, taking the initiative to show leniency was often seen as weakness.
One had to display toughness to earn mutual respect!
Yet, the fight between Gu Ya and Blood Shadow ultimately did not break out.
The one who stopped them was an elderly man.
He was hunched over, with a thin face and ordinary features. His skin was mottled, and his eyes were dull, like someone at death’s door.
He always carried an old-fashioned walking stick, the head carved with ginseng tendrils and dragon patterns, the staff exuding a faint, profound aura.
Upon seeing him appear, both the human cultivators under Ink Abyss Cave Lord and the barbarian cultivators immediately saluted with respect: “Grandfather Long.”
This “Grandfather Long” was also a Nascent Soul cultivator with a special status—he was the chief priest of the main temple of the Dragon King Temple, representing a Soul Formation–level existence: the Dragon Ginseng King!
“Hehehe,” Grandfather Long smiled kindly. “You two juniors, stop bickering. Wouldn’t it be better to save your strength to kill the enemy?”
“Yes, Grandfather Long.” Though Gu Ya was old, in terms of age he didn’t even compare to a fraction of Grandfather Long’s years.
Blood Shadow Cave Lord appeared particularly well-behaved: “I’ll listen to you, Grandfather Long!”
Grandfather Long smiled and swept his gaze across everyone. His eyes paused on Lu Hongtu, and he praised, “For the Grand Cave Lord to personally come forth and invite several Nascent Soul cultivators to aid the campaign—this is a great merit. After this battle, there will be rewards.”
Lu Hongtu immediately smiled. “Our Six Caves Sect resides in the Thousand Peaks Forest, so of course we must go all out to defend our homeland and resist the invaders. The Dragon King is fair in rewarding and punishing. We are sure to win this war!”
Grandfather Long nodded with a smile. “Naturally.”
“Xiao Feng, A’Guai, come forth and report the intelligence you gathered.”
In the next moment, two Golden Core–level cultivators descended from the sky, landing behind Grandfather Long.
One was a demon cultivator with a human body and eagle head, named Chen Lingfeng. He was originally a member of the spirit beast clan of Wind Pillar Peak, naturally gifted, chosen by the Dragon Ginseng King and cultivated into a demon cultivator.
The other was a human cultivator named Wu Hen.
He had a thin, long body and a withered, pale face like a walking corpse.
His long hair was black as ink, disheveled and frizzy, with shadows fluttering around the ends in the air.
His eyes were deeply sunken, the sockets ringed with dark blood threads—his expression, extremely gloomy.
He wore a tattered black robe that dragged on the ground, as if it had endured countless life-and-death trials.
At the hem where the robe touched the ground, dark shadows twisted bizarrely, evoking intense discomfort.
Grandfather Long said, “Go ahead and share with everyone the military intel you’ve gathered.”
Wu Hen remained silent, while the demon cultivator Chen Lingfeng spoke up: “These past few days, I’ve been hiding in the skies, overlooking the mountains, constantly monitoring the Liangzhu Kingdom’s rear army movements.”
“Across the mountains, their forces are divided into five armies, supporting each other front and back.”
“Leading is the Barbarian-Demon Army, followed by the White Jade Camp, with the Golden Halberd Army in the center, Red Flower Camp after that, and finally the Three Generals Camp...”
Chen Lingfeng proceeded to describe the entire army’s movements in detail.
After hearing the report, the cultivators all relaxed a little.
“Sun Qian may be commander of the Imperial Guards, but he rarely takes the field. Stationed in the rear, feeling safe, and he dares a forced march—hehehe.” The Poison Scorpion Cave Lord giggled charmingly, her voice laced with killing intent.
Gu Ya extended his crimson tongue and licked his teeth, revealing a bloodthirsty expression: “A foolish enemy commander—this is our chance to strike.”
Ink Abyss Cave Lord Lu Hongtu clasped his hands behind his back and murmured, “Even so, the five armies differ in strength. In my view, we should focus our full ambush on the Golden Halberd Army, cutting off the central column.”
“The Barbarian-Demon Army in the front is the key to breaking the formation. Although large in number, they consist of demon and barbarian cultivators—despite training, the ranks are mixed, and difficult to command. And General Xu Dali is not a wise commander. Once chaos breaks out, he won’t be able to regroup.”
“If the Barbarian-Demon Army collapses, we needn’t slaughter them all—just drive them off.”
“Use them to crash into the White Jade Camp. The White Jade Camp is led by General Shuangjing, a nobleman with little battle experience. Likely to respond poorly and make mistakes. If their formation is also thrown into disarray, we can continue the onslaught and have our forces directly charge the Golden Halberd Army!”
“Though the Golden Halberd Army is strong, they are few in number. To stabilize their formation, they will be forced to kill their own panicked soldiers. That will shake morale and severely impact their resolve, likely exposing a fatal flaw.”
“If we seize that flaw, we may achieve complete victory and wipe them out entirely.”
Lu Hongtu smiled coldly. “As for Red Flower Camp and Three Generals Camp, they are not important.”
“According to intelligence, both armies march in tight formation. Even if we ambush, it will have little effect and we may be bogged down.”
“Once an ambush is launched, every moment of delay weakens our advantage.”
“Most importantly, both armies are weak. Their generals are only Golden Core. Even if wiped out completely, it wouldn’t compare to dealing a blow to the Golden Halberd Army!”
The group fell silent.
After a moment, Grandfather Long clapped his hands and chuckled. “As expected of the Grand Cave Lord of the Six Caves Sect—a fine plan.”
Di Lu of the Cangyue Tribe suddenly said, “Isn’t there also a Fire Cloud Army?”
Chen Lingfeng replied, “That army has not moved. I believe Canglin Immortal City is acting as the rear base for Liangzhu Kingdom, and needs garrison troops.”
Heart Demon Cave Lord pondered aloud: “It’s a bit strange.”
“Commander Sun Qian ordered a forced march. Why then are the rear two armies marching in full battle formation, so heavily guarded?”
This time, Wu Hen finally spoke. “There was a prophetic poem...”
His voice was extremely strange and grating—like fingertips scratching against glass.
Under his explanation, everyone quickly learned of Ning Zhuo’s poem:
“Horse hooves tread on fallen blossoms, wind rises, shadows sink into sand.
Who can keep the moonlight bright, and who shall bury the rosy clouds?”
“This poem seems to predict our ambush?!” Everyone was startled.
“Is Liangzhu Kingdom so full of talent?”
“Who is this person? We must kill him to feel at ease!”
Wu Hen said, “His name is Ning Zhuo, but he’s not from Liangzhu Kingdom—he hails from the Ning Family of Southern Dou Country.”
“Southern Dou Country has a Ning Family?”
“Never heard of them...”
“Only heard of the Meng Family, Su Family.”
Wu Hen continued, “The Ning Family came from North Wind Country, migrated through Liangzhu Kingdom, and eventually settled in Southern Dou Country, now residing on Mount Huoshi.”
“Ning Zhuo joined the army due to an old grudge between the Ning Family and the Six Caves Sect. With war breaking out, he took the opportunity for revenge.”
Everyone turned to look at the Six Caves Sect.
“Ning Family?” Ink Abyss Cave Lord sighed inwardly. He recalled the matter and glanced at Heart Demon Cave Lord beside him.
Heart Demon Cave Lord coughed lightly.
While Ink Abyss Cave Lord had been managing the sect and forming alliances, the Ning Family, once possessing a Nascent Soul cultivator, had friendly ties and trade with the sect.
When the Ning Family migrated, Ink Abyss Cave Lord had intended to help—but Heart Demon Cave Lord and others had other schemes. Taking advantage of Lu Hongtu’s inattention, they executed a plan of betrayal.
After all, they couldn’t openly disobey the Grand Cave Lord’s orders.
In the end, the Ning Family was fortunate. Though they lost most of their wealth, they escaped at the last moment.
“An old grudge,” Ink Abyss Cave Lord smiled calmly, “A mere Foundation Establishment youth dares seek revenge? Admirable courage. Good! That poem is good! I now have another plan.”
Grandfather Long: “Oh? Speak freely, Grand Cave Lord.”
Ink Abyss Cave Lord said, “Battle formations are hard to break—but morale is the key. Once morale falls, battle spirit wavers, and the formation’s power will plummet.”
“If we use this prophetic poem well, it may be worth more than a Nascent Soul combatant—perhaps even more crucial!”
“I suspect the enemy is already deeply familiar with this poem. Judging from their marching formations, Three Generals Camp and Red Flower Camp are most certainly influenced.”
“In that case, we can lay a trap based on this poem—deal them heavy damage physically and mentally!”
“Red Flower Camp has the legacy of Old General Mu, we’ll set them aside. Three Generals Camp is newly formed—a motley crew. Of all five armies, they are the weakest!”
“When the time comes, we’ll coordinate attacks with this poem, wearing them down until their morale breaks—perhaps we’ll seize victory effortlessly.”
The crowd fell silent again.
Moments later, Grandfather Long clapped and laughed lightly. “Very well, a plan to strike the heart—turning their scheme against them. Grand Cave Lord, your thinking is masterful. Let us act accordingly!”
No one disagreed. The cultivators soared into the sky, secretly departing the Thousand Peaks Forest.
Along the way, they encountered several more cultivators—mostly Golden Core—who had signed divine contracts to participate in the ambush.
With Grandfather Long in the lead, they traveled in secret while coordinating deployments for the group.
Ink Abyss Cave Lord and others would attack the Golden Halberd Army, barbarian cultivators would strike the Barbarian-Demon Army, and several Golden Core cultivators would distract the Red Flower Camp and Three Generals Camp.