Snowfall blanketed the valley in silence as three columns of warriors moved beneath the cover of night. They bore no banners, no horns, no pride—only resolve. This was not a battle for glory. It was survival.
Jun Mo Xie stood at the head of the central column, flanked by Lan Xue and fifty warriors from various sects. Their target: the Crimson General's central focus point—a node of energy formed beneath a shattered temple, now a fortress of obsidian and flame.
Fei Yan and Yue Ling had already departed west with the Skyborne Falcons to cut the ley line at Ironroot Pass. Mei Yun had led her forces south to the Field of Bones.
The plan was simple: strike all three convergence points simultaneously, weaken the ritual, and meet at the Gate within five days.
But nothing ever went as planned.
---
As dawn crept over the horizon, the fortress appeared like a wound in the land. Its towers burned with red light. Watchers moved silently along the ramparts—twisted forms, part flesh, part corruption.
Lan Xue peered through her spyglass. "No alarms. They don't expect us this soon."
Jun Mo Xie nodded. "Good. We keep it that way. We move in groups of ten. I'll lead the vanguard."
They slipped through the ravine leading to the rear wall. The sentries here were weaker, perhaps remnants of human forms twisted by the Gate's influence. The Ember pulsed at Mo Xie's side, growing warm as they neared the corrupted node.
At the wall, a sentry stumbled forward. Lan Xue dispatched it with a silent arrow of light. The body dissolved into ash.
Jun Mo Xie leapt first. His boots touched the inner courtyard with no sound. Ten warriors followed. Within moments, the rest were over.
They split into teams—two to clear the upper barracks, two to disable the ritual wards, one to remain near the retreat point.
Mo Xie and Lan Xue pressed deeper into the temple.
The inner sanctum was no longer a place of worship. Now it housed a massive black obelisk, surrounded by chains that pulsed with crimson energy. At its base knelt six figures—cultivators bound by the Gate's corruption, their auras feeding the structure.
Lan Xue's eyes widened. "They're sacrifices. Living conduits."
Jun Mo Xie unsheathed his sword. "We break the chains. No mercy."
He charged, the Ember igniting his blade in white fire. The heat seared the very air.
The first chain shattered.
The bound figures screamed—not in pain, but in rage. They rose, their bodies crackling with energy, no longer human. One lunged at Lan Xue, claws glowing with cursed chi.
She parried, countered, and struck with a blast of healing light. The thing hissed and disintegrated.
"Light burns them!" she shouted.
Jun Mo Xie focused the Ember into a pulse of radiant energy, blasting two more chains apart. The obelisk trembled.
Then the earth shook.
From the shadows of the chamber, a figure emerged.
He wore crimson robes, his face concealed behind a mask of bone. In his hand was a staff of black wood tipped with a bleeding eye.
"A child dares disturb the nexus?"
Jun Mo Xie stepped forward. "You're no priest. Just a puppet."
The priest laughed. "We are all puppets. The Crimson General simply knows which strings to pull."
He raised his staff. Blood magic filled the chamber.
Lan Xue cried out, trapped in a crimson web. Mo Xie threw himself forward, intercepting a cursed bolt.
The Ember pulsed wildly. Mo Xie let it guide him. Fire answered. The bolt turned to steam.
He slashed through the web, freed Lan Xue, and faced the priest.
Their battle was violent and chaotic. The priest warped space, summoned illusions, and twisted the dead. Mo Xie burned through them with fire and will.
Finally, he struck the staff, splitting it in two. The priest's mask cracked.
"You… you were not meant to return…"
Jun Mo Xie narrowed his eyes. "Return?"
The priest collapsed, melting into ash.
The obelisk cracked. The crimson energy dispersed like smoke.
They had done it.
---
Outside, the battle was not so clean. One of the signal flares lit the sky—a sign the retreat team was under attack.
Mo Xie and Lan Xue raced out. The eastern ridge had been compromised. Corrupted beasts descended in droves.
Jun Mo Xie shouted, "Form ranks! Defensive formation Delta!"
They held the line.
Lan Xue stood at the center, her light shielding the wounded. Mo Xie wielded the Ember's fire like a beacon, turning darkness to ash. Still, they were outnumbered.
Then, a horn sounded.
Down the slope came reinforcements—Skyborne scouts led by Fei Yan herself. She plunged into the fray with her daggers singing.
"They failed to hold Ironroot!" she shouted. "Yue Ling is wounded!"
Jun Mo Xie's heart clenched. "Where?"
"She fell back to the Jade Forest. Mei Yun is with her."
They fought harder. With combined strength, they pushed the enemy back.
The sun rose. The field was strewn with ash and blood.
Of the fifty, thirty-seven remained.
Lan Xue collapsed to her knees, exhausted.
Jun Mo Xie stood in silence, the Ember's flame low, but steady.
"We won," Fei Yan said softly. "But only barely."
Mo Xie looked to the south. "Then we hold. And we wait."
---
Two days later, a hawk arrived bearing Mei Yun's mark. The message was brief:
"Southern node destroyed. Yue Ling injured. Gate grows unstable. Awaiting final strike."
Jun Mo Xie gathered the survivors.
He spoke not as a young master, nor as a reborn soul—but as a monarch.
"We bleed, but we live. We suffer, but we move. The General thought us scattered, but we are united."
He raised his sword.
"We march to the Gate. And there, we end this."
Cheers rose.
The army, small and battered, b
egan the march. Behind them, the land still smoked.
Ahead, the Gate pulsed.
And the Crimson General waited.
---
*To be continued...*