Chapter 86: I Am Willing to Fight to the Death

At this moment, the sky above the city of Northern Resistance shimmered with countless spatial fissures, large and small, their infinite suction drawing in the swirling clouds of smoke. Then, as the heavens began to mend, a torrential rain poured down.

Standing in the rain, Yang Fan looked at the many soldiers who had just laid down their lives elsewhere, and he felt a deep sorrow in his heart. He belonged to a squad of cultivators; every member was a practitioner, the lowest among them a first-rank martial disciple. Yet there were still many ordinary soldiers in the city—men without the robust physiques of cultivators, lacking the endurance and resilience that came with training. Even with the strongest warriors protecting the city, many ordinary soldiers had been torn apart and died in the chaos, their blood staining the city.

When the three eleventh-rank powerhouses of the enemy retreated, this round of war came to a temporary end.

After landing, Li Tian lifted Xiao Deyi's corpse and, together with the cultivators ranked seventh and above, made his way to the command center at the heart of the city. Yang Fan watched as his teacher carried the fallen guardian, followed by the guardian’s children who had just charged into battle, and his mind was left in a daze. Was this what it meant to be a cultivator, to be a warrior? Even at the tenth rank, at a level where one is crowned emperor in the martial path, one still could not escape the fate of falling in battle.

Soon, orders streamed out from the command center. The very first was the execution of the general at the military base behind Northern Resistance City, who had just issued the command to launch the annihilation missile. Though the order seemed harsh, and the general’s intentions had been to defend the city, too many powerful warriors, cultivators, and soldiers had died because of this mistake—there had to be an accounting for all who fought and all who fell.

The remaining orders were largely for defense and reconnaissance.

Two days later, the darkness still hung over the enemy lines, and Yang Fan’s squad of cultivators continued to stand atop the city walls, ever ready for battle. Countless small drones circled the twenty-mile stretch before Northern Resistance City.

Yang Fan gazed at the data before his eyes, a turmoil rising within him.

“Host: Yang Fan”

“Level: Third Rank”

“Title: Martial Artist of Huaxia”

“Wealth: 6,200,230”

“Qi Sea: 6.6”

“Spirit: 28.4”

“Available Points: 5,105”

“Assignable Points: Qi Sea Supplement +”

“Shop: Not yet unlocked”

“Lottery Draws: 1”

Aside from the points he’d spent fighting beasts in the jungle, there had been little change in his system data. Now, Yang Fan was torn—should he find a secluded spot and use his lottery draw?

Since obtaining the system, not even half a year had passed, and it seemed the greatest help it had offered him was not the ability to assign points, but rather the lottery draws. Every time he used the lottery, he would gain a new ability—though it would always knock him out in the process, the rewards had been undeniably substantial.

Just as Yang Fan was hesitating, a large hand suddenly rested on his shoulder. Startled, he turned around to see a face that was not quite old, framed by long white hair, clad in a white robe.

Li Tian had somehow appeared behind him.

Yang Fan turned to face his teacher, at a loss for words. His feelings for his teacher had grown complicated. When they first met, Li Tian had taken him as a disciple and bestowed upon him the ancient martial cultivation method. Soon after, their relationship changed—Li Tian handed him a knife and tricked him into this war-torn relic. In the early days, Yang Fan found himself cursing his master daily, even after he’d come to accept his fate.

But ever since his first true battle with one of the Underworld dwellers, he’d stopped cursing the old man.

These past few days had only deepened his feelings. On the day Li Tian fought three enemies alone in the sky, Yang Fan’s heart had been gripped by tension. The man fighting those foes in the sky was his teacher. According to tradition, heaven, earth, sovereign, kin, and teacher are the pillars of respect, but modern warriors have no faith in heaven or earth, and, not being soldiers, have no sovereign; as for kin, he had never met them. So his teacher was meant to be his closest relation, yet seeing him now, Yang Fan was filled with indescribable emotions.

Li Tian saw the conflict in Yang Fan’s eyes and smiled—this was the classic tantrum of a young man, upset at having been tricked into the relic.

Patting Yang Fan on the shoulder, Li Tian said, “Still angry? It’s been almost two months since you last saw me, and now you won’t even greet your teacher?”

Yang Fan was rendered speechless by these words. With some embarrassment, he muttered, “Hello, Teacher.”

Li Tian burst into hearty laughter, ruffled Yang Fan’s hair, and strode to the edge of the wall, gazing into the distance.

After a long silence, he asked, “Now that you’ve entered the relic, how do you feel? Or rather, what are you thinking now?”

Yang Fan looked at his teacher’s back—not particularly broad—and after a moment’s thought, replied, “On my very first day here, I witnessed several battles. Our soldiers clashed with ordinary people from the Underworld. At that time, Grandmaster Xie Guotao told me, ‘If ordinary men can give their lives for the land behind them, why can’t you, Yang Fan?’” He paused, then continued, “To be honest, my thoughts haven’t changed much, even now. Teacher, all I’ve ever wanted is to live well, and if possible, to live better. When I discovered I had the aptitude for cultivation, what made me happiest wasn’t that I would become a cultivator, but that I finally had the means to survive. When I heard about the relic, my first thought was not of battle or heroism, but that it was too dangerous—I wanted nothing more than to survive, which meant it was best not to go at all.” Yang Fan laughed at himself, and by now Li Tian had turned, his gaze meeting Yang Fan’s clear eyes.

Yang Fan went on, “But in these days since entering the relic, I’ve witnessed so many sacrifices, seen so much spirit. Even though I’m still afraid of death, Teacher, I can answer you now with certainty: yes, I, Yang Fan, fear death and want to live longer, but for the land behind me, and for the kin I’ve never met, I am willing to fight to the death. Not for anything else, but for the words written in the basic cultivation manual: ‘We cultivators do not seek immortality; we warriors live only to protect.’ Grandmaster Xie was right—if the front lines fall, hiding in the rear won’t grant me much more time.”

A fierce flame seemed to burn in Yang Fan’s eyes. Li Tian smiled at him and said, “You brat, don’t blame your master for tricking you. Look—” He pointed outside the city walls. “This world is so wonderful, so full of color, but when war comes, even the most beautiful scenery will wither. You have talent, you have potential. When war descends, we must gather every ounce of strength to resist. This is the tide of destiny—no one can stand apart from it. In this life, a man must leave some trace behind. The moment you set foot on the path of cultivation, there is no turning back.”

Yang Fan nodded—his teacher was right. For a modern-day warrior, there was no path of retreat. Either you destroy the invaders, or you fall on the path to destroy them.