Chapter Ninety-One: The Statue of Kunlun!

The dim sky cast its shadow over the faces within the city of North Refusal. Yang Fan was conversing with the newly arrived group from the Magic City Cultivation Academy.

A little over a month ago, when he entered the ruins, he had assumed that it would be a long time before he could see his classmates and teachers again. Yet the world is rife with uncertainty—war broke out abruptly, and those classmates who had been gathering strength behind the lines were now hastily dispatched to the battlefield, forced to shoulder the duty of defense with shoulders still untested by hardship.

Mu Qingshan, Zhou Yiyi, Xie Sihua, and others were astonished when they saw Yang Fan. He had vanished for more than a month, leaving no trace and no word of his whereabouts. Only a handful knew, or guessed, where he had gone. The news of the Magic City Cultivation Academy’s new freshman tournament champion’s disappearance had swept through the cultivation world half a month prior!

When they saw Yang Fan in the ruins of North Refusal, carrying the blood-soaked, unconscious Li Xianyi on his back, they finally understood where their classmate had been all this time.

Xie Sihua punched Yang Fan’s chest and exclaimed, “Well, look at you! We’re teammates, aren’t we? You ran off to the ruins without a word!”

Mu Qingshan chimed in, “Exactly! Not cool at all!”

The crowd around them buzzed, chattering about Yang Fan. He glanced about, a smile forming on his lips, but the memory of how he entered the ruins weighed heavily in his heart. Though his mindset had shifted, the thought of being tricked by Old Li Tian into the ruins still left him uneasy. And now, he recalled how Old Li had sent his team out as bait—clearly unwilling to see his own disciples succeed.

Yet none of this could be spoken aloud. Yang Fan’s laughter reddened his cheeks; it was pent-up frustration.

...

In the command center, Li Tian and the rugged Eastern Kui sat at the head of the table. Others lined the sides, beginning their reports. The reports, as expected, covered the losses and the kill ratios of the war.

The greatest achievement was the ambush of an eleventh-rank powerhouse by Eastern Kui, followed by Li Tian delivering the killing blow. This was their crowning glory.

...

The reports continued for over ten minutes. Li Tian and Eastern Kui remained silent throughout. When the reporting ended, Li Tian finally spoke: “Though we suffered losses in this battle, the enemy’s losses were a hundredfold greater. This is a resounding victory. Yet, you all are the pillars of China—you know the situation we face. We must not grow complacent or arrogant.

Thankfully, we have slain an eleventh-rank enemy powerhouse—the first to fall in eleven years of conflict with the Dark Realm. Such an opportunity will never present itself again, but likewise, they will not dare to attack blindly in the future.

From now on, I will guard North Refusal City. Cultivation Academy members entering the city will form squads; high-level warriors will be organized into units, always ready for battle. The next attack could come at any moment, and I am certain it will be the fiercest assault the Dark Realm has ever launched.

The death of an eleventh-rank will drive the Dark Realm to madness. We must remain vigilant and never give them an opening!”

The others nodded in agreement.

Eastern Kui surveyed the room, stood, and said, “Comrades, I leave the defense of this city in your hands. I must return to the rear to guard the city. I wish you victory in every battle, triumph in every fight.”

With those words, Eastern Kui nodded to Li Tian, then strode out of the command center, soaring into the sky toward the rear of North Refusal City. As he flew, he coughed, blood spilling from his lips with every spasm.

Li Tian stood at the doorway, gazing into the horizon, a flicker of worry in his eyes.

Eastern Kui had been gravely wounded in Dragon City, then forced himself to suppress his injuries. After Xia Qiuming arrived to relieve him, Eastern Kui moved to North Refusal, launching a subterranean ambush to help Li Tian slay the eleventh-rank powerhouse, Glorious. In covering Li Tian during the kill, Eastern Kui took an arrow from Huang Yuetian, compounding his wounds. As a fellow eleventh-rank, Li Tian could sense how weak Eastern Kui’s aura had become.

Li Tian stroked his own chest. Beneath his white robe, his shattered flesh throbbed with pain. After fighting three at once, he had wounded the enemy, but suffered grievously himself. Especially the arrow from Huang Yuetian—it still lingered within him, its aura preventing his wounds from healing.

In slaying Glorious, Li Tian had expended his trump card, that single strike draining all his essence. Had Yu Tian and Huang Yuetian not been unsettled by the fall of Glorious and focused solely on retreat, he and Eastern Kui might well have been left behind.

Eleventh-rank powerhouses are not easily slain. If they were, after eleven years of war, Glorious would not have been the first to fall. At this level, injuring is possible; killing is nigh impossible.

But there was no choice. Earth needs morale, needs hope. As one of Earth’s precious few eleventh-rank warriors, Li Tian must inspire all those behind the lines. This is why Eastern Kui risked his life, wounded, to come to the front.

Humanity needs victory. Though this triumph will provoke an even fiercer backlash, it is a price worth paying. At this moment, humanity stands at the edge of a cliff, with nowhere left to retreat. If this is a dead end, then nothing else matters—fight to the end!

The Dark Realm must learn the cost of breaking the front lines.

Over the years, humanity has gathered much intelligence about the Dark Realm’s strength. Their true power far exceeds Earth’s, but their weakness is disunity, each faction acting independently. This joint assault—its cause unknown—will eventually fracture if the enemy is struck hard enough, forced to hesitate.

In the sky, Eastern Kui’s aura vanished beyond the horizon, and Li Tian withdrew his worried gaze, eyes seeming to pierce the void as he looked toward Yang Fan, who was chatting with his classmates.

He sighed inwardly: When will these youths mature? When will they truly rise? How much time is left?

...

At that moment, deep beneath Kunlun Mountain in China, in an ancient subterranean chamber, a bronze statue shuddered.

With its tremor, the entire Kunlun range began to shake, unleashing the greatest avalanche in countless years.

The government scrambled to mobilize resources for exploration and rescue, but all the warriors were fighting in the ruins against the Dark Realm, leaving investigations painstakingly slow.