Frontline Camp

Hao Nhien and Quan Nha did not remain in Black Wind Valley any longer than necessary.

The spiritual fluctuations left behind by the recent battle had not completely faded, and neither of them could be certain that the two pursuers had been alone. After collecting everything that might matter, they immediately left the battlefield and continued northwest.

The rest of the journey through Black Wind Valley went more smoothly than the way in.

It was not because the wind had weakened, but because Hao Nhien had gradually grown accustomed to the patterns hidden within the chaotic currents. Quan Nha had also begun to grasp part of that rhythm. Her movements were still not as fluid as his, but at least she no longer needed to expend as much spiritual power merely to maintain her balance.

Neither of them spoke much.

Ever since discovering two cultivators carrying the markings of the Huyen Thien Sect and military tokens from Third City, their caution had risen to another level. Before, the greatest dangers along the road had been demonic beasts, sandstorms, or local tribes whose intentions were uncertain. Now, even cultivators wearing sect robes and carrying military credentials could no longer be trusted at first glance.

Nearly one canh hour later, the curtain of black sand ahead finally began to thin.

Light from outside the valley pierced through the mountain pass, first as a narrow band of pale gold, then gradually widening. When Hao Nhien stepped past the last stretch of black rock, the pressure around him immediately eased.

Behind them, the Black Wind still churned through the ravine like a vast river of darkness.

Hao Nhien looked back only once.

“Let’s go.”

Quan Nha nodded.

Neither suggested resting.

According to the map, the frontline camp was still roughly a day and a night away at a normal pace. But now that they knew the courier route might have been compromised, both understood that every canh hour they could save mattered.

Hao Nhien took out the map jade slip and checked their direction again.

“We won’t use the support point.”

Quan Nha looked at him.

“A shorter route?”

“Mm. We cut diagonally across the black-rock region ahead, then skirt the edge of a beast territory. It’ll be harder, but it should save us several canh hours.”

She asked nothing more.

“Let’s go.”

They immediately increased their pace.

There were no more deliberate pauses to regulate their breathing and no effort to search for shade. They relied continuously on movement techniques, slowing only when the terrain became too difficult or when Hao Nhien needed to confirm their direction.

Quan Nha had only recently broken through. The power within her had already transformed, but her meridians and her control over that new strength still needed time to adapt. After several canh hours of continuous travel, her breathing grew heavier and the time she needed to recover between long stretches began to increase.

Hao Nhien noticed, but he did not immediately tell her to stop.

Only after they entered a long field of black stone did he ease their pace slightly.

Quan Nha glanced over.

“You don’t need to wait for me.”

“I’m not waiting.”

He kept his eyes ahead.

“Moving too fast over terrain like this wastes spiritual power.”

Quan Nha studied him for a moment.

“Mm.”

She did not say whether she believed him.

Hao Nhien did not explain.

The sun gradually sank.

Red light spread across the Western Wastes, stretching the shadows of the cliffs into long dark shapes over the sand. The two kept moving, only taking occasional sips of Cooling Liquid and using pills when their spiritual power fell too low.

By the time night fully descended, the desert temperature had dropped sharply.

The heat of the day had been enough to burn the skin, but once the sun disappeared, the night wind cut through their robes with a deep chill. The distant sand reflected only faint moonlight, while the rocky fissures ahead became pools of darkness with no visible bottom.

Hao Nhien slowed again.

“More careful at night.”

Quan Nha nodded. Her sword was already out of its sheath, not because she expected immediate combat, but so she could react the moment anything burst from beneath the sand.

They followed stretches of hard stone to leave fewer tracks and avoid the softer areas where demonic beasts often hid. Along the way, they detected beast auras twice. One belonged to a second-rank beast close enough to become troublesome, but both times Hao Nhien chose to detour rather than fight.

They did not need beast cores.

Nor did they need another battle for training.

Getting the message to the frontline came first.

It was around midnight before Hao Nhien finally allowed them a short rest.

He surveyed the surroundings, confirmed that no strong beast aura was nearby, then moved with a thought.

A faint glow of formation runes appeared. Moments later, a small Cave Dwelling emerged among the rocks in a sheltered stretch of terrain.

Surprise briefly appeared in Quan Nha’s eyes.

Hao Nhien caught her expression and smiled.

“Got lucky and came across it.”

She looked at him for another moment but did not ask.

The two quickly entered.

Inside the Cave Dwelling, the difference from the outside world was immediate. The night wind and blowing sand were shut out, while the spiritual qi within was far more stable, allowing them to regulate their breathing and recover much faster.

Quan Nha sat to one side and took out a Qi Recovery Pill.

Hao Nhien did the same, then circulated his cultivation method and slowly guided the medicinal power through his meridians.

Neither intended to rest for long.

They only needed to recover enough to continue traveling.

About one canh hour later, Hao Nhien opened his eyes first.

Quan Nha had already finished regulating her breathing as well.

He stood and withdrew the Cave Dwelling.

“Keep going?”

She nodded.

“Mm.”

After leaving the Cave Dwelling, they continued through the night. Wind, sand, and dark stretches of stone gradually blurred into one long road with almost no pause.

Fatigue began to accumulate. The lightning wound on Hao Nhien’s shoulder still throbbed whenever he circulated spiritual power too forcefully, while Quan Nha needed increasingly longer to steady her breathing after each prolonged stretch. He did not push her. They simply maintained a pace fast enough not to waste time, but not so extreme that either would drain themselves completely in the desert.

By the time a pale line appeared on the eastern horizon, they had already covered most of the remaining distance.

Hao Nhien checked the jade slip again.

“Not far now.”

Quan Nha looked at the map.

“How long?”

“If nothing happens, before noon.”

She breathed out softly.

“Then keep going.”

The sun slowly rose.

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The Western Wastes heated up again with startling speed.

They crossed several low dunes and another long region of black rock. By the time the sun was high, the first signs of the frontline finally appeared.

First came stone markers carved with military runes.

Then deep tracks from heavy wagons pressed into hardened ground.

Farther ahead, Hao Nhien saw several deep sword scars gouged into a low cliff, clearly left behind by a battle that had taken place not long ago.

Quan Nha noticed them as well.

“We’re close.”

Hao Nhien nodded.

Neither increased their speed further.

The closer they came to the camp, the more dangerous it would be to suddenly release large amounts of spiritual power and risk being mistaken for a threat.

About one canh hour later, a line of formation flags finally emerged through the yellow haze ahead.

At first they were only a few dark specks.

Then they gradually joined into a long line.

Behind them stood stone watchtowers, formation pillars, and rows of tents of different sizes set between low defensive works. Spiritual light from the defensive formations covered the entire area like a thin veil.

The frontline camp.

Hao Nhien and Quan Nha both slowed.

When they were still several li away, one of the watchtowers ahead suddenly lit up. A beam of spiritual light swept across the area where they stood.

Hao Nhien stopped immediately.

“They’ve spotted us.”

Quan Nha lowered her hand to the hilt of her sword but did not draw it.

“Wait.”

Before long, several streaks of sword light rose from the camp.

Four cultivators approached rapidly. Instead of flying straight toward them, they spread into a fan, sealing off the main routes of movement while maintaining a safe distance. There was no burst of killing intent, but their formation made it clear that this was far from the first time they had dealt with strangers approaching the military camp.

The four landed more than ten zhang away.

All were disciples of the Sword Sect.

The man at the front was tall, dressed in practical robes with a sword strapped across his back. His aura was calm and steady, and he had at least reached mid Foundation Establishment.

He looked at the two of them.

“Stop there.”

Hao Nhien and Quan Nha took out their military tokens almost at the same time.

Hao Nhien cupped his fists.

“I am Hao Nhien of the Tieu Dao Sect. This is Quan Nha.”

“We came under orders from Deputy City Lord Leng of Third City to meet the City Lord stationed at this camp.”

The lead cultivator did not answer immediately.

He stepped forward, accepted both tokens, and used spiritual power to inspect the runes on their surfaces. Then he looked over Hao Nhien and Quan Nha again, his gaze pausing on the black sand still clinging to Hao Nhien’s robes and the tears left by Black Wind Valley.

“You came through Black Wind Valley?”

“Yes.”

The man asked nothing further. He returned the tokens and cupped his fists.

“Sword Sect, Phi Long.”

“Follow me.”

Then he turned to one of the cultivators behind him.

“Report inside. Couriers from Third City have arrived.”

“Understood.”

One streak of sword light immediately turned back toward the camp.

Phi Long did not fly.

Instead, he led Hao Nhien and Quan Nha on foot toward the outer defensive line.

The closer they came, the more clearly Hao Nhien saw how different this place was from Third City.

Cultivators moved in and out constantly. Some were wounded. Others carried supplies. One squad had only just returned from outside, their robes still stained with blood and desert dust. Formation masters were inspecting the outer pillars, while alchemists and healers moved ceaselessly between rows of tents.

The camp was not chaotic.

But the tension here was far heavier.

As Hao Nhien passed through the first defensive formation, his gaze swept instinctively across the surroundings.

The atmosphere inside the camp was entirely different from Third City.

If Third City was like a war machine constantly being brought to life, with every part inspected, supplied, and sent outward, then this place was already the blade pressed against the enemy’s throat.

Shouts from formation drills echoed continuously from a large training ground to the east. Farther away, the pounding of hammers from the refining area struck metal like repeated thunder, mixing with military orders transmitted through formation flags, the cries of spirit beasts hauling supply carts, and the sounds of cultivators checking talismans and artifacts before leaving camp.

All of it blended into a single atmosphere that was tense and heavy, yet never disordered.

A squad had just returned, fresh blood still visible on their robes. Several wounded cultivators were carried directly toward the medical tents, while damaged weapons and defensive artifacts were taken aside for inspection. Near the outer earthen wall, several large shields leaned against one another, black scorch marks still fresh across their surfaces, some edges visibly warped.

Elsewhere, dozens of cultivators were shifting formations under the shouted commands of an instructor. Shield bearers held the front, spell cultivators stood in the center, sword cultivators repeatedly changed positions along the flanks, and support and healing cultivators maintained the rear.

Hao Nhien watched for a moment, and his mood gradually grew heavier.

This was no longer the rear line where people trained.

Nor was it merely a patrol zone around Third City.

This was the true frontline.

A place where a small mistake could cost lives, and a command delayed by only a few breaths might decide whether an entire squad returned.

Quan Nha walked beside him with one hand resting lightly on her sword hilt. Her gaze passed over the training ground, the wounded cultivators, and the squads preparing to leave, but she said nothing.

Hao Nhien did not ask.

From her expression alone, he knew she felt the weight of this place as well.

Phi Long led them around a row of tents and stopped before a black-stone building near the center of the camp.

“Wait here. I’ll report to the City Lord.”

Hao Nhien cupped his fists.

“Thank you, Senior Brother Phi.”

Phi Long nodded and entered.

Hao Nhien and Quan Nha remained outside the command building.

Not far away was another training ground. Around a dozen cultivators were practicing small-unit coordination. One man with a large shield held the front, two Fire-affinity cultivators attacked from behind him, three sword cultivators took turns moving through openings in the formation, while a Water-affinity cultivator continuously created mist to obstruct vision and shape the battlefield.

Watching them, Hao Nhien could not help thinking of the Wind and Cloud Squad.

Trieu Phong had made them drill similar formations again and again. Lam Phong held the front with his shield, Tieu Van used his speed to move through openings and support the flanks, Luu Hoa and Lam Tuyet coordinated their attacks, while Tieu Lan remained protected in the rear.

The corner of Hao Nhien’s mouth lifted slightly.

Quan Nha glanced at him.

“Wind and Cloud?”

He turned toward her.

There was a faint trace of amusement in her eyes as well.

“Mm.”

“They’re probably still training in Third City.”

Quan Nha looked toward the cultivators on the field.

“Hopefully Tieu Van reaches Qi Condensation level nine before we see them again.”

Hao Nhien laughed.

“If he doesn’t, he’ll probably be too embarrassed to face Lam Phong.”

Quan Nha said nothing, though the curve of her lips deepened slightly.

At that moment, Phi Long emerged from the command building.

“The City Lord will see you.”

The smile on Hao Nhien’s face disappeared at once.

He and Quan Nha followed Phi Long inside.

Beyond the first door lay a corridor built from black stone. Maps of the camp, defensive formation diagrams, and several dark-red command tokens used for emergencies hung along the walls.

At the second door, two guards in black armor immediately stepped forward.

Even with Phi Long leading them, the guards inspected Hao Nhien and Quan Nha’s military tokens again. One activated the runes with spiritual power and waited until the identification light fully appeared before stepping aside.

“You may enter.”

Hao Nhien took back his token, his gaze shifting slightly.

At least his and Quan Nha’s tokens had now been verified by the formation system here.

The two tokens taken from the ambushers had not.

The thought surfaced briefly before he pushed it aside.

The hall beyond was wider than Hao Nhien had expected.

A large stone table stood at the center, covered by a map of the entire northwestern region of the Western Wastes. Numerous locations were marked with dark-red spiritual light, while small black, yellow, and white flags stood at other points. Several route lines shifted slowly with the fluctuations of the formation, making it obvious that this was no ordinary static map.

Behind the table stood a middle-aged man in deep purple robes.

His hair was tied high, his face angular, and his gaze sharp and penetrating. He wore no armor, yet the aura of peak late Foundation Establishment radiated from him with perfect stability. It was not deliberately oppressive, but standing before him still brought an instinctive sense of pressure.

Hao Nhien immediately knew who he was.

The City Lord of Third City, Lieu Thien Van.

At present, he was personally holding the northwestern defensive line.

Phi Long cupped his fists.

“City Lord, the couriers from Third City have arrived.”

Lieu Thien Van raised his head.

His gaze swept across Hao Nhien and Quan Nha, pausing briefly on the traces of black sand still clinging to their robes.

“You arrived faster than I expected.”

His voice was not loud, but it carried clearly through the hall.

“It seems Third City has something urgent to report.”

Hao Nhien stepped forward and took the genuine sealed letter from his storage ring with both hands.

“City Lord.”

“This letter was entrusted to me by Deputy City Lord Leng, with orders that it be delivered directly into your hands.”

“Please inspect it.”

Lieu Thien Van accepted the letter.

He did not open it immediately. Instead, he used spiritual power to examine each layer of the outer seals. The three layers of runes lit one after another beneath his fingertips, showing no sign of having been broken or altered.

Only then did he nod.

“The seals are intact.”

Lieu Thien Van opened the letter.

The hall fell silent.

Hao Nhien stood below, keeping his breathing steady. A full day and night of accelerated travel had left his spiritual power short of full recovery, while the lightning wound on his shoulder still ached faintly, but he remained alert.

Lieu Thien Van read quickly.

After only a few lines, however, his expression changed.

His brows drew together slightly.

The sharpness in his eyes turned colder.

When he finished, he folded the letter and did not speak at once.

Hao Nhien waited a beat before cupping his fists.

“City Lord, there is another urgent matter I need to report.”

Lieu Thien Van looked directly at him.

“Speak.”

“On our way here, while passing through Black Wind Valley, we discovered that someone was following us.”

Hao Nhien went straight to the point.

“There were two of them. One was at early Foundation Establishment, the other at mid Foundation Establishment. Both wore clothing bearing the mark of the Huyen Thien Sect, and both carried military tokens from Third City.”

Lieu Thien Van’s gaze changed slightly.

He did not interrupt.

Hao Nhien continued.

“We could not confirm their identities, so Quan Nha and I tested them. I used a false letter as bait. The moment they saw it, their reactions changed and they attacked.”

“The early Foundation cultivator died in the fight. We destroyed the mid Foundation cultivator’s dantian and rendered him unable to continue fighting, but before we could question him, he bit down on poison and killed himself.”

At that point, Hao Nhien took the two recovered military tokens from his storage ring and placed them on the stone table.

“These are the military tokens they carried. I examined them on the road, but I could only confirm that the material, runes, and external spiritual fluctuations appeared no different from the tokens issued to us.”

He paused.

“Whether they are genuine, I ask the City Lord to verify.”

Lieu Thien Van did not answer immediately.

He picked up one of the tokens.

Pale violet spiritual power slowly flowed into it.

A small layer of runes on the reverse side lit up at once.

His expression darkened.

He checked the second token.

The result was identical.

Lieu Thien Van placed both tokens back on the table.

“They are genuine.”

Hao Nhien said nothing at first.

Tieu Kiem’s earlier words immediately surfaced in his mind: wounded attackers had continued charging even after suffering severe injuries, and some had nearly lost consciousness yet still reacted to commands.

Two cultivators with genuine military tokens.

Two identical tattoos.

The separate pieces seemed to be drawing closer together, but there was still not enough evidence for him to force them into a single conclusion.

Quan Nha remained silent beside him.

Lieu Thien Van looked at them again.

“What else did they have?”

“No letters or transmission jade slips,” Hao Nhien replied.

“Their storage pouches only contained pills, beast cores, and ordinary supplies used in the Western Wastes. Nothing indicated who had given them their orders.”

Lieu Thien Van looked down at the two tokens.

“Anything else?”

This time, Quan Nha stepped forward half a pace.

“Yes.”

Lieu Thien Van turned to her.

Quan Nha said,

“Both of them had the same tattoo in the center of their palms.”

The finger Lieu Thien Van had resting on the stone table went still.

“What kind?”

Quan Nha answered,

“An eye.”

Lieu Thien Van’s expression changed at once.

He rose abruptly.

The hand braced against the edge of the stone table tightened unconsciously.

Crack.

A thin fracture appeared beneath his palm.

Hao Nhien saw the reaction, and his gaze immediately sharpened.

Lieu Thien Van knew that mark.