The Blade-Wielding Legend

Every skirmish, these low-level ghosts and walking corpses, under the dual massacre of firearms and Daoist skills, melt like snow under the sun, swiftly turning into filthy fragments scattered across the ground.

However, the trouble lies not in how much damage they can cause, but in the very nature of their endless harassment.

In one night, there can be as few as three to five attacks, or as many as over ten.

The soldiers’ nerves are constantly taut; just when they lie down and close their eyes, the sharp sound of a whistle rings out again.

Fatigue, like a tidal wave, slowly erodes the army’s strength.

Morale is silently worn down amidst repeated curses when being forcibly dragged from their dreams.

The marching speed inevitably slows down.

Greater dilemmas follow one after another—scorched earth tactics!

The Jianmu and the pirates executed it more thoroughly than anticipated.

Along the way, every water well and stream that could be found was without exception contaminated with rotting animal corpses, filthy objects, even faintly reflecting a strange dark green, emitting a foul stench.

Clearly mixed with some kind of Poisonous Gu or filth, making it completely undrinkable.

Occasionally untouched springs are found, yet they are often the focus of enemy ambushes.

As for food...

The village granaries were either burned down, or left open, with the grains inside already moldy, blackened, crawling with maggots.

Edible roots and wild game in the wild are almost nonexistent.

Logistical pressure suddenly increased, and the mule and horse convoys of the supply camp became the lifeline of the army, and also the most enticing target for the enemy.

But what is most disconcerting is the constant feeling of being watched.

It’s as if countless cold, malicious eyes are hiding in the deeper shadows, within the howling wind and snow, even beneath the ground, staring intently at this struggling army.

Especially the few with profound cultivation accompanying the army, they sense it most strongly.

A High Priest with the surname Zhang from Dragon and Tiger Mountain, often feels a stabbing pain in his forehead when meditating deep in the night, as if pricked by invisible needles.

He suddenly opens his eyes, his divine thought spreads like a net, but only catches a trace of extremely faint, extremely quick cold aura slipping underground, swift as an illusion.

Another elder from Wudang Mountain, Elder Chen, after leading a team to clear a zombie nest, inexplicably feels a pang of heart palpitations, the hair on his back standing on end. He suddenly turns, his longsword shimmering with a green light, pointed at a seemingly empty snow slope, shouting sternly:

"Who goes there at this ungodly hour?!"

The snow on the slope rustles down, but there is no other movement.

Only that cold malice, as if stared at by a powerful presence, lingers, like maggots clinging to bones, refusing to dissipate.

"Zhao Changsheng’s ’Grinding Plate’... truly lives up to its name."

Kong Shangzhao wrapped himself tighter in fur, gazing at the distant, continuously mountain range shrouded in gray mist, his voice low, "The army is the beans, the evil spirits are the mill. These incessant raids, pollution, and exhaustion are the turning of the grinding plate, gradually grinding down our vigor, depleting our food and supplies."

"And those lurking, making one restless... are the even deadlier ’Stone Millstones’!"

"It awaits the moment when our army is utterly weary and shows a flaw, then it will fall with a crash!"

Li Yan silently gazed into the depths of the ghostly fog, his hand resting on the cold hilt of the Duan Chen Blade.

The commanders of the Great Xuan Army are not fools; Kong Shangzhao’s guess has probably long been considered. From the arrangements in recent days, it’s evident—the marching speed has slowed, more spy squads have been sent out, and the military camps are all linked with Mystical Sect arrays.

Everyone knows that continuing like this is not viable.

But neither his Hook Paper nor the Divination Secret Method of the Mystical Sect experts in the army have been able to find those mysterious enemies...

.........

The next morning, as the gray sky began to break through the leaden clouds, casting a pale light over the snow.

The clamor of the Liaodong Army camp had yet to fully awaken.

The tent where Li Yan and the others were staying was suddenly flung open, letting in a biting cold wind.

General Gao Zhenxiong’s towering figure blocked the entrance, frost clinging to his armor, his expression as hard as iron, with an unshakeable heaviness between his brows.

In the tent, Sha Lifei meticulously wiped the barrel of his treasured firearm with a piece of deerskin cloth, while Wu Ba sat cross-legged on the ground, his hands with Meteor Iron Fist Gloves slowly opening and closing, with a slight popping sound from the bones, and Wang Daoxuan was sitting with eyes closed, regulating his breath.

"Something has happened."

Gao Zhenxiong’s voice was deep and raspy, laden with fatigue and anxiety from a sleepless night, "Last night, a convoy heading to Yingchou Gorge carrying supplies mysteriously vanished. Thirty large carts, over three hundred soldiers and laborers, including the escorting provisions... all disappeared without a trace!"

He took a breath and continued, "Reports from an urgent rider this morning found only the charred remnants of the cart frames near ’Wild Wolf Valley,’ a hundred miles away. All the grain turned to black ash, scattered everywhere."

"No people... not a single trace, no bodies, no blood, alive without sight of the living, dead without sight of the corpses!"

"Wild Wolf Valley?" Li Yan frowned deeply.

That place is treacherous, full of ridges and ravines, about a hundred miles from the frontline camp, precisely the soft spot at the rear of the army.

"Yes!" Gao Zhenxiong slammed his fist onto the wooden column nearby, causing dust to fall from the tent top.

"All Mystical Sect tributes in the camp are currently pinned at various critical nodes, maintaining the ’Three Talents Soul Suppressing Nail’ great array with full force, to guard against Zhao Changsheng’s ’Grinding Plate’ evil spirits’ counterattack and ghost soldier infiltration, it’s truly impossible to spare manpower!"

"This matter is extremely bizarre, definitely not done by ordinary bandits or marauders. Young Hero Li and everyone, I can only trouble you to go inspect, you must find out the truth!

"Otherwise, if the supply route is cut off, the army’s morale will be unstable, and the consequences will be unimaginable!"

The situation is urgent, not allowing for delay.

Li Yan and the others quickly rose, selected a team of trusted elite riders, mounted their warhorses, and charged out of the camp gate.

The biting northwest wind rolled with snow foam, like a cold whip lashing their faces.

Hundred miles of snowy plains, heaven and earth desolate.

The team galloped wildly, horse hooves breaking the snow, splashing muddy ice.

Even though the mounts were all fine horses from Liaodong, when they reached the treacherous place called ’Wild Wolf Valley,’ the sun had already set, casting a cold and yellowish halo over the snowfield and the grim black cliffs on both sides.

The scene was horrifying.

Dozens of carts carrying provisions now only have the twisted blackened skeletons left, scattered chaotically on a relatively open snowy area at the mouth of the valley.

The strong smell of burning mixed with the choking scent of scorched grain pervaded the cold air.

The black ashes of the grain were lifted by the cold wind, swirling.

The tracks on the snow were a mess: deep ruts from the carts, disordered hoof prints, human footprints... and, numerous more chaotic footprints with clear claw marks!

These claw prints varied in size, sinking deeply into the snow, exuding primitive brutality.

The soldiers immediately spread out to search, their faces pale under the bleak twilight.

Aside from a few scattered, broken weapons, some shattered supply wood boards, and some torn tent fragments, the vast scene truly didn’t have a single corpse, even large bloodstains were rare.

Over three hundred people, along with their animals, seemed completely devoured by this snowfield.

Sha Lifei crouched down, his fingers pinching some dark red powder from the snow, bringing it to his nose to sniff, his brow furrowed.

Wang Daoxuan took out his ancient Turtle Shell Compass, its pointer didn’t swing wildly but rather trembled slightly, pointing towards the depths of the ravine with an indescribable sense of sluggishness.

Long Yan’er’s fingertip Gu Worm seemed somewhat uneasy and restless.

Wu Ba cautiously scanned the dark cliffs on both sides, making his Meteor Iron Fist Gloves creak.

Li Yan walked slowly along the chaotic beast tracks, his gaze sharp as a hawk, scrutinizing every suspicious trace.

Charred wood, frozen ashes, chaotic marks... he squatted down, fingers picking up a pinch of ashes mixed with snowflakes, bringing it close to his nose, inhaling deeply.

A very faint, yet cold snake-like familiar scent instantly invaded his nose!

The scent was mixed with the strong animalistic smell characteristic of wild beasts, a stale and eerie incense ash odor, and a trace of... foul air corrupted by Evil Technique!

Li Yan’s eyes suddenly lit up, a flash of cold light.

He suddenly stood up, his voice deep with a hint of excitement:

"It’s the scent of ’Dark Five Immortals’!"

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