172: Chapter 172 The Guerrilla War Begins
The frontal battlefield could no longer be fought.
Lu Mingyuan stood atop Mount Buzhou, looking at The Rift in the distance. The Rift had cracked again, wider than yesterday, deeper than yesterday, and darker than yesterday. Devilish Qi surged from The Rift, thick as ink, black as night, and cold as ice. Demon soldiers marched out of The Rift—one, ten, a hundred, a thousand. Golden Immortal-level elites formed squares, and Taiyi-level demon generals stood at the front of the formations. There was something in their eyes, a murderous intent that said, "Today, we shall trample the mortal Realm."
"Yesterday, we killed thirty thousand demon soldiers," Bai Ze said in a soft voice, perched on his shoulder. "But thirty hundred thousand more were born from The Rift. Kill one, and ten are born. Kill ten, and a hundred are born. Kill a hundred, and a thousand are born. They are endless."
Lu Mingyuan did not speak. He knew. He had known for a long time. Ever since he returned from the Heavenly Court, he had known. Dark Heavenly Emperor An had said—'Confrontation will only make me stronger.' Killing a demon soldier allows their resentment to return to An, making An stronger. As An grows stronger, The Rift grows wider. As The Rift grows wider, more demon soldiers appear. Killing only makes the enemy stronger. Fighting only makes the situation worse. War only brings the end of the world faster.
"Then we won't kill," Lu Mingyuan said.
"Not kill?" Bai Ze was stunned. "If we don't kill, how will we defend?"
"We won't defend from the front. Frontal defense is a dead end. We will fight a guerrilla war."
"Guerrilla?"
"Yes. When the enemy advances, we retreat; when the enemy retreats, we advance. We won't fight the large groups, only the small ones. We won't fight for a momentary victory, but for the final win."
Bai Ze looked at him for a long time. Then it nodded. "Alright. Guerrilla warfare it is."
---
In the main tent of the Zhenyi Alliance, Lu Mingyuan gathered everyone together.
Zhang Lingyun sat in a corner, drawing talismans. His hand trembled, but his brush did not. His hair had turned completely white, his face was covered in wrinkles, and his body was as thin as a skeleton. That Heavenly Net had cost him half his life, and his life was nearly exhausted. Yue Wushuang stood at the entrance, wrapped in bandages, with the qingni sword hanging at her waist. Her injuries had not yet healed, but she had already stood up. Li Haoran sat at the desk, flipping through the record of near reflection; his left sleeve was empty, with gauze still wrapped around the stump of his arm. Sun Wukong squatted on a chair, munching on a peach, still bearing the wounds he brought back from Lingshan. Yang Jian leaned against a pillar, his three-pointed double-edged blade propped on the ground; there were cracks on his Heavenly Eye, but his gaze remained bright.
"From today on, we will no longer fight head-on," Lu Mingyuan said. "We cannot win a frontal battle, and we shouldn't fight one anyway. Every demon soldier killed makes An a bit stronger. The more we kill, the stronger An becomes. Confrontation is just feeding the enemy."
The tent fell silent. Zhang Lingyun looked up at Lu Mingyuan. "If we don't kill, then what do we do?"
"Mending. deliverance. Purification. We aren't eliminating enemies; we are healing patients. But this takes time. We need time to find a way to complete the mending and to wait for the right opportunity. So we must stall, wear them down, and exhaust them. Stall until An can no longer hold on, wear them down until they don't have enough demon soldiers, and exhaust them until The Rift shrinks on its own."
"How do we stall?" Yue Wushuang asked.
"By fighting a guerrilla war. We won't engage in head-on clashes; we'll strike and move to another location. We'll protect the civilians during their relocation, leaving the enemy with no one to kill. We'll ambush small groups of demon soldiers so they won't dare to wander alone. We'll cut off their supplies so they have no strength to fight. We'll wear down their morale until they lose the will to fight. We'll stall until they can't take it anymore, and until we find a way to complete the mending."
Yue Wushuang thought for a long time, then nodded. "Alright. Guerrilla warfare."
---
The first guerrilla battle took place at the foot of Mount Tai.
The Mount Tai Rift was not large, but it wasn't small either. Every day, several hundred demon soldiers emerged from The Rift to raid nearby villages and towns. The Zhenyi Alliance had too few people to defend every settlement. But they could relocate the civilians, leaving the demon soldiers with no one to find upon arrival.
"Quick! Move out!" Lu Mingyuan stood at the village entrance, directing the evacuation. The elderly, children, and women went first. The young and strong followed behind, carrying grain and leading livestock. Their faces were filled with fear, tears, and despair. But they were moving, following Lu Mingyuan, following hope.
"Immortal, if we leave, what about our home?" an old man asked.
"If the home is gone, it can be rebuilt. If the people are gone, everything is lost."
The old man looked at him for a long time. Then he nodded and turned to leave. His back was very hunched, but his steps were steady. He was walking, following the line, following a path to survival.
The civilians were gone, but the demon soldiers arrived. Several hundred demon soldiers rushed out of The Rift and into the village. But there was no one in the village—only empty houses, empty streets, and the hollow wind. The demon soldiers were stunned; they didn't know what to do. They had come to kill, but there was no one to kill. They had come to plunder grain, but there was no grain to plunder. They had come to destroy, but there was nothing left to destroy.
"Withdraw," the demon general said.
They turned, wanting to return to The Rift. But Lu Mingyuan stood behind them. His Wanxiang Heaven and Earth expanded, his Xuan-shu Path extended, and his small tree grew. That small tree was already five inches tall, growing in the darkness, growing in the resentment, growing in the despair.
"You want to go back?" Lu Mingyuan asked.
The demon general looked at him, looking at this person who was only at the Daluo Late Stage, looking at this person who dared to stand alone before them. There was no fear in his eyes, no dread, and no retreat. There was only one thing—righteousness.
"Kill him!" the demon general roared.
The demon soldiers charged. Lu Mingyuan did not dodge. He reached out, and Wanxiang True Qi surged from his palms into the bodies of the demon soldiers. Those demon soldiers didn't die; they dissolved. They transformed into wisps of green smoke and dissipated into the world. It wasn't elimination; it was transformation. It wasn't confrontation; it was deliverance. But deliverance also took time, and for several hundred demon soldiers, he needed time.
"Lu Mingyuan, Old Sun is here!"
Sun Wukong leaped down from the sky, his golden cudgel sweeping across and sending dozens of demon soldiers flying. He did not use deliverance; he killed. But he killed quickly, so quickly the demon soldiers had no time to react. Yang Jian also charged from behind, his three-pointed double-edged blade slashing toward the demon general. That demon general was at the Taiyi Early Stage, while Yang Jian was at Taiyi Perfection; with one strike, the demon general's head flew off.
In less than half an hour, the several hundred demon soldiers were either killed or delivered. Not a single one escaped.
"How was that?" Sun Wukong asked with a grin.
"Not bad," Lu Mingyuan said. "But next time, don't kill. Use deliverance."
"deliverance is too slow. With hundreds of demon soldiers, how long would it take?"
"Even if it's slow, we must use deliverance. Kill one, and An grows stronger. Deliver one, and another star appears in the sky. Do you want An to be stronger, or do you want more stars in the sky?"
Sun Wukong was stunned. He thought for a moment, then scratched his head. "Fine. Next time, Old Sun will use deliverance."
---
The first guerrilla battle was won. It wasn't a major victory, but a minor one. Yet a minor victory is still a victory. Accumulate small wins to achieve a great victory, and wear An down until he can no longer hold on.
The second battle was at the foot of Mount Hua. They ambushed a small squad of demon soldiers and delivered thirty of them. The third was at the foot of Mount Heng. They relocated three villages and saved five thousand civilians. The fourth was at the foot of Mount Song. They cut off a squad's supplies and burned their provisions. The fifth was at the foot of Mount Qingcheng. They rescued a group of surrounded Loose Cultivators and recruited them.
One battle, two, three. Five, ten, twenty. Minor victories increased, demon soldiers decreased, and the people became safer. But The Rift remained, An remained, and the Dharma Ending Age remained. Lu Mingyuan knew this wasn't enough. Guerrilla warfare could only stall; it couldn't win. To win, mending was required. They needed to mend An, mend the Heavenly Dao, and mend the Dharma Ending Age. But how? He didn't know. He only knew he had to keep going. Keep going until the day everything was mended.
---
Buzhou Mountain Ruins, night.
Lu Mingyuan stood alone on the mountain peak, looking at the stars in the sky. There were a few more stars than yesterday, but still very few—only a few dozen. But they were there, shining in the darkness, flashing in the despair, and living in the Dharma Ending Age.
"What are you thinking about?" Bai Ze flew up and landed on his shoulder.
"Thinking about how to mend An."
"Have you figured it out?"
"No. I only know that confrontation is useless and that mending is the Righteous Path. But how to mend? What to use for mending? What will happen after mending? I don't know any of it."
Bai Ze was silent for a moment. "Do you know? During the Witch-Demon Calamity, Hou Tu also thought about this problem. She saw the Witch Race and the Yao Race fighting, killing each other until the very heavens shattered. She also wondered, how can we stop the killing? How can we mend everything? Later, she understood—killing happens because of lack. A lack of love, a lack of understanding, a lack of tolerance. To mend, one must use love, understanding, and tolerance. So she transformed into Reincarnation, giving the dead a place to go and the living a hope to look forward to. What she mended was not the sky, but the heart. If the sky is broken, it can be patched. If the heart is broken, how do you mend it?"
Lu Mingyuan was stunned. "If the heart is broken, how do you mend it?"
"Mend it with the heart. Use your heart to mend the hearts of others. Use your love to mend what others lack. Use your understanding to mend the resentment of others. Use your tolerance to mend the hatred of others."
Lu Mingyuan stood there, unmoving. He thought of Hou Tu, remembering when he was at the Zixiao Palace and Hou Tu passed the Dao of Reincarnation to him, saying, 'The earth carries everything—the good and the bad, the beautiful and the ugly, the kind and the evil. It carries it all. It does not choose, it does not pick, and it does not abandon.' He didn't understand then, but now he seemed to understand a little.
"Carrying," Lu Mingyuan said. "Not eliminating, but carrying. Not confronting, but tolerating. Not mending the sky, but mending the heart."
Bai Ze looked at him and smiled. "You understand."
"I understand a little. It's not enough. I still have to keep going."
He stood there, atop the peak of Mount Buzhou, standing between darkness and light. Inside his heart, that small tree was still growing. Five inches, six inches, seven inches. It was very slow, like a snail crawling. But it was growing—growing in the darkness, growing in the resentment, growing in the despair. As long as it grows, it will eventually become large. Once it is large, it can mend even more.
But he also knew that relying solely on guerrilla warfare and delivering a few demon soldiers and generals was not enough. To mend An, to mend the Heavenly Dao, and to mend the Dharma Ending Age, he needed greater power, a deeper Dao, and a higher Realm. He needed a Breakthrough—from the Daluo Late Stage to Daluo Perfection, and from Daluo Perfection to Quasi-Saint. But he didn't know when he could break through, or when he would find the way to complete the mending. He only knew he had to keep going. Keep going until the day everything was mended.