185: Chapter 185 Guerrilla Maneuvering (Part 3)

Northwest, Rift Zone, early morning.

Lu Mingyuan stood before a desolate post station. The post station was small, with three earthen houses, a stable, and a well. Half of the earthen houses' roofs had collapsed, the stable's wooden pillars were rotten, and the well had run dry. This place used to be a rest stop for caravans, with tea, food, and people. Now there was nothing left, only the wind, the dust, and memories.

"Bai Ze, how much further to the next village?"

"Twenty li to the south, there is a village called Shihezi. It's not large, about twenty households. But near that village, there is a group of Loose Cultivators who have been trapped for several days."

"Loose Cultivators? What is their cultivation base?"

"The leader is a Soul Transformation Stage, and the rest are Golden Core and Nascent Soul. Nine people in total. They originally went to investigate The Rift, but were surrounded by Demonic Soldiers and trapped on a hilltop. Their food and water are almost gone, and their True Qi is nearly exhausted. If they aren't rescued soon, they won't be able to hold out."

Lu Mingyuan did not hesitate. "Save the Loose Cultivators first. The village can be saved a bit later; it won't run away. If we don't save the Loose Cultivators now, they will die."

"I thought so too," Bai Ze said. "But that place is dangerous. There are three Demonic Generals of the Taiyi Realm. You alone—"

"One person is enough."

Bai Ze said no more. It knew that when this man said "one person is enough," he had already made up his mind. He would not retreat, he would not flee, and he would not give up. Not because he wasn't afraid, but because he couldn't. He couldn't watch his fellow Daoists die, he couldn't watch Cultivators turn into hatred, resentment, and enmity, and he couldn't watch those who could still fight fall.

---

Fifteen li north of Shihezi Village, a nameless hilltop.

The hilltop was small and bare, with no trees or grass, only stones. Nine people sat on the hilltop, their clothes in tatters and their faces emaciated. There was no light in their eyes, only exhaustion, despair, and unwillingness.

At the foot of the hill, a dense mass of Demonic Soldiers surrounded them, at least a hundred. On the periphery of the Demonic Soldiers, three Demonic Generals stood in a triangular formation, all in the Taiyi Realm. They were in no hurry, not charging or attacking. They just surrounded them, waiting. Waiting for the people on the hilltop to exhaust their True Qi, waiting for them to starve, waiting for them to die of thirst, waiting for them to despair. Then they would kill, then they would eat, and then let their hatred, resentment, and enmity become part of An.

"Senior Brother, how much longer can we hold out?" a young female Cultivator asked. Her lips were cracked, and her voice was raspy.

"Until we die," the leading Soul Transformation Cultivator said. His name was Zhou Zheng, a Loose Cultivator who had Cultivated for three hundred years. His sword was broken, and his True Qi was almost gone, but he still stood. Because he could not fall. He was the Senior Brother, the leader, and the hope of these people. If he fell, they would all be finished.

"Is no one coming to save us?" another young male Cultivator asked. His leg was injured and wrapped in cloth strips that were soaked through with blood, turning a dark red.

"They will come," Zhou Zheng said. But he didn't believe it himself. This place was too remote, three hundred li from the nearest Zhenyi Alliance outpost. They were sent to investigate The Rift, not to fight a war. The Zhenyi Alliance didn't know they were trapped, the imperial court didn't know, and their fellow Daoists didn't know. No one knew. Even if they died here, no one would know.

The sun had risen, but its light could not reach the hilltop. The Devilish Qi clouds were too thick, blocking all the sunlight. The hilltop was gray and chilly, like a grave.

"Senior Brother, I don't want to die here," the young female Cultivator cried. She had Cultivated for a hundred years, finally reaching the Golden Core stage, finally joining the Zhenyi Alliance, and finally feeling like she was of some use. But she was going to die, die on this bare hilltop, die in the mouths of Demonic Soldiers, die within the hatred, resentment, and enmity of An. She was unwilling.

"It won't happen," Zhou Zheng said. He walked over and took her hand in his. The hand was cold, cold as ice. He held it, wanting to give her some warmth. But he himself was also cold, so cold that even his bones ached. "It won't happen."

---

Lu Mingyuan stood in the distance, looking at that hilltop, those Demonic Soldiers, and those three Demonic Generals.

"Bai Ze, what are the cultivation bases of those three Demonic Generals?"

"The one in the middle is Taiyi Perfection, the one on the left is Taiyi Late Stage, and the one on the right is Taiyi Middle Stage. There are about one hundred and thirty Demonic Soldiers, mostly at the Foundation Establishment and Golden Core levels, which are nothing to fear. The key is those three Taiyi."

"How many can I take on?"

"One. Two would be a struggle. Three, you cannot defeat."

"Then I won't fight them."

"If you don't fight, how do you plan to save them?"

"Lure them away. Lure them away and let the people on the hilltop break through."

Bai Ze thought for a moment. "Feasible. The middle one is the strongest; you lure him away. As for the remaining two, can the people on the hilltop deal with them? The leader is a Soul Transformation; he can't defeat a Taiyi."

"He can't defeat one, but he can run. As long as I lure the strongest one away, the remaining two won't chase together. They'll have to leave one to watch the hilltop. If only one chases, the Soul Transformation Stage can hold out for a while. Long enough for me to return."

"When you return, how much True Qi will you have left?"

"I don't know. I'll have to try."

Bai Ze looked at him, at this man who had turned from a warrior into a healer. He was no longer killing Demonic Generals, but he wanted to save his fellow Daoists. He could save them without killing. Lure them away, stall them, wear them down. Once his fellow Daoists had escaped, he would withdraw. After withdrawing, he would find the next ones. There was no rush.

"Alright," Bai Ze said. "I will accompany you."

---

Lu Mingyuan stepped out, walking toward that hilltop, toward those Demonic Soldiers. He did not hide his aura, he did not launch a sneak attack, and he did not scheme. He just walked out openly, as if walking in his own courtyard.

The Demonic Generals discovered him. The Taiyi Perfection Demonic General in the middle turned its head, its red eyes staring at him. There was no confusion or hesitation in those red eyes, only killing intent. It was not like a Shiying; it never wondered 'who am I.' It was only hatred, only resentment, only enmity. Pure hatred, pure resentment, pure enmity.

"A Quasi-Saint?" the Demonic General spoke, its voice deep like muffled thunder. "Interesting. A Quasi-Saint, here to seek death?"

"Not to seek death, but to pick people up," Lu Mingyuan said.

"Pick up whom?"

"The people on the hilltop."

"You think you can take them away?"

"Let's try."

Lu Mingyuan struck. The Wanxiang True Qi surged out, a golden light—bright, fierce, and powerful. He did not defend, he used no barriers, and no protection. He attacked. Not to kill, but to lure. That light struck toward the middle Demonic General, neither heavily nor lightly, just enough to wound it. The Demonic General dodged, but it was enraged. A Quasi-Saint dared to strike it? It charged, black Devilish Qi surging like a tide.

Lu Mingyuan turned and ran. Not fleeing, but luring. He ran east, toward the wilderness, toward a place with no people. The Demonic General pursued from behind, getting closer and more urgent. It wanted to kill this man, to tear him to pieces, to make him part of An.

After running for ten li, Lu Mingyuan stopped and turned around. The Demonic General also stopped, looking at him.

"No more running?" the Demonic General said.

"No more running. This place is far enough."

"Far? Far from what?"

"Far enough that the people on the hilltop cannot hear the commotion here. It's time for them to break through."

The Demonic General's red eyes flashed. It understood that this man hadn't come to seek death, but to lure it away. It had been tricked.

"You think luring me away is enough? There are still two Taiyi over there; the people on the hilltop won't escape."

"They will escape. Because those two will not pursue."

"Why?"

"Because you are the strongest. Since you are gone, they won't pursue with all their might. They will leave one to watch the hilltop, and only one will chase. One Taiyi chasing one Soul Transformation and eight Golden Core and Nascent Souls won't catch them. Because the Soul Transformation will run for their life, burning their True Qi, running with everything they have. If they escape, they live. If they live, they can continue to fight. By continuing to fight, they can kill more Demonic Soldiers, seal more of The Rift, and mend more of the heavens. You cannot stop it."

The Demonic General fell silent. For the first time, something appeared in its red eyes. It wasn't confusion, but anger. Anger at being tricked, anger at this man for calculating against it, and anger that those Mortals were about to escape.

"Then I will kill you first," the Demonic General said. "After killing you, I will go after them. There is still time."

"It's too late. Because you cannot kill me."

Lu Mingyuan stood there, in the wilderness, before the Demonic General. There was light on his body, a golden light—bright, fierce, and powerful. That light was not for defense, but for attack. He had to stall this Demonic General until the people on the hilltop had run far away, until they were safe, and until he could withdraw.

He struck. The Wanxiang True Qi transformed into countless golden light swords, shooting toward the Demonic General. The Demonic General brandished black energy, blocking the light swords. The light swords and the black energy collided with a boom, shaking the earth. Lu Mingyuan did not retreat, continuing his attack. Wave after wave of light swords, each fiercer than the last. The Demonic General also did not retreat, layer upon layer of black energy, each thicker than the last.

They fought for half a shichen. Most of Lu Mingyuan's True Qi was consumed, and the Demonic General's Devilish Qi was also significantly depleted. Neither could kill the other, and neither wanted to retreat. Lu Mingyuan could not retreat; if he did, the Demonic General would pursue the people on the hilltop. The Demonic General did not want to retreat; retreating would be a loss of face, a failure in duty, and would lead to punishment by An.

"How much longer can you hold out?" the Demonic General asked.

"Until you retreat."

"I will not retreat."

"Neither will I."

They fought for another half a shichen. Lu Mingyuan's True Qi was nearly empty, his body began to tremble, and his face turned pale. But he was still attacking, still fighting, still stalling. In his heart, that little tree was swaying, swaying violently like a small tree in a storm. But it did not fall; its roots were still in the soil, its trunk was still upright, and its branches and leaves were still facing the light.

"Bai Ze," Lu Mingyuan called out.

"I'm here."

"Have the people on the hilltop escaped?"

Bai Ze unfurled the bai ze map, and a golden light flashed. "They've escaped. All of them. They ran south and have already run for thirty li. They are safe."

Lu Mingyuan smiled. He withdrew his light swords, turned, and ran. Not fleeing, but withdrawing. The mission was complete, his fellow Daoists were saved, and he could leave. The Demonic General pursued from behind, but could not catch him. Because Lu Mingyuan ran very fast, fast as lightning. Although his True Qi was almost gone, his body was that of a Quasi-Saint, a Light Body, and he ran faster than the wind.

After running for thirty li, the Demonic General stopped chasing. It wasn't that it couldn't catch him, but that chasing was useless. The people on the hilltop were already safe, and chasing them now wouldn't lead to their deaths. It stood there, watching Lu Mingyuan's receding back. In its red eyes, there was something. Not confusion, not anger, but something it had for the first time—thought. It began to wonder, why could this person escape? Why could he save those people? Why couldn't it stop him? Once it thought, a crack appeared. Once there was a crack, light could enter.

---

To the south, in a safe place. At the gate of a small city, Zhou Zheng stood there, waiting. Behind him were those eight Loose Cultivators, all alive and well. There was light in their eyes—not the light of despair, but the light of hope.

Seeing Lu Mingyuan approach, Zhou Zheng knelt. The other eight Loose Cultivators also knelt.

"Rise," Lu Mingyuan helped him up. "There is no need to kneel."

"Thank you," Zhou Zheng said. "If not for you, we would have died there."

"There is no need for thanks. You being alive is the greatest thanks to me."

"What else can we do?"

"Continue to fight. Continue to seal The Rift, continue to save the commoners, and continue mending the heavens. Don't die, don't retreat, and don't give up. As long as you are alive, there is hope. As long as you are alive, the day will break."

Zhou Zheng looked at him, at this man who had saved them. There was light in his eyes, a light so bright it was like the sun. That light shone on his face, on his body, and into his heart. He knew what he had to do. Continue to fight, continue to seal The Rift, continue to save the commoners, and continue mending the heavens. Not dying, not retreating, and not giving up.

"Alright," Zhou Zheng said. "We will continue."

---

Lu Mingyuan stood at the city gate, watching those nine Loose Cultivators enter the city. They were alive and well. He turned and looked toward the north. The sky to the north was still gray, and there was still The Rift, Devilish Qi, and hatred. But he was not afraid. Because he knew that if he saved one group a day, he would save three hundred and sixty-five groups a year. By continuing to save them, the numbers would grow. As the numbers grew, they would become stronger. As they became stronger, they could mend more. As they mended more, there would be more light. As there was more light, the night would recede.

"Let's go," Bai Ze said.

"Where to?"

"To the next village. Shihezi Village."

"Alright."

Lu Mingyuan set off toward Shihezi Village. Not hurried, not impatient, not attached. Walking slowly, walking steadily, walking lightly. Taking it one step at a time. Taking it one day at a time. Taking it one year at a time. By continuing to walk, he would eventually arrive. Once he arrived, he would save them. Once they were saved, they would live. Once they lived, there would be hope. With hope, the day would break.

In his heart, that little tree was still growing. Seventeen feet, eighteen feet, nineteen feet. It was very slow, slow as a snail's crawl. But it was growing—growing in the darkness, growing in the resentment, growing in the despair. As long as it grew, it would eventually grow tall. Once it grew tall, it could save more. By saving more, more would live. As more lived, there would be more light. With more light, the night would recede.