Chapter 1977: Game of Chess

At the border of Xuanguo, a million-strong army stood in confrontation.

Military formations spread out on both sides, setting up camps that stretched for dozens of miles. Soldiers were like ants, and tents stood like a forest. After battle after battle, the land in front of both armies' formations was stained with blood. The blood seeped into the ground, turning the soil a dark crimson even three feet deep. The countless fallen soldiers were a horrifying sight.

As the morning sun rose, the battlefield was already filled with earth-shattering cries of battle. Within the Yan Kingdom's main camp was a hill, offering a panoramic view of the battlefield. The commander's tent was set up there. In front of the commander's tent, Yu Lang and several generals stood by a railing, facing east, with the blood-red dawn glow illuminating them. All of them wore grim expressions, gazing at the center of the battlefield. Years of military life had replaced some of Yu Lang's scholarly gentleness with an iron will. He watched the fighting soldiers, worried, and inadvertently glanced south.

Not far to the south was an extraordinary peak, even taller than the hill they stood on, and more suitable for observing the battle. It was considered one of the strategic high points of the battlefield. However, mortals were forbidden from ascending that mountain. Everyone knew it was an immortal mountain, with newly built palaces where immortal masters resided. Even on some stone platforms and cliffs, immortal masters could be seen meditating. Mists swirled around them, making them appear ethereal, embodying the essence of immortals. Whenever they looked at this mountain, all the soldiers and generals showed reverence. The enemy camp also had a similar place.

Yu Lang's concern was not that their cultivators were inferior to the enemy's; on the contrary, they had won more than lost in dozens of battles. What truly distressed him were the escalating casualties and the seemingly endless slaughter. The central battlefield was like a demon's den, devouring countless lives, and no amount of blood seemed enough to fill it. Over the years, Yu Lang had witnessed so much death that he had become numb, yet he still felt immense sorrow at this moment. In his view, many casualties were meaningless. The cultivators' involvement had not expedited the war's end; instead, it had intensified the casualties. If there were no cultivators involved in the conflict, he was confident he could risk everything in one decisive battle to rout the enemy army, rather than engage in this unending entanglement.

In fact, he hadn't expected to remain the commander for so long. He had thought that once cultivators intervened, the conflict would inevitably escalate into a struggle between cultivators. On the battlefield, cultivators were bound to suffer casualties, and casualties bred hatred, escalating from individuals to sects, even to a confrontation between righteous and demonic paths. Both sides would summon allies, and their complex web of grievances and feuds would draw in more and more people and forces. Most conflicts evolved in this manner. Once Nascent Soul cultivators entered the fray, who would still care about mortals? Once the powerful figures from both sides determined a victor, the mortal world would naturally align itself and be controlled by the winner. However, reality defied his expectations.

Both the righteous and demonic sides showed remarkable restraint. Aside from the Nascent Soul patriarchs stationed in the main camps to deter the enemy, no cultivators of the Golden Core stage or higher appeared on the battlefield. Even when cultivators fell in battle, those sent by their sects for vengeance did not exceed the Foundation Establishment stage. If it could continue like this, that would be fine. As fellow Foundation Establishment cultivators, these individuals, constrained by their sect's orders, would not openly defy his commands as commander. Yu Lang had exhausted his efforts, slowly but surely compressing the enemy's forces, finally bringing about the decisive battle. Yet, as the great decisive battle approached, powerful figures emerged like bamboo shoots after a spring rain. Yu Lang was now unsure how many Golden Core and Nascent Soul cultivators were actually on the mountain. These powerful figures weren't just there to observe; they had also sent over some "treasures."

At this very moment, a faint crimson mist permeated the battlefield, accompanied by successive gongs. Both sides had three thousand soldiers. The crimson mist emanated from the Blood Essence Banners held by the Yan Kingdom soldiers. The sound of gongs came from the bronze gongs in the enemy's hands. The enemy had formed a semi-circular array. Behind it, a Foundation Establishment cultivator held a large, gleaming golden gong, while another five hundred soldiers each held a palm-sized bronze gong. The gongs resonated loudly. These soldiers surrounded the cultivator, merely beating their gongs. The number of those actively fighting was clearly at a disadvantage. Unexpectedly, the gong sounds possessed strange power, emitting rings of light that fell upon their comrades at the front of the formation. Instantly, their comrades' morale surged. Their bodies emitted an antique bronze glow, as if cast from iron, and they faced the dragon-shaped blood energy condensed by the Blood Essence Banners without flinching. In contrast, the Yan Kingdom side was affected by the gongs, and their formation showed signs of disarray. Previous battles had seen similar situations. In the losing side, three thousand elite soldiers were either slaughtered or captured, while the cultivators often managed to escape. Both sides provided various treasures and cultivation techniques, yet the outcome had to be decided by the flesh and blood of mortals, filling the void with countless lives. Yu Lang did not know what agreement existed between the righteous and demonic sides. He only knew that if this continued, more and more people would die in vain.

"It's like this again!" The grand chessboard was divided into smaller ones, and even the smallest chessboard had its players and pawns. No matter the game, mortals were merely pawns, manipulated by others. This was precisely what Yu Lang detested! He had once believed he had hope of changing things, but now he only felt powerless. As commander, he was no mere figurehead; troop deployment and formation were his decisions. Yet, after every battle, regardless of victory or defeat, Yu Lang felt only sorrow. "Can Master change the situation?" Yu Lang looked up at the clear sky, pondering quietly. In his heart, his Master was omnipotent. He hadn't faced danger, yet to uphold his beliefs, he had unhesitatingly used a bamboo slip.

"Roar!" A roar suddenly erupted on the battlefield. The roar came from the Yan Kingdom soldiers, like a dragon's roar from the dragon-shaped blood energy, comparable to a thunderclap, shaking hearts and minds. Struck by the roar, the gongs faltered for a moment. The Yan Kingdom seized the fleeting opportunity, charged forward fiercely, and instantly shattered the enemy's formation. "Clang! Clang! Clang!" The cultivator desperately beat the gong, but seeing their side grow more chaotic and unable to regroup, he immediately abandoned his soldiers and fled as a streak of light. He dared not linger, lest he be caught by the dragon-shaped blood energy, which would surely spell his doom. The Yan Kingdom side returned in triumph, joy radiating from everyone's faces. A flicker of sadness crossed Yu Lang's eyes, and he sighed inwardly. Suddenly, from the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a figure. "Master!" He had suddenly seen his Master, whom he hadn't seen for a long time. At that moment, Yu Lang was overcome with mixed emotions of sorrow and joy. He suddenly wondered if he, like his senior sister, should have chosen to return to the tranquil Qingyang Temple, far from worldly disputes.

"You've done very well," Qin Sang said, surveying the battlefield and offering unreserved praise. These were not empty compliments; Yu Lang's ability to become the commander of a million-strong army had indeed exceeded Qin Sang's expectations. Qin Sang knew in his heart that this disciple had done his utmost. What was most commendable was that despite enduring hardship, Yu Lang had not forgotten his original aspirations. Although Yu Lang's original aspiration differed from his own, Qin Sang still felt gratified that his disciple had achieved this much. "Master..." Yu Lang's eyes blurred as countless emotions surged within him. These feelings stemmed from his Master's affirmation, and even more so, from his experiences over the years.

Just then, the defeated enemy sent out another formation, entering the battlefield and issuing a challenge. From a distance, all the soldiers were seen wearing wooden armor, made of an unknown type of wood, with branches and green leaves even sprouting from some parts. Once these individuals formed their array, they stood as if rooted to the earth, as stable as a boulder, unshakeable by any force. "General Qin, please instruct us as to who should meet the challenge!" "Yuan Qing of Mount Yulong requests to fight!" Successive shouts echoed from the Yan Kingdom's main camp. Yu Lang looked at his Master. Qin Sang flicked his sleeve, and a wisp of breeze blew towards the enemy formation, instantly followed by a series of cracking sounds. The three thousand soldiers were horrified to discover that cracks appeared in their armor, which then broke into fragments and fell from their bodies. The feeling of being rooted to the earth and unshakeable vanished. Then, they felt their feet lighten, and they flew backward, tumbling like gourds, screaming in alarm.

"Who dares be so presumptuous!" "Who are you!" As soon as Qin Sang made his move, countless angry shouts erupted, some even from the mountain to the south. The next moment, figures flew out from the mountain. In an instant, hundreds of figures densely populated the sky above the battlefield, mainly Golden Core cultivators, but also quite a few Nascent Soul patriarchs with profound aura. All eyes converged on this spot. Yu Lang's heart trembled, but beside his Master, he felt a pillar of strength and was completely fearless.

"Who are you?!" Opposite them, a middle-aged man stepped forward from the crowd. He had an ordinary appearance, a pale complexion, and a gaunt physique, like someone recovering from a serious illness. But the others, upon seeing him, respectfully gave way. "Daoist Qingfeng?" A voice of surprise also rang out from the south; someone recognized Qin Sang. Qin Sang glanced sideways, saw it was Yin Heqian, nodded in acknowledgment, then turned to the middle-aged man, floated into the air, and smiled: "With powerful figures from both sides present, why are things so slow? When will a victor finally be decided? This humble Daoist has little patience and can't wait any longer. Which fellow Daoist would like to step forward for a fight?"

The middle-aged man frowned, looking at Patriarch Kuang, his gaze seemingly asking what was happening. Patriarch Kuang called Yin Heqian to his side, questioned him briefly, and then thoughtfully remarked, "So this is General Qin's master, Daoist Qingfeng? His bearing is indeed extraordinary..." His figure flickered, and he flew to Qin Sang's side, cupping his hands in greeting: "I am Kuang Wujiang. Greetings, Daoist." "Greetings, Fellow Daoist Kuang." Seeing Qin Sang's unassuming demeanor, Patriarch Kuang's expression softened slightly. Pointing towards the Southern Mountain, he said, "We didn't know you would grace us with your presence, Daoist. We've brought some spiritual tea and immortal wine from our sect. Would you be so kind as to join us?" "Not yet!" Qin Sang waved his hand. "It won't be too late to drink tea after I've captured these demonic practitioners."

"This..." Patriarch Kuang frowned. Qin Sang asked curiously, "What's the difficulty, Fellow Daoist Kuang? Or is there a peerless demonic practitioner among these fiends that makes you hesitant to fight?" Hearing this, Patriarch Kuang secretly fumed but suppressed his anger, saying, "Please, Daoist, join us on Southern Mountain, and this old man will explain everything to you." "Why bother with such trouble? Even if there's an unparalleled great demon lord, this humble Daoist wishes to meet them and experience their demonic arts! Since none of you wish to come out, I'll go myself!" The last sentence was shouted towards the opposing side. Before his words even finished, a sword beam shot out from Qin Sang's sleeve. It wasn't the Grey Oriole Sword, but a spirit sword he had casually drawn. "Swish!" The sword hummed brightly, and before anyone could react, it flew straight towards the middle-aged man.

"How dare you!" The middle-aged man was startled and furious. He slapped his waist, and a grayish-white thin rope flew out. The thin rope was translucent like a long sinew, not ox or dragon tendon, but woven from human tendons, named Soul Tendon. "Whoosh!" The Soul Tendon sprang forth, creating powerful gusts of wind with every movement, emitting ghostly wails as if thousands of resentful souls followed it, chilling the heart. Just as the Soul Tendon was about to coil around the spirit sword, Qin Sang made no apparent move, but the sword light trembled, instantly splitting into ten beams, then continuously dividing, until in the blink of an eye, it was impossible to count how many sword lights there were. The middle-aged man felt a sudden daze, then found himself surrounded by sword light, omnipresent. "This is bad!" The middle-aged man was greatly alarmed and hurriedly recalled the Soul Tendon, but it was too late. All the sword lights vanished from his sight. He knew clearly that the sword lights hadn't disappeared; he just couldn't see them. There was only one possibility: he had fallen into a sword array! This array was precisely the Xuanji Sword Array, which Qin Sang had learned at the Boundless Immortal Sect, focusing on the path of illusionary swords. He was trapped by the sword array in a single encounter. Others who witnessed this scene were stunned. It was known that the middle-aged man was a top master at the Nascent Soul Mid Stage, reputed to be the strongest below the Nascent Soul Late Stage, yet he was no match in a single exchange. Just what was the background of this Daoist Qingfeng?

"Big Brother!" A young man cried out in alarm, hastily conjured a demonic blade, and swung it through the air towards Qin Sang's head. The blade's aura was infinitely sharp. Qin Sang remained motionless, glancing sideways at Patriarch Kuang. "Are you still not going to act, Fellow Daoist?" "I..." Patriarch Kuang was momentarily at a loss for what to do. The righteous and demonic factions had no direct connection to Cloud Metropolis Heaven or Falling Soul Abyss; they simply complied out of fear of their immense power. No one wanted to fight to the death for the conflict between these two great powers, so they had made a gentleman's agreement to use mortals as pawns to decide the outcome. This also allowed them to avoid excessive casualties. Of course, the premise was that the two great powers were satisfied; otherwise, they would have to personally enter the fray. This was also a test of the two great powers' attitudes. Unexpectedly, a disruptor appeared. Daoist Qingfeng was clearly on their side, so Patriarch Kuang couldn't stand by and watch him be attacked. He had no choice but to conjure his spirit sword to block the demonic blade. Qin Sang displayed a playful smile, his sword gestures changing rapidly. In the eyes of the crowd, the interior of the sword array was pure chaos; no one knew what was happening inside. Then, the sword light retracted, flying back. Within the sword light, astonishingly, a person was enveloped. The middle-aged man's eyes were wide, filled with horror. He had completely lost the power to resist and was now a captive! In an instant, there was an uproar. The righteous side was also stunned. Only when they heard Qin Sang's loud cry, "What are you waiting for?", did they hesitantly charge forward. A melee broke out under circumstances no one had anticipated. Soon, streaks of light shot in from all directions—all Nascent Soul Late Stage masters and patriarchs of various sects, whose auras surpassed that of the middle-aged man. Seeing the situation spiral out of control, they were all filled with shock and fury. Following this, a shocking scene unfolded: none of the demonic path experts were a match for Daoist Qingfeng, and they all fell in defeat.

Qin Sang stood suspended in mid-air, gazing across a hundred miles to a distant mountain. On that mountain, Immortal Master Yun and the cloaked figure watched the scene, their expressions somewhat rigid. Since they so desperately wanted to draw him into the game, he would show them what he could do! Not just this once, Qin Sang intended to disrupt the entire chessboard until he forced the two Void Refinement patriarchs to emerge from the mountain!