57. War Situations

(3 Months later, Somewhere on the battlefield.)

Mo Tian sat in his war tent, the weight of battle hanging heavily in the air. The war against the Bai family had dragged on longer than anticipated, and even with reinforcements from their allies, the outcome was still uncertain. Despite the chaos outside, Mo Tian had remained unshaken, his thoughts often drifting to more personal matters amidst the endless reports and strategies.

It was then that a beggar entered his tent, his face obscured by a hood, but Mo Tian recognized the unmistakable scent of the city's streets. The beggar was one of the many informants under his command, useful for slipping through unnoticed and gathering information from even the most tightly guarded places.

Without a word, the beggar handed over a letter, sealed with the faintest impression of a delicate seal. Mo Tian took it, his brow furrowing slightly. He recognized the handwriting immediately. Li Xue. She was the last person he expected to reach out to him amidst all the chaos. Curiosity piqued, he broke the seal and unfolded the letter.…

'Mo Tian,'

'I hope this letter reaches you in good health. I have something important that I wish to discuss with you, something that cannot wait. There are matters at hand that require your attention.'

'Please meet me when you can. I trust that you will find time amidst the current unrest.'

'Li Xue'

Mo Tian set the letter down carefully, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. Li Xue's words were as precise and calculated as always, but there was a certain urgency in her tone that piqued his interest. She wouldn't have sent this unless it was something she deemed significant. However, he couldn't afford to entertain any distractions in his undercover operation. The war was still in motion, and his place was on the battlefield.

He reached for a piece of parchment, his calligraphy smooth as ever as he wrote his reply, each word purposeful and measured.

'Li Xue,'

'Your message has been received. I will be unable to meet with you until the conclusion of the war. You are to focus on the matters at hand for now. The stability of the sect must come first.'

'In the meantime, look for things you can do to help the sect. We will discuss everything after the war.'

'Mo Tian'

He rolled the parchment up, sealed it with his own seal, and handed it back to the beggar. The message was clear. Mo Tian didn't have the luxury to entertain any personal concerns at the moment. They would have their discussion once I am back.

…

(2 Weeks Later, Somewhere in Golden Prosperity City.)

As Li Xue sat in the shadows of her temporary quarters, the letter from Mo Tian arrived. She held it in her hands, the familiar seal staring back at her. Her fingers moved quickly to break the seal, the parchment unrolling with an almost unsettling ease.

She skimmed the words, her brow furrowing as she read his response. Mo Tian was as detached as ever, and though his words were kind enough, there was a certain finality in them.

The command was vague, but it carried weight. Li Xue's frustration simmered beneath the surface. She had hoped for more, more of an explanation, more of a reason for his sudden distance. But his message was unmistakable. Focus on the sect. She had expected more from him, expected perhaps a clearer answer to the more personal matters she had hoped to discuss. But it seemed that, once again, his priorities lay with the greater cause. The war, the sect, his plans, all of that came before her.

She crumpled the letter in her hand for a brief moment before slowly unfurling it again. The weight of her emotions was nothing compared to the weight of her duty. She had learned that much from Mo Tian. Duty first. Always. But it didn't stop the small, nagging feeling of being dismissed.

Sighing, she set the letter aside and looked out the window. The moonlight fell across the city, illuminating the streets where the tension of the recent battles still lingered. She had her work cut out for her. Whatever Mo Tian's plans for the sect were, she would have to carry them out, as always.

But there was a storm brewing inside her. The answers she sought were being held from her, and though she was willing to wait, a small part of her wondered if that wait would cost her more than just time.

For now, she would focus on the tasks at hand. Mo Tian had spoken, and his words were law. But she couldn't help but wonder, how long would she be content to merely follow without knowing the whole story?

…

(1 month later, Somewhere on the battlefield)

The battlefield was a hell of fire and steel, the air thick with the acrid stench of blood and sweat, a heavy fog of smoke rising from the flames that devoured the remnants of what had once been a thriving village. Bodies littered the ground, some still writhing in their death throes, others cold and lifeless, their eyes staring into the void of the sky. The sounds of clashing steel, grunts of men locked in mortal combat, and the desperate screams of the wounded filled the air. But through it all, there was a rhythm, methodical, chilling precision.

Mo Tian moved through the chaos like a force of nature, his presence commanding the attention of all around him. His black cloak billowed out behind him, the fabric stained with the blood of his enemies, though it barely seemed to cling to his body, as if it couldn't bear to touch him for long. The sun was low in the sky, casting long shadows across the ground, and as he walked, the light seemed to warp around him, as if even nature itself recoiled from his path.

His blade, a long and gleaming instrument of destruction, hung from his waist, a reflection of his unyielding will. On his other side, his sword rested, its edge sharp enough to cut through armor like it was paper. His back bore the weight of a spear, its shaft long and menacing, ready to thrust through anything that dared approach. In his right hand, however, he held his axe, a weapon of brute force, with a dark, weathered handle and an edge that had seen countless battles.

With every step, Mo Tian's eyes swept the field, calm, focused. He was like a hunter stalking his prey. His gaze locked onto the first target, a soldier charging toward him with a raised sword, eyes wild with rage and fear. The man never saw the blade coming. With a single, fluid motion, Mo Tian drew his sword, a flash of silver slicing through the air. The soldier's chest exploded with blood, his weapon falling uselessly to the ground as he crumpled to the earth.

Without breaking stride, Mo Tian spun, his feet barely disturbing the earth beneath him, and the axe in his hand cleaved through another enemy soldier's neck. The man's head dropped to the ground with a sickening thud, his body staggering before collapsing in a heap.

The battlefield around him seemed to shift in rhythm with his every movement, as though the very air bowed to his lethal presence. No one dared approach him directly. Those who saw him did not charge, they fled, scattering like rats from a predator. Yet for every man that tried to escape, there were two more to take their place.

Another soldier came rushing at him, spear in hand. Mo Tian didn't even flinch. He shifted his weight, his body turning like a wisp of smoke, and with a sudden, violent motion, he swung his axe. The weapon collided with the spear, shattering the shaft with an audible crack. Before the soldier could react, Mo Tian moved in close, bringing his sword up in a swift arc, and with a single, precise slash, the man's torso was divided, spilling blood across the ground.

There was no mercy in Mo Tian's eyes, no hesitation in his strike. He was a force of nature, a storm of violence that moved with cold precision. His blade and axe seemed to flow as extensions of his very body, their paths guided by instinct, as if he were simply an instrument of destruction. Each swing, each slash, each thrust felt like a heartbeat, and the body count grew with every breath he took.

As he moved deeper into the fray, the clash of steel grew louder, the carnage more intense. He reached a small group of soldiers gathered around a fallen commander, trying to protect him. Without a word, Mo Tian surged forward, his movements impossibly fast. His blade cut down the first man with a flick of his wrist, his sword embedding itself in the chest of the second before he could even react. The third man barely had time to raise his weapon before the axe came down, splitting his skull in half.

The commander scrambled to his feet, terror in his eyes. "Who are you?" he shouted, his voice cracking. "What do you want?"

Mo Tian stopped, his presence like an immovable mountain. His gaze, cold and unfeeling, locked onto the commander's desperate eyes. He didn't answer. There was no need. The commander's fate had already been sealed the moment he stood in Mo Tian's path. With one quick motion, Mo Tian drew his spear from his back, the long shaft cutting through the air with a deadly grace. He thrust it forward, the tip plunging through the commander's chest with ease.

The man gasped, his eyes wide with disbelief, before he collapsed to the ground, lifeless. Mo Tian stood over him for a moment, the spear still embedded in his chest. The battle had reached its climax, and Mo Tian had won. The field was his to command.

The carnage around him was like a sea of bodies, but Mo Tian remained untouched by the brutality. His expression was as unreadable as the calm before a storm. He lowered his weapons slowly, their bloodied edges gleaming in the fading light, as though they were mere tools for something greater. something that didn't need words to explain its purpose.

He looked around, taking in the battlefield. Victory was assured, but he did not feel the triumph. For him, it was nothing more than another task completed.

He has done this for more than a month. Using the battlefield as a way to hone his battle skills.

Another step forward. And yet, as the cries of the wounded and dying filled the air, he knew the true cost of this war was far from over. But for now, he was the one who held the power, and the battlefield was his domain.

The battlefield was still alive with the sounds of dying soldiers, but the ground was already becoming quiet in the wake of Mo Tian's lethal movements. His enemies lay in heaps, their blood staining the earth, their life force snuffed out in an instant. The air itself seemed to tremble around him, thick with the aura of death that he carried in his wake.