Chapter 83 – Spear and Shield

Dark mists billowed, exuding a strange and bewitching fragrance. Ni Yu lifted the wooden lid of the black cauldron, her flushed cheeks tinged with excitement and anticipation. There was no dazzling rainbow glow, nor the thunderous sound of a successful brew. She had followed the methods recorded in the Alchemical Handbook for Qi-Gathering Pills passed down by her young master. Yet inside the cauldron was nothing but a pitch-black, sticky, formless lump.

"The... the pill?" Ni Yu stared blankly, stunned.

Lu Fan raised a brow—her first attempt at alchemy had, as expected, ended in failure. It didn't matter. With fingers lightly tapping the armrest of his wheelchair, he began analyzing the cause.

"Every herb has been infused with spiritual energy. I even added petals from the ethereal Morning Chrysanthemum. The ingredients should not be the issue... Was the cauldron itself the problem?"

Ni Yu, disheartened, knelt before the black cauldron, gazing at the formless, tar-like substance within. An overwhelming frustration surged in her chest. As expected... she was utterly useless, save for eating.

"Xiao Ni, bring me the cauldron," said Lu Fan calmly.

Ni Yu halted her sorrow and scooped the sticky lump out with her hands. Strangely, she thought it resembled glutinous rice cake sprinkled with sesame powder—maybe… it was edible? She fetched a clean white cloth, wrapped the blackened lump, and handed the cauldron over to Lu Fan.

Ning Zhao and Nie Changqing watched the bizarre exchange between the two, failing to make sense of it before returning to their cultivation.

Jing Yue, however, remained intrigued.

"This cauldron... lacks a certain spiritual essence," Lu Fan murmured, knocking lightly on its surface with two fingers pressed together. If it lacked spirituality, why not grant it some?

With a thought, he opened the Art of Spirit Imbuement from his system rewards. Though it could not bestow full sentience upon inanimate objects, he had no intention of awakening the cauldron's soul—just a wisp of spirit would suffice for alchemy.

Meanwhile, Ni Yu crouched in the corner, hugging her blackened "creation," sniffing curiously. Jing Yue approached, carrying his huangli-wood sword case on his back.

"Ni girl, what is that?" he asked.

"The young master said... it's a pill," she replied with a hesitant purse of her lips.

"A pill? That charred lump looks more like burnt rice cake," Jing Yue grimaced.

"You think so too? Want to try it together?" Ni Yu's eyes lit up, hopeful.

Jing Yue hastily waved his hands—he feared it might be poisonous.

After much internal struggle, Ni Yu finally dipped a finger into the lump and tasted it. Her eyes lit up immediately. She took a full bite.

Chew, chew...

Her cheeks puffed up as she munched away. Jing Yue was overwhelmed by curiosity.

"Well? How is it?"

Ni Yu glanced at him, then turned away protectively, hugging the "rice cake" as she devoured it with increasing speed. Before long, she had eaten every last bite. With a contented sigh, she rubbed her belly, her eyes crescent-shaped with delight.

Jing Yue was speechless. This girl... would eat anything.

Suddenly, his pupils constricted. He wasn't alone—the moment was felt by Nie Changqing and Ning Zhao, who opened their eyes on the island.

They saw spiritual energy gathering rapidly on the island like countless silvery fish, rushing toward a single point—converging above Ni Yu's head into a small vortex of swirling energy.

Alarmed, Jing Yue pushed off the ground, retreating from her.

Danger... run!

Ning Zhao and Nie Changqing swiftly moved to intercept, eyes fixed on Ni Yu.

They witnessed threads of spiritual energy pouring into her body. Soon, Ni Yu—who had once possessed only a single strand of spiritual power—had absorbed two strands in rapid succession.

"I… I've broken through!" her surprised voice rang out, late but incredulous.

From afar, Lu Fan, of course, sensed the anomaly. He remained silent. Though she hadn't succeeded in forging a proper pill, the tar-like residue retained much of the original medicinal potency—perhaps even comparable to a standard Qi-Gathering Pill.

Lu Fan drew in his thoughts. Gazing at the black cauldron in his hands, he focused on the Art of Spirit Imbuement. Pressing his forefinger and middle finger together, he summoned a thread of soul energy, wrapping it around his fingertips until a golden glow emerged. Gently, he tapped the cauldron.

Ding…

Golden ripples spread across the cauldron's surface. Lu Fan's emotions were mixed—his first attempt at imbuement had been on... a pot.

…

At East Lake, a cascading waterfall thundered down, veiling the hidden Mechanism City of the Mohists. Disciples stood silent in their positions.

Dressed in fiery red, Azhu stood like a crimson mandala blossom, watching the Western Army across the cliff. The Mohist Mechanism City was renowned as the most impregnable fortress under heaven.

But now… they faced the most elite force in the world—West County's army.

It was the collision of spear and shield. Would the Mohist fortress hold firm, or would the Western Army's spear prove too sharp?

On the opposite cliff, Bawang stood like a demon god upon his war chariot, dry axe upon his back, hair dancing wildly in the wind.

"Let the blood of our fallen hundred be avenged!"

"For the glory of West County!"

"Charge!"

He yanked the axe from his back and raised it high. His battle cry echoed through the cliffs, followed by the roars of the West County troops.

The vanguard of Xiliang warriors surged forth madly, charging along eighty-one iron chains spanning the canyon. The chains clanked, vibrating with metallic fury.

No words exchanged, no hesitation given. Bawang launched the assault without allowing Mechanism City a single breath of respite.

Indeed, the soldiers of Xiliang were the fiercest warriors of the Great Zhou—unfearing of death, undeterred by sheer cliffs, each charged forth with wild fervor, feet pounding on the chains as they sprinted across the abyss.

Atop the timber battlements carved into the cliffside stood Azhu, fiery in her red robes. A small flag appeared in her hand, and her crimson lips moved beneath a half-silver mask.

"Repeating crossbows!"

"Rotary cannons!"

"Mechanical beasts!"

With each command, she waved the flag.

The Mohist disciples sprang into action. Ingenious contraptions unfolded atop the battlements, aimed at the incoming enemy swarming the chains.

Dark clouds that had loomed above for hours could no longer hold. Rain began to pour, beadlike droplets forming a curtain across the sky, turning the battlefield into a blurred vision of death.

Rain pelted the chains, struck the soldiers' armor, splashed upon raised swords—then shattered into mist.

"Kill!" Azhu's voice rang out as her red robes fluttered. She threw the small flag into the air.

It soared past the edge of the city, swallowed by the rain, plunging into the abyss with the falling waters.

Thud! Thud thud thud!

Gears screamed as repeating crossbows roared to life. Massive bolts tore through the veil of rain, ripping holes in the stormy shroud, followed by a volley of bolts whistling toward the Xiliang warriors on the chains.

The leading warrior bellowed, qi and blood surging, swinging his longsword with full might. Steel met bolt—the blade shattered. His fierce expression remained as a bolt pierced through his chest, spraying blood three feet high. The immense force knocked the soldiers behind him into the abyss.

Yet the warriors of Xiliang knew no fear. One after another, they climbed the chains amid the rain of death.

…

Elsewhere, Mo Liuqi sat atop a donkey, a straw hat covering his face. He held a bamboo rod, with a carrot dangling from one end.

The donkey trudged forward slowly, lured by the elusive carrot.

Suddenly, Mo Liuqi straightened. He gazed in the direction of East Lake and Mechanism City.

Removing his hat, he extended his hand. A single raindrop fell from the grey heavens.

Within that drop, the blurred reflection of a crimson figure wearing a half-silver mask shimmered—before shattering in his palm.

A strange weight pressed against his chest, suffocating.

His complexion paled.

The rain poured down.

Mist rose from the drenched earth.

From his arms, a pair of scissors flew forth of their own accord, cutting the carrot's string. The bamboo rod snapped upward.

Crack!

He struck the donkey hard on the hindquarters.

Eeeeeee!

The lazy beast neighed sharply, hooves splashing water as it bolted forward.

…

Atop the highest spire of Mechanism City, where clouds swirled thick—

There stood the world's greatest assassin: Mo Yihen.