The Iron Sword True Man's Dead End, The Heavenly Mechanism Pavilion Refuses to Help

That afternoon.

The vanguard camp of the Great Zhou joined forces with Perfected Qingmu's headquarters.

Thirty thousand elites left the Taixu Peak and pursued deep into the Western Regions.

Perfected Qingmu rode a green-scaled strange beast, followed by the disciples of the six sects.

They were silent.

Oppressed.

Like a team without a soul.

Xiao Chen and the others accompanied them on the side.

Ahead, yellow sand filled the sky.

The wind from the depths of the Western Regions carried the smell of blood.

An hour later.

The scouts reported back.

"Thirty miles ahead, we found the rear guard of Master Iron Sword."

"There are about eight hundred people."

"They are retreating towards the Scarlet Moon Demonic Sect."

Perfected Qingmu tightened his grip on his wooden sword.

Among those eight hundred people, there were friends he had known for a hundred years.

There were juniors who had once asked him for advice on swordsmanship.

There were sect elders who had drunk wine together in the Taixu Hall.

Although Wang Hao did not personally accompany the army, his military order was like a knife hanging over Perfected Qingmu's head.

The commander of the vanguard camp looked at Qingmu.

"Vice Commander, give the order."

Perfected Qingmu's throat was dry.

He remained silent for ten full breaths.

After ten breaths, he closed his eyes.

"Surround them."

The vanguard camp of the Great Zhou moved.

The Demon-Suppressing Crossbows unfolded.

Formation flags were inserted into the yellow sand.

Under Perfected Qingmu's command, the disciples of the six sects outflanked from both wings.

Soon, the rear guard of Master Iron Sword was blocked in a sand valley.

The leader of the other party was a gray-robed elder.

Perfected Qingmu knew him.

The Supreme Elder of the Yellow Crane Sect.

Three hundred years ago, the two had fought side by side and killed a seventh-tier sand demon.

Seeing Perfected Qingmu, the gray-robed elder was initially delighted.

But when he saw the military flag of the Great Zhou behind him, his face suddenly turned pale.

"Qingmu!"

"Are you really going to be a dog for the little emperor?"

Perfected Qingmu didn't say a word.

The gray-robed elder roared in anger.

"Have you forgotten what we said when we formed an alliance back then?"

"Defend the Western Regions together! Not subject to the control of the Great Zhou!"

"Have you forgotten?"

The hand holding the sword of Perfected Qingmu was trembling.

Seeing this, Xiao Chen felt a bit suffocated in his heart.

This was not a clean and neat slaughter on the battlefield.

This was taking a person's dignity, friendship, and past, pressing it to the ground and cutting it open bit by bit.

Wang Hao didn't come.

But his shadow was everywhere.

Perfected Qingmu finally spoke.

"Surrender."

The gray-robed elder froze.

Perfected Qingmu's voice was hoarse.

"If you surrender, the disciples can live."

The gray-robed elder smiled miserably.

"Live?"

"Live like you?"

He suddenly drew his sword.

"I would rather die!"

"Disciples of the Yellow Crane Sect, break out with me!"

The sound of killing suddenly arose.

The Great Zhou's Demon-Suppressing Crossbows and Runic Muskets fired simultaneously.

The crossbow arrows and bullets carried the armor-piercing runic patterns, tearing through the yellow sand.

The disciples of the Yellow Crane Sect fell in droves.

The disciples of the six sects who had submitted charged in from both wings.

Former allies, meeting with weapons today.

Perfected Qingmu stood in place, like a dead tree struck by lightning.

Until the gray-robed elder charged up to him with his sword.

"Qingmu!"

"Draw your sword!"

Perfected Qingmu's eyes were slightly red.

The wooden sword was unsheathed.

There was no brilliant sword light.

Only a touch of green.

Puff.

The blade pierced through the chest.

The gray-robed elder's body stiffened.

He looked down at the wooden sword in his chest, then looked up at Perfected Qingmu.

There was hatred in his eyes.

And also sorrow.

"You... can't turn back..."

Perfected Qingmu closed his eyes.

"I know."

The gray-robed elder fell.

The yellow sand was stained with blood.

Perfected Qingmu's sword was stained with the blood of an old friend for the first time.

In the distance, Xiao Chen gripped the hilt of his sword tightly.

Ye Guyun said in a low voice, "What are you thinking about?"

Xiao Chen remained silent for a long time.

"I'm thinking, if one day Wang Hao asks me to kill someone I don't want to kill, what should I do."

Ye Guyun asked, "Would you kill them?"

Xiao Chen didn't answer.

The wind blew through the sand valley.

Taking away the smell of blood, and also taking away the last bit of sentiment from the old alliance.

Standing in front of the corpse, Perfected Qingmu seemed to have aged ten years.

The commander of the vanguard camp said calmly, "Vice Commander, the main force of Master Iron Sword is still ahead."

Perfected Qingmu slowly pulled out his wooden sword.

Blood dripped into the yellow sand along the tip of the sword.

He looked up towards the depths of the Western Regions.

There, red clouds were rolling.

There was Master Iron Sword.

There might also be Xie Wujiu's chess pieces.

His voice was hoarse, but it was no longer trembling.

"Continue the pursuit."

The army set off again.

And on a sand dune further away, a silver-eyed black eagle watched the battlefield quietly.

In the eagle's eyes, heavenly secret patterns flashed and disappeared.

A moment later, it flapped its wings and flew towards the west.

Taixu Peak surrendered.

Qingmu was stained with blood.

The Righteous Alliance of the Western Regions was completely broken.

He could no longer go back.

Deep in the vast desert of the Western Regions, the wind and sand were like knives.

At dusk, the setting sun on the horizon was like a crushed blood bead, shedding scarlet light, illuminating the entire sea of sand like a mountain of corpses and a river of blood.

Master Iron Sword led the remnants of the six rebel sects and had been fleeing for five days.

Five days.

For experts in the Sky-Soaring Realm, five days were nothing more than a short rest in seclusion.

But for this team like stray dogs, these five days were longer than five hundred years.

Five thousand remnants still had their sharpness when they withdrew from Taixu Peak.

They felt they were not running away.

It was a strategic transfer.

It was to preserve the spark of the righteous path.

It was to temporarily avoid Wang Hao's sharpness, waiting for the Heavenly Secret Pavilion to take action, waiting for the Pavilion Master of the Heavenly Secret Pavilion, Xie Wujiu, who was known to calculate without error, to make a move and turn the tables.

But now.

The so-called spark was almost blown out by the wind and sand.

The so-called strategic transfer turned into a desperate run for life.

The so-called assistance from the Heavenly Secret Pavilion was more like a mirage in the desert, the longer they waited, the further away it became, the more they looked, the faker it seemed.

In the camp, the disciples of the six sects were lying in disorder on the leeward side of the sand dunes.

Some had their spiritual power exhausted.

Some had festering wounds.

Some were numbly biting on hard spiritual cakes, chewing for a long time, but it felt like chewing sand.

A young disciple asked in a low voice, "Senior Brother, will the Heavenly Secret Pavilion really come to save us?"

The Senior Brother who was asked remained silent for a long time.

Finally, he squeezed out a sentence: "They will."

He said it very lightly.

So lightly that even he himself didn't believe it.

Not far away, Master Iron Sword stood in front of a huge black rock, the broken sword in his hand still gleaming with cold light.

His robes were torn, his hair bun was messy, and there was a wound deep to the bone on his chest.

That was left by the Demon-Suppressing Crossbow of the Great Zhou's vanguard camp the day before yesterday.

If it weren't for his profound cultivation, half of his body would have been torn apart by the armor-piercing runic patterns.

A gray-clothed elder stumbled over.

"Vice Alliance Leader."

Master Iron Sword suddenly turned around.

"Is there any reply from the Heavenly Secret Pavilion?"

The gray-clothed elder turned pale, his lips moving.

The last bit of light in Master Iron Sword's eyes dimmed little by little with his silence.

"Speak."

The gray-clothed elder lowered his head.

"None of the three envoys sent out three days ago have returned."

"All the communication jade talismans are also broken."

"The hidden agents we left on the periphery of the Heavenly Secret Pavilion... have also lost contact."

Crack!

The black rock under Master Iron Sword's feet cracked.

The veins on the hand holding the sword bulged, and his anger erupted like a volcano.

"Xie Wujiu!"

Boom!

He slashed down with his sword.

The black rock dozens of feet high in front of him was split open by the sword qi, cracks spread, and it collapsed with a loud bang.

Sand and dust shot up into the sky.

The disciples nearby were shocked and looked up, but no one dared to speak.

Master Iron Sword roared at the sky.

"That old charlatan Xie Wujiu went back on his word!"

"It was clearly agreed that as long as we pinned down the Great Zhou, his Heavenly Secret Pavilion would protect the Righteous Alliance of the Western Regions!"

"And now?"

"Where are they?"

"Where are his people?!"

No one answered.

Only the whimpering wind and sand.

As if sneering on behalf of the Heavenly Secret Pavilion.

Master Iron Sword's chest heaved violently.

At this moment, he finally understood.

They had been abandoned.

From the very beginning, Xie Wujiu had never treated them as allies.

They were merely pawns.

No.

They could not even be considered pawns.

Pawns, at the very least, were placed on a chessboard.

They were more like a handful of dry grass, set ablaze and thrown in front of Wang Hao.

Meant to burn for as long as possible.

Once burned out, no one would even bother to collect the ashes.

Master Iron Sword closed his eyes.

The great hall of Taixu Peak flashed through his mind.

Back then, they had argued, cursed, and drawn their swords.

Perfected Qingmu had sat in the seat of honor, looking like an old tree about to be toppled by the wind.

At the time, Master Iron Sword had called him a coward.

Cursed him for kneeling to Wang Hao.

Cursed him for becoming a dog of the Great Zhou.

But now, Master Iron Sword suddenly realized that Perfected Qingmu had at least saved the lives of thirty thousand disciples.

And what about him?

He had led five thousand people to flee into the desert, waiting for reinforcements that would never arrive.

Was he truly upholding his dignity?

Or was he dragging everyone down to die with him?

Master Iron Sword abruptly opened his eyes.

No.

He could not think like that.

If he did, his sword heart would collapse.

Throughout his life, he had roamed the Western Regions unhindered for eight hundred years, bearing his iron sword, preferring to break rather than bend.

He could die.

But he could not admit he was wrong.

Because once he admitted it, the blood of the five thousand disciples behind him would weigh entirely on his own shoulders.

He could not bear it.

Nor did he dare to.

Right at this moment, a sharp eagle's cry suddenly echoed from the horizon.

A black eagle swooped past from high above, heavenly secret runes flashing in its silver pupils.

Master Iron Sword jerked his head up.

"A spirit eagle from the Heavenly Secret Pavilion?"

Hope reignited in his eyes.

The black eagle circled once but did not land.

It merely dropped a jade slip from midair.

The jade slip pierced through the wind and was caught firmly by Master Iron Sword.

He eagerly injected his astral energy into it.

The jade slip lit up.

Inside was only a short line of text.

"The situation has changed. The Heavenly Secret Pavilion is sealing its mountain to defend itself. May you all seek your own good fortune."

Boom!

This single line of text was like an invisible heavy hammer, viciously smashing into Master Iron Sword's chest.

He staggered half a step back.

A gray-robed elder leaned in to take a look, his face instantly turning deathly pale.

"Sealing the mountain to defend themselves?"

"Seek our own good fortune?"

"What... what does this mean?"

Master Iron Sword laughed.

First a low chuckle.

Then a loud burst of laughter.

Finally, he laughed until tears came to his eyes.

"What a fine 'seek your own good fortune'."

"What a fine Xie Wujiu."

"He pushed us out to take the blade for him, and now that the blade is about to strike him, he seals his mountain."

"Heavenly Secret Pavilion, Heavenly Secret Pavilion!"

"Calculating against everyone in the world, yet failing to calculate that people's hearts would turn cold!"

He violently crushed the jade slip.

The fragments turned into powder, drifting away between his fingers.

In the distance, a disciple muttered, "Then what do we do?"

This sentence spread through the camp like a plague.

What to do?

Surrender?

Continue to flee?

Go to the Crimson Moon Demonic Sect?

But what kind of place was the Crimson Moon Demonic Sect?

It was one of the lairs of evil demons!

Were they, this group of so-called righteous path disciples, ultimately going to kneel at the gates of a demonic sect to beg for protection?

It would be uglier than death.

Master Iron Sword turned his head, looking at the terrified, exhausted, and despairing faces in the camp.

Among these people were his disciples.

His martial nephews.

The descendants of old friends with whom he had founded sects in the Western Regions back in the day.

He suddenly felt his throat tighten.

"Pass down the order."

Master Iron Sword's voice was hoarse.

"Continue heading west."

The gray-robed elder was shaken.

"Vice Alliance Leader, if we go any further, it will be the territory of the Crimson Moon Demonic Sect."

Master Iron Sword said coldly, "I know."

"But we have no other path."

"Wang Hao wants a pledge of loyalty. Qingmu has already killed the people of the Yellow Crane Sect, and we are next."

"No matter how evil the Crimson Moon Demonic Sect is, they are still Wang Hao's enemies."

"The enemy of an enemy can at least be a temporary ally."

When he said these words, Master Iron Sword himself felt disgusted.

The Vice Alliance Leader of the Righteous Path Alliance was actually going to join a demonic sect.

But reality was just that absurd.

Absurd enough to be even more wicked than the mouth of the New Son of Heaven's Sword.

The army broke camp once again.

Five thousand remnant soldiers dragged their exhausted bodies westward beneath the blood-red setting sun.

They were like a snake with a severed spine, still struggling and writhing in the desert.

But no one knew that the pursuing troops had already arrived behind them.

Thirty miles away.

Perfected Qingmu stood atop a sand dune.

He bore a black iron sword on his back, his white hair blown into a mess by the wind, his face devoid of expression.

Thirty thousand elites of the Great Zhou Vanguard Battalion spread out behind him.

The Demon-Suppressing Crossbows were already drawn, and the runic firearms and cannons were loaded.

Armor-piercing astral runes flickered with cold light on the crossbow bolts.

Xiao Chen, Ye Guyun, Qin Hongye, Wanyan Gu, and others stood on the flanks.

Everyone was very quiet.

So quiet that it made one's hair stand on end.

The commander of the Vanguard Battalion said in a low voice, "Vice Commander-in-Chief, Master Iron Sword's main force is just ahead."

Perfected Qingmu did not answer.

His gaze crossed the sea of sand, looking at that familiar yet foreign procession.

It had been two hundred years.

He and Master Iron Sword had known each other for two hundred years.

Back then, they were not yet the Alliance Leader and Vice Alliance Leader of the Western Regions Righteous Path Alliance.

They were just two people whose sects had been marginalized by the great sects of the Eastern Wasteland, leading their sects to the Western Regions.

At that time, the Western Regions were even more chaotic.

Sand demons ran rampant.

Evil cultivators were everywhere.

They had fought their way out back to back.

Two iron swords.

One steady, one fierce.

One enduring, one charging ahead.

They had once sworn an oath beneath the blood moon.

To protect the Western Regions together.

To live and die together, and to establish illustrious hidden sects.

But when people live too long, they discover that oaths are most afraid of time.

Time would not erase an oath.

It would turn the oath into a burden.

Perfected Qingmu said in a low voice, "Surround them."

The Vanguard Battalion commander nodded.

"Yes, sir."

The war drums did not sound.

The army surged out from behind the sand dunes like a black tide.

The surrendered disciples of the six sects on the left flank silently flanked them.

The Great Zhou cavalry on the right flank galloped like thunder.

The Demon-Suppressing Crossbows of the central army advanced in formation.

Master Iron Sword's remnants quickly realized something was wrong.

"Enemy attack!"

"It's the Great Zhou army!"

"Perfected Qingmu is here too!"

Chaos erupted in an instant.

Master Iron Sword charged to high ground, catching sight of that green-robed figure in the distance at a glance.

He froze for a moment.

Then, his eyes nearly split open in rage.

"Qingmu!"

His voice rolled like thunder, shattering the wind and sand.