I Will Not Lose

"Wang Hao." The Heavenly Sword suddenly spoke.

"Hm?"

"I saw something in the Central Province today."

"What?"

"Those Holy Land disciples devoured by the aberrations—the way they died... it looked a lot like our soldiers who fell in the South Sea."

There was a complexity in the Heavenly Sword's voice that had never been there before. "I thought I'd be glad to see them suffer. But I wasn't. I just felt... hollow."

Wang Hao stopped walking, turned around, and looked at the Heavenly Sword.

"Sword-bitch, what's gotten into you today? Found your conscience?"

"Bullshit. I don't have a conscience. I just think—when it comes to war, no matter who you're fighting, the dead all look the same.

When our soldiers die in the South Sea, we weep. When the disciples of the Central Province die, their brothers and sisters weep too. I never used to think much of it, but today, when I saw those corpses, I suddenly remembered the people in the South Sea's wounded soldiers' camp."

Wang Hao was silent for a long time.

Then he said something that even made the Heavenly Sword freeze.

"Sword-bitch, you've grown up."

"...Get lost."

Wang Hao laughed, turned around, and continued walking.

"Once this battle is over, I'll treat you to a drink. Not porridge—actual liquor."

"Didn't you say I'm a weapon spirit and can't drink?"

"Can't drink? Then I'll pour it in a bowl for you, and you can at least take a whiff. That work?"

"..." The Heavenly Sword was quiet for a moment, then said very seriously, "I want to smell Moutai."

"You know what Moutai is?"

"I know everything. You're the one who researched it."

On the city wall, the night wind blew, tousling the Heavenly Sword's long hair. He watched Wang Hao's retreating figure, that infuriating grin still on his face, but there was something more in his smile—something even he himself hadn't noticed.

That was the warmth of a sword.

News of the aberration tide erupting in the Central Province spread across the entire continent.

The intel came through the Dark City's intelligence network.

Within three days, reports on the battle conditions at the sixteen Holy Lands' outer defense lines, each Holy Land's countermeasures, and Li Cangming's furious roaring—all of it was delivered to Wang Hao's desk via encrypted jade slip messages.

After reading the final report, Wang Hao leaned back in his chair and let out a long breath.

"Li Cangming has withdrawn all of the Crimson Cloud Holy Land's outer strongholds, pulling his defense line within a hundred li of the main peak. Heaven's Sword Mountain lost three outer training grounds—Jian Wuchen had to personally go out and slay an eighth-rank aberration just to stabilize the front.

The Myriad Dharma Sacred Sect got it worst—their aberration-suppression formation was long overdue for maintenance. When the aberration tide hit, the array disk detonated outright. Over ten thousand aberrations surged into the mountain gate. Wan Daoxuan and four Martial Gods fought for an entire day before driving them back out."

A complex emotion flickered in the Demon Lord's pitch-black, whirlpool-like eyes: "Your Majesty, what's our next move?"

"Next move?" Wang Hao raised an eyebrow. "We wait."

"Wait?"

"Yes. Wait. Wait until the aberration tide in the Central Province develops to its second stage." Wang Hao stood up and walked to the sand table. "The smoke from the aberration-luring incense will linger in the air for at least three days. Within those three days, aberrations drawn by the scent will keep gathering, moving from the periphery toward the center.

After three days, when enough aberrations have amassed, they'll start killing each other over the incense burners—higher-rank aberrations will devour the lower ones, absorb their cores, and rapidly grow stronger."

"That's the second function of the lure-incense—bug farming." Wang Hao raised two fingers. "You make the aberrations slaughter each other and cultivate even more powerful aberrations. Once these high-rank aberrations grow to a certain point, they'll no longer be satisfied with merely chasing the incense burners. They'll actively attack the nearest large-scale gathering of living beings—namely, the mountain gates of the sixteen Holy Lands."

The Demon Lord's pupils contracted sharply. "Your Majesty, you mean—the lure-incense doesn't just attract aberrations, it also breeds stronger ones?"

"Exactly. I didn't know about this effect at first, either. I only discovered it after the system updated its intelligence." Wang Hao produced a jade slip from his sleeve. "The designer of the lure-incense was a madman from the ancient era. His original intention was to use it to refine aberration cores—first draw the aberrations together, let them devour each other, then harvest them once they'd grown strong enough.

But what he didn't anticipate was that the lure-incense attracted far too many aberrations—more than he could control. In the end, he was devoured by the very aberrations he'd summoned."

"So this thing is a double-edged sword. Used properly, it's a weapon to kill the enemy; used carelessly, it cuts the user."

The Demon Lord was silent for a long time.

"Your Majesty, you used twelve incense burners in the Central Province—aren't you helping the sixteen Holy Lands farm bugs?"

"Yes. But I'm not farming one bug—I'm farming twelve." Wang Hao's smile carried a calculating coldness. "Twelve bugs spread across the outlying areas of twelve different Holy Lands. They won't devour each other—too far apart. They'll only consume the low-rank aberrations within their own territories, growing to eighth-rank, ninth-rank, or even higher."

"Once these bugs reach ninth-rank, the sixteen Holy Lands will be in serious trouble. A ninth-rank aberration can't be dealt with by an early-stage Martial God. You'd need late-stage, or even peak-stage. And how many late-stage Martial Gods do the sixteen Holy Lands have?"

"Not many left." The Demon Lord finished the answer for him. "You did a number on them, Your Majesty."

"The Holy Lands versus twelve ninth-rank aberrations. Who do you think wins?"

The Demon Lord didn't answer.

"So." Wang Hao concluded. "I don't need to do anything. I just sit here in Zhennan Pass, drinking tea, and watch the sixteen Holy Lands of the Central Province fight the aberration tide to mutual ruin. When they're done, I'll step in to clean up the mess—and conveniently, re-sign the agreements that never got signed."

When he said "re-sign," his tone was casual, but the Demon Lord saw something in his eyes that sent a chill down the spine.

It was the look of a hunter watching his prey step into the trap.

The situation in the Central Province was even worse than Wang Hao had predicted.

On the fifth day after the lure-incense was lit, a ninth-rank aberration appeared on the outer edges of Heaven's Sword Mountain.

It was a monster formed from the mutual devouring and fusion of countless low-rank aberrations—it had no fixed shape, looking like a writhing mass of black sludge, its surface covered in eyes and mouths.

After devouring every low-rank aberration in the outer region of Heaven's Sword Mountain, its body expanded to a thousand zhang in size, its aura pressing against the threshold of ninth-rank.

Jian Wuchen personally stepped in, fighting alongside two mid-stage Martial Gods of Heaven's Sword Mountain for an entire day against that ninth-rank aberration.

The shockwaves of the battle flattened the ancient forest outside Heaven's Sword Mountain, sheared off the tops of three peaks, and gouged out hundreds of deep craters in the ground, corroded by aberration toxins.

In the end, Jian Wuchen managed to slay the ninth-rank aberration—but at the cost of being wounded yet again. The aberration toxins had infiltrated his meridians. He'd need at least six months to recover.

Heaven's Sword Mountain lost all its outer strongholds. Of their three mid-stage Martial Gods, one was dead and two wounded. Over two hundred Nascent Void disciples fell in battle.

As for the Crimson Cloud Holy Land over there—the situation was even grimmer.

Within the eerie tide at the outskirts of the Crimson Sky Holy Ground, a peak ninth-tier aberration emerged—a mutated Qilin, evolved when an eighth-tier aberration devoured dozens of its peers.

Its body spanned three thousand zhang, covered in black scales, its hooves treading black flames, and a pair of curved black dragon horns atop its head.

Li Cangming had no choice but to emerge from seclusion.

It was a brutal battle.

His injuries had only recovered to sixty percent, but he had to act.

If he didn't, the mountain gate of the Crimson Sky Holy Ground would be trampled flat by this peak ninth-tier aberration.

Crimson Sky Sacred Flame clashed with the Qilin's black fire for hundreds of exchanges in midair.

The battle raged from noon to midnight, then from midnight to dawn. The main peak of the Crimson Sky Holy Ground split with several massive crevices from the shockwaves, and most of the mountain-protecting formation was shattered by the impact.

In the end, Li Cangming paid five hundred years of his lifespan to unleash the forbidden art of the Crimson Sky Holy Ground—the "Crimson Sky Burning Heaven Technique"—and burned the peak ninth-tier aberration to ashes.

But the cost was severe.

Li Cangming's cultivation fell from the cusp of transcendence down to the pinnacle of the Martial God realm, and he would need at least a decade of seclusion to recover.

The Crimson Sky Holy Ground lost all its outer outposts and three affiliated sects. Martial God realm experts were gravely wounded, over forty Void-walking disciples died, and low-ranked disciples were too numerous to count.

When the news reached Zhennan Pass, Wang Hao was sunbathing atop the city wall.

After listening to Wei Zhongxian's report, he was silent for a long time.

Then he said something no one expected.

"The Sixteen Holy Grounds really know how to endure. Those half-step transcendents still haven't awakened."

He stood up and brushed the dust off his robes.

"Send the order—Xiao Chen accelerates the mining operations, Demon Lord accelerates integration, Ao Guang accelerates troop training. In three months, We will personally go to the Central Plains and renegotiate the agreement with Li Cangming."

"What agreement?" asked the Demon Lord.

"The last one We signed—the 'Central Plains Sixteen Holy Grounds and Great Xia Empire Peace Agreement'—We think its terms were too lenient." Wang Hao's smile was as bright as a merchant raising his prices,

"One point six trillion spirit stones, paid off over two hundred years, one percent annual interest—We were too soft-hearted back then. This time, We'll raise the interest to three percent and shorten it to one hundred years. Sixteen spirit mines won't be enough—make it thirty-two. An apology letter carved on a stone tablet isn't enough—carve it into the city walls—every city wall in the Central Plains."

The Demon Lord's mouth twitched. "Your Majesty, you're driving the Sixteen Holy Grounds to the brink."

"Driving them to the brink?" Wang Hao raised an eyebrow. "We're teaching them how to live. The strong prey on the weak—that's always been the way. That's what Li Cangming taught Us, and now We're paying it back to his disciples and descendants."

"We want to see just how deep the foundations of these Holy Grounds really are. Before that—it's time that half-step tenth-tier aberration stirred."

"The Eastern Wasteland doesn't need such an overpowering existence. The Central Plains is the right home for it."

He turned to face the north, his gaze cutting across ten thousand miles of mountains and rivers, as if he could see the chaotic battlefield unfolding across the Central Plains.

"Li Cangming, you schemed against Us once—We'll repay you twice. What goes around comes around."

"When We visit the Central Plains to drink tea with you, We hope your face isn't too sour."

On the tenth day of the aberration tide sweeping the Central Plains, the situation in the Southern Sea shifted as well.

That half-step tenth-tier aberration had spent half a month healing in the deep sea, recovering most of its injuries.

It sensed the shift in aberration energy from the Central Plains direction—the aberrations lured by the Soul-Enticing Incense were slaughtering each other, and the massive number of aberration cores shattering in battle released their aberrant energy into the air, which it absorbed from tens of thousands of miles away.

Its recovery accelerated.

But at the same time, it sensed an infuriating truth—its plan to drive lesser aberrations to grind down the Eastern Wasteland's defenses had failed. Because all the lower-tier aberrations had been lured to the Central Plains by the incense, it had lost every pawn it had.

It would have to act personally.

From the depths of the Southern Sea, that body shaped like a black mountain slowly rose.

The aberrant runes on the mountain's surface, after absorbing the aberrant energy drifting from the Central Plains, lit up again with eerie green light. The enormous eyeball in its palm slowly opened, its pupil reflecting the northern sky—the direction of Zhennan Pass.

"Wang Hao." The low voice echoed through the deep sea, every syllable dripping with bone-deep hatred.

"You think luring the aberrations to the Central Plains leaves Us helpless?"

"We'll come ourselves."

The black mountain rose from the deep sea, dragging ten-thousand-zhang waves of black water behind it.

The waves surged outward in all directions, hammering every coastal town along the Southern Sea. Haifang Harbor, Linhai County, Baisha Town—every coastal settlement felt that terrifying pressure.

On the walls of Zhennan Pass, the alarm horns sounded once more.

Wang Hao stood at the highest point of the gate tower, watching the black mountain rising from the southern sea, and his lips curled into that brilliant smile.

"Finally."

"We've been waiting half a month for you."

He drew the Heavenly Sword—its golden blade-light blazing in the sunlight like a golden sun.

"Sword-bitch, ready?"

"Ready." The Heavenly Sword's voice brimmed with barely contained excitement. "Who do we eat first this time?"

"No one else. Just this one—half-step tenth-tier."

"Half-step tenth-tier—" The Heavenly Sword licked its lips. "This seat has never feasted on a half-step tenth-tier aberration."

"Today you will. Whether you can swallow it or not depends on your skill."

Wang Hao soared into the air from the city wall, his black dragon robe snapping in the wind.

Behind him, twelve Martial Gods, five hundred Void-walking generals, nearly a million soldiers, and seven hundred sixty thousand dragon-army warriors—every single one looked up, watching that golden figure charge toward the sky-darkening black mountain on the southern horizon.

"Warriors of Great Xia." Wang Hao's voice echoed through the sky, each word striking clear in every ear. "Today, We lead you into a true battle."

"Not defense. Attack. Not survival. All-out war."

"If we win—the Southern Sea belongs to Great Xia. If we lose—"

He paused, his smile as bright as a madman walking toward death.

"We will not lose."

The golden sword-light split the heavens, crashing straight into that black mountain.

Behind him, a million voices roared in unison, shaking the clouds apart.