Thunderous Blade Aura

【You lead the starving refugees through the snowstorm】

【While slaying demons and cutting edible demon flesh, you also take in the border refugees, expanding your group】

【Your efforts bear fruit, and the group grows at an astonishing rate】

【Wu Yingxue is amazed by this】

【Perhaps, this group is no longer just a ragtag band of refugees. With the "Fool's Technique" you've imparted, it can truly be called an army】

【However, you haven't decided on a name for this group. People offer various suggestions, some refined, others simple】

【After much thought, you smile and give up】

【No matter what name is chosen, the people who join your group have only one goal: to live peacefully and eat their fill】

【That’s enough. That’s all that matters】

【If you must give it a name, you think "Army of Survival" or "Army of Food" sounds fitting】

【Niu expresses his fondness for the name "Army of Food"】

……

【After two months of wandering through the snowstorm, your group has grown even larger, numbering tens of thousands—souls desperate to live】

【Souls who have already died once】

【To such souls, death holds no fear. They yearn to rise from death, to seek true life from the brink of despair】

【Through practicing your Fool's Technique, nearly all the refugees have reached the first level of Body Tempering. Those with abundant energy have even surged to the second or third level】

【Not only that, but the young girl, after consuming a True Energy Pill, has also broken through to the Innate Realm during a fierce battle with demons】

【Wu Yingxue joyfully shares this news with you】

“Sir, I’ve reached the Innate Realm!”

“Well done, Yingxue.”

【You speak with a gentle smile, offering words of encouragement, while reaching out to brush a few snowflakes from the girl’s head】

【The girl giggles foolishly, clearly delighted by your praise】

【That year, that month, that day】

【Wu Yingxue stands with her fists on her hips, her expression proud and unashamed, though she only shows this side of herself to you】

【More often, she is the reliable "Little Miss Wu" in the eyes of everyone, the one they turn to for help】

【You silently observe, watching the girl grow from being flustered to handling things with ease】

【You feel a sense of pride in her growth】

【But at the same time, you also feel a genuine desire to change this world, this system that forces everyone to change】

【Your prolonged martial practice has caused your "Blood Qi Tyrant Fist" to evolve. Congratulations, you have comprehended the "Fist of Insight"】

【Your prolonged martial practice has also caused your "Nine Thunder Saber" to evolve, merging with Innate Qi to form something new. Congratulations, you have comprehended the "Thunder Saber Aura"】

【Your strength has grown immensely. Every punch and kick is as sharp as a blade, accompanied by the roar of thunder】

【After Wu Yingxue entered the Innate Realm, her awakened Azure Dragon Aura also possesses power far beyond her peers. You personally test her strength and are utterly amazed】

……

【Time flies. You calculate the seasons and predict that an even colder snowmelt is coming. For the ragged Army of Survival, this is nothing less than a countdown to death】

【You no longer hold back】

【Leading tens of thousands of the Army of Survival, you attack a weak point in the border defenses that you had scouted earlier】

【The generals stationed here are two Insight Realm martial masters. You and the girl each take on one】

“Take this spear!!”

A furious roar echoes across the sky.

Everyone instinctively looks up.

They see a figure clad in red and white robes, swift as fire, wielding a spear that carves a massive, ferocious dragon-shaped aura across the heavens.

It has scales and claws.

Horns and a tail.

It looks like a true Azure Dragon galloping through the sky.

“Azure Dragon Aura?!” The generals of the Great Qian Dynasty stationed at the border are shocked and bewildered.

The Azure Dragon Aura is exclusive to the Great Qian royal family. How could it appear among the rebels? Soon, the two Innate generals recall Wu Yingxue’s identity.

Their expressions turn cold.

“How bold! A remnant of Dingyuan Prefecture dares to show her face here!”

“I’ll capture you and take you to the capital to face the Emperor!”

The Innate general charges through the air, but halfway, he is forced back by a blade aura as swift as lightning.

“Only forced back, not injured…”

“I’m still not proficient enough with the Thunder Saber Aura…”

“And humans are different from demons. I lack experience fighting martial artists.”

In the snowy, desolate sky,

Xu Xi steps forward, his aura like a blade, tearing through the surrounding snowstorm; the sound of his blade is like thunder, resonating across ten miles of metal.

No words are needed on this blood-soaked battlefield. Xu Xi and Wu Yingxue each charge toward a Great Qian general, engaging in a battle reserved for Innate martial artists and martial masters.

On the ground,

The Army of Survival, made up of refugees, forms an unending tide, crashing against the border garrison.

“Kill!”

When farmers who once tilled the land pick up their hoes.

When cooks who once tended fires raise their cleavers.

Even the rusted tools, crude and unremarkable, gleam with a chilling light in the snowstorm, unleashing a power that strikes fear into the heart.

“Mere criminals!”

A cavalryman charges out of the garrison, trying to break the refugees’ formation.

But the high-and-mighty “noble” suddenly realizes in terror that the “lowly” people he expected to scatter at his charge are not afraid.

Instead, they rush madly toward the warhorses.

They raise pitchforks, hoes, and even crude, handmade ropes.

They hurl everything at the horses’ legs.

Some even throw themselves at the horses, trying to stop them with their bodies.

Some are kicked away, but it doesn’t matter—more people surge forward. Even as they cough up blood, they press on with a frenzied determination.

“Get away!”

“All of you, get away!”

The cavalryman falls from his horse.

He is a noble scion from the capital.

Born with a bright future and great prospects, he was always destined to be different from these peasants.

But now, lying on the ground, he is lower than the peasants, forced to look up at their faces in terror.

The battle is fierce.

It lasts until the sun sets.

The crimson light stains the sky, marking the end.

The Army of Survival has won—a victory that feels both inevitable and devastating. As the last rays of light fall on the battlefield, they reveal countless blood-soaked bodies, while the survivors march on.

In the face of those who have already died once and now seek only to live as humans again,

Even the armored border troops

Are nothing more than people who can be killed.

The distinctions of high and low, noble and common, are rendered utterly meaningless before death.