I gain ten years' worth of cultivation every day, and even geniuses will only see my doorstep!

No one speaks.

The voting results came out quickly. The Multiverse Council declared a state of war, authorizing Qin Yuan to form the Multiverse Allied Army and give him full command. Mud Egg stood up and said, "Everyone in the Mutual Aid Society will join the war. Those who grow taro will fight, and those who can't fight will transport grain."

Li Qing stood up from a corner of the council hall. She leaned on her cane, walking with a limp, each step the cane making a crisp sound on the stone slabs. "I'm a cripple, I can't lead troops anymore. But I can make military rations from the rear. Don't complain about how bad it tastes."

When news of the fall of the borderlands arrived, Qin Yuan was polishing his sword in the back mountains of the Xuan Yuan Sect. Mud Egg, covered in mud and blood on his face, stood by the stream, panting heavily. His clothes were torn, and his left arm hung limply, possibly broken.

"The Eternal Night Army is here. Three thousand men. The garrison is gone." Mud Egg's voice was hoarse, as if it contained sand.

Qin Yuan stood up and hung up his sword. Lin Qing'er came out of the house, carrying a clean set of clothes. Qin Yuan didn't change. He left in his dirty clothes.

The first frontier world no longer exists. The sky is black, not the black of night, but a black as if splashed with ink. The sun has vanished, the stars have vanished, only boundless darkness remains. The earth is red, blood has soaked the soil, making it soft and yielding underfoot. A mound of heads stands where the city gate once was, a tower ten zhang high made of human heads. The topmost head belongs to the garrison commander, his eyes still open, his mouth agape, as if shouting something.

Muddy knelt in front of the mound of corpses. He recognized someone—a member of the mutual aid society, someone who had planted taro with him last month. The person's head was on the third level, face down, so his expression was hidden. Muddy's hands dug into the ground, his nails broke, and blood seeped from his fingertips.

Qin Yuan stood in front of the mound of corpses, gripping the hilt of his sword, but did not draw it.

A figure stood atop the mound of fallen eagles. He leaped down, landing on the ground with a tremor. He was two zhang tall, his entire body covered in black scales that gleamed dimly in the darkness. He had six eyes on his face, arranged in three rows of two. The eye sockets were golden, and the pupils were vertical lines.

Emptiness. Vanguard General of the Eternal Night Dynasty.

"Ants of all realms, offer your power." His voice wasn't loud, but it pierced through the entire ruins, each word like a needle pricking the ears.

Qin Yuan drew his sword and leaped forward. The blade struck Xu's chest, sparks flying from his black scales, but it didn't break. Xu struck out with a palm, which Qin Yuan parried with his sword, but was knocked back. His feet plowed two deep furrows in the ground.

The second palm strike from Xu arrived. Qin Yuan dodged to the side, his left shoulder struck by the force of the blow, his clothes ripped. Three deep, bone-revealing claw marks stretched diagonally from his shoulder to his chest, blood gushing out and flowing down his abdomen, dripping onto the ground. His blue clothes were stained black with blood.

Xu withdrew his hand, his six eyes looking down at Qin Yuan. "Guardian of Myriad Realms? Nothing special."

Qin Yuan looked down at the wound on his chest, then at Xu. He didn't back down. Muddy stood up from in front of the mound of corpses, picked up the knife that had fallen to the ground; the blade was chipped, but it could still cut. He walked to Qin Yuan's side, his left hand severed, and gripped the knife with his right. The tip of the knife pointed at Xu.

Yuan emerged from the shadows of the ruins. He had no cultivation, no weapon, only a handful of grayish-white powder in his hand. He didn't know what it was, but it was the only thing he could hold.

Qin Yuan switched the sword from his right hand to his left. The web between his thumb and forefinger in his right hand was cracked, making it impossible for him to grip the sword. He held the sword in his left hand, the tip pointing at Xu's throat.

"Again."

The six virtual eyes narrowed.

Qin Yuan gripped the sword in his left hand, tip pointing downwards. Blood trickled from his tiger's mouth down the blade, dripping onto the charred ground. He couldn't lift his left arm; Xu's palm strike had shattered his shoulder blade, breaking the bone into several pieces, each one embedded in the flesh. He supported his left elbow with his right hand, raising the sword, its tip aimed at Xu's throat.

Mud Egg stood to his left, his right hand gripping a black knife he'd picked up from beside the corpse. The blade was chipped, and dried blood clung to the hilt. His left arm was severed, hanging limply at his side like an extra rope. With each breath, blood seeped from the gaping wound in his chest, his clothes clinging to his skin.

Yuan stood behind them. He had no weapons, no cultivation, only a pair of grayish-white hands that could do nothing. He clutched a handful of grayish-white powder he had picked up from the ruins, powder scraped from the broken stone statues. He didn't know what use it was, but he needed something to hold onto.

The illusory six eyes swept over the three of them in turn. Blood was flowing from his armpit; where Qin Yuan's sword had pierced, black blood trickled down the seams of his scales, dripping onto the ground and corroding small pits.

"Three," Xu said. "One who's about to die, one with a missing hand, and one who's useless."

Qin Yuan didn't speak. He took a step forward.

Xu struck with a palm. Qin Yuan didn't dodge; instead, he gripped his sword with his left hand and thrust it towards Xu's face. Xu tilted his head, and the blade grazed Qin Yuan's ear, slicing off a piece of black scales. Xu's palm struck Qin Yuan's right chest, the sound of breaking ribs like tree branches snapping.

Qin Yuan flew out and crashed into the Jingguan (a mound of human heads). The tower of heads collapsed, and dozens of heads rolled down, some colliding together, others rolling to Nidan's feet. Nidan looked down and saw that the head's eyes were still open, its lips were purple, and it belonged to a young man from the mutual aid society, who had been learning to grow taro from him just last month.

Mud Egg gripped the black knife tightly and charged towards Void. His left arm was immobile, so he transferred the knife to his left hand—but unable to hold it, he switched back to his right. Void struck him in the chest with a palm strike, tearing open the wound completely, blood spurting out. Mud Egg was sent flying, crashing into the ruined wall, causing half of the wall to collapse.

Yuan stood rooted to the spot, his fingers trembling. He could sense the trajectory of Xu's attack—the next palm strike would come down from the upper left, targeting Qin Yuan's neck. He opened his mouth and shouted, "Left!"

Qin Yuan had just gotten up from the ground when he heard Yuan's voice and instinctively dodged to the right. Xu's left palm swept past his head, the wind from the palm blowing his hair away.

Xu withdrew his hand, and his six eyes looked at Yuan. "You can see my attack?"

Yuan remained silent. His gray-rimmed eyes stared at Xu, sweat dripping from his forehead.

Xu abandoned Qin Yuan and rushed towards Yuan. He was so fast that Qin Yuan didn't have time to react. Yuan didn't run; he couldn't escape. He threw the grayish-white powder in his hand at Xu's face. The powder scattered in the air, and Xu's six eyes closed simultaneously, slowing his movements for a moment.

Qin Yuan attacked from the side, thrusting his sword into Xu's armpit, the same spot he had already stabbed once before. The blade pierced through the scales, through the muscle, and went in half a foot. Xu let out a roar that wasn't of pain, but of rage, slapping Qin Yuan away with his palm, pulling the blade out himself, black blood gushing out.

The footsteps of the vanguard of the Eternal Night Army echoed from all directions. Three thousand men, clad in black robes and wielding black swords, faceless. Their footsteps were so synchronized, as if carried by a single person, that the ground trembled.