Starting as the heir of a marquis's mansion, I gained access to a summoning system.

Across the grassland, the Golden Tribe's million-strong army was thrown into chaos.

Inside the central command tent with its golden roof, a golden figure soared into the sky.

The grassland overlord, who was at the half-step Celestial Realm, could no longer sit still. When he leaped out of the tent, the curtains of the entire tent were blown away by the shockwave, and the gold-embroidered wolf-head banner was blown in two, with fragments flying like snow.

His face was as aged as a rock weathered by the desert, his deeply lined face expressionless, but his golden pupils churned with boundless rage.

A golden sword was drawn from its sheath in his hand. The blade was thick and golden all over, with seven pigeon-egg-sized spirit stones inlaid on its spine. It was said to be a relic left by the celestial ancestor of the Golden Clan. When the sword was drawn, the entire grassland trembled, and the soil was swirled up by the sword energy to form a hundred-foot-high earth wave that pressed down towards the direction of the Blood-Weeping Pass, blotting out the sky.

"Invincible in the East—"

The Heavenly Khan's voice roared across the sky, and he transformed into a golden meteor as he crashed into the city wall.

Dongfang Wudi drew his sword and charged forward. He leaped from the city wall, his black armor gleaming with a dark iron light in the setting sun, his black sword held level, without any unnecessary movements—he simply met the attack head-on.

The black knife and the golden knife collided in the sky above the grassland.

In that instant, the world lost its color. All sound was swallowed up, and the million soldiers looked up to see only black and white blades clashing and fighting in the clouds. Each impact tore a dark crack in the sky, with tiny bolts of lightning swirling around the edges, like the heavens being slashed open by a blade.

The wind stopped, the grass lay flat, and even the "镇" (zhen, meaning town/garrison) flag on the city wall suddenly drooped down and remained motionless.

Deep within those cracks, several obscure divine thoughts quietly probed out—one from the direction of the imperial city, one from the direction of the East Sea, one in the dense forests of the Southern Frontier, and even one on the snow-capped mountain peak in the far reaches of the Western Regions.

The divine thoughts belonging to those who were half-step Celestials or even higher beings silently intertwined above the battlefield, like pairs of unseen eyes watching this once-in-a-century duel.

Three knives.

The first strike, the black blade, landed squarely on the center of the golden blade. The Heavenly Khan retreated three steps, and a soft "crack" sound emanated from the surface of the golden blade. A hair-thin crack appeared along the spine of the blade, and one of the seven spirit stones shattered instantly, its fragments scattering like gold dust.

With his second strike, Dongfang Wudi pressed forward, his blade shifting from a slash to a slice. The black blade slid along the golden blade, its energy spitting out like a snake's tongue towards the Khan's right arm.

His arm armor shattered, sending metal fragments flying everywhere. The golden veins beneath the armor were exposed to the air, and the blood seemed to glow as well.

The Khan grunted and slashed three times with his golden sword in an attempt to create distance. Dongfang Wudi did not retreat but advanced, and his black sword slashed upwards for the third time.

The blade pierced through the Heavenly Khan's net of blades, through the hastily formed golden protective light, and cut three inches into his chest. Golden blood sprayed like rain, splashing onto Dongfang Wudi's black armor, like hot gold paint being poured on, sizzling and crackling.

The Heavenly Khan let out a furious roar of resentment.

The knife wound on his chest radiated golden light, and his entire body suddenly transformed into a dazzling golden sphere of light. The sphere of light expanded violently and then suddenly contracted, before exploding with a "boom"—but it was not a self-destruction. Instead, it transformed into a golden stream of light and fled into the depths of the grassland at a speed beyond the reach of the naked eye.

The streak of light trailed a golden-red tail, like a falling meteor, disappearing below the horizon at the edge of the world.

Only a pool of golden blood and a shattered seven-stone golden sword remained on the spot. The blade was broken into three pieces, and five spirit stones remained on the hilt, three of which had already lost their luster.

Dongfang Wudi sheathed his sword and stood in the air.

A faint knife mark appeared on his shoulder armor—it was left by the Heavenly Khan's backhand sweep before he retreated.

The knife mark wasn't deep, only piercing the first layer of iron on the armor, but a faint golden blood still pulsated at the edge, like a restless heart struggling. He glanced down at the knife mark, expressionless, and wiped it with his thumb; the golden blood vanished like smoke at his fingertips.

Behind him, a million Golden Clan soldiers fled in all directions like a receding tide. The Iron Cavalry of the Bloodstained Pass pursued them for a hundred miles, the sound of hooves chasing the cries, and the cries chasing the sound of the wind. Corpses lay everywhere on the grassland, and blood flowed like rivers.

The tents were still burning, the cooking utensils were overturned on the ground, the horses were scattered and ran wildly, trampling down countless cowhide tents, and the entire camp looked as if it had been plowed from head to toe by an iron-colored tsunami.

Dongfang Wudi slowly landed on the city wall, pausing slightly as his boots touched the bluestone.

The cheers of 30,000 people surged behind him. The veterans pounded their shields with the backs of their swords and their breastplates with their fists, shouting until their voices were hoarse. Some knelt behind the battlements, their faces buried in their hands, unable to speak. Others took off their helmets and threw them into the air three times before catching them safely.

Dongfang Wudi did not turn around.

He simply walked to the crenellation in the center of the city wall, leaned against the stone edge with one hand, and gazed at the gradually quieting grassland to the north. The north wind made his cloak flutter loudly, and blood dripped from the hem of the cloak—some of it the golden blood of the Golden Clan, and some of it his own, mixed together and indistinguishable.

The lieutenant strode forward, knelt on one knee, his armor clanking against the stone slabs, his body covered in mud and blood splattered from the pursuing enemy. He looked up at the Marquis's retreating figure, his Adam's apple bobbing several times, before finally asking in a trembling voice:

"My lord...your cultivation level just now..."

Dongfang Wudi turned his head slightly and glanced at the deputy general out of the corner of his eye.

That glance was light, as light as a breeze, but the adjutant's blood suddenly seemed to freeze.

He knelt there, sweat seeping from his back layer upon layer, the shirt inside his armor instantly soaked. He saw everything—there was no pressure, no murderous intent in the Marquis's gaze, only a bottomless darkness, like someone standing on the edge of a precipice peering down, seeing nothing below, yet seemingly seeing everything.

The lieutenant's lips moved twice, but he ultimately swallowed the rest of his sentence, bowing deeply: "...Your subordinate misspoke."

Dongfang Wudi withdrew his gaze and looked back towards the area beyond the pass.

"Give the order to the entire army." His voice was as calm as if he were merely ending a routine drill. "Withdraw. Repair the city. The Golden Clan will return next autumn."

He paused, then added, "Compile the list of the fallen and send it to my desk. Don't miss a single one."

The lieutenant kowtowed in agreement, rose, and retreated. Only after taking three steps did he dare exhale the breath he had been holding for so long. He glanced back at the Marquis's retreating figure, the thought churning in his heart—

Three strikes defeated a half-step Celestial.

This is definitely not the method of a Grandmaster at the ninth level.

The initial stage of the Celestial Realm? Or even higher? He dared not think about it, dared not ask it, and dared not show the slightest hint of speculation in front of anyone.

But he knew that from this day forward, in the entire Bloodstained Pass, the entire Northern Territory, and the entire Eastern Continent—no one would dare to pronounce "Invincible" merely as a name anymore.

The news spread faster than the tide of spiritual energy, more fiercely than the autumn wind sweeping across the grasslands, and more unstoppable than the retreat of the Golden Clan's defeated army.

The three heroes of the Golden Horde were killed with three blows, the Heavenly Khan was seriously injured and fled, and the million-strong iron cavalry of the Golden Clan collapsed in a single day—the Blood-Weeping Marquis Dongfang Wudi, from this day forward, is no longer just the pillar of the Northern Territory, but the undisputed number one in the entire Tianxuan Continent.

In the imperial study, Qin Muzhi sat behind the dragon desk in silence for a long time.

The battle report lay spread out on the table, its corner creased from being pinched by his fingertips.

As dusk settled outside the window, and no lights were lit inside the palace, he sat entirely in the shadows, his face indistinct. Cao Zhengchun stood at his sides below the steps, waiting for the time it takes to drink a cup of tea before he heard the emperor speak.

"The initial stage of the Celestial Realm." Qin Muzhi's voice was very soft, as soft as the wind passing through an empty hall, revealing neither joy nor anger. "This brother-in-law of mine is even more secretive than I am."

He slowly folded the battle report, three times, and placed it under a paperweight. The paperweight was carved from Hetian white jade with a coiled dragon, its head perfectly covering the four characters "Invincible in the East".

"My sister has always had a better eye for men than I do."

Meanwhile, in a secret chamber of the Azure Dragon Society branch in Pingyang County, thousands of miles away, Dongfang Weiwo looked at the Northern Border war report in his hand, and the corners of his mouth finally slowly turned up.

Under the lamplight, the eighteen-year-old's face was highlighted by the candlelight, revealing its distinct features.

He read the battle report twice from beginning to end. When he saw words like "three strikes," "Heavenly Khan," and "defeat," his fingertips tightened slightly—it was a rare emotion he showed as a son towards his father, but he quickly suppressed it and returned to his calm and composed self.

He tucked the battle report into his pocket and walked to the window. The night wind blew in through the cracks in the window, ruffling the stray hairs at his temples.

Outside the window, the lights of the thirteen western prefectures stretched out in a continuous line, like a green dragon coiled on the earth, its scales shimmering and rising and falling slightly with each breath.

"Father's battle is over."

He said softly, a faint smile in his voice, "Our battle... has only just begun."

On the table behind him lay another secret letter. The edges of the letter were slightly curled by the night breeze, and the signature at the end consisted of only two characters, written in silver ink, which gleamed coldly in the candlelight—

"Penglai."

Dongfang Weiwo glanced back at the letter but didn't touch it. He simply pushed the window open half an inch, letting the night wind in, causing the lamplight to flicker violently and making the silver light on the two words shine on and off.

He gazed at the sleeping dragon lantern outside the window, his smile deepening.

Penglai.

These two words are enough to describe an entire major battle.