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

Chidu in southern Xinjiang, the seventeenth day of the first lunar month.

The crimson banners of the White Lotus Sect were planted on every wall and every building in the Eighth County.

The banner fluttered in the night wind, the white lotus pattern sewn on it reflecting the light of the torches on the city wall, flickering like will-o'-the-wisps floating in blood.

After the Red-Robed Dharma King established himself as the "Southern King," the capital city became more than ten times more orderly than during the bandit period—the streets were swept and cleaned daily, the vegetable market reopened, and the surrendered troops were reorganized into the Red Armor Army, totaling more than 30,000 men, stationed in key locations across eight prefectures.

Dongfang Weiwo's carriage stayed for two whole days, thirty miles outside Chidu City.

He did not rush to approach. On the first day, he changed three observation points on high ground, observing the rotation rhythm of the Red Armor Army during the day and the distribution of lights on the city walls and the density of scouts at night.

The next day, he walked along the river outside the city, memorizing the time when the grain ships docked, the configuration of the escorting troops, and the crossbow arrays hidden under the seemingly randomly placed stalls outside the city gate.

After reading it, he sat on the carriage shaft, holding his teacup in silence for the time it takes to drink a cup of tea. He didn't drink the tea when it got cold, and finally poured it on the ground, letting out a soft sigh.

"The Red-Robed Dharma King is indeed not an incompetent fool."

Du Ruo sat opposite him, and after hearing him say something as if to himself, she smiled and replied:

"What's wrong? It's different from the rumors circulating in the martial arts world."

"Far from it." Dongfang Weiwo shook his head. "While this army's discipline may not match that of the imperial elite, it's far superior to ordinary local troops. In particular, the deployment of spies within the city is extremely sophisticated. There are three visible gates for entry and exit, but I've discovered at least four secret passages. This 'Southern King' is seriously managing his kingdom."

He looked up at Du Ruo, then his gaze shifted: "Have you thoroughly investigated who the White Lotus Sect can use?"

Du Ruo took out a thin list from her bosom and handed it to him, her fingertips lightly tracing the surface of the paper as she explained:

"The White Lotus Sect's upper echelons are divided into three levels. The most core are the Red-Robed Dharma King himself and three Grand Master Elders—all of whom have been secretly supported by Wanfo Temple over the past century."

The middle ranks consist of rogue cultivators and surrendered generals recruited in recent years; these people have the worst loyalty, following whoever offers the most benefits. The bottom ranks are fanatical believers, the largest in number but the weakest in combat; they're alright in favorable situations, but scatter at the slightest setback.

Dongfang Weiwo glanced at the list, his gaze lingering on a particular name. Du Ruo followed his gaze, understanding immediately, and added:

"Zhao Ling was originally the deputy general of Pingyang County. Three years ago, he was dismissed from his post by the Zhenfu Division for embezzling military funds. He then joined the White Lotus Sect, and the Red-Clothed Dharma King gave him the position of vanguard commander. Now, he is guarding the Seventh County in his place."

Dongfang Weiwo tapped the name lightly twice with his fingertips, as if testing the hardness of a tile. After a moment, he closed the list, a slight, almost mocking smile playing on his lips.

"The Seventh Prefecture is the throat of the White Lotus Sect's supply route. Go through Zhao Ling's files again, the details of money transactions, his family's whereabouts, and the circumstances surrounding his dismissal—the more detailed the better."

Du Ruo nodded: "I understand."

Dongfang Wei did not act immediately. He sent the list, along with the map of the troop deployment around Chidu, back to the Azure Dragon Society headquarters, along with a sentence in neat, slender handwriting that conveyed a sharp, resolute determination:

"The White Lotus Sect's foundation lies with the three elders supported by the Wanfo Temple and the Red-Robed Dharma King himself; the rest are a rabble. If we can cut off their supply lines, capture their mid-level generals, and isolate their core—we can subdue them in ten days."

When the carrier pigeon flew back to the west, Li Chenzhou had just placed the jet-black halberd in a secret room at the Azure Dragon Society headquarters.

The halberd stood on the stone platform, its body dark and heavy, with faint, dark, flowing patterns on its surface.

That was the residual pressure of the Demon God Lü. Even though Li Chenzhou was already a Grandmaster at the peak of the eighth level of the Heavenly Realm, he still felt his blood and qi stagnate and his joints feel heavy when he got within five feet of the halberd. He took three steps back, crossed his arms, and examined it for a moment. Suddenly, he flicked his finger on the halberd. A long "hum" rang out, causing dust to fall from the room. Even the Dragon Scale Guards on duty in the corridor outside the secret chamber covered their ears.

"Good stuff," he whispered, his tone neither enthusiastic nor reverent, more like an old farmer looking at a good hoe.

He turned and pushed open the door, just as Bai Yujing was walking from the other end of the corridor. The two dragon heads were wearing a moon-white long robe today, with the cuffs tied tightly, and they were holding an opened letter in their hands, the one that Dongfang Weiwo had sent from the southern border.

Bai Yujing handed over the letter, then stood by the window, her hands tucked into her sleeves as she gazed at the gray sky outside. Li Chenzhou read the letter without even raising an eyebrow, only glancing up at Bai Yujing.

Bai Yujing met that gaze and uttered a single word: "Fight."

Three days later, the Azure Dragon Society will make its move.

On the western route, led by Chai Yuguan, the leader of the Eryue Hall, three thousand Dragon Scale Guards cut off the White Lotus Sect's food supply.

The White Lotus Sect's provisions were mainly requisitioned from the three southern prefectures and transported to Chidu by waterway.

Chai Yuguan's men lay in ambush at the narrowest point of the river, a treacherous section between two mountains. At night, the river was shrouded in mist, making it impossible to see a face even three zhang away. He had secretly deployed over a hundred crossbows and oil canisters on both sides of the riverbank. When the fifteen grain transport ships of the White Lotus Sect entered the ambush area, he gave a command, and the fire arrows were unleashed simultaneously, illuminating the entire river as if it were daytime.

The White Lotus Sect grain escort officer stood at the bow of the boat and shouted "Enemy attack!" Before he could finish speaking, an arrow had already pierced his throat.

Fifteen boats were crammed together in the middle of the river, unable to move forward or backward, and the Dragon Scale Guards boarded them one by one to clear them. Overnight, 50,000 shi of grain were reduced to ashes, and the river surface was covered with charred rice grains and broken planks, slowly drifting eastward with the current.

The northern route moved even faster. The main force, led by the Doll Manor of the Third Hall Master, Xiaoyao Hou, combined with the elite troops of the Six and a Half Hall of the Fourth Hall Master, Lei Sun, advanced simultaneously from the northwest flanks.

The White Lotus Sect set up three lines of defense around the Seventh County. The first two were crushed head-on by the Crimson Sand Palm, which was damaged by lightning. This April Hall Master was as tall as an iron tower. His palms flew and the red sand danced. Wherever his palm wind passed, even a layer of the city wall was peeled off.

The third line of defense was opened by Xiaoyao Hou's puppet technique—no one saw how he got in, only a few short screams were heard from the main tent at the center of the defense line. A moment later, the head of the defending general was hung above the gate by the puppet, the dough was still warm, and his eyes did not even have time to close.

Thirty percent of the Red Armor Army in the Seventh County immediately mutinied. Of the remaining seventy percent, some abandoned their weapons and fled to the fields, while others knelt on the ground shouting, "I surrender! I surrender!" Only a very few die-hard believers continued to resist—but were all snapped in the necks from behind by the puppets of the Carefree Marquis.

The eastern route was led by Gongzi Yu, the master of the May Hall.

Gongzi Yu acted with the cleanliness of a young lady cutting paper; each spy had been scouted two days in advance, and when he acted, it was completely silent, not even waking the neighbor's dog. All the White Lotus Sect's secret communication channels towards the capital were paralyzed overnight, and the Red-Robed Dharma King waited for three days in his main tent in Chidu for intelligence, but received not a single message.

The most ruthless was the southern front.

Zhuo Donglai, the leader of the June Hall, personally went to Zhao Ling's tent. Since being dismissed from his post by the Zhenfu Division, this former deputy general of Pingyang County had been emaciated and had dark circles under his eyes during the years he spent with the White Lotus Sect. It wasn't that he couldn't eat, but that he was exhausted.

The Red-Robed Dharma King trusted him to some extent but was also wary of him to some extent. He gave him the title of vanguard commander but kept the real military power in his own hands. When Zhuo Donglai entered, Zhao Ling was staring blankly at an oil lamp, with a pot of cold tea and half a plate of peanuts on the table.

Zhuo Donglai made no formalities, casually sat down opposite him, poured himself a cup of cool tea, took a sip, and then slowly began to speak: "Commander Zhao is working hard in the Seventh County."

Zhao Ling looked up, his gaze wary: "Who are you?"

"The people who came to help you."

Zhuo Donglai put down his teacup and drew a circle on the table with his finger. "The Red-Robed Dharma King promised you the vanguard commandership, and the imperial court can promise you a prefecture. What the White Lotus Sect can't give you, the Azure Dragon Society can. Zhao Ling, you've endured three years in this tent, are you going to continue?"

Zhao Ling's fingers clenched and unclenched under the table, repeating this three times. Finally, he asked in a hoarse voice, "What do you want me to do?"

"At midnight tonight, open the gates of the seventh prefecture."

Zhao Ling remained silent for a long time, so long that Zhuo Donglai thought he was about to refuse. Then, Zhao Ling suddenly downed the remaining half-full of wine in one gulp, the wine dripping down his chin and soaking his clothes. He slammed the empty pot on the table, his eyes reddening, but his voice remained steady: "Open."

On the night Zhao Ling betrayed the government, the gates of the Seventh County were opened wide.

The three thousand vanguard soldiers of the Red Armor Army turned their blades and surrounded and slaughtered all the core members of the White Lotus Sect in the city. Those members were dragged out of their houses in their sleep, some without even having time to put on their shoes, and knelt in the middle of the street shouting "May the Southern King protect us" until their voices were hoarse—when the sword fell, the shouting stopped abruptly.

The missionary altar set up by the Red-Robed Dharma King in the Seventh County was burned to the ground. The White Lotus Sect's White Lotus flag curled, turned black, and collapsed into a pile of ashes in the fire, which were scattered all over the city by the night wind.

With encirclement from four directions, the White Lotus Sect lost four prefectures in the south within four days, and nearly half of the Red Armor Army was routed. When the Red-Robed Dharma King came out of the Red Capital's main tent, he had a thick stack of battle reports in his hands.

Every letter read, "A certain county has fallen," "A certain general has defected on the battlefield," and "The supply lines have been cut off, and the city's food reserves are less than half a month's worth."

He flipped through the reports one by one, his fingers trembling slightly, his lips moving as if he wanted to say something, but no words came out. Finally, after turning the last page, he pushed all the battle reports off the table, the pages scattering all over the floor with a clatter.

The servants in the tent were so frightened that they knelt on the ground, not daring to utter a sound.

The red-robed Dharma King slowly stood up, his crimson robe casting a long, dark shadow on the ground.

He walked to the window, gazing at the northwest horizon, his face ashen. After a long silence, he spoke in a low voice, hoarse as if scraped from his throat:

"The Azure Dragon Society... Bai Yujing seized the imperial tomb, and still has the resources to attack me?"

No one answered. The intelligence officer kneeling at the table had his head down, his back soaked with cold sweat.

The red-robed Dharma King tapped his fingers on the window frame, then suddenly turned around:

"Summon the three elders to enter the city."

"...The Dharma King?" The intelligence officer finally looked up, his face filled with panic. "The three elders are at Wanfo Temple—"

"I said, enter the city."

The red-robed Dharma King's voice suddenly rose, carrying a hint of undeniable ferocity.

"I was the Southern King when the White Lotus Sect was founded. Now, before I've even warmed my seat on the throne, how can I relinquish it? Tell the three elders that they have raised me for a hundred years; now it is time for them to serve me."