Chapter Seventy-Three: A Life Unlike Any Other (Please recommend and add to your collection!)

An hour later, the battle on the plains drew to a close.

The entire expanse fell into sudden silence, only to erupt in a wave of jubilation moments later. Scattered across the plain, on what had been split into several small battlefields, only humans stood tall; not a single one from the Dark Realm had survived to flee.

On each battlefield, those who had survived began to cheer, their voices ringing out as they converged together, laughter echoing freely among them. After lingering a while upon the blood-soaked earth, these victorious warriors, hearts still throbbing with the joy of survival, returned to their city behind them.

Beneath the city walls, the gates were flung wide open. Without command, cultivators from within burst forth, swiftly filling the open space before the gates. Each one took up their post, standing guard, eyes wary and resolute, until at last the battered, bloodstained warriors trudged through the gates, bone-weary. Only then did the cultivators who had guarded the entrance follow after.

Yang Fan, having descended from the walls with Xie Guotao, watched the long lines of warriors entering the city. He felt a weight in his chest, a complicated emotion he could not quite name.

Suddenly, a burly man broke from the crowd, shouting as he caught sight of a returning soldier. “Old Zhang, you made it back alive!”

The one-armed veteran looked up, tears brimming in his tiger eyes. The two men embraced.

“Damn it, I thought you’d died out there!”

“Hah, you think I’m so easy to kill? I took down four of those Dark Realm bastards this time. If I hadn’t run out of ammo at the end, I could’ve killed more!”

“Hah, I know you’re tough. Hah... damn it!” Laughter choked into sobbing, and the two men clung to each other, weeping.

Scenes like this unfolded everywhere before the city gates—some warriors laughing with their comrades, others collapsing to the ground in tears. No one disturbed them; all simply watched in silence as these survivors vented the storm of emotions brought back from the battlefield.

“Everyone!”

At some point, a man appeared atop a platform not far from the gate. His voice rang out, clear and commanding, and the crowd fell instantly silent.

Hearing that voice, Yang Fan felt as if struck by a mighty hammer, his mind snapping to clarity.

The man surveyed the hushed assembly and spoke. “You have fought well. But we all know this is far from the time for celebration or relief. Humanity remains in crisis. I do not wish to dampen your spirits, but we lost eighty-six comrades today. Eighty-six lives, gone. Yet we cannot falter; we must continue to fight.

“Brothers and sisters, remember—behind us is our homeland. Within it, our families, all that we cherish. This is a dark era, but we must hold light in our hearts. For the bonds we share, we must stand firm!

“All wounded, proceed for treatment. Change the wall guard, ready the reserves for action at any time. Recon outposts, patrol beyond the walls and report any movement!”

With that, the man vanished in the blink of an eye.

Order swiftly returned to the previously chaotic city entrance. Everyone resumed their duties.

...

“How do you feel now?” Xie Guotao asked suddenly, waiting until the crowd had dispersed.

“I can’t really say,” Yang Fan replied, his pale face uncertain. “There’s a heaviness in my heart.”

He knew what Xie Guotao wanted to hear. And the truth was, he felt that familiar surge of hot blood, as though it now filled his very soul.

What youth hasn’t dreamed of heroism? Who, in their younger years, has not imagined themselves striding across the battlefield, bold and unyielding?

Yet after what he’d just witnessed, Yang Fan’s heart was in turmoil. Part of him wanted to stand and defend what mattered, just as those men had done, but another part was afraid.

Xie Guotao lowered his gaze. “Yang Fan, I won’t force you. But from the day you set foot on the path of cultivation, this is the future that awaits you—whether you wish it or not. Perhaps it sounds unreasonable, but in times of crisis, reason is a luxury.”

“You saw those ordinary soldiers. Even now, you could probably take on a hundred of them by yourself. But they, with fragile bodies, held the front lines with their lives. Yet you, blessed with power far beyond theirs, would rather cower in the rear. Do you really think you honor the blood and corpses they left behind on this battlefield?”

“This is a war of survival—a battle for the very city. If we lose, there will be no peace, no matter where you hide on earth. Our enmity with the Dark Realm is as enduring as the blood-soaked soil before us. This is a fight to the death—fate itself. Think of your classmates, your friends, your teachers, the old director of your orphanage. Do you truly have nothing you wish to protect?”

Yang Fan’s head sank lower and lower as Xie Guotao spoke. Never before had he bowed his head, not even when bullied at the orphanage. But now, under Xie Guotao’s words, he did.

“Grandmaster Xie, I understand. I do have something to protect—myself. I’ve never had grand ambitions. From the very beginning, all I wanted was to survive. If possible, to live better, perhaps even thrive. But if someone tries to take that from me, I’ll make sure they die first!

“You’re right—when the nest is overturned, no egg can remain unbroken. If the outpost falls and the Dark Realm breaks through, I won’t survive anywhere, even on earth. It’s just a matter of dying sooner or later.

“I’ll join the Special Training Program.”

He lifted his head, and in that moment, his young, still-immature face seemed to mature before Xie Guotao’s eyes. The former dissatisfaction and disdain Xie Guotao had felt for Yang Fan faded away. It was understandable, after all—a boy of eighteen, suddenly confronted with a strange and brutal world, might well flinch from the challenge.

“Good. It’s enough that you understand. Remember, Yang Fan, in these times, our choices are truly few. The only real choice was whether to become a cultivator after your aptitude was tested. If you were an ordinary person, or even just a mediocre cultivator, no one would force you. But you’re different. You don’t yet realize what it means to have talent that awakens and can continue to cultivate. Because you possess such aptitude, your choices are even more limited than others’. Remember this: all those brothers and sisters fighting in the outpost are worthy of respect. When you get to know them, you’ll find you want to use your strength to protect them.”

Yang Fan nodded, gazing up at the sky, which was growing dim.

“A different kind of life...” he murmured.

...

“Your power is too scattered!”

“No, that’s not right. Focus—observe every change in your strength and gather it together. Right now, as soon as your power leaves your body, it scatters!”

“Are you an idiot? Can’t you even get this? Feel it—don’t waste an ounce of strength!”

Yang Fan swung his long blade again and again. Each time, Xie Guotao roared at him.

Ten days had passed since they’d arrived at the outpost. Save for the first day, Yang Fan had spent the next nine training with Xie Guotao in a military town near Jubei City.

Day after day, practicing martial techniques—severing the ninefold barriers, slashing again and again. Draining his energy, then cultivating the Ninefold Berserker technique to recover, then hacking away once more. According to Xie Guotao, Yang Fan had plenty of raw power but could barely wield it.

Yang Fan had objected, arguing that his training with the blade in the deep sea had already tempered his strength. Xie Guotao had answered those protests with a solid beating.

Afterward, as Yang Fan glared resentfully, Xie Guotao said, “Your strength is worthless—if you have a thousand pounds, you’re only using eight hundred. Is that good enough? Nonsense! True prowess is when a thousand pounds of force can strike with the weight of twelve hundred.”

Yang Fan hadn’t believed him until Xie Guotao demonstrated. They exchanged blows, both using a thousand pounds of force, and Yang Fan spat blood from the impact. For days afterward, Yang Fan insisted Xie Guotao had used more strength than agreed.

Only yesterday, when Yang Fan began to condense his power more effectively, did he quiet down and focus on his blade work, mastering his strength.

Five days later—

“All right, you finally got the hang of it. Not bad, kid, you’ve finally mastered your own power,” Xie Guotao said, blocking Yang Fan’s latest slash and offering a rare word of praise.

Yang Fan sheathed his blade, grinning foolishly.

“What are you grinning at? Pack up, we’re leaving today!” Xie Guotao barked, turning to go inside.

Yang Fan hurried after him. There wasn’t much to carry; he finished packing in no time.

“Grandmaster Xie—” Yang Fan began, but Xie Guotao cut him off.

“Shut up. Just call me Brother Xie. ‘Grandmaster’ sounds weird coming from you.”

“Haha, I was just about to suggest that. Brother Xie, I’m not the only one in the Special Training Program, right? Where are the others? I’ve been at the outpost for half a month and haven’t met a single one!”

Yang Fan was puzzled. He remembered Wang Yi had mentioned over the years, several geniuses had joined the program.

“The others are all stronger than you, with different training regimens. Each seed is paired with a mentor. You’re my responsibility; the others have their own guides. Don’t worry about them—focus on yourself. Fully mastering a thousand pounds is just the beginning. Think about how to grow stronger.”

With that, Xie Guotao strode off.

Yang Fan slung his blade and pack, hurrying to catch up.

Once they left the town, Xie Guotao grabbed Yang Fan by the collar and soared into the sky. Yang Fan cursed inwardly—why did it always have to be like this? Couldn’t they just hold hands and fly more gracefully? But the thought of soaring through the sky hand-in-hand with a burly man made him shudder.

Fine, being hauled by the collar was less awkward, at least.

Xie Guotao flew through the sky, and before long, they arrived at Jubei City. After landing, someone came to verify their identities, and they entered the city.

Yang Fan had gone through this process before, so he felt nothing in particular.

But soon after entering the city, cold sweat beaded his brow. Xie Guotao was conversing with a middle-aged man in a black combat uniform. Yang Fan heard their words, but felt them lodge like stones in his chest.