Chapter 110: Bad News

Within the city, a vast road a hundred feet wide stretched out, forged entirely from metal. Its surface was etched with countless intricate runes, and at every critical junction of these runes were embedded numerous fist-sized crystals of various colors.

Flanking the road stood heavy walls, just slightly shorter than the city’s towering ramparts, enclosing immense estates. Peering over these walls, one could always see a towering spire rising at the heart of each estate. Wisps of mist of different hues curled around the tower tops, within which a crimson, vertical eye flickered faintly.

Amidst this sprawling metropolis, tens of thousands of towers of varying heights and diameters pierced the skyline. At the city’s core stood twelve colossal towers arranged in a circle, each soaring tens of thousands of feet high, radiating immense grandeur.

These twelve giant towers boasted different colors—some blood-red, others gold or silver. Each was densely inscribed with runes, their surfaces subtly rippling with tides of multicolored energy. The towers rose straight into the sky, and due to the power surging around them, not a single cloud dared to linger nearby. From the ground, one could faintly glimpse the enormous vertical eyes flickering atop each tower.

Tomo, mounted on his steed, galloped fiercely toward one such tower, its entire surface blood-red, the ebb and flow of its energy tides pulsing rhythmically like a heartbeat, instilling an uncanny sense of pressure. Along the way, fully armored warriors of the Ga race marched in formation. Tomo raised a blood-red token high in his right hand; the Ga warriors glanced briefly at it and then parted to clear his path.

Beneath the blood-red tower lay a hexagram-shaped bastion. The massive fortification was entirely bathed in blood-red hues, with a layer of glowing light about a foot thick covering its walls. Within the crimson light, countless fist-sized runes drifted like schools of fish, imparting an indomitable and mysterious majesty.

At the sole city gate of the bastion, a hundred three-eyed warriors of the Yu clan stood arrayed neatly on both sides. The morning sun’s rays glinted off their armor, polished to mirror-like brilliance, reflecting dazzling beams.

These Yu warriors were resplendently attired, their armor intricately engraved with elaborate patterns—exotic flowers, rare plants, birds, and beasts all depicted in exquisite detail. They draped themselves in blood-red cloaks, woven from the finest silks and brocades, dyed with the blood of rare birds. Every piece of their jewelry, every weapon, shield, and piece of military equipment was a masterpiece of craftsmanship, surpassing mere utility to become works of art.

Tomo rode up to the bastion’s gate, leapt down from his mount, and strode swiftly toward the entrance.

The young Yu warriors standing beside the gate remained perfectly still, their faces expressionless, not even the faintest smile. They stood quietly like a row of ornate vases, decorative yet unyielding.

Suddenly, two burly Ga warriors burst out from within the gate, blocking Tomo’s way. After a brief interrogation, they escorted him inside the bastion.

From the outside, the bastion’s walls appeared no longer than ten miles each, and the area it enclosed seemed limited. Yet once inside, the space behind the walls was astonishingly vast. Beyond the gate stretched ten massive military camps, each a hundred miles long and wide. The camps seethed with murderous intent, tens of thousands of Ga warriors bare-chested, fists flying under the morning sun as they fought fiercely, sweating freely.

Within these camps, there was no distinction between friend and foe. Or rather, every man was an enemy to every other.

They roared madly, swinging heavy fists, attacking everyone around them. Above their heads floated jade plaques; each time a warrior knocked down an opponent, a red dot appeared on his plaque.

Among the warriors, a few of the strongest bore plaques densely covered with red dots—each had felled at least a thousand foes.

Sweat mingled with blood in torrents, the Ga warriors’ furious shouts coalesced into visible whirlwinds, howling skyward and causing the surrounding banners to flutter wildly.

At the center of one camp stood a raised platform covering an acre of ground. Upon it stood Emperor Sha, clad in full armor, arms crossed, eyes coldly surveying the Ga warriors brawling below. From time to time, he offered critiques on certain fighters. Behind him, several Yu warriors diligently recorded his words on thick scrolls.

This bastion was the stronghold of the Blood Moon.

Emperor Sha was now the commander of a principal legion under the Blood Moon banner. His forces included a thousand noble Yu warriors, thirty thousand formidable Ga warriors, and over a hundred thousand elite auxiliary servants.

It was a fearsome fighting force. Emperor Sha gazed proudly at the thirty thousand Ga warriors undergoing their routine morning drills, then looked up with satisfaction at the rising sun. Soon, he would lead this terrifying army, sweeping across all opposition, earning achievements and honors, steadily climbing the ranks.

He did not consider himself ambitious. He had no desire to ascend to the highest echelons—such as the ruling Grand Emperor—a position beyond the reach of a Yu noble of modest lineage like himself.

But to become a feudal governor, establishing his own domain, gradually amassing family power with the aid of his brother, Emperor Luo, and founding his own lineage—that was within reach. Perhaps, in a few years, he too could become a progenitor of a major branch of the imperial family, like the renowned ancestors of the imperial house.

“Hmph. Those bastards who forced us into this primitive world—we bleed and sweat to seize resources and wealth for them, while they sit high above, indulging in luxury. If those worthless souls can rise so high, why can’t I?” Emperor Sha clenched his fist tightly, vowing silently, “Strength and power—they bring long life as well. I do not expect to reach immortality, but to be undying is enough!”

“I hope Emperor Luo trains hard in the Southern Wastes, accumulating wealth for the family and for us brothers,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Only with sufficient wealth can I realize my goals faster and better. Emperor Luo, don’t disappoint me. You’re my direct brother—the only one I truly trust in our family.”

Just as he pondered these thoughts, Tomo staggered up, collapsing at Emperor Sha’s feet.

“Lord Emperor Sha, Lord Emperor Luo… he… he—” Tomo stammered incoherently, panic-stricken.

“Speak! What happened to Emperor Luo? And you came back alone? From the Southern Wastes? Did you use the military’s emergency teleportation array? What’s so urgent that you risked such a cost?” Emperor Sha demanded fiercely. “Emperor Luo, or the Blood Fang Legion—what happened?”

Tomo curled up on the ground, looking pitifully at Emperor Sha. “Lord Emperor Luo… was killed! The Blood Fang Legion—except for a few logistical servants—every elite combatant was wiped out.”

Emperor Sha’s body trembled. The vertical eye on his forehead snapped open, releasing a spray of blood that spattered seven or eight yards away.

***

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