Outside, the cold, demonic words of Ji Hai still echoed in the soldiers' minds. It was as if time had stopped for them at that moment. They couldn't simply follow the order, but… what were they to do?
They tried to force themselves to utter—even if just one letter—a single letter defying Ji Hai's decree. But their tongues refused to move.
It was not a mere momentary inability; it was a complete, decisive refusal from both mind and body, as if they had united to bury their will.
"Move… please move… I beg you… just one movement… just one!"
That thought was a deep wound, an unhealing bleed for a soldier who was not even granted the right to express it.
He had no choice but to scream within his mind until his vocal cords tore, even if only in his imagination.
Suddenly, without warning, a tear fell.
"I…I… why...? Did I just cry?"
His emotions accumulated, thread by thread, gathering at the corner of his eye. He refused to let them out, but they emerged against his will.
His hand had been scraped by the earth, the blood from his hand mingled with the dirt beneath him. The soil was rough and harsh—it absorbed his blood, yet despite its severity, it granted him a measure of reassurance.
The air, though cold, swept away his negative feelings along with it.
Slowly, trembling as if he were witnessing hell before him, he raised his head. His breath grew heavy and clearly audible. Sweat dripped down his neck and back.
Breathing at that moment became harder than scaling the heavens! Every inhale and exhale felt like a stab, akin to being slain by a thousand swords!
His heartbeats were no longer merely rapid pulses; he could almost see them. With every beat, his eyes pulsed, and his visual field quavered.
Veins swelled, grew warmer, and became drenched in red—like ink spreading on paper.
His eyes trembled and dilated sharply. When he saw a black crescent approach him, radiating an eerie aura that distorted the very fabric of space around it, he opened his mouth, wanting to speak. But what use were words now?
Words had lost their time and were set aside. Now, strength spoke! In a single second, the crescent passed right through his mouth—as though it were ending the rule of words and imposing the rule of power!
Before the crescent could penetrate the soldier's head, that moment froze everything for him.
Slowly, the colors vanished from his vision until everything became colorless—as if the heavens were telling him this life was worthless, devoid of meaning.
There was no longer any sound or sight; even time itself yielded and ceased in that moment.
Then, for a few seconds, everything resumed when his remaining half of the head flew off.
In his final moments, he saw a fountain of blood erupt from the remnants of his head, staining the grass crimson and polluting the air with its foul odor.
"What… did my li-life… mea—"
Suddenly, one drop of blood reached the edge of the carriage wheel at explosive speed—as if that drop embodied the soldier's final will, doing what the soldiers had longed to do but dared not.
"In… the… end… my… li-life… I… achi—ved what… the ot-hers cou—" His eyes faded into nothingness. His consciousness vanished. He never finished his words.
"Explode!" A hand gripped from the heart of darkness—from the chariot.
In a fraction of a second, by a strange force, the half-head that had flown exploded, showering blood on the remaining soldiers and the leaves of nearby trees, forming… the drop of bloody dew!
This scenario could have befallen any soldier, for they all endured the same oppression, tyranny, violence, and deprivation of rights.
In fact, every one of them thought exactly as this soldier did.
Yet, the difference was that he had acted a little hastily—and was also unlucky—ultimately becoming a lesson for those who would follow.
For the rest of the soldiers, there was no longer any significance in trembling, shivering, profuse sweating, or a racing heart.
Trembling, shivering, and every visible sign of fear meant that there still existed the possibility of rebellion. At that very moment, one of the prince's wishes was realized.
"So… you did it, Ji Hai? You erased every trace of their humanity? Do you still consider yourself human?"
"The ultimate stage of submission is absolute silence… and woe to you, Ji Hai… I never believed that in my lifetime I would see a human do this… not even in my worst nightmares!"
"Erasing the will, the determination, the perseverance, the emotions—anger, love, fear, desire—and turning them into nothing more than a heap of bone and flesh to execute your commands… terrifying… terribly terrifying…"
The former generals, despite having undergone the harshest training to hide—and even bury—their emotions, found that something like this would not stir their feelings; for he was certainly not human!
"Now, fall in, dear soldiers."
Suddenly, the prince's voice echoed throughout the area, flowing like water in streams. In an instant, the soldiers stood at attention. Not one of them delayed.
"Why?" you might ask. The question is absurd—simply because life had been extinguished in their eyes.
Deep within their souls, no awareness remained. Their will had simply vanished, replaced by the resolve of their leader—should I even call him a deity now?
They all stood; the soldiers who had once staggered from exhaustion had now become as immovable as rocks.
Not even the slightest movement betrayed them—as if an army of puppets had been created.
The former generals showed no reaction, as was customary from any general under Ji Hai.
Their faces only hardened further. They still raised their spears; even when kneeling, the spears remained firmly planted in the ground, their tips piercing the sky.
Now, all those who were kneeling and standing shouted in unison, with their spears rising high with each word and then lowering.
"Long live Ji! Long live Ji! Long live the emperor, long live the emperor!"
Amid the clamor of the crowd—and from a spot not too far off—as the winds passed, a figure sitting by a tree appeared.
His jet-black hair danced with the wind. He wasn't very tall, nor was he short—reaching only to his shoulders at most.
His eyes were gray and possessed a captivating appearance.
When he looked at you, it seemed as if he could pierce right into your soul—sometimes an intimidating sight. His skin was neither very pale nor dark; it was of a moderate tone.
His physique was neither bulky nor frail, but rather average—muscular, yet not overbuilt. Notably, his shoulders had a certain breadth.
Clad in shabby, gray clothes with streaks of black that made him appear entirely ordinary, he nonetheless exuded a distinct presence.
He surveyed the crowd, ever watchful. He perceived passion and cruelty, demonic malevolence.
He understood that weakness was the cause of downfall, and that words were futile when not backed by power.
"Demanding rights? And you're weak? You merely long for death. What happened was completely natural; the prince's choice was correct," thought Chang Yu.
"If I were in his position, I'd resist whoever seizes control. And if there were benefits balancing the scales of power, I wouldn't do anything, would I? Perhaps I'd even become stronger."
Yet, Chang Yu's reasoning might not have been entirely sound or mature. Perhaps he had only grasped a thread of the truth. Fire is not understood by its initial spark but by its total combustion—and his experiences… were still but a few sparks.
"Good, good, O grand procession of the Great Ji Empire! It is time to resume our march! Go forth!"
The former general—standing beside the prince's carriage—shouted, "And you, Chang Yu, follow me this time."
In haste, everyone returned to their positions. The cavalry mounted their horses, and the foot soldiers marched on. Their journey resumed.
Likewise, Chang Yu straightened up and went where the former general had directed him. When he arrived, he saw a large rock.
For a moment, he was astonished, unable to believe that it was the same former general who had called him just seconds earlier.
The former general was huge—no, immensely huge! His clothes nearly tore apart from the sheer size of his body.
Chang Yu looked at him and thought, "He's tall… the spear would barely be visible next to him if not for his height! Is this natural?"
Yet, what mattered most to Chang Yu was his horse. That horse was the largest and most magnificent among the cavalry—a red steed, its height nearly rivaling that of a spear.
Its breathing and neighing were distinct from those of the other horses, as if it possessed a special consciousness.
For a moment, Chang Yu was captivated by the horse, unable to take his eyes off it. Suddenly, without his realizing, the former general placed his hand on Chang Yu's shoulder.
His eyes widened immensely, as if a mountain had crashed down upon him. His legs could no longer support him, and he collapsed immediately!
That hand was simply too heavy! Unprepared, Chang Yu did not have the strength to bear its weight.
Even if he had been prepared, his legs would likely have trembled and he would barely have managed to stand.
From above, the former general looked down at Chang Yu as he struggled to regain his composure.
Swallowing hard, Chang Yu thought, "Strong… so strong that it wouldn't be wise to provoke him; in a second, I'd be nothing but a pile of bones! But… didn't I think I wouldn't retaliate?" as an unsettling sensation grew within him.
Something akin to a needle pricking him from within was exceedingly irritating to Chang Yu.
Was it anger? Most likely yes—it was a sensation resembling humiliation and the ensuing wrath.
As the feeling intensified, Chang Yu could bear it no longer.
He raised his head and looked coldly at the general, attempting to convey his anger and irritation—albeit in his own way.
When their eyes met, it was clear that Chang Yu would lose the contest of a stare. And that is exactly what happened.
After a few seconds, Chang Yu closed his eyes, exhaled, and then straightened up.
"There is no point in what I do; he's like a rock. No matter how long I stare, he won't react," he murmured to himself.
Yet, the former general remained standing—like a stone statue—still pondering what had happened mere seconds before.
Although it was just an instant, the general sensed something subtle, something simply indomitable watching him.
Had he done even something slight, thousands upon thousands would have perished by now!
"No wonder—I now understand the prince's will. This child is extraordinary," the former general thought.
Approaching the horse, he said coldly, "Mount quickly; we are behind schedule."
Chang Yu paid no heed to him, ignored him without reaction, and silently mounted.
At that same moment, an aura passed from Fang Bai to Tian Luo.
"Tian Luo, do you still feel anything for this demon? I do not think he deserves people like you and me to follow him, do you agree? I have witnessed it once again with my very own eyes!"
" Do you know how much they will suffer?!!! Do you know what will become of their families?!!!!! Do you have even a hint of knowledge about the extent of their pain…? Can't you feel it, Tian Luo! Wake up!"
"Stripping humanity from humans! He has stripped humanity from mankind! He has turned people into animals! Into beasts! Into puppets!"
"Into chess pieces! We, too, may not be animals to him, but we are certainly just chess pieces!"
"Whenever he wishes to play, he will. He plays with our lives! With our freedom—yours and mine… and everyone's! He manipulates our reputation, everyone we know!"
"Your wife—do you know who poisoned her? It was him! Because you failed that accursed mission! You did not risk your life, and you foolishly thought he had pity on you! No—he did not pity you; someone else paid the price for your actions!"
"Tian Luo!! Stand with me! I will take your grievances, you take mine, and together we will claim the grievances of these poor souls—and of their families!"
"Tian Luo… if you refuse, then you surely are no human; I will never acknowledge you as a person and shall act as if the Tian Luo I once knew is dead!"
Tian Luo was caught between a rock and a hard place.
Should he choose the prince's side and lose his humanity, or stand by his friend—at the brink of death—and fight to save his own humanity…and that of others?
A strange sensation—like falling into a void—overwhelmed Tian Luo. He felt as though he were lost in utter darkness.
Despite his long experience and a life filled with trials, he did not know what to do. "I do not want to die…" his senses began to numb.
He felt stabs throughout his body, the pricking heat of his flesh like the crackling of lava at its hottest.
Even the cold air was insufficient this time.
The angrier his thoughts became, the faster his heart pounded.
His breaths grew warmer, and drawing them became increasingly difficult.
Gradually, the space around Tian Luo turned hazy—unclear, disordered. He began to see hallucinations as the world around him wavered.
With his ever-increasing warmth, he felt as if he were inside an oven whose heat was slowly rising.
He experienced dizziness, along with muffled sounds—the voices of the soldiers and the movement of the procession.
But the sounds failed to reach him correctly; Tian Luo realized he was no longer fully conscious. But… it was too late!
Slowly, he felt as if he were leaving this world. Bit by bit, his senses grew more obscure, less effective.
He lost the sensation of the cold air and the familiar feel of the spear in his hand.
His heartbeat became like a dull thumping on an empty box—unrecognizable. His thoughts drifted away.
As though his soul was departing, Tian Luo melted into that sensation and no longer resisted it.
He finally closed his eyes, completely dissolving into that feeling.
When he opened them again, he found himself in a void.
A vast, boundless space—completely dark, without a single ray of light!
Tian Luo tried to rely on his senses, but they failed him—no sound, no sight, no touch, no smell.
Utterly alone, as if lost in the depths of the ocean, devoid of even a hint of light, and his senses rendered utterly useless.