The lights crossed the study of the imperial palace, illuminating the ancient shelves that filled the room. Each shelf seemed to reflect the nobility and grandeur of its owner, containing the stories of past times, as if holding the weight of countless generations.
In the study, there was a middle-aged man with a majestic bearing that exuded an aura of superiority. His presence commanded respect, as if all living beings should bow before him. Yun Wenzhao, Emperor of the Yun Dynasty, was reviewing the memorials.
On the other side of the room, in a respectful and firm posture, stood the elderly man with gray hair, Gao Mingxuan, the chief eunuch. Although his face reflected the years, his posture remained imposing, as if his presence was above time.
"Mmm... it seems the moment has arrived. The Hailong Dynasty has begun to move its pieces," said Emperor Yun Wenzhao, more to himself than to the eunuch, as if processing the information in his mind before sharing it.
Gao Mingxuan did not respond, for he knew the emperor well and understood that, at that moment, silence was expected, not words.
The emperor placed the memorial on his desk and raised his gaze toward the eunuch. He did so calmly, but with a look that indicated that every action he took had already been anticipated.
"Near the Yulong Fortress, on the eastern border, three towns were razed by bandits. Dozens more villages have been destroyed. The refugees are moving. It seems they have lost patience," said the emperor in a cold voice, as if describing a trivial situation, unmoved by the casualties.
"How is everything I ordered?" he asked, crossing his hands over the table, his tone calm but firm.
"Your Majesty, the four main sects have sent their forces, and they should have arrived. As for the main cultivation families, a war order has been issued for them to send men," reported the eunuch respectfully.
Yun Wenzhao nodded slowly, closing his eyes calmly, as if evaluating each word in his mind. For him, issuing the war order was not just a response to the situation, but a strategy to maintain control over the most powerful families. The balance of power in the dynasty had to be preserved. The war would not only reduce their forces, but also ensure that no clan could challenge his authority, keeping everyone in their place, under his watch.
The silence in the study became dense, with the eunuch remaining standing, motionless. Yun Wenzhao, with his gaze fixed, thought about the spiritual stone mine. Its discovery had altered the balance of power between the two dynasties.
Both desired it. The control of this mine would allow the dynasty to significantly increase its forces.
Yun Wenzhao opened his eyes slowly. He rose from his chair calmly and walked toward the window. His gaze wandered into the distance, as if he could see through mountains and clouds. Then, in a low but firm voice, he issued the order that would seal the fate of many:
"Let them begin to move."
The news fell like thunder on a clear day.
Across the vast expanse of the Yun Dynasty, from the central cities to the peripheral villages, a single imperial decree stirred the waves: all sects and cultivation families were to send reinforcements to the eastern border. The edict was clear and left no room for misinterpretation. The words were written with authority and were transmitted by official messengers sealed with the imperial mark.
Those forces that had cultivators in the Golden Core Realm were obligated to send at least one cultivator of that level, accompanied by ten cultivators of the Foundation Establishment Realm. For the families whose highest level was Establishment, they were to send one Foundation cultivator and at least twenty disciples from the Qi Refining Realm.
Minor forces, whose highest level was the ninth level of Qi Refining, were also called. They were to send their best cultivator, along with ten more cultivators, regardless of their level. Only those families still below this standard were exempt, though even among them, nervousness reigned.
It was a direct order from the emperor, signed with the golden seal of the court. It was not a request nor a voluntary call.
Any force that refused to comply would be considered traitors, and their leaders judged for conspiracy with the enemy. Those who disobeyed would face not only the wrath of the imperial army but also the condemnation of the Yun Dynasty. There would be no excuses, no redemption.
The Xuan family, after the tragedy at the black iron mine, was the first to show signs of uncertainty. Their forces were weakened, and one of their most powerful cultivators had disappeared without a trace.
Despite this, they had no choice but to obey. The Grand Elder left immediately along with several young disciples. Only a mid-level cultivator accompanied them; the rest were low-level apprentices. The most remained at the main residence with the Patriarch.
It was a delicate moment. Offending imperial power would be suicidal, but abandoning the protection of the family could seal their ruin.
Some powerful families reacted similarly, holding their true strength at home and sending just enough to comply with the edict. Everyone understood the gravity of an imperial order, but they also knew that leaving their territory unprotected was inviting disaster.
For common mortals, however, the situation was even more terrifying. In several cities, the tension became palpable. Wars between powerful forces always brought disasters with them, especially in a world where immortals dictated the course of destiny. After all, when gods fight, it is the mortals who suffer. This time was no different.
Rumors from the east spread like fire across dry grass. It was said that refugees were arriving in waves, villages were razed, roads infested by bandits, and demonic cultivators roamed free, leaving desiccated corpses in their wake. The balance was cracking, and everyone knew it.
In times of peace, bandits and lone demonic cultivators could be deterred by the shadow of imperial power. But in times of war, as long as the chaos did not grow too much, the dynasty could afford to ignore certain events and focus on others. After all, once the storm had passed, order could always be restored... at the cost of a few mortal casualties.
But from the mortal perspective, even a single life lost was an absolute tragedy.
And that tragedy had already begun.
On the secondary roads connecting the eastern regions with other areas of the empire, caravans of refugees became more frequent as time went on. Many in the east, terrified by what was to come, began to move inland, seeking refuge in areas still unaffected by the war. This only added more chaos, with each passing day bringing greater uncertainty.
Imperial authorities tried to halt the tide of displaced people, but their efforts were in vain. Despite the prohibitions and restrictions, the caravans continued to move forward like a wave. It seemed as if a hidden hand was stoking the fire, inciting disorder in every corner of the dynasty.
Low-level loose cultivators also avoided the storm that was brewing by moving to calmer areas, but this only provoked more unease. And in the midst of it all, demonic cultivators infiltrated, disguised as simple travelers or loose cultivators.
In some villages to the north and south, the rumors became increasingly disturbing. It was said that demonic cultivators had wreaked havoc. People spoke of entire towns devastated, with houses burned and fields destroyed.
In the markets, prices soared. Rice was more expensive than ever, salt became a luxury, and iron, even the poor quality kind, was in short supply.
In the tea halls, the elders murmured that this was just the beginning. Some remembered old rebellions and past wars between sects, moments when mountains burned and rivers were dyed red. They said it in whispers, as if the simple act of remembering could attract that fate once again.