In the south, deep within Yunmeng Marsh, lay Xianling Valley.
The tranquility of this isolated sanctuary was abruptly shattered. Despite layers of concealing formations, the grim aura sweeping from the north, like a dark cloud pressing down upon a city, pierced through the mists and fog to settle upon every heart in the valley.
The Holy Dynasty's southern campaign!
These four words, like the heavy beat of war drums, sounded the alarm that had been silent for decades in Xianling Valley.
In the Hall of Concentrated Hearts, lights blazed as the atmosphere grew heavy enough to be wrung dry.
Core figures such as Xiao Chen, Han Yu, Chen Xingcai, Lu Xiaoluo, Li Hanzhou, Jiang Che, and Hong Longxiang gathered once again.
Each face was shrouded in an inescapable gloom.
"The news is confirmed," Lu Xiaoluo's voice was slightly hoarse.
In charge of intelligence, she pointed at the massive map of Yunmeng Marsh hanging in the center of the hall.
"The Holy Dynasty's Crown Prince Ye Fan leads the campaign, with at least seven of the Ten Holy Sons, including Zhan Wuji and Jian Wuming, accompanying him!"
"Over 300,000 elite cultivators, countless war artifacts, and sky battleships!"
"The vanguard has already reached the northern edge of the marsh. In no more than ten days, their spear will reach our first line of defense!"
On the map, the black arrow representing the Holy Dynasty's advance, like a ferocious serpent, slowly slithered into the outline of Yunmeng Marsh, exuding an oppressive aura that seemed ready to devour all.
"300,000 elites... seven Holy Sons... Ye Fan himself leading the charge..." Li Hanzhou muttered, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white.
This power far exceeded the limits of what Xianling Valley could withstand.
After decades of seclusion and cultivation, though their strength had improved, with Xiao Chen and Han Yu even touching the threshold of the late Tianren Realm, they were still like fireflies compared to the bright moon when faced with the full might of the Holy Dynasty.
"How long can our defenses hold?" Chen Xingcai looked at Jiang Che, who was in charge of the defensive formations.
Over the years, Jiang Che's injuries had long since healed, his cultivation steadily rising as he dedicated all his energy to building Xianling Valley's defensive network.
Jiang Che shook his head gravely.
"The three outer lines of defense, relying on the natural mists and illusionary formations, can delay them for at most a month."
"The 'Myriad Star Formation' in the core area is our last resort, but... against such overwhelming power, especially against experts of the Ten Holy Sons' caliber, I cannot estimate how long it will last."
"Perhaps three months, or... even less."
Three months... this number made everyone's hearts sink.
Three months was far too brief for a war that would decide survival and extinction.
"There is no other way but to fight to the death!" Han Yu's voice was as cold as iron, shattering the despairing silence.
"Yunmeng Marsh is our last retreat; there is nowhere left to flee! We must rely on the terrain and fight them to the very end!"
His words were filled with a resolute will to die, yet also revealed a deep sense of helplessness.
Everyone understood this was more of a tragic declaration than a viable strategy.
Xiao Chen remained silent.
He stood before the map, his gaze fixed intently on the black arrow, as if he could see through it to the familiar figure now the Crown Prince of the Holy Dynasty standing at the forefront of the army—Ye Fan.
"Ye Fan..." Xiao Chen muttered the name, his tone complex and indistinct.
This former fellow disciple, now his mortal enemy, had personally driven them into this desperate situation.
His betrayal, his "success," was like a thorn that had been lodged in their hearts all this time.
"He's leading the campaign himself this time. Does he intend to finish us off personally, offering this as his final gift to his 'father the emperor'?" Chen Xingcai's voice was laced with suppressed pain and hatred.
The hall fell silent again.
The strategic discussion seemed to have reached its end. In the face of such an overwhelming disparity in power, any clever tactics would be futile.
All that remained was to prepare for the inevitably bloody final battle.
The meeting ended in a heavy and oppressive atmosphere.
Everyone received their orders and went to deploy defenses, reassure the populace, and make final preparations.
As night deepened, Xianling Valley was enveloped in a mix of panic and solemnity, the prelude to an impending great war.
Xiao Chen did not rest.
He stood alone before the window of his meditation chamber, gazing out at the starless, moonless night sky shrouded in thick fog.
The cool breeze brushed his temples, the weight in his heart as vast as the endless swamp.
Decades of perseverance, the sacrifice of countless fellow disciples—was this all leading to their ultimate annihilation?
Would his Master be disappointed in them? And his wife, Ji Hongli, was still nowhere to be found...
An unprecedented weariness and confusion washed over him.
Just as his thoughts churned, an extremely faint yet exceptionally clear fluctuation of spiritual energy, like a stone cast into a calm lake, caught his attention.
The fluctuation came from outside the window, not from any cultivator in the valley.
It carried an unfamiliar aura, yet subtly, there was a hint of an indescribable familiarity.
Xiao Chen's gaze sharpened instantly, his divine sense spreading out to lock onto the source of the fluctuation.
He saw a thousand paper crane, no larger than a palm, emitting a faint, silvery-white glow.
It silently penetrated Xianling Valley's outermost concealing formations, as if alive, skillfully evading patrolling disciples and internal warning restrictions as it fluttered toward his chamber!
How was this possible?
The defensive grand formations of Xianling Valley, designed by Jiang Che using ancient formation diagrams and the natural terrain of Yunmeng Marsh, were layered and complex.
Even a Long Life Realm cultivator would have difficulty breaking through forcefully, let alone infiltrating so silently?
Who was behind this thousand paper crane? And what was their purpose?
No, more importantly—the paper crane itself!
Because many, many years ago, in Xianling Valley, this was how Master had communicated with them.
Xiao Chen stared fixedly at the thousand paper crane.
In its silvery-white glow, there was an aura of righteousness and peace, even a hint of urgency.
After a moment's hesitation, he opened the window without alerting anyone.
The paper crane, as if possessing intelligence, flew precisely into the window, hovering before Xiao Chen and fluttering its wings gently.
Xiao Chen reached out and carefully cradled the crane in his palm.
It was cool to the touch, its material peculiar, definitely no ordinary object.
He examined it carefully, confirming there were no tracking or explosive restrictions before taking a deep breath and slowly unfolding it.
On the paper, there was no signature, only line after line of small characters imprinted with divine sense.
The calligraphy was elegant and spirited, yet carried an undeniable gravity.
As Xiao Chen's eyes swept over the first line, his pupils constricted sharply.
As he read word by word, his expression shifted—shock, confusion, gravity—until finally settling into a deep, disbelieving contemplation!
The content of the letter far exceeded his imagination!
This letter was like a key suddenly inserted into the complex and foggy chess game in his mind.
Although it did not unravel the entire mystery, it instantly illuminated several crucial corners, revealing possibilities he had never before considered!
He read the letter repeatedly, searching for flaws or hidden meanings.
His brow furrowed tightly, his fingertips whitening from the pressure.
In the chamber, only his heavy breathing and the chirping of unknown insects from the depths of the swamp could be heard.
A long, long time passed.
Finally, Xiao Chen slowly raised his head.
The shock and confusion in his eyes gradually gave way to an extreme calm.
He looked once more at the letter paper in his palm, which held the earth-shattering secret, as if trying to etch every word into his soul.
Then, he made his decision.
Above his palm, a wisp of pure Nine Heavens Thunder Essence quietly materialized, like a tiny electric serpent, instantly wrapping around the letter paper.
"Hiss..."
A barely audible light sound, after which the letter paper and the mystical thousand paper crane turned into the finest ash, dissipating into the air without a trace.
Xiao Chen gazed out at the still thick night, but his gaze seemed to pierce through the fog, seeing far beyond.
His face no longer bore the weariness and confusion of before, replaced by a complex expression mixing determination, vigilance, and a trace of indescribable... hope.
He murmured to himself, his voice so soft only he could hear:
"Hard to tell what's true or false... but this might be... the only variable we have."
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