Chapter 34: Iron Blood Great Wall

Jiang Xia felt his body’s injuries fully healed and repeatedly thanked Zhou Zheng.

“Thank Itachi, Doctor Zhou—if not for Itachi, my injury might have healed but damaged my foundation.”

Zhou Zheng waved his hand. “I’m a doctor; this is my duty. I’ll go treat the other wounded.”

He walked toward the other Night Watchers who were injured.

Li Chengru looked at Lu Wujiu: “Commander Lu, we must carefully plan the follow-up pursuit of Fengxi and Zhuyan.”

Liu Qingxuan immediately added: “The Literary Academy will also fully investigate; as soon as we have news, we’ll immediately share it.”

Lu Wujiu bowed in response: “Thank Itachi, all four Academy Heads. Once our Night Watchers have finished organizing, we’ll send elite forces to track down the two demons.”

Lu Wujiu glanced at the ruins and smiled bitterly. “I’ll go direct the reconstruction of the base first.”

“With psychic abilities, we should restore it by evening.”

“Go ahead. If Itachi need help, just call us,” Liu Qingxuan nodded politely.

When everyone had dispersed, Wang Teng hesitantly asked Liu Qingxuan: “Academy Head Liu, is there a huge gap between Shanhai Pass and our internal ranks?”

“It sounds like Shanhai Pass has far more powerful individuals than our own human factions.”

Liu Qingxuan stroked his beard. “Ninety percent of our human race’s strongest are gathered at Shanhai Pass—our entire race’s foundation lies there.”

He gazed toward the distance, his eyes seeming to pierce through layers of forests and land upon that legendary fortress.

His tone carried a touch of reverence.

“That pass was forged from the bones and blood of our ancestors.”

“Beyond the pass lies endless mist, where countless demonic beasts constantly seek to breach the wall and slaughter our people.”

“Since Shanhai Pass was built, every inch of its soil is soaked in blood, every brick a symbol of slaughter.”

“In your internal human territories, Itachi may think Wu Zong cultivators are rare elites—but at Shanhai Pass, they’re merely the backbone of the garrison.”

“The true foundation lies in the hidden Wang Hou and even Zunzhe who have long stationed themselves deep within the pass, using their aura to intimidate the outside.”

“Worse still, some legendary cultivators nearing death or mortally wounded use secret methods to seal themselves in specially crafted coffins and fall into slumber.”

Wang Teng listened, stunned, and instinctively asked: “Then they…”

“They guard with their lives,” Liu Qingxuan cut in, voice low. “When Shanhai Pass is in dire peril, those slumbering ones awaken.”

“They burn their psychic energy and life for one final battle. They forsake memory and future, seeking only one more thread of hope for our race.”

Li Chengru added: “While our internal human hunters assassinate prodigies against the race’s interests, those at Shanhai Pass are filling the lines with their lives.”

“Last year, rumors spread that three Wu Zong commanders of the Beast Suppression Army, to seal a breach, jumped into it with explosives and detonated—leaving not even their bones behind.”

“The name ‘Iron Blood Great Wall’ was forged by generations of loyal, heroic blood.”

“Anyone who enters it, regardless of origin, severs all ties to the safety behind—henceforth, life, death, honor, and shame are bound to that one pass.”

Liu Qingxuan sighed: “What we admire isn’t merely their cultivation—they’re the ones who, knowing the path ahead is death, still charge forward without hesitation.”

“Without Shanhai Pass, we would have no peace today.”

Jiang Xia and the others fell silent, listening.

After a long while, Liu Qingxuan walked to the three, placed his hands on their shoulders, and said solemnly.

“But don’t worry—if the border truly collapses, I’ll walk ahead of Itachi!”

Liu Qingxuan gazed toward Shanhai Pass with longing, then turned with the other three Academy Heads to leave.

Watching the four Academy Heads’ backs, Jiang Xia shouted loudly: “When I advance further in cultivation, I will go to Shanhai Pass and guard our race in the footsteps of our martyrs!”

“Me too!” Wang Teng and Ye Lingxi cried out in unison.

Liu Qingxuan paused briefly, did not turn back, but his stern features softened slightly before he continued forward.

The Cult of the Evil God Headquarters—

Zhuyan casually pulled over a chair and sat beside Xuan Ye; Fengxi and Shen Wenru sat in the second row, followed by five Red Robe Protectors and the second- and third-rank leaders of each branch.

Fengxi spoke first: “Your Cult of the Evil God’s ants are pathetically weak!”

“Even with Shanhai Pass unable to reinforce, Itachi still couldn’t deal with those damn Night Watchers!”

Shen Wenru instinctively retorted: “A Disaster-Class Demon King, held back for so long by two Wang Hou elders—what could we possibly do?”

Fengxi slammed his fist onto the table; the thick blackwood legs instantly cracked with spiderweb fissures, his fangs glinting coldly in the candlelight.

“Ants! How dare Itachi talk back to me?”

“If not for that physician’s healing and Shanhai Pass suppressing me, I’d have already torn those two elders apart and fed them to dogs!”

Shen Wenru pinched a jade ring between his fingers, lips curling into a cold smile.

“Oh? Really? I heard that when Fengxi the Great was forced to retreat by that Liu man’s copper coin, a tuft of your mane was burned off.”

“Is the Demon King’s might only displayed before your own kind?”

“Itachi seek death!” Fengxi’s eyes blazed red, his demonic aura surging violently.

He overturned the table before him; shards of porcelain flew and splattered onto nearby Red Robe Protectors, who dared not utter a sound.

At that moment, Xuan Ye’s fingers ceased their stroking of the jade pendant; a faint wisp of spiritual energy leaked from his fingertips and instantly froze the flying porcelain shards midair.

He still didn’t look at either of them, his voice colder than ice: “Have Itachi finished?”

Fengxi’s aura abruptly stalled; though unwilling, he reluctantly withdrew his power.

Xuan Ye’s strength was unfathomable—even as a Disaster-Class Demon King, Fengxi dared not act rashly before him.

Zhu Yan, legs crossed, idly tapped his chair arm with a finger, then sneered: “Whether it’s because Fengxi was held up or your disciples are useless—”

“The result is the same: Itachi’ve failed Shanhai Pass.”

He swept his gaze over the Cult members, his eyes like hooks: “Now, the human race has produced another SSS-level, and their fortune is steadily strengthening.”

“In a while, the once-in-a-century struggle for fortune will begin. If the human side wins the fortune—”

“Soon, those among them who are Zunzhe or Half-Saints will have a chance to break through to Sainthood.”

“Combined with Shanhai Pass’s defense, our demonic beasts will be utterly hopeless. When our strength is insufficient to awaken the Beast God, your dream of becoming gods will vanish!”

Shen Wenru’s face changed slightly; he opened his mouth to speak, but Fengxi cut him off: “Go kill that human ant directly! Who dares interfere?”

“Fool,” Shen Wenru muttered under his breath, then turned to Xuan Ye and Zhu Yan, lowering his tone.

“Lord, Zhu Yan the Great, this fortune struggle hinges on the battle of sorcerers.”

“The strongest sorcerer among the human race is currently Zhao Xianhai, head of the Literary Academy. We need only find him before the fortune struggle, then…”

Shen Wenru said no more, staring straight at the two seated above.

Zhu Yan raised an eyebrow and looked at Xuan Ye: “What do Itachi think?”

Xuan Ye finally lifted his gaze, fixing it on Shen Wenru, and spoke slowly: “My true body is not here. Handle this yourself—Itachi may mobilize all the Protectors within the Cult.”

He paused, the black spiritual energy at his fingertips thickening further: “If Itachi fail again, Itachi’ll become Zhu Yan’s snack.”

Shen Wenru turned pale, bowed his head quickly: “Yes.”